by Tillie Cole
Styx was lost… confused… he was hurting.
He was trying so very hard to speak, his eyes furiously twitching. But he could not, and I could see it was breaking him up inside.
“Shh,” I whispered for his ears only. “Do not try to speak. I have you… I have you.” His cheek turned in my hand, seeking comfort. I knew then his emotional walls had come crashing down.
Abruptly, the gate lurched into action and, Ky, who was stood behind us, signaled for Tank. The two of them lifted Styx and carried him into the yard; his hand immediately reached for me. Running to him, I grasped his outstretched hand. And at that moment, I made a vow to never again let go.
“Get him to his apartment!” Ky ordered. We raced to the clubhouse and Styx’s pained eyes strayed not once from my eyes.
I will be strong for my man. I will be the perfect old lady.
As we hurried past the bar, Rider jumped off the barstool and seemed to stand to attention. Ky jerked his chin at him. “You’re up, Doc.”
I stiffened a little, unsure how Rider would react, but he nodded his agreement and sprinted to get his medical bag.
Rider was going to help Styx and I could not have been more thankful.
When we entered the apartment I switched on the light. Tank and Ky carefully laid Styx down and running to the washroom, I grabbed the closest towel then raced back toward the bed.
“Tank. Out,” Ky ordered. Without hesitation, Tank left the room. I glanced up at Ky and he motioned for me to clean Styx. He knew Styx could not talk with Tank present.
Lifting my knees onto the black sheets, I hovered over Styx, his eyes squeezing shut, stoically fighting the pain.
Brushing a fallen piece of hair from Styx’s face, I leaned down. “Styx, speak to me. Are you okay?”
“B-babe… M-Mae…”
“Are you hurt?” I waved at Ky to help me remove Styx’s leather jacket.
“S-safe,” he whispered.
“What, Styx?” I asked. Ky rolled down one side of Styx’s jacket as I rolled down the other.
“Y-you’re s-safe… n-now…” he said and the lines of worry marring his face disappeared.
I stilled at his words and my stomach dropped.
He had killed them all.
“Fuckin’ cunts!” Ky spat out, seeing the extent of his injuries. Slashes. Large bleeding slashes up and down the arms. Blood seeped through his shirt and when I slowly pulled the blood-soaked shirt up and over his head, Styx clenched his teeth in pain.
I froze.
“What? What is that?” I pointed, then whispered to Ky.
Ky did not reply. When I looked up, I thought he would explode. Rolling up the towel, I pressed on the gaping wound covering Styx’s top right chest.
Styx squeezed his eyes tight together as I applied greater pressure, then I noticed Ky had still not moved. “Ky, what is this symbol? What have they engraved on him?”
Ky inhaled through his nose. Teeth gritted, he spat out, “A swastika. The motherfuckers carved a FUCKIN’ SWASTIKA ON HIS CHEST!” he screamed. Disbelief had given way to incandescent anger.
Swastika. The sign beloved by the Nazi gang.
“If they are not dead already, they fuckin’ die tonight.”
Rider chose that moment to walk in. He had removed the sling from his injured shoulder. His jaw clenched as he saw me on the bed, caring for Styx, but he quickly composed himself and walked forward.
Rider opened his black leather bag and enquired, “How’s he doing?”
I leaned back and removed the towel.
Rider gasped loudly. “Cock suckers!” he growled, his cheeks reddening in rage.
“Rider. Please help him,” I begged.
Styx groaned and reached out his hand, slapping the mattress. I looked down, worried he was in too much pain.
Ky interpreted. “He’s wanting you, Mae. He’s searching for you. Go to him.”
As I grasped his hand in mine, Styx immediately relaxed. I bent down, whispering for him to be calm. Shining through his cloud of pain, Styx’s lips twitched and a small smile spread across his bloodied face.
“He needs stitches,” Rider said tightly. I glanced in his direction. Those brown eyes were stone as he watched me comfort Styx.
“Then fuckin’ do it!” Ky commanded, his words kick-starting Rider into action.
