John
Papa Bear Callahan adjusted his eye
patch. "So, you wanna join the Moon Riders?" He walked in a tight
circle around Jeep, our newest potential Prospect.
Jeep
nodded.
"Why?"
"I'm
a certified mechanic, and I specialize in bikes. There's not a bike on this
planet I can't take apart and put back together with one hand tied behind my
back and my eyes closed."
Papa
Bear chuckled. "We'll get to the hand tyin' later. It's just about the
bikes for you, then?"
"Not
just, no."
"Go
on."
Jeep
looked away and took a deep breath before he met Papa Bear's eyes again. "I'm
gay. I've heard you guys are all gay too, but nobody gives you any shit. Not
like they do the rest of us. I thought maybe...maybe this could be a place where
I could fit in. A safe place."
I
rolled my eyes at the thought of a motorcycle gang being considered a safe
place, but I did see his point.
"You
gotta bitch?"
Jeep
blinked several times. "Bitch?"
"Boyfriend,"
Papa Bear clarified. "Husband. Live-in manwhore. Booty call on speed dial.
Significant other."
"No."
Jeep laughed and shook his head. "No. None of those."
Papa
Bear stroked his chin and looked pensive for a moment, then nodded. "All
right then. But you gotta qualify. Can't just join up. Gotta prove
yerself."
"How
do I do that?" Jeep asked.
"I'm
gonna give you a task, and Dale here,"—he pointed at me—"is gonna
determine if you've preformed yer task well enough. If Dale says yer in,
yer in. There's a vote, o'course, but it's just a formality. Dale gets what
Dale wants. Ain't that right, Dale?"
I
nodded and bit down on my tongue to keep from laughing at his dramatics.
Jeep
thrust his chin out and squared his shoulders. "What's my
task?"
"It's
twofold," Papa Bear muttered. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock
out. "You suck my dick, and make Dale want you. Easy peasy."
Jeep's
eyes went wide as he glanced down to Papa Bear's erect cock.
"Now."
Papa Bear cast me a wink. "On yer knees, boy."
Jeep
sank to his knees, and, in the middle of the garage, among dirt and grease,
proceeded to suck Papa Bear off. He looked quite good at it—he stroked the
shaft, cradled the balls, made furious noises of appreciation as he buried his
face in Papa Bear's thick pelt again and again. I palmed my cock through my
jeans as I watched. And then he did it.
Jeep
moaned long and low and loud and looked up, but not at Papa Bear. At me, those big baby blues all lust blown. The
heat of his gazed reached out to me, wrapped around me, squeezed me, shook me,
raked along my cock before letting me go.
"He's
in," I rasped. I turned and walked out of the garage as Papa Bear burst
into hysterical laughter.
"Goin' soft in yer old age!" he yelled.
"Fuck
you!" I yelled back.
"Any
time, any place!" He let out several groans and shouted curses,
and then the heavy footfall of Jeep's booted feet approached me from behind.
I
turned to him, wanting nothing more than to cover that shit-eating grin of his
with my mouth.
"Initiations
not over yet, is it?" He licked his lips, looked me up and down, gaze lingering on my
crotch before sliding back up to meet my own.
I
chuckled as I unbuttoned my jeans. "Oh, it's just stared." I pointed
to a nearby bench. "Assume the position."
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