Not impressed with the introduction, I smack my lips together. “Uh…huh. Of course, I have. How’s it you got this number?”
I know who Big Dick is. Everybody in the biker world knows who Big Dick is. Ain’t no big-time prez ringing me outta the blue, when I’ve never spoken to the man before. I call bullshit.
“Bonez reached out. Said you’ve got a couple’a Remy’s shitbags under your roof.”
Right. Sure, he did. I’ll play along.
“We had seven. Down to two. ‘Bout to be one.”
Flipped onto his back, Switch’s prey begs for mercy as he slices a thin line down the guy’s torso, neck to navel. Crimson bursts from the center in an incredible show of restraint. Not too shallow, not too deep, just enough to watch him hurt. Holding the knife between his teeth, Switch then unfastens the dickhead’s pants and yanks them down to his knees, exposing his cock. Piss pools around the pedo’s inchworm as he trembles in sweet, sweet fear; knowing he’s next on the list.
Impressed with my man’s creativity, I smirk.
More chuckling comes from Big Dick, if that’s who this is. It’s a little too suspicious for me to believe. “Fuck. You don’t waste time.”
“No. No, we don’t. You gotta reason you called?” You’re wasting my time with this crap. I’ve got a show to watch.
“Bonez didn’t tell you shit, did he?” he asks.
“Tell me what?” I try to give a damn when I don’t. Not here. Not now. I mean, look at my man… ripping off his shirt and exposing those impressive pecs. How did I never notice how fucking sexy he is before this? As if that doesn’t turn my crank enough, the scarred-up ginger kneels beside his prey, in a puddle of blood. It soaks through his cotton pants and I gotta pull in a deep breath to get a goddamn grip. All I can picture is me and Switch there, rolling around, fucking. Our dicks lubed by his kills… by his motherfucking strength.
Dammit.
I turn around before I do something rash. This ain’t about me or my twisted imagination.
Get a grip, Burn.
“About that kid you got. The scarred one,” Big explains.
Did he just… Yeah… He’s referrin’ to Switch.
I bristle. “What about him?”
“That his brother is the one who found him.”
Bonez’s brother found Switch? Guess he left that little factoid out, now didn’t he? Figures.
“Nope. Never heard that. Didn’t ask questions.”
“You’ll be askin’ ‘em now. We’ve been pickin’ off Remy’s kind for years. Seems our desires are aligned.”
“And what desire is that?”
“Eradication of that piece of shit and all he represents.”
A-fuckin’-men
I nod. “Sounds about right… But you think maybe we can discuss this later when I don’t have my man guttin’ a pedophile on the floor of our barn?”
A toilet flushes, and a woman’s voice carries through the receiver, “Big, you comin’ to bed soon?”
Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe he is who he says.
There’s rustling over the phone as he does whatever he’s gotta do before I get a front-row earful of him dirty talkin’ his old lady. The same shit I hear all my brothers promise the club whores when they wanna get their dicks wet.
A feminine moan rings loud and clear.
Not wantin’ to disrespect the biggest president in the nation, I wait for him to say somethin’ or hang up.
He doesn’t and gets down to business with me still on the line. “Will you just sit on my cock, Sugar Tits? Jesus Christ… That’s it. Bounce on it like that… Oh… Hell… Shit, Burn?” He struggles to bring the phone back to his ear.
Covering my mouth, I stifle a chuckle. “Yeah?”
“Handle your fuckin’ business. You got my number. We’ll talk tomorrow ‘bout you join’ the war.” Click.
Guess that’s, that.
Turning back to the party, I’m met with another corpse and Switch naked. Guess he didn’t appreciate blood on his pants.
Hungry for more, he approaches the last bastard, dick swinging with every step.
Seated on the floor, the pedo cries quietly to himself and awaits his demise. There’s no struggle. No begging for mercy. Resolve settles into his bones for all to see.
