Switch & Burn (Royal Bastards MC : Idaho Springs Chapter)

by Bink Cummings

  On reflex, I listen, heart thrumming double time.

  “Go again.”

  The sixth takes a chunk of bark.

  The man chuckles. “I think you’re gettin’ worse.”

  No shit.

  Maybe you should give me some space. I can’t think straight.

  Too bad he can’t read minds. He makes this adventure a thousand times more complicated. Releasing his grip on my hip, Burn presses his palm to my stomach. My abs contract on a deep, raspy inhale. The organ in my pants throbs in time to my pulse, faster and faster by the second. I try to focus on the gun, on the steel, on trees, and the birds. It’s damn near impossible.

  The hairs on my arms stand on end.

  I flush.

  Swallow.

  Blink.

  Fidget.

  Burn notices nothing, or everything. I can’t be certain.

  The world fades as a finger grazes my navel… The simple touch atop my shirt sends a jolt of potent lust straight to my nuts. They grow heavier, aching for release. We shouldn’t have kissed. That’s what started this horrible chain reaction. I shouldn’t like men. I shouldn’t like Burn. This isn’t right.

  What are we doing?

  What am I doing?

  Needing distance to get my shit together, I hand him back the gun and break from our connection. Into the dense tree cover, I hike. Fallen branches and twigs snap underfoot. Burn calls my name, but I keep going. I need to give my arousal time to wane.

  “Switch!”

  Sweat drips down both sides of my face as I trek higher. The incline grows with each step.

  “Switch!”

  I duck under a large branch, only to lose focus and trip over an old log, covered in moss. Down I fall, hard onto my knees. Both palms slam into the needle dusted earth. Dirt embeds under my nails as I groan in pain. Too tired to try and get my ass up, I roll onto my back under the canopy of an incredible tree. Burn’s footsteps echo nearby as his grunts and low complaints bring a smile to my lips.

  “Fuckin’, kid. I swear to Christ.” He stops beyond the log. Arms cross over his impressive chest as sun streaks through the branches, highlighting the web of burns.

  Beautiful.

  Burn’s… handsome. Not in a classic sense. In my sense. The way the world fits for me. Pain and pleasure. Life and death. Love and hate. There’s a symmetry. Half ruined - half perfection. Dark skin, tattoos, muscles… beauty.

  I watch him without blinders or fear. I watch with openness and acceptance. Like the acceptance he has shown me, whether deserved or not. I’ve done nothing to earn it, but it’s there.

  Burn kicks the mossy log with the bottom of his boot. “Damn thing.” Then he does what he always does, helps me to my feet, both figuratively and literally.

  Together we dust the debris from my clothes.

  Shaking his head, my roomie picks a twig from my hair and tries to hide a private smile. “Can’t take you anywhere.” He chuckles.

  I nod, ‘cause he’s right. I’m a headcase. The doctors said as much when I was examined after release. I have little impulse control. What’s worse, I don’t even know how to change that about myself.

  Not saying anything more, my roomie turns around like nothing happened and heads back to where we were shooting. I follow behind, not wanting to cause more of a disruption to our day because of my fucked-up shit.

  On the ground beside the backpack, he retrieves the same gun as before and hands it to me. “Next time, how about ya don’t run away when you get a hard-on and shoot the fuckin’ gun? You put this on the list, so we’re gonna check it off the fuckin’ list.”

  I flush redder than a tomato and turn away, weapon in hand.

  Right.

  List.

  The list.

  Always the list.

  Does that mean he…

  No.

  He doesn’t mean all of it.

  He can’t.

  That…

  Oh.

  Fuck.

  Fuuuck.

  9

  BURN

  List

  15. Get a blow job

  It’s on the list. He put it there, right below trying every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. The pint-sized ones. Chelsea had those thrown on her grocery list today.

  But…

  Blow job.

  Damn kid.

  I said I’d help complete his list, didn’t I? Never said how long it’d take, but we’ve crossed off the gun portion. Just as we’ll continue to get outside until the winter months; when we’re snowed in here. Maybe then we can take out the snowmobiles for fun. Haven’t been on one in ages. Never saw much point when the lodge and its grounds keep me content.

