Sarah
Sarah adopted a ridiculous French accent as she recited the punchline. “'Oh, monsieur,' the guide says to him, 'you dare not miss! For if you do...ze moose will fuck my brother Georges!'”
The bikers around her burst out into loud guffaws. Even Ron chuckled heartily, despite the fact that he'd heard the joke dozens of times—from Sarah, and from her father before that.
Sarah smiled, taking a sip of her beer. This was always the best part of her day, when she could forget her boring, low-paying job at the deli counter of the local grocery store and have fun with her uncle and his Dogs. She loved their crude humor, and the way they sang and danced badly whenever the right song would come on the radio. She loved the way they talked about their bikes, the way they always smelled of leather and motor oil, the way they drank until dawn while trading stories of the outlaw life.
But even though the Dogs were having their usual raucous good time, Sarah couldn't help but notice that one of them—her favorite one—wasn't partying with them. She briefly scanned the room and saw Kurt sitting in the corner, looking like a man who was slowly succumbing to a state of deep shock.
Sarah had been hanging out with the MC since she was in high school, and from the very beginning, she'd had a crush on Kurt. Back then, he'd just graduated from prospect to fully-patched member, and in the years since, she'd watched his meteoric rise within the club. He'd always been Ron's favorite, a surrogate son to him, and everyone knew that one day he was destined to take over for him as president.
When Kurt announced that he was going to marry Diana, Sarah congratulated him warmly, despite the guilty stab of jealousy in her heart. When Diana had a baby, Sarah fussed over it and gushed about how cute it was, trying not to let herself picture a life in which she and Diana had traded places.
Then the accident happened, and ever since then, Kurt hadn't been himself and Sarah had struggled to find the right words to say to him—until enough time passed that it wouldn't be appropriate to say anything at all about it anymore.
And now here he was, drinking shots of whiskey like they were water and looking like the loneliest person on earth.
Sarah glanced at Ron and saw that he'd been watching her with a bemused expression.
“It's the one-year anniversary, isn't it?” she asked quietly.
“Yep.”
“I feel so bad for him.”
Ron raised one of his bushy eyebrows, giving her a conspiratorial smile from behind his shaggy white beard. With that playful expression, he looked like some kind of biker Santa Claus about to disappear up a chimney. “From the look in your eyes, I'd say that's not all you're feeling about him.”
Sarah blushed. “Oh, come on, that's...I mean, I'm not...”
Ron laughed. “Don't bother. It's obvious that you've been carrying a torch for Kurt since you were still wearing braces.”
“Obvious?” Sarah groaned. “Really? So you've known about it the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“Do the other Dogs know?”
“Yes.”
Sarah blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, until her ears felt like they were on fire. “Does Kurt know?”
Ron shrugged. “Right now, I don't think Kurt knows much about anything except the ghosts fucking around in his head. You could help him with that, though, I think.”
Now it was Sarah's turn to raise her eyebrows. “Are you saying you'd really be okay with...that?”
Ron put a hand on Sarah's shoulder. “Look, I'm not gonna pretend it ain't weird having this talk with my niece, okay? But you ain't a kid no more. I love you, and I love Kurt, and all I want is for both of you to be happy. Watching him sink deeper and deeper into the mud over the past year has damn near broken my heart, and if you think you've got an honest chance at yanking him back out, then you owe it to yourself—and to him—to head on over there and take your shot.”
Sarah took a step toward Kurt's table, then wavered. “But he's drunk, and he's grieving, and... what if it's the wrong time? What if it just confuses things?”
Ron shook his head. “Drunk or sober, grief or no, trust me—these things can always be confusing. But they can be worked out later. And anyway, he looks like he's drowning, and you look like someone who wants to throw him a lifeline. Seems like the perfect time to me.”
She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two beers from the bar. “Okay. Here I go, then.”
Ron smiled. “Just breathe, hon. You'll do fine.”