Switch doesn’t play around when his knife slashes across the man’s face, scarring the flesh deep— ear to nose. The fileted skin oozes blood as he still refuses to fight back.
I step forward.
Hmm... he isn’t like the rest.
I’ve got plans for him.
Laughing in pure child-like bliss, the demon adds a matching design to the other side of the pedo’s face.
I stop beside them, the bottom of my boots leaving tread prints in blood.
Just now noticing me here, Switch’s head cocks to the side like an animal mid-hunt.
“Hey, babe,” I greet.
He smiles all teeth at the sound of my voice. His dick gets rock hard.
Can’t say this reaction doesn’t feel damn good. It’s nice to know even his fucked-up parts love me, too.
Knowing what I gotta do, I reach for the blade and wrap my hand around Switch’s securing it. “We’re gonna let this one go. This bastard needs to deliver a message for us.”
In old westerns, they’d kill everyone besides one guy—the delivery man. Remy needs to hear what happened firsthand. He needs to see what one of his former boys can and will do. If Big wants us to join his war, we’ll have the support we need to inflict far more damage to Remy’s enterprise. Letting one scumbag go for the sake of showboating won’t matter in the scheme of things.
Rejecting my command to set the man free, Switch turns to face me and launches an assault. The blade falls from our grasps as the demon sweeps my feet out from under me. Not prepared for this shit, I land flat on my back. Pain rattles my skull as the concrete does fuckall to cushion the fall. Quick on his feet, Switch straddles my hips. Hands wrap around my throat to cut off my air supply.
The brothers, having learned their lesson, leave us be.
I smile at him, despite the threat, and remain still.
I’m not gonna fight Switch or the demon.
If they want me dead, they can kill me.
Still turned on, my sexy redhead rocks his hips as my head gets fuzzy from lack of oxygen. I try to swallow beneath his grip, but can’t.
Switch’s face recedes as the world around me blackens.
My eyelids shutter, the tips of my fingers going numb.
It’s peaceful when you die.
Goodnight.
DEMON
“Hey, brother, you might wanna give your man a break. He ain’t into that kinky shit,” Raff says as they pile our kills into a wheelbarrow to dispose of.
Burn’s asleep. Not dead.
He doesn’t want us to kill the rapist.
But we want him dead.
We need him gone from this world.
We’re hungry. So hungry.
We lick our lips and stare down at the reason we’re alive.
He loves us.
Desires us.
We should listen to him.
Lifting the hem of Burn’s shirt, we rub our cock across his stomach and over his ugly scars.
Ink dances across his darker flesh as we mark it with our pre-cum.
He’s ours.
We purr in contentment and release his throat. Covering Burn with our body, we lean down to lick his face… to kiss and touch it.
Mmmm. Ours.
“Babe,” Burn croaks as he comes to, his hands going straight to our ass.
Eyes opening, he looks at us. Sees us. Feels us.
“Well, hello there.” He grins, sliding a finger between our cheeks to touch our hole.
Needing to be closer to him, we nuzzle our man’s neck.
An intruder clears his throat close-by.
Not wanting to be disturbed, we growl in our safe space, before sucking on his flesh there—salt and blood
and him. Mmmm. Ours.
“Burn, you know that he’s—” It’s Tank, our trainer. We like Tank.
“I know.”
“He’s—”
“I said, I know,” Burn grumbles in response as he caresses us… Our hole and our back, gentle yet firm. He knows what we like.
“Babe?” Fingers drift up our spine, over the nape of our neck, and into our hair, where he grips it and pulls back, forcing us to look him in the eye.
“I’m proud of you. So fuckin’ proud, babe. But I can’t fuck you here. We need to go back to our bedroom, to shower and shit.”
He doesn’t want us here.
He wants only him. That’s why he wants to go back.
We frown, our heart aching.
“Hey. None of that. You know I’ll take you both. Maybe you’ll let me make you come first before you give me Switch back.” To cement his desire for us, Burn slides a finger into our hole. Just one. It hurts as he claims us, but we need it as much as we need him.