  Speaking of content, Switch is sitting on the bottom ledge of my bed, naked as the day he was born. He’s erect. The kid’s always hard these days. He’s also twisting his fingers nervously in front of him.

  Why’d I pick today as blow job day? It’s not a national holiday. Not his birthday. We don’t even know when that is. It’s not Christmas or Valentine’s.

  Why didn’t I wait another month to do this?

  Oh right.

  Switch is horny all the damn time. He needs an outlet.

  The guy walks around with a boner 24/7, apart from when training with Tank. Hell, maybe even then. I can’t be sure when I’m in my office doing club stuff.

  A delicate knock sounds at the bedroom door.

  Switch shifts his bulk and rubs both palms on the top of his thighs. His cock sways, spraying a string of pre-cum across his inner thigh. Not paying attention, he lets it dry there as I do my best to ignore it… him…this… Fuck.

  Going along with this half-assed plan is harder than I thought it’d be, but it must be done.

  A second tap, tap, tap of a nail resounds.

  “Coming,” I call to our visitor as I approach the door and let her inside.

  Yesterday, I called in a favor to Raff. Still trying to get on my good side after the bullshit he and the brothers pulled, he found me the most talented cocksucker he knows. Even Nose said she’s exquisite.

  And wouldn’t ya know it… In saunters, a topless brunette. The whore doesn’t waste any time when she kneels on the pillow at Switch’s feet and grips his hard-on with five dainty, pink polished fingers.

  He gasps on contact and digs his nails into his kneecaps, muscles seizing in pleasure as she strokes the tip of his cock producing a bead of pre-cum.

  All right.

  That’s my cue to get the hell outta dodge.

  This isn’t my show.

  I can’t watch.

  Skirting past to give them space, I adjust my semi in the shorts I forced myself to put on as I count to ten in my head.

  One.

  You can do this.

  Two.

  Let him enjoy the blowie. He’ll thank you for it later.

  Three.

  Switch deserves release.

  Four.

  She’d better appreciate his scars and treat him right, or I’ll murder a cunt.

  I enter the kitchen just as I hear her moan like she’s turned on by him.

  My stomach cramps as I stumble forth, to get to my chair faster, away from the noise… from temptation.

  Five.

  Six.

  I can do this.

  Another moan echoes. Only it’s his as I snatch my book from the coffee table and beeline it to the bathroom.

  Another masculine moan.

  Goddammit!

  Seven.

  Eight.

  Desperate to give them privacy, I slam the bathroom door shut and force myself to count slower.

  Inhale.

  Seven.

  Exhale.

  Eight.

  Inhale.

  Nine.

  Exhale.

  I sit on the closed toilet lid, hands shaking. My foot taps the tile in time with my frantic pulse.

  This is the right thing to do. Right? You agree, don’t ya?

  I’
m making him happy.

  I hope this doesn’t end in a disaster of epic proportion.

  Time passes. It could be seconds, minutes, hours. I can’t be fuckin’ certain. All I know is it lasts a lifetime. The harder I try to focus on the words in Pride & Prejudice, the more they jumble into designs. The image of the woman kneeling at Switch’s feet paints the back of my eyelids. Her red lips forming a seal around his dripping cockhead.

  I choke on the thought, bile surging up my throat as I try to breathe through the discomfort.

  She takes him deeper, until he sits in her throat, and he begs her to do more.

  Breaking out in a cold sweat, I rest the closed book on the vanity for later and place my head between my knees to calm the hell down.

  Sonofabitch.

  This isn’t about me. This is about him. A kid who came here after a fucked-up existence, who’s never had any sexual experiences before that he wanted. Only ones they forced him to endure. I may have kissed him when I shouldn’t have at the restaurant—a lapse in judgment. A weakness I won’t succumb to again. Switch deserves better from me. He deserves care and concern. To be loved and respected, no matter the personal cost.

