On Your Knees, Prospect (Kings of Hell MC 3)

“Put your palms on either side of your head. Don’t move them.”

Jake followed the order before his mind could process it. He hid his face by pressing his forehead against the metal. And this was Knight’s car at that. What was he thinking?

He wasn’t thinking.

He put his hands flat next to his head, his boner already burning a hole in his jeans. Every heavy breath of soapy air was making him intoxicated. All he now wanted was to please Vars, do as he was told, serve the big guy behind him however Vars wished him to.

“Good boy. That’s more like it,” Vars whispered, moving his hands up and down Jake’s back at a slow, languid pace. There was pressure to the touch, as if Vars didn’t want Jake to forget just how strong he was, but this odd massage was unknotting all the unpleasant tension in Jake’s body.

All that was left was pure, unadulterated need. He groaned into the metal, setting Vars’s words on loop in his mind. ‘Good boy’. That was what he was. That was what he wanted to be. His breath hitched, and he could have come from hearing those two words alone. King had sometimes called him a ‘good kid’, but it had sounded nothing like the way Vars said it. Jake would lick that fucking side-mirror clean just to hear it again and get a pat on the head.

Vars laughed, but it didn’t sound mean. It was the kind of laugh that came from a place of excitement, low and hoarse, so Jake listened and moved to his toes to rub his ass back against Vars. He couldn’t have imagined the growing pressure in those leathers, could he?

“You like being called that, right? That’s why you do all they want. But do they praise you enough, boy?”

Jake’s hands were glued to the hood of the car as if they were set in concrete. He shook his head, dragging his forehead over the metal, but he wouldn’t dare say anything. When he was on his knees, polishing Knight’s boots, stealing glances at Knight’s crotch, he’d thought he was happy. But this here—with Vars—was another level of arousal. He wasn’t being held down, he wasn’t being touched much yet, but his dick was rock-hard, and all he wanted was more orders he could follow.

“I bet they don’t. They don’t see your potential, and they don’t understand why you’re so dedicated. They can’t give you what you really need,” Vars whispered, rocking his stiffening dick against the curve of Jake’s ass over and over until they both moved their hips for yet more friction. Jake’s cock, trapped between him and the car, was already pulsing for release the cold metal couldn’t give him.

“I just try to be good at what I do,” he whimpered, overwhelmed by the touch, and with the order to keep his hands still burning through his mind. If Vars left him now, Jake would have spent hours bent over the hood of Knight’s car, unable to break the spell Vars put him under. Until he needed to pee.

His subconscious suggested that even then he’d be reluctant to leave this place without permission. Unable to stand the pressure in his bladder anymore, he’d urinate into his clothes, feel the hot liquid soak into his pants and make the denim cling to his flesh. But he wouldn’t budge from where he was ordered to stay.

Jake whimpered.

“Of course you do. You want to be good. You want to make those above you happy,” Vars whispered, and when he leaned in and kissed Jake through the thin cotton T-shirt, it felt as if he poured hot wax all over the sensitive skin, making Jake twitch in his arms.

Jake was rarely kissed. Not by Knight, not by Joker, and most certainly not by Rev. King had kissed him sometimes, but he’d been dead for months now.

Jake arched his back to the touch. “I do.”

Vars rubbed his face between Jake’s shoulder blades, and it was so easy to distinguish his nose and the soft cushion of the beard that Jake’s imagination ran rampant, serving him images of himself bent over the car, and Vars kissing him, petting him, pushing his big dick between Jake’s buttocks until Vars was satisfied. He could barely breathe with excitement when the T-shirt started riding up his body, revealing naked flesh. Despite the cold air, he didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

He craved to ask if there was anything else Vars wished him to do, if he could serve Vars in any way. Right now, he’d be fine even with doing Vars’s part of the car washing if only Vars stood back and watched.

His hands became one with the car, his back arched, and his entire body ready for Vars’s use. The steady hands sliding up his back gave him goose bumps. So big yet so cold to the touch against Jake’s scorching body. But that was what Jake was there for. He’d warm up Vars’s hands whenever Vars wished.