Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 10.1 Light but Full of Gravity

They run. Unfortunately, even in this bizarre, animalistic state of mind, Zef remembers that he hates running. Gray seems to have him running a lot.

Luckily, it isn't for long. Gray dives into a coat check to retrieve his leather jacket, then leads Zef down the hall, into the toilets, and yanks open a window there. It's up high. They have to clamber onto the sink to crawl through. Gray gestures for Zef to go first. Zef blushes furiously as he kicks his way up the wall while Gray's hands shove insistently at his ass.

Zef's brain sings helpfully, Gray's hands are on my ass! Gray's hands are on my ass!! Gray's! Hands! Are on!! My ass!!!

He manages to scramble through, and Gray follows. He tugs Zef towards a parking lot crowded with cars. Many headlights turn on as escaping bar patrons rev their engines. It's hard to see through the glare, but Gray pulls up short of a motorbike with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

It's a pretty thing. Neon yellow and black like a wasp. Gray strokes its sleek hide, implants flaring red, and the bike purrs to life like a living animal reacting to his touch.

Drunk on beer and a bloody nose, Zef thinks, same, motorbike. Same. "Is this one yours?"

Gray grins. "Naw. Nothing's ever mine."

It punches Zef harder than any of the knuckle sandwiches he ate from the bar. "What do you mean by that?"

A shrug. "Said you wanted to ride a motorbike."

"I didn't say a stolen one." He's touched, and he knows his face shows it. Was always dead shit at hiding how he really felt.

Is this whole night not just an apology, but an attempt to show Zef the good time he'd never had? Give him all the bucket list wishes he'd named?

"We're just borrowing her," Gray assures him. In one smooth motion, he swings a leg astride the bike and gives the engine a rev. "You comin' or what?"

Zef hesitates. "You drank that beer real fast."

Gray's tattoos flash a reminder. "Turned that metabolic setting down, not off. I'll walk a straight line if you ask nicely, though." He tilts his head. Like a goddamn puppy. Should be illegal to be endearing and a death wish at the same time. "Or you could trust me?"

Zef doesn't have time to wonder or question his impulse to say, "God, I want to." He jumps on. Then hesitates. The rush wears off just enough for him to recall a few salient details.

Like where he's meant to put his hands.

"You sure you don't mind if I—?" Zef nearly sits on the ass of the bike to put a healthy distance between them.

Gray looks over his shoulder at him, brow raised.

"You said you don't like being touched," Zef supplies.

Gray's eyes gleam. "It's all right, darling. Won't bite ya this time."

This time, Zef thinks, but the words slither down his throat and constrict around his heart. Gray's giving him permission. I want to trust you. Do you want to trust me? Zef remembers the papery weight of the letter in his hands, light but full of gravity. He's trusting Gray by getting on this bike with him. But Gray's trusting him, too.

A lance of startling pain strikes Zef through the chest. I don't deserve it.

Behind them, the noise of gunshots pop off like fireworks from the bar. He pushes the thought aside. Slips forward on the seat, ass squeaking against leather. Gingerly, he puts his arms around Gray's waist, hands feather light on Gray's hips. He's not going for reverential or cautious, but a combination of both fill him up.