Styx had fifteen small slashes, plus his newly carved swastika measuring three inches in both height and width. Rider also found rope marks on Styx’s ankles and wrists; he speculated that Styx had been tied to a chair and tortured.
Tortured; yet somehow Styx had made it out alive.
After an hour of treatment, Styx clawed his way back from the shock of his injuries. His eyes were focusing better and Rider had given him medication for the pain. Styx was still filthy and some of the detritus Rider picked off him made me retch.
Flesh. He had chunks of flesh and fragments of bone all over his clothes. What had he done to the other men? I tried very hard not to think about it.
“We gotta get all this shit off him,” Rider stated. “Don’t wanna risk getting the sutures infected. I’ve covered them with waterproof strips. We don’t know what kinda shit those fascist bastards had in their blood.”
“I’ll do it,” Ky volunteered. “He’ll hate it, but I’ll do it. Stubborn bastard hates getting help.” Ky edged toward Styx, who fought to sit up in protest.
“I will do it,” I whispered, the words escaping my lips. Ky’s surprised eyes fixed on me. “I shall care for him. It is my responsibility,” I said with growing confidence.
Styx squeezed my hand in thanks or adoration—I did not care which, but I found that I could not look directly at him. My heart thundered in my chest at the very thought of what I was about to do. I would see Styx naked… I would bathe Styx. In commune, it was regarded to be a sensual act between man and wife. The act of bathing was a rite sacred to lovers.
But we had become lovers in a fashion… At least we were about to be. It was going to happen soon. Our bodies and our desires were in perfect balance. I needed Styx; he needed me. I wanted him; he wanted me.
“Like fuck you will! Ky does it,” Rider suddenly demanded. His voice felt as cold as ice.
Styx’s chest tensed, then he dragged himself up off the mattress. A pained grunt accompanied his movement. As I surveyed Styx’s face, I knew things were going to escalate very quickly if I did not intervene. I shook my hand free from his and jumped up. Styx’s hazel eyes narrowed and I knew it was his way of warning me not to go with Rider. But Rider was my best friend and, right now, he was hurting badly.
Walking to Rider, I gripped his arm and led him from the room into the hallway. I quickly closed the apartment door behind us.
I could still smell the strong scent of liquor on Rider’s hot breath as I swung around to face him. “Rider, Styx needs my—”
Rider cut in. “I can’t stand the thought of you with him!” Torment was etched on his features. His brown eyes were bloodshot and his long hair ratty and wild.
My heart fell. What have I done to him?
When I reached for his arm, he snatched it back, shaking his head.
“Rider, please—” I begged.
“Are you fuckin’ him, Mae? You his bitch whore now? I mean, isn’t it against your religion or some shit?”
I stumbled back in shock; my back hit the concrete wall with a dull thud. “How dare you?” I managed to whisper. I stared at the man before me, a man who definitely looked like Rider. But this man had transformed into a bitter version of my best friend.
Leaning forward, Rider went nose-to-nose with me, his anger ebbing, and a flash of sadness ghosted across his face. As I swallowed in nerves, his hands cupped my face. “Have you fucked him, Mae? Have you given yourself to him? It’s driving me insane. I can’t picture you like that with him. It’s fuckin’ killing me… killing me…”
I tried to push him away, but I could not move him. “Rider, what I do privately is none of you
r business.”
“Are you kidding me?” he hushed out quietly. “Of course it’s my business!” His head tipped back and, taking a long, deep breath, Rider met my gaze and confessed, “You’re mine, Mae. I fuckin’ want you in my bed, not Styx’s. We’re good together, Mae. Real good. I’d never fuck with you, never fuck anyone behind your back—”
“Nor would Styx.” I interrupted.
Rider regarded me as though I was simple. “You sure about that, sugar? Styx ain’t who you think he is. He fucks sluts. Drinks. Kills. He hasn’t earned the rep he’s got for nothing.”
“He is very different with me. And anyway, you kill too. People in glass houses should not throw stones!”
“Maybe I do kill, sugar, but I’d leave all this shit for you. I’d leave this club behind for you. I’d change. Go straight if you wanted me to.”
