Elliot shifted his weight again and again, as if there was anything in this trailer that he could possibly miss. When he finally moved, the first thing he reached for was The Count’s suit, which had been carefully laid out on the bed, but Knight tsked loudly and helped himself to the other beer in Elliot’s fridge. “No way in hell you’re wearing that around the clubhouse.”
Elliot harrumphed but didn’t protest and once he started packing, it turned out he already had most of his things stored in a large backpack. He was ready to go by the time Knight finished his beer.
“But I’ll come back when it gets warmer,” Elliot said as if he wanted to convince Knight he wasn’t a charity case. Knight gave himself time to finish the beer and squashed the can.
“I’ll decide when you come back.”
For a moment Elliot just stared back at him, but when he turned around and left the trailer without protest, Knight’s grin widened.
Chapter 7
Elliot’s car chose this day to cough up its dying breath. So there Elliot was, on the back of Knight’s bike, cuddled up close and still shell shocked by what had happened. Knight had one of the prettiest, tastiest dicks Elliot ever put his lips on, and he had the whole package to go with it. Elliot had no idea where they stood after the sex, but even if they stood in quicksand, he didn’t care because he had a piece of Knight inside him now, and it made him warm all over.
Knight had even forced Elliot to wear a hat and gloves, and zipped up Elliot’s hoodie. Was it patronizing? Yes. Did Elliot care? Hell no. It felt as if someone cared for his health and wellbeing for once, and he’d hold on to this lifeline for as long as it wouldn’t rip and leave him in the cold, lonely waters again.
Knight’s hair blew into his face as they sped along the highway, but Elliot closed his eyes and just enjoyed its gentle touch, smelling leather, and the rich cologne that made him as hot at Knight’s ripped stomach had earlier.
He didn’t think much, just let his hero whisk him away, down the asphalt path through the thick woods, and all the way to the grim walls of the clubhouse of the Kings of Hell where, for once, he would actually be invited.
Would Knight take Elliot to his bed tonight and fuck him again? Would they kiss? Would he get a nice meal? He had no idea how things would go from now on, but after witnessing how Knight dealt with Martin, it was hard for Elliot to imagine things taking a bad turn.
Once they stopped by a large garage that housed numerous vehicles, from bikes to vans, Elliot took a final inhale of Knight’s patches, but the other scents surrounding him were complementing the leather and musk very well. Muddy ground after the rain, motor oil, and old brick. He wasn’t sure if it was real or just his imagination, but he could swear the building had its own distinct scent. Like a mossy boulder in a swamp.
The garage itself was big as a football field and featured several oversized shutter gates. Ventilation pipes ran along the ceiling, creating shadows between the armature and thick cobwebs.
Knight stretched and put both their helmets into a compartment at the back of his bike. “Okay. Time for introductions before we can find you a bed,” he said and gently pushed Elliot toward a metal door in the corner.
Elliot adjusted his backpack and gave Knight a wary look. “What will you tell them?”
Knight frowned as they entered a dusty corridor with a floor of red tiles, some of which had visible cracks. “I will be vouching for you, so don’t break the rules. Is that clear?”
Elliot hated rules. His dad used to have a million of them, so did school, and the one time he managed to keep a job for over a month, as a waiter at a small café, he’d hated every single day of being forced to smile and suffer indignities from patrons. “What rules?”
“Don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted. Beast won’t tolerate breaches of security, so consider this fair warning. If a door reads ‘Members Only’, take that to heart.”
Elliot’s skin seemed to tingle in Knight’s presence, as if the guy were a powerful magnet. “I won’t. I can be a good boy when I choose to.” His gaze swept over the floor and walls that used to be white, eventually settling on a hole in the wall that looked like the perfect spot for a mouse family. While the clubhouse showed signs of maintenance, it seemed that the bikers only renovated what absolutely needed to be updated. The party areas were in decent shape, but the hallways such as this one—not so much, despite obviously being in frequent use.