“I love you. All of you. And that’s never gonna change.” Forcing our lips to his, we kiss him there. It’s warm and perfect… but not enough.
Desperate for more, we thrust our tongue inside and Burn lets us indulge however we like. Feeding off him, his erection, our arousal, we grow ravenous. Cupping this side of his face, we undulate, wanting to fuck him right here, our balls priming for release.
We reach between our bodies to grab his hard-on, but Burn stops us before we can unfasten the top button of his jeans. The fingers tightening in our hair forces us to look him in the eye once again.
“Bedroom. Now. Let me take care of you,” he commands.
We whine in protest.
Too far.
His nostrils flare. “Tell me you love me.”
“Love you.” Always.
“Tell me you trust me.”
“Trust you.” Forever.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“Yours.” Every day.
Pleased with us, he smiles that special smile reserved just for us. “Then let me take your sexy ass home. I need to take care of you.” He pats our ass cheek, playfully.
Home.
He said home.
We’re home.
Burn’s our home.
A single tear of happiness treks down our cheek as we nod.
Take us home, Burn.
We’re yours.
The End
READ MORE
Want more M/M romance check out…
HIS MASTER
Or
HIS BOY
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To learn more about Remy’s evil ways jump into the
Hope Trilogy
Letter to my Readers
Ya! You finished the book. Thank you for taking the time to read it! If you aren’t familiar with my work, you wouldn’t have caught the fun easter eggs I threw in. For those who are, I hope you enjoyed the inclusion of Big, Whisky, and Bonez. Oh… and we can’t forget the ultimate villain Remy. Which anyone can find more about throughout my other series’. I’m a crossover whore.
After watching Switch and Burn’s unique love story unfold, I can now officially say they hold a special place in my heart, and hope you agree. This is my first gay for you story. Well, my first published gay for you. I have a couple more currently in the works. (Shhhh, don’t tell.) This particular trope in the m/m romance genre is my favorite, and I’d hoped the characters would do it justice in a way it hasn’t been done before. By accepting each other at face value and going with the flow. In a lot of romances, including many I have written, the characters spend the majority of the story fighting their attraction for one another. Switch and Burn somehow skip those parts and focus on what makes them happy. They’re simple men, who enjoy the simple things life offers. Their friendship was forged by gut instinct. Something I’ve never even thought of before until Switch flat out refused to give me actual dialogue to share with Burn. He was tight lipped for the majority of our symbiotic journey of author and character. Just when I thought he’d give me the go ahead to share, he wouldn’t budge. Thus, creating the dichotomy that exists throughout Burn and Switch’s relationship. One I admire, even without the words.
I found it beautiful that two men from varied backgrounds at different stages in their lives could drift into this sort of love without knowing it. A large part of me wishes the real world was that simple. There is, I think, a lot to be said about owning your truths regardless if they make sense to anyone else. Burn and Switch encompass that to me…
So, before I give you six more paragraphs about these two men, I will send you on your merry way. Hopefully you’ll jump into another one of my books, should the thought tickle your fancy. Either way, thank you again on behalf of myself, Burn, and Switch, for taking this wild ride.
Happy Reading.
Peace,
Bink
P.S. If you get a chance, I would love to see your thoughts on your Amazon review. Xoxo.
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HERE
HIS BOY SAMPLE
Sitting on the living room couch, my legs spread, hard cock jutting toward the ceiling, I wait for my Daddy to come home. It’s been a long twelve hours since I’ve last seen him, and I’m in some serious need of his attention.