Sarah walked over to Kurt's table. As she got close, Kurt looked up at her with bleary eyes.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked.
He stared up at her for a long moment as though she'd just arrived on a UFO. Finally, he nodded, gesturing to the seat across from him. She took it, setting the whiskey and beers down between them.
“You looked like you could use a refill,” she said. “And maybe some company.”
Kurt laughed bitterly. “I'm afraid I'm not gonna be very good company tonight, Sarah.”
“Just because you're feeling sad doesn't mean I won't enjoy your company. I know this is a rough night for you, but you can talk to me about it if you want.”
“Trust me, you don't want to hear it.”
“Maybe I do want to hear it.” Sarah put her hand over his, looking into his eyes. She saw aching loss there, but there was something deeper, too—something primal and undeniable.
Attraction, she thought. He finally sees me as someone he can want, instead of just the club's little sister. But what if it's just because of the booze? What if he sobers up and goes back to looking at me like I'm just Ron's niece? Could I handle that?
To her surprise, she found that she was willing to take that chance. Her need to kiss him, to touch him, to feel his arms around her—she suddenly knew that she'd risk anything to make that happen.
Kurt pulled his hand away, and when he spoke, she heard his self-loathing quivering in his voice. “Well, maybe I don't want to hear it. Maybe I'm fucking tired and bored and sick of my own goddamn grief, and saying it all out loud will only make it worse. Did you ever think of that?”
Sarah considered getting up and leaving Kurt alone, since it seemed like he might prefer that. But then she realized that he was lashing out at himself, not her. She couldn't bring herself to desert him and let him tear himself to pieces inside. She reached out, taking his hand in hers again and gently pulling it back to the table.
“We don't have to talk,” she assured him. “And if you're sick of your grief, maybe I can help you feel something else tonight instead.”
Kurt rubbed his red eyes, looking at her like he'd never seen her before. “Sarah, I'm warning you. You're better off staying away from me. I'm a fucking mess.”
Sarah leaned across the table, brushing a strand of Kurt's brown hair out of his face and touching his cheek softly. “You don't look like a mess to me. And I don't want to stay away from you. I want to be right here with you. I want to be whatever you need me to be, whatever will make you feel strong and good and happy again.”
Kurt shook his head. “But what about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow will be tomorrow, no matter what we do. So tonight, we may as well do what we want.” Before Kurt could open his mouth to protest, Sarah leaned in even closer, her lips inches away from his. “By the way, the stalls in the ladies' room are big. And there's a lock on the door.”
Kurt thought for a moment and nodded slowly. He took her hand and they stood, heading for the bathroom at the back of the bar.
Once the door closed behind them, Kurt pushed Sarah up against it, his hands and mouth all over her before she even had a chance to reach behind her and turn the lock. He was everywhere at once, surrounding her like a living whirlwind, and the scent of his sweat and aftershave and whiskey combined into a perfume that made her dizzy with desire.
She felt an ember of triumph burning fiercely within her chest as she wrapped her arms around his body, giving in to him completely. He did want her. In this moment, he was as hungry for her as she was for him. The rational part of her mind worried about whether he'd feel the same afterward, but she shoved it away impatiently. This was no time for doubts or expectations, no time for anything except lust and surrender.
He was finally hers. There was only here, now, the two of them in this bathroom, and if the whole world ended afterward, she wouldn't care.
Sarah slid her hands under Kurt's t-shirt, her palms exploring the taut muscles of his back and shoulders. He kissed her lips roughly, his tongue reaching out for hers until they touched with a sweetness that was both smooth and sandpapery at once.
“I've wanted you for so long,” she whispered.
His warm breath tingled on her lips. “I know.”
Kurt's calloused hands pushed Sarah's shirt up, and he fondled her breasts as he kept kissing her, his thumbs rubbing her nipples until they were so hard they hurt. She pressed her pelvis against his as tightly as she could until the sharp edges of her belt buckle dug into her belly.
