"Yeah, Hardly Davidson," another called from the backseat. "Redneck country is thataway. You come down here, we might decide that's a mighty fine bike you're riding. And a mighty fine bitch on the back of it."
The guys in the car laughed. Ricky just idled there, the put-a-put-a-put of the bike engine filling the night. The laughter trailed off into awkward silence.
"Hey," one yelled. "You hear us, blondie?"
Ricky said nothing.
"You deaf? Or just dumb?"
"He's definitely dumb," one said. "Dumbass cracker. You waiting for your posse, cracker? We'll hear them long before they show up. Which means we can kick your ass long before they show up."
Ricky turned to me. I lifted my visor. His eyes glittered with frustration over not finding the hound. He wasn't spoiling for a fight. That is another side of Arawn, but there was none of that tonight--just a glimmer that said he wanted to work off his frustration.
"Go ahead," I mouthed.
He put his hand on my knee, telling me to hang on tight. I leaned into his back and wrapped my arms around him. Feet planted, he began wheeling the bike backward.
"You running away, boy?" one called.
Ricky just kept backing up the bike. Two guys leaned out the window.
"You think you can reverse all the way outta our neighborhood? Is that some dumbass cracker code about not turning your back? If you keep going, we'll--"
Ricky stopped the bike. He laid one hand on my leg and tapped it with his fingers, counting down. Three, two...
The bike shot forward. The guys yelled something. One leapt out of the car, as if we were going to ram it. Ricky leaned down nearly flat against the bike, with me holding on for dear life, feeling the rush of the wind, the delicious, incredible rush, my eyes squeezed shut and then--
And then Ricky sat up, fast enough that I was glad I was holding him tight. The front end of the bike popped right onto the trunk of that big old Cadillac, and then we were airborne, shooting over the car. And I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was terrifying and exhilarating and absolutely mad, and I hugged Ricky tight and I laughed.
The bike landed with a jolt. Ricky hit the throttle and we were gone, zooming along the empty streets at impossible speeds, and it was like I was back in that vision, behind Arawn on the horse, holding tight and laughing with sheer joy.
He veered down a dark side street about a mile away and then turned into an even darker alley. His hand went to my leg, squeezing it, his fingers trembling as he turned back and mouthed, "You okay?"
I grinned at him. Just grinned and then tugged off my helmet, hopped off the bike, grabbed him by the shirtfront, and pulled him into a kiss. And God, that was a kiss, his frustration over the failed hunt for the hound mingling with the thrill of the jump and the triumph of his fuck-you escape.
A breathtaking, mind-blowing kiss, and when it ended, I was sitting in front of him on the bike, no idea how I even got there. I kept kissing him, hands in his hair, straddling him as I leaned back onto the bike. I slid my fingers to his crotch, rock-hard, and murmured, "Yes?"
"Fuck, yes," he said, his breath ragged.
I managed to get out of my jeans more easily than I'd have thought possible on a bike. Then he bent to kiss me again and that kiss, that kiss...
It was like being in the forest after the hunt, the smell of loam and pine needles, the smell of night and sweat and the hunt, those times when I'd swear I heard the hounds and the horses as he kissed me, as he pushed into me, hungry from the chase. This time, though? This time I wasn't lying on the ground, and when I closed my eyes I didn't feel the thrum of the idling bike under me. I felt as if I was still on the horse in that vision, except it wasn't Arawn with me--it was Ricky, stretched out over me, pushing into me, and God, oh God...
Fuck, yes, indeed.
I said that aloud, when we finished, and Ricky gave a ragged laugh, burying his face against my neck, saying, "Yeah..." He straightened, and then turned off the bike with another chuckle, saying, "Guess I should shut that off next time."
"Mmm, definitely not."
I reached up and pulled him down into a kiss, and we stayed there, locked together, until I realized it might not be the most comfortable position for him.
"Sorry," I murmured. "Probably getting a little tired of holding up the bike, huh?"
"What bike?" he said, and kissed me again as I laughed.
A couple of minutes later, we were off the bike and on the blanket from his saddlebags, lying half naked in a grungy alley.
"If you close your eyes," he said, "you can imagine that faint eau de garbage is actually a nearby swamp. I did catch a whiff of something decomposing. Just need a big pile of deer shit nearby and we'd be right at home."