Page 11 of Hidden Desires (Bikers of Mayhem #2)

BLADE

T aking in a breath, he let the coolness of the steel flow into his body. It calmed him, taking him to a place where everything was quiet… where everything made sense.

He’d been coming to this place in his mind ever since he was sixteen.

It was safe here. It was soothing. It was… judgment-free.

Opening his eyes slowly, he focused on the bullseye directly in front of him. It was about twenty feet away and was made of red spray paint on a black-painted board.

It was something that he and Caden had put together about five years ago.

Back then, it had been solid colors, on a smooth wooden board. Now it was all faded paint, peppered with jagged holes and chipped wood.

Initially, it was created as an instrument of aggression. A tool he used to vent his frustrations and take out his murderous rage on something that didn’t fight back. Something that would not send him to jail if it happened to survive.

Blade had a lot of anger in his younger years. He had his father to thank for that. But over the years, he managed to curb his murderous temper, and now it was more of a humming purr that only came out when his brothers were threatened or disrespected.

Loyalty. Family. Those were the principles he now lived by.

Blade didn’t pretend to be a saint. He knew that he wasn’t.

Over the years, he had killed a lot of people. Most of those had been rival gang members or people who tried to rip him off. Bad men. Evil men. The killing didn’t really bother him. He did it because he was defending his friends… his family . It was the lifestyle they lived. Brother’s till the end.

He was loyal and would do whatever was necessary to protect his family.

Focusing on the board, he let his mind drift, and peace and calm moved over him. He was back in his place.

Staring at the tiny circle in the center, he drew his arm back, then flung the knife at the target ahead.

The sound of the metal digging into the board was like an aphrodisiac sliding over him, giving him a high that he only felt when playing with his knives.

This was his happy place.

This was where he felt the most relaxed and in control. He could control his knives. He knew where they would go.

They weren’t like life: messy, complicated, and… unpredictable .

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.”

So much for that calm and in-control feeling.

Blade ignored the voice behind him and the sound of footsteps as they stomped toward him.

“Look, dude. Why are you making this weird?”

Blade let out a breath, then slowly turned and gazed into the soft brown eyes of the boy who created the chaos storming around inside his head.

“I’m not making anything weird,” he argued, turning back toward the target and pulling another one of his knives out of the belt he had wrapped around his waist.

But he was. He was making it weird and awkward.

He blamed the Fourth of July, two years ago, to be exact. It was during that afternoon barbecue, hosted by Marcus and Ace, when everything went wrong.

Or changed .

Or… he didn’t know.

Ace had been suntanning on a lounge chair in nothing but a Speedo when Blade first noticed it.

The chub in his jeans.

It had never been there before. In all the years that Blade had known Marcus and his stepbrother, he had never once felt a desire to shove his face between the guy’s ass cheeks and feast on his tiny, little hole.

Was it tiny?

He wasn’t sure.

Given all the men he had caught Ace fucking over the years, he was pretty sure it wasn’t that tiny and that the boy could take a pounding.

Blood filled his cock.

Fuck, get a grip on yourself.

How was he going to claim to be straight, yet pop a massive boner in front of the guy who gave it to him?

Kind of like that hand job the other night?

Fuck, that had been one of the hottest things he had ever experienced.

He wanted to believe that it was all because of the alcohol, but the truth of it was that he wanted to do a whole lot more with Ace than just a hand job.

“No. Avoiding me for two days, and now throwing knives at a ratty piece of wood is totally normal behavior,” Ace said in one of his sarcastic, mouthy tones.

The boy stopped beside him and placed his hands on his hips.

The guy didn’t realize how much “Annoyed Ace” really turned him on. Even “Angry Ace” got his cock thick and his testosterone pumping.

“I like my knives,” Blade answered, pulling his arm back, then whipping the three-inch blade at the target ahead of him.

The damn thing bounced off the board and landed on the concrete below the board.

Bastard.

“Yeah, that’s a whole other issue that we need to unpack at some other point in time. Nobody should be as obsessed with sharp objects as you are.”

Blade tried not to smile.

Ace glanced around the area outside the back of the bar, presumably to see if anyone was around.

“Look, so I gave you a little hand job the other day. Big fuckin’ deal.

Loads of straight guys exchange bro jobs with their buddies, and that doesn’t mean that they are gay.

Plus, we were drinking. I don’t know about you, but I get incredibly horny when I’m drinking, and your dick was the first one available. ”

The right corner of Blade’s lips refused to take orders and lifted up slightly in an attempted smile.

“I’ll have to remember that the next time I see you drinking a beer. Warn the nearest cock that he might end up inside your mouth or hand.” Now he really couldn’t fight it.

He smirked.

Ace punched him in the arm.

“Stop being a jackass. You can’t tell me that you don’t get horny when sucking back a few.” Ace raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, bad choice of words.”

Blade chuckled. “Yeah, of course I do. And it’s not the hand job that’s got me all twisted up inside my head.”

Ace stopped moving and glanced up at him.

Blade was a solid six feet, whereas Ace was only five-ten. While the height difference may not be much, every inch counted when it came to height and cock sizes.

“So what is it, then?” Ace asked, staring at him like a confused little puppy.

“I’ve done threesomes with dudes before and even accidentally touched a dick or two in the day. I don’t give a shit about that. But what I do give a shit about is your brother.”

Ace took a step back.

“My brother? What’s he got to do with this?”

Blade shot him a glance that should have made things very clear.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want your brother shooting me in the face whenever he finds out that his baby brother played with my dick.”

Ace’s mouth dropped open. The look of shock suddenly transformed into anger. The change was almost instantaneous.

“So, you are acting all weird because you’re afraid of my brother? Seriously, you need to grow a pair, dude."

Blade shook his head. That was only partially true.