A moment later he was undoing the buckle and unzipping her cutoffs, and then his fingers slid down the front of her panties, massaging her clit. The sudden sensation traveled straight to the pit of her stomach, igniting it like a lightning bolt hitting a tree.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, her breath catching in her throat. “That feels...”
“Tell me how it feels,” Kurt murmured, his lips caressing the side of her neck.
Sarah inhaled, trying to snatch words from the jumble of images and sensations inside her. But they slid through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but raw passion that defied description.
Kurt's fingertips pressed harder, more insistently, slipping inside of Sarah and pushing against her G-spot until she felt like she might faint. God, it seemed like he knew just how she needed to be touched.
“Tell me,” he hissed, “or I'll stop.”
“Please don't stop,” she begged between gasps.
“Then tell me. Now.”
“It... feels...” She swallowed hard, desperately trying to put how she felt into words. “It's like...a volcano inside me, erupting...like lava's about to come spilling out of me...”
“Good,” Kurt growled, his teeth gently nipping at her earlobe. He pressed inside of her more insistently, and her body felt like it was turning to water from the waist down. “Let it spill out. I want to feel it.”
Sarah let out a cry as she climaxed, her juices pouring out into Kurt's hand as she spasmed helplessly against the bathroom door.
Before she knew what she was doing, she sank to her knees in front of him, gasping and trembling as she fumbled with his belt. She saw the bulge in the front of his jeans and kissed it, letting her hot breath soak through the denim. Then she unzipped his fly and reached in, freeing his stiff, quivering cock. She stroked it, looking at it longingly. She'd imagined what it might look like a hundred times, and now that her mouth was inches away from it, it was even more beautiful than she'd pictured.
She felt Kurt's hand on the back of her head and looked up at him. His eyes blazed down at her with desire, and he nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
Sarah parted her lips and took Kurt in her mouth, relishing his pulsing warmth against her tongue. He let out a long moan, his fingers gently pulling her hair. She enveloped his cock as deeply as she could until it pressed against the back of her throat. Her hands wrapped around the base of his shaft, working it, squeezing it. She breathed through her nose, his musk filling her nostrils.
His cock continued to grow inside her mouth, and just when she felt like she couldn't take any more, his hand released the back of her head and she heard him say, “Get up.”
Sarah stood, her knees shaking slightly. Part of her still couldn't believe that after all this time—after years of repressed wanting and private fantasies—she was finally here with him, feeling him, tasting him. She knew she should feel guilty for coaxing him into the bathroom with her while he was mourning. But instead, all she could feel was the quenching of a long thirst, as though she'd finally found an oasis after wandering a parched and pitiless desert.
Before she had a chance to embrace Kurt again, he said, “Turn around and put your hands on the door.”
Sarah turned, laying her palms against the uneven white paint of the door. Kurt's hands closed over hers tightly, holding them in place as his chest pressed against her back. She barely had a chance to savor the firmness of his pecs and abs against her body before he plunged inside her, taking her from behind. Hard.
Her warm cheek pressed against the cool surface of the door as she let a long, loud, ragged moan escape her lips. He kept her pinned to the door as he thrust into her, his shaft sliding against the wet, tender strip of skin just behind her pussy. From this angle, his cock slammed against her G-spot with each new push forward, making her delirious with ecstasy. She could feel his breath on her shoulders and the back of her neck.
They were locked together like animals in heat, grunting and growling and gasping as their hips moved in rhythm with each other. Her wrists ached as his hands clamped around them, and then his voice filled her ear, crying out sharply as he filled her up with a hot gush. He twitched and thrust against her for a few more delicious seconds before releasing her hands and withdrawing.
Sarah turned around to face him, sighing happily. She was pleased to find a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“Yeah, actually. Thanks.”
“You don't have to thank me. Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”
He grinned, running his fingers through his hair. “So what happens now?”
She shrugged. “Now I figure we go out, have another drink or two, and see where the night takes us. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” he said. “It really does.”