Rider’s breath became ragged as he stared longingly at my lips. He edged closer, almost pressing his lips to mine but at the last second, I turned my head.
Rider groaned in exasperation. “What is it you see in him?” I stayed silent. He could not, would not understand. “Answer me, Mae!” he demanded, then pressed his forehead against mine. “Please…”
“Everything,” I said quietly and Rider stopped breathing altogether. “He is everything to me. I see everything in him. We share something no one else can understand.”
Taking two steps back, scoffing in disbelief, Rider ran his hands down his face. I could have sworn I saw the shine of moisture fill his eyes.
“Then you know what, Mae? Go get your fuckin’ everything. If you can’t see with your own eyes what’s the truth, then stay blind.” On that final note, Rider leaped down the steps.
Grief overwhelmed me; my legs gave way, my back sliding slowly down the wall until I sat like a ragdoll on the floor.
Folding my arms on my bent knees, I lowered my head and let the tears fall. How had things become so bad so quickly with Rider? He is my best friend!
However, as I thought back over the last few weeks, my chest constricted. The signs of him growing to like me were there: the touches, the secret smiles, increasingly intimate conversations—at least on his side. How could I have been so blind? I had been too wrapped up in Styx to notice. Who was I kidding? I had been wrapped up in Styx since the age of eight.
I have only ever had eyes for Styx.
He was my world, my everything. My almost losing him tonight had served only to double my desire for the silent man.
He needs me.
And I need him.
I want the opportunity to get to know him. I want our journey to really begin.
“Mae?” Blinking in shock, I lifted my head to see Ky at the doorway of Styx’s apartment, looking down at me, brow furrowed. “You okay?”
Wiping my eyes, I climbed to my feet. “Yes.”
“Where’s Rider?” he asked, craning his head to look down the hallway.
“He left.”
Ky stared at me, a knowing glint in his eyes. I expected him to say something, but he just opened the door, jerking his chin for me to go inside.
The bed was empty.
“Where is he?” I asked, hearing the door close.
“In the washroom. He’s rinsed himself in the shower, but the stubborn fucker can barely stand. Won’t take my help. He’s running a bath now. Safer than falling on his face, I suppose.”
I nodded and headed that way, but Ky’s hand on my arm stopped me. “He’s got you, yeah? For real? You’re his?”
He wanted confirmation I would not hurt his friend, his best friend.
Pressing my hand on the top of his, I nodded. “I have always been his. I will never see anyone else. I will always be his and his alone.”
Sighing in relief, Ky headed for the door. “You’re good for him. I see that now.” He did not turn round as he spoke. Then all of a sudden, Styx and I were alone in his apartment, no sound but the running water from the faucet in the bathroom.
Bracing myself at the door to the bathroom, I pressed down on the handle and pushed my way through. I immediately froze. Styx stood in the center of the room, his broad muscled back to me… naked. His head was bowed, his body sagging with exhaustion, his heavily tattooed skin raked with long gashes.
Heat pooled between my legs as I absorbed every inch of his bare body and I began to pant. The sight of this man’s body revealed was something for which I could not prepare. Every inch of his body featured hard, protruding muscles. From his lower back to his lower calves Styx looked like he had been sculpted by an artist—to perfection, pure… male… perfection.
The urge to reach out and stroke his back—to feel he was real—grew. As my eyes scanned lower, I almost whimpered out loud in lustful need. His behind comprised of two rock-hard tanned globes which swept into thick thighs, both dusted with a light covering of dark hair.
My stomach clenched over and over as I imagined kneeling before him, kissing every tattoo, every scar… taking him in my mouth. I had never before performed this act, the act of oral pleasure, but I had observed women here at the clubhouse performing it on the brothers. At the time, I confess it horrified me. Right now, staring at Styx’s almost impossible perfection, I wanted nothing more than to taste him on my tongue. For a moment I was ashamed of my sinful thoughts, but I pushed them from my mind. Guilt should play no part in the act of love.
As I moved forward, I winced with guilt. I was wet. Wet between my thighs… within my sex. That same burning feeling I had felt before with Styx began stirring in my body. When I reached his back, the warmth from his skin caused me to roll my eyes back and inhale his manly scent: leather, soap, and him.