Justin and I have been roommates for three years, sleeping in separate bedrooms, sharing close friends, running in the same circles. I’d met him through Carrie, a mutual friend of ours, who thought since we were the only two gay men she knew that we’d automatically hit it off, and fall madly in love. The former was true immediately. We became fast friends, even though Justin is sixteen years older than me, and a bossy firefighter. He’s dark haired, tall, broad, and somewhat hairy in all the right places. I’m the nerd. I wear black rimmed glasses, have messy blond hair, and work from home doing secretive computer stuff. I could go into specifics, but that’s for another time. I’m at least five inches shorter than Justin, about fifty pounds lighter, and my muscles are lean, whereas his aren’t. He’s most men’s wet dream. Except mine. Or he wasn’t up until six months ago.
Justin had owned this three-bedroom ranch for years before we met. Six weeks after we’d been introduced by Carrie at one of her famous cookouts, the lease to my apartment was running out, and he’d invited me to live here. It’s been a perfect friendship ever since. I cover my half of the bills, as he does his. And we never fooled around. Hell, I’d never so much as seen his entire dick for well over two years. We were happy to live together platonically, doing our own thing, usually only coming together for dinner. We’d eat it in front of the TV, then talk about our day.
On the weekends, we’d go to bars with our friends, or go to a baseball game. He’s a minor league nutcase. I don’t really love the sport, but it’s not like I had anything better to do. I’m not much for relationships, or I wasn’t. And the only man I met that Justin had dated for more than a month, didn’t last much longer than that. From what I understood at the time, the guy was a stage five clinger. Not anyone’s type, except maybe for a quick lay. Then you have to beat him off with a baseball bat to make him leave. I guess that’s why the man lasted as long as he did. He was a cute twink that I’d never touch because I don’t do twinks. Though from the sounds that came from Justin’s room, it seemed they were at least compatible between the sheets.
A little less than six months ago was when everything changed in our household. I’d been sick with the flu, and Justin was home on vacation. My body fevered nonstop as I shivered in bed, feeling like dog shit. You see, my immediate family lives on the West Coast so I don’t really have anyone to care for me. Plus, living in the small town of Carolina Rose, Kentucky doesn’t give me a lot of choices regarding people to meet—gay people, is what I mean. Not when I live mostly indoors. So when I’m
sick, I’m stuck to care for myself, and if I’m honest, I’m not very good at doing that.
Four blankets covered me on the bed, and I cuddled under them to keep warm as a knock sounded at my bedroom door.
“Asher, are you alright in there?” Justin’s voice wavered with concern.
With teeth chattering incessantly, I replied, “I-I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
Curling deeper under the blankets, lips shielded by the fabric, my voice became muffled. “I-I will b-be after these da-damn shakes g-go away.”
Justin didn’t say another word when he popped open my door and marched into the room. Peeking over the edge of the covers, I watched him from my miserable spot in bed. He didn’t hesitate to strip out of his t-shirt and jeans, as I swallowed the lump in my throat at the sight of his bulky chest and all that hair. Even sick, I grew a chubby before he crossed the room and slid in beside me. Skin touched skin, and I sighed with relief, feeling warmer immediately.
Justin’s arm pulled me closer, so I was forced to hook my leg over his hip, as he laid on his back. My cheek settled on his pec, and I sprang from chubby to rock-hard in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t help it. He smelled great, like his body wash and man. Plus, his heat was a balm to my sickness, soothing those damn shakes away, even my teeth finally stopped chattering.
Sometime after he’d come to my rescue, I passed out, and when I woke up, we were spooning, his hard cock jabbing me in the back. For a moment, I thought he’d pitched a tent in his boxers, but when I felt the coolness of his pre-cum sliding across the surface of my skin, I knew he was naked. If I thought my boner was bad before, it became ten times worse. I tried to ignore it and pretend it didn’t exist. Unfortunately, the more my mind tried not to think about it, the complete opposite happened. Within ten minutes, my balls were aching for release. So I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands in the bathroom. But when I attempted to climb off the bed, the arm anchored around my stomach tightened, and that dick against my back smeared more of its juices. Biting back a groan, I fought the need to peel that big arm from around my waist.
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