Chapter Eleven
They rode for most of the day. They took breaks back at the truck but then were back on their bikes again. Beckett enjoyed watching Chris ride—the set of his body and the way he automatically remembered to keep his elbows out. It was almost as if he’d picked up exactly where he’d left off.
The passion Beckett had always felt for riding burned through him, a wildfire he couldn’t control but one he didn’t want contained. It jumpstarted some of the emotions that had felt dormant inside of him for too long.
He remembered what it was like to feel alive.
He wanted to hold onto that feeling with everything he had, everything he was.
They leaned against the truck after their last moto. They were both sweaty and dirty. Christian breathed a little heavier than Beckett did, since he wasn’t used to riding anymore. “It feels different to ride with you,” he admitted.
Christian’s brows pulled together. “Different than it used to?”
“No. Different from riding with anyone else. I’m just Beck when I ride with you. I missed it.”
Christian’s eyes lit with understanding. He wrapped an arm around Beckett’s shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed his forehead. “Yeah, I missed it too.”
It was as though the reality of their situation suddenly bore down on both of them. This trip was about fantasy. They would be both leaving that fantasy tomorrow to head back to reality. It was there waiting, the fact that they’d been separated for ten years, that they lived on opposite sides of the country, that Beck had come here because he’d faced an upheaval in his life, even if it was of his own making, that he had to deal with. It was easy to forget all of those things when they were together.
“What are we going to do?” Beckett asked him. “After tomorrow?”
Chris sighed. “I don’t know, Beck. We have to be realistic. We’ve spent four days together in the last ten years. Our lives are completely different. You have a lot to deal with right now—getting ready for the outdoor season, not just being Supercross champion Beckett Monroe anymore, but Gay Supercross champion Beckett Monroe, because as shitty as it is, we both know that’s who you’ll be, at least for a little while.” Christian was right about that. His sexuality would be an identifier now—and even though he was bi, it would be gay. That’s just how everyone would see it.
“I think you need to focus on that reality right now before anything else,” Chris added. “You have a big season coming up. I know you and I know you’re going to want to do well because you consider coming in third as a failure when it’s not. Your mind needs to be on motocross and getting comfortable with yourself.”
Beckett had spent too many years lying. He wouldn’t do that anymore. But he also knew Christian was right. “I don’t want to lose you. I need you in my life.”
“Shucks, I’m touched,” Christian teased. When Beckett didn’t laugh he nudged his elbow. “You won’t, Beck. I’ll always be your friend. We’ll figure out the rest of it later—let’s get you through the twelve weeks of outdoor season. I’m not going anywhere. Plus, no matter how we feel right now, it’s been ten years, Beck.”
Fuck. Beckett was tired of waiting. Tired of just letting things go, but he thought Christian was right. At least they were on the same page this time. He nodded.
“Last race of the season is at Glen Helen. Will you come?” Glen Helen was in San Bernardino County in Southern California. It would be close to a two-hour drive for Christian from LA, but he hoped like hell he could make it. Hoped Chris would make that commitment to him.
Christian turned and faced Beckett so his side was against the truck. He crossed his arms. “I have a confession to make.”
Worry stabbed at his insides. “Yeah?”
“I watch you ride every time you’re in Southern California, Beck—San Diego, Anaheim, Glen Helen.” A chill of shock and satisfaction went up Beckett’s spine as Christian continued. “When you’re local I’m there and if you’re not within driving distance, I watch you on TV. I always watch. Quinn thinks I’m obsessed.”
Beckett nearly growled at the mention of Quinn’s name. They might only be friends, but Quinn had him all this time when Beckett didn’t.
“It’s because of him that I’m here.”
Beckett smiled. “I like him.” But then, “You really watch me race?”
“Always.”
He realized it then, as his pulse sped up and his chest felt full—he was still crazy in love with Christian and he always would be.
* * * *
It had taken them quite a while to get back to the rental by the time they’d returned the bikes, the truck, and grabbed some dinner.
When they’d gotten back to the cabin, Christian showered while Beck made phone calls to his trainer and team owner. He had no idea what they’d said. Beckett had seemed like everything was fine when Christian came out of the bathroom. He wanted to believe it was, that there would be no problems for Beckett, but sadly, you just never knew.
Beckett had been in the bathroom for the last forty minutes now, while Christian lay on the bed in his room, wearing nothing but a towel.
The second Beckett had called him, a part of Christian knew they would end up here—twisted together in their emotions and their realities. When he’d gotten on the plane, he’d confirmed it. He might not have admitted it, even to himself, but there had never been another option for him as far as Beck was concerned, and he knew that.
A sound came from the other room and Christian realized Beckett must be finished showering. He turned, got off the bed and headed for Beck’s room. When he rounded the corner, he saw Beckett sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist just as Christian had. His dark hair glistened with wetness. Water dripped down the side of his face. Beckett lifted his right hand, and rubbed the dark beard on his face and then said, “Come here.”
Christian went easily. He stopped in front of Beckett, who flicked at Christian’s towel, making it open and fall to the floor.
Christian was already half hard, and Beckett wrapped his arms around Christian’s waist, pulled him close. He leaned his head against Christian’s stomach. Christian ran his fingers through Beck’s hair. “Did everything go okay?” he asked.
“In the shower or on the phone?”
He rolled his eyes. “On the phone, smart-ass.”
“It went fine. They assured me they don’t give a fuck who I sleep with. We’re a team and they need me to be a part of it. Yada yada. They said the same thing from the get-go. In reality, I know they mean it, but it’s also just words. I should have been training this week. Everyone knows it. I think they’re worried about my state of mind, but it’s fine.”