  Rocking back and forth on the toilet lid, I deal with my issues and wait for the pleasure in our bedroom to end. It can’t last forever.

  A moment later, the same tap, tap, tap hits the bathroom door.

  “Yeah?” I croak and sit upright.

  “Um.” A female clears her throat. “Do you think you could come out here?”

  “Are you done?” Please say you are.

  “Not exactly.”

  Fuck.

  “I can when you’re done,” I force out.

  “I’m in need of your assistance.”

  Worried something’s gone wrong, I shoot off the seat and throw open the bathroom door to come face-to-face with a beautiful woman close to my height. “Is he okay?” I grip the frame, tension radiating through my shoulders and neck. Switch had better be alright.

  Blinking as if just now noticing my ugliness for the first time, she then nods. “Yes… But I think he’d prefer if you were in the room.”

  Not gonna happen. This is torture enough.

  “Why?” I grit, taking a step forward, crowding her space. Her lips are redder than they were when she walked in. She had them around his cock, sucking on Switch. Enjoying it. Getting wet from what I allowed her to have.

  Whore. The word snarls inside my skull. Echoes of it bounce around like a ping-pong ball off the walls, growing duller and duller.

  His whore clasps both hands in front of her lace panties. I can make the slit of her cunt out from here. If I breathe in deep enough, I could probably smell the stank of her arousal.

  “He can’t keep an erection. When I asked him if he was nervous, he indicated he was,” she explains.

  Confused why it matters, I tilt my head to the side. “So?” If he can’t stay hard, that’s her fault. Not mine. Maybe she’s not sexy enough for him. She doesn’t do it for me either.

  “Raff said you’re close to Switch when he called. Maybe you being there will make this easier.” Her barely-there brows arc as a soft air of compassion envelops her features. “Have you ever considered maybe trying to do this yourself?”

  I rear back at her big set of lady balls. Who the hell does this woman think she is? “Excuse. Me?”

  “Sorry if I’m overstepping, but I’d be happy to show you.”

  “Show me what exactly?” She cannot be stupid enough to say what I think she’s about to.

  “How to give a blowjob.”

  “Isn’t that your job, to do the blowing?” I grate.

  Both of her palms lift in submission. “Hey. No judgment here. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taught someone how to do it.”

  “I’m not gay.” Not even close. If she knows what’s best for her, she’ll shut her whore mouth before I end her life.

  Again, with the placating hands. “I didn’t say you were.”

  I take a second step forward, and she retreats the same. Smart cookie. “I’m not into men,” I reiterate for what feels like the billionth time.

  “That’s fine by me, but your roommate is.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Into men.”

  Lying bitch.

  “Switch isn’t into men either.” How dare she say otherwise.

  “Maybe not men. But a certain man, he is.”

  Irritated with the turn of events... With her, her hair, her smooth, perfect skin, and the way her too feminine voice enunciates each word, I get right in her fucking face. “Can we not do this cryptic bullshit and say what you need to say?”

  Not backing down this time, she stares straight into my eyes and puffs up her ample chest. “Switch is very much in tune with you. When you left the room, he lost his erection almost immediately. Even with my mouth on it. That isn’t normal for most men. Which tells me he gets excited with you around. If you want me to perform on him, you will have to be in the room, or else he won’t sustain an erection long enough to come. Which is the objective, is it not?”

  I nod… Because what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That she’s lying about this? Not likely. When she clearly knows what the hell she’s talking about.

  The whore keeps talking. “If you aren’t into him that way, no judgment. But he is into you that way, which is why I offered to teach you how to perform a blow job. It might sound intimidating at first, but I promise it’s not as hard as it looks.” She smirks. “I mean, it is hard. The cock. But the sucking isn’t.”

  Nope. No way in hell.

  We aren’t going there.

  The objective, as she said, is to make him come—end of story.

  If he needs me present to get there, then I’ll deal.