Lifting my hand, I placed my finger on the nape of his neck and softly guided it down his back. I watched as thousands of goose bumps rippled over his skin and with an audible hiss, his head lifted. He looked at me over his shoulder.
The tightness that had been surrounding his hazel eyes faded and was replaced by something primal. I felt the soft grasp of his fingers wrap around my wrist and with a sharp tug, Styx guided me round his body. My hand still placed on his spine dragged around his ribs and as I drifted along his waist, I paused to stroke his solidly-packed stomach. Styx’s thick bulging fully tattooed arms tensed and flexed in sympathy with my attentions.
Catching Styx swallowing hard, my eyes drifted to meet his. I slinked forward to press a kiss on the evil mark now carved into his skin and his head tipped back and his hand fisted my braid. He yanked me to his glistening skin.
With a low groan, Styx pushed me back, lifting his hands tentatively to free the leather jacket from my shoulders.
He rolled his lips together, only for his tongue to lick along his lip ring. His face was clear of blood now, only scratches and a long slash on his cheek remained.
The straps of my tank were next and he never once took his eyes off me as he pushed down the thin fabric of my vest. My nipples hardened as the cool air caressed my bare skin.
Flicking his gaze down, Styx’s nostrils flared as his rough calloused hands palmed my breasts. A pang of pleasure shot straight between my legs. “Styx!” I whispered as my hands planted on his wide chest.
With a quick yank, my vest shredded and fell to the floor. Before I knew it, my leathers were warming my ankles. My tiny black panties were the only barrier separating us from being fully exposed to one another.
Styx’s deft fingers worked the string ties on either side of my hips. In a flash, the thin scrap of material joined the rest of my clothes on the black-and-white checkered tiles.
Absolutely nothing was left between us.
Styx’s hand coiled around the back of my neck. Wordlessly, he pulled me against his body, tipped back my chin, and brushed his lips briefly against mine. The broken skin was rough, but it felt so perfect.
As we parted, my hands ran down his chest, over the peaks and valleys of his firm torso, then on to the long length of his rigid erection.
Styx stilled as I wrapped my hand
around his manhood, my eyes widening as I struggled to wrap my fingers around its girth. Boldly glancing down, I gulped. Never, had I ever seen one so big. The disciples measured poorly against Styx’s size and, as I stroked my hand slowly up and down, I shivered at seeing him so raw, so under my spell. I wanted to take him inside me, to feel him move within me… to make love for the first time in my life.
To bring me pleasure.
Releasing my hand, I drifted backward, drinking in the sultry sight of my man. My mouth watered, my nipples ached, and my core throbbed. Pure rugged male perfection; so dangerous to the touch.
As a distraction, I turned away to gather my wits and I bent down to turn off the faucet. I started as I suddenly felt Styx behind me, his rigid length slipped seamlessly between the apex of my thighs. His manhood dragged deliciously between my legs… the sensations—so overwhelming…
Straightening up with my back flush to his chest, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around the nape of his neck. Styx’s tongue licked along my neck, his hands pulling and pinching at my nipples before they ran down to my sex, slipping gently along the folds.
“Styx…” I moaned. His fingers stroked back and forth, hitting a spot that fired wave after wave of electric currents under my skin. The tips of my fingers and toes tingled in my state of ecstasy.
Styx was silent, his lack of words only heightening the intensity of the moment. His fingers increased in speed, until I was writhing in his arms, his hips pushing closer to my behind. That same fire I had felt only a couple of times before began building at the base of my spine, only to suddenly shoot to my sex and burst into flames. My eyes closed as I worked myself against Styx’s hand, his length now grinding between the gap in my thighs.
A slick wetness trickled down my legs and my chest heaved with jagged breaths.
“Mae,” Styx hushed out and slowly, teasingly, he withdrew his hand from inside me.
Turning in his arms, I almost crumpled to the floor as Styx inserted his fingers into his mouth. His tongue ran around the digits, licking and tasting, before he dragged them down his bottom lip. Thrusting them out, he gently pushed them in the direction of my mouth.