Christian hissed when he felt the warmth of Beck’s hand cup his sac. His tongue darted out and licked the head of Christian’s erection that had grown to full mast. “I’m not thinking about my team or even motocross right now. I’m thinking about you. Come here.”
Beckett leaned back slightly. When he did his towel opened, revealing his prick, thick and long against his stomach. He still sat up as Christian did as he was asked. He straddled Beck’s lap, wrapped his arms around Beckett’s shoulders just as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.
They moved, causing their cocks to rub against each other. Christian looked down; pre-come leaked from both of them—a beautiful fucking sight. He curled his hand around their swollen pricks and jerked them both, loving the feel of them together.
“Fuck,” Beckett groaned into the space between Christian’s neck and shoulder. “You drive me crazy, outta my fucking mind with how much I want you.”
Then, they were kissing—teeth clanking, tongues gnashing, urgent, hungry, kissing.
Christian thrust against him as Beckett devoured his mouth. Both their dicks fucked into his hand but it wasn’t enough. He wanted inside of Beckett or Beck inside of him. He pulled back, licked at Beck’s mouth and asked, “What do you want?”
He rubbed a hand up Christian’s back, grabbed onto his shoulder from behind. “You. Want you to fuck me until I can’t move, until I can’t see straight.”
Christian trembled. His dick jerked, very much liking that idea. “Such a greedy little bottom. Who knew?”
It was then he realized a bottle of lube and a condom already sat on the bedside table. “I like a man who comes prepared.”
“Then stop wasting time and get in me,” Beck said before he swatted Christian’s ass.
He laughed and then climbed off Beckett’s lap. As Christian went for the bottle and the condom, Beck leaned back against the pillows, legs spread wide. “I could get used to this—your thick, muscular legs spread wide for me.” He climbed between them and kneeled there.
“Don’t think I won’t want your ass too,” Beck threw back at him and Christian’s lust exploded to new heights.
“I’m counting on it…but for now”—he squirted lube onto his finger and then rubbed Beckett’s rim—“such a sexy, fucking hole. I want inside it.” He pushed his finger in, past the ring of muscle and watched Beckett’s eyes roll back, as he arched up toward him.
Fuck, yes. He loved driving Beckett Monroe out of his damn mind.
Christian pushed his finger in deeper, rubbed Beck’s prostate as he leaned forward and licked Beckett’s nipples the way he’d done to Christian just that morning.
“Oh fuck, Chris. Yeah, right there.”
He smiled around Beckett’s small nipple. Thrust his prick against Beck’s as he kept fingering his ass. “I’m going to want to stay in here all night, Beck—my finger, my cock, my tongue. Such a nice, fucking ass. I’m gonna live right here as long as I can.”
He thrust his finger deeper. Beckett let out a guttural groan. “Let’s get started with the dick, first. Jesus, I want you.”
“Bossy motherfucker,” Christian teased him even though he wanted that too. His cock ached, throbbed with the need to feel Beck from the inside again. “Don’t move.” He pulled off of him.
“Who’s the bossy motherfucker now?”
“Both of us,” Christian winked at him. He ripped open the packet and rolled the condom down his prick, before lubing it up. He pushed Beck’s hairy thighs toward him, making sure he was open. He was still in the same position, on his knees, between Beckett’s legs, but he scooted closer, so the top of his thighs touched the back of Beck’s.
He squirted lube onto Beckett’s swollen erection, and Beck immediately started stroking it as Christian slowly worked his way inside Beck’s hole. “Oh fuck,” he shuddered. The head of Christian’s dick was inside him, Beck’s ass squeezing him, milking him. “Jesus, it’s so goddamned tight inside of you. So fucking hot and tight.” Yeah, he definitely wanted to spend his night here, playing with Beck’s ass for as long as he could.
“Fuck me, Chris. Christ, get in me.” He let go of his own cock to grab Christian’s ass and pull him forward and then Christian was there, buried balls deep. They both breathed heavily. Christian pulled almost all the way out, before thrusting forward again.
“So good,” Beckett rasped out. “So fucking good.”
Christian pushed Beck’s legs farther up, opened him more and held them there as he leaned forward and took Beck’s mouth. His tongue made love to it the same way his dick made love to Beckett’s body.
Beck held his ass. His fingers were calloused, rough pads against his skin.
He gave Beckett everything he had. Sweat ran down his forehead and onto Beck. Christian slid his hand between them, stroking Beckett’s dick as he continued to make love to him.
He rolled their bodies, managing to keep himself inside of Beck as the other man ended up on top of him. From his position on his back, Christian grabbed Beckett’s ass as Beck rode him. He moved expertly, rising up before lowering himself onto Christian’s cock…the cock that was damn close to shooting.
“This has always been my fantasy,” he admitted and Beck smiled down at him, obviously knowing exactly what he meant.
“To be taken for a ride by Beckett Monroe.”
“No,” Christian shook his head. “Just by Beck.”
There was a spark in Beck’s dark eyes telling him that was the right thing to say. Christian wrapped his hand around Beck’s prick again, knowing that his own balls would let loose at any second. He jerked Beck three times before his hole clenched around Christian’s dick and his cock spurted once, twice, two thick jets of come landing on Christian’s stomach and running down his fingers as he continued to work Beckett’s erection.
Then he felt his own balls draw up, felt them give into the pleasure as his hoarse voice called out in an orgasm of his own.
Beckett fell on top of him. Christian wrapped his arms around him, their bodies slick with sweat.
It took them a few minutes to catch their breaths and when they did, it was Beckett who spoke first. “You’re mine now, Chris. Maybe we have to take things slow for a while, feel things out and figure out how we’re going to do this, but we are going to do this. You’re mine,” he said again and Christian didn’t argue.