  Not bothering with unnecessary explanations that are none of her business, I gesture with a jerk of my chin for her to give me room to pass. She does so and I stalk back into the bedroom to find Switch in the same spot he was before; only this time he’s soft, and his skin is deathly pale. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. There’s no doubt he heard our chat. He knows that I know. It changes nothing on my end. He’ll always be mine to care for.

  To get this list dwindled down, I climb behind him on the bed. Sitting with legs on either side of Switch, his ass fits snug against my crotch, his back to my front.

  The woman, whose name I could care less about, returns to her position at Switch’s feet and purrs. “Mmmm. You’re all ready for me, big guy.”

  My stomach roils at the seductive lilt of her words.

  Shut it, bitch, and get on with it.

  The moment her mouth engulfs Switch, he grips my knees instead of his own, and gasps the most addictive, shuddery sound I’ve ever heard. Wanting to take part for his pleasure, I cuff both hands around the inside of his thighs, pulling them apart for her to get better access to the goods.

  He moans loudly as a full-body tremor shakes the bed.

  I slide my touch down further, nails biting into the meat of his inner thighs. My dick perks up at the sounds Switch emits. From surprised and needy to downright pornographic as she sucks him off. It’s a good thing I can’t see the show. Only feel it through our connection. His body presses into mine, grip tight on my legs.

  She slurps as she services him, the wet suction noise filling our room.

  Switch drops his head into my shoulder. A long stretch of pale neck is before me, a buffet of flesh for the taking. Having nothing better to do, I indulge. Sucking on Switch, I give him what he needs. What I need. What we need.

  The closer the talented whore brings him to the precipice, the hotter I become. I suck dark welts into his flesh as she rocks his world, drawing salty cum straight from his balls.

  “Burn,” he sobs, voice ragged.

  A single gift.

  A word.

  His first to me. To anyone.

  My name.

  Fuck.

  A tightness
in my chest steals my breath away. I smile happier than I’ve ever been. Wanting to give as meaningful of a gift, I nip Switch’s earlobe and whisper, “I’ve got you, baby. You can come now.”

  Arching his back, the kid does as he’s told and detonates into the woman’s awaiting mouth. He shakes and moans with rapture as the whore chokes to swallow his orgasm. And I, feeling him succumb against me, close my eyes, sink my teeth into the meat of his neck, and let go. Cum splashes the inside of my shorts as I ride the wave of ecstasy with Switch, fucking his lower back through the cotton. Still not satisfied, I release my shaft from its prison and smear the remnants of my spend along his spine. Marking my roommate’s flesh, I wrap an arm around his waist to support him.

  Having completed her duty, the whore stands as Switch sighs, head still resting on my shoulder.

  “You can go now,” I mumble, before kissing his neck for her to witness.

  Yes, lady, he’s mine.

  Knowing her place, the whore dips her chin in acknowledgment and exits. The moment the door comes to a close, I nip Switch’s ear again. “You said my name.”

  SWITCH

  Unable to concentrate, I float in a cocoon of warm, boneless satisfaction. I came. I experienced my first oral sex, and it was… ughhh… it was… astonishing. Burn’s mouth was on me, making me come for him. He was suctioned around my dick, giving me pleasure. He… Burn… I… I’ve never felt like this before. Not about anyone.

  Inhaling deeply, the addictive scent of sex and him pull me deeper.

  Hot words whisper in my ear I can’t sift through as a post-orgasm shiver up my spine.

  Good.

  So damn good.

  Those lips.

  Burn.

  Coming.

  I mumble his name again and the support at my back shifts. Taking me with him, the entirety of my existence stretches out on the bed. Head on his chest, legs straddling either side of his, I groan in contentment as fingers stroke through my sweaty hair.

  In and out I drift to the sound of his breathing. To the gentleness of his touch. To the lub of a strong heart. It’s far more than I deserve, but I revel in it anyhow. He gave me a gift, something to wash away years of sexual anguish. Maybe not entirely, but it’s a start. Remy never gave a thing. Not when I was good. Not when I pleased him. Not like this. It was never about me. Today, I was desired and cared for as me, for me. Just the memory of Burn’s encouragement has me growing stiff again.