Yes, he was concerned that Marcus would shoot him in the face whenever he eventually found out that he blew his load all over his little brother’s hand, but he was also afraid that his feelings for Ace would continue to grow.

He knew that he could never be with the guy. First off, Marcus would disappear his ass, and secondly, he wasn’t ready to come out to the guys.

He’d spent his entire life hiding who he really was, afraid of someone finding out and judging him, like he had been so many years ago. The fallout had been horrendous.

“Ow!”

Blade chuckled. It was the second time in five minutes that Jerry stubbed his toe on the metal rail next to the couch. They were a stumbling mess of hormones and mixed curiosities.

It wasn’t Jerry’s fault. The trailer was small and not equipped for the activities they were attempting to perform.

They were in Blade’s trailer, the living quarters that he and his father shared while traveling across the States, performing in the Winter Brothers Circus.

Blade had started performing alongside his father. They were a father-son dagger-throwing act that was starting to get rave reviews.

Theon, one of the owners of the circus, predicted that by the end of the season, they would be popular enough to begin headlining some of their shows.

Shows in cities that tended to enjoy hunting and knife play.

Those tended to be Southernly located states—states which tended to frown upon what Jerry and he were currently doing.

Or attempting to do.

Jerry was the same age as Blade, and the two had grown rather fond of each other over the past few months.

What had started as a joke eventually turned into teasing, then some casual touching, until they finally ended up here—horny, hard, and trying to suck the sexual tension off each other’s faces.

“Watch yourself,” Blade chuckled, leaning up to give Jerry another kiss.

He just couldn’t get enough of the guy’s lips. They were rough and chapped and just as eager to explore his lips as well.

Kissing a man was different then kissing a girl. He had kissed girls before, and they were soft and sweet, but never as exciting as kissing Jerry. There was something about kissing Jerry that…

“I’m trying to, but the damn pole keeps pocking me in the ass.”

Slap!

Blade gave his buddy a wicked slap on the ass as he broke out in giggles.

“Hey!” Jerry gasped, whipping his head around and rubbing his tender butt with his hands. “We need to hurry. The show is going to end any minute.”

They had discovered that there was approximately a thirty-minute window before the end of the show, when performers were mostly busy in the staging tent, to pay any notice to what was happening in the trailers. This had been lovingly dubbed their “make-out time.”

“I’m trying, but you’re the one who keeps getting distracted by metal poles and sore asses,” Blade answered.

They both laughed just as the door to the trailer burst open.

Both boys jumped away from each other. Jerry hit his head on the kitchen cabinet, while Blade hurt his back against another metal frame that made up the tiny couch they were both sitting on.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Blade’s father barked, stumbling into the trailer, still wearing his performance outfit.

“Uhh, nothin’, Dad. We’re just hangin’ out… that’s… all.” Blade had never been so afraid in his entire life.

Like many in the Southern states, Blade’s father didn’t believe in homosexuality. In his words, “All those who participate in the devil’s dance should be shot and buried.”

It wasn’t a surprise that his father would be furious.

“You some kind of homo?” his father snapped, grabbing his bat from next to the door and swinging it at Blade.

The bat smacked the side of the kitchen cabinet, preventing it from striking Blade.

Blade had never been so glad to live in such a small trailer.

Jerry’s eyes went wide when he realized that Blade’s father was losing his shit.

Panicked, he ran to the back of the trailer and squeezed his skinny little ass out the side window. He didn’t seem too concerned about helping the guy he had just been kissing.

“I ain’t having no faggot son!” his father growled, taking another swing at Blade. This time, the aluminum bat connected with his ribs.

A shot of pain blasted through Blade’s side, knocking the wind temporarily out of him.

He raised his arm in defense and stared up at his furious father. Gone was the loving father who had spent hours teaching him how to throw blades. Now, in place of that man, there was nothing but rage and hate.

“Dad! Please!” Blade cried out.

He couldn’t understand why his father hated him so much. Yes, he was kissing a boy, but he was still his son. Surely his love for his son would negate any sort of dogma or belief that what he was doing was wrong. It was just a kiss, for fuck’s sake.

Another shot of pain as the bat connected with his arm and part of his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Blade shouted.

He needed to do something. At this rate, his father was apt to hit him in the head. One strong blow to the head, and it was lights out for him.

Anger shot through his veins as he caught the bat with his hands. The look of pure rage in his father’s eyes caused Blade to snap. He raised his leg and kicked his father hard in the stomach.

The man fell backward and bounced off the tiny counter space. He let out a groan as he clutched his back and slid to the floor.

Blade felt horrible.

“Dad! Are you okay?” he asked, jumping from the couch and trying to get to his father.

The man pushed him away.

“Don’t fucking touch me, faggot. Get your shit and go. I don’t want to ever see your face again,” his father growled, eyes filled with such contempt it made Blade’s stomach sick.

“But… Dad. Please. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

His father kicked him hard in the leg, causing Blade to stumble.

“Get the fuck out, homo!”

Staring into his father’s pitch-black eyes, he knew there was no love there for him any longer. His father had disowned him, choosing a life without a son, rather than living with one who was gay.

Feeling betrayed and all alone, Blade grabbed his knapsack and shoved some clothes and the little money that he had saved, and exited the trailer.

Hiding behind the following trailer was Jerry. The guy looked terrified.

Fuck him for leaving him alone to fend off his father, and fuck his father for being so close-minded.

He didn’t need these assholes.

He didn’t need this place.

“Blade! Ace! The big guy wants to see us,” Caden called from the open door leading into the back of the bar.

Ace glanced over his shoulder at Blade. “We’ll finish this later.”

It hurt that he couldn’t be honest with the guy. But he couldn’t lose another family. He couldn’t stand to have Marcus hate him. He couldn’t betray his friend by sleeping with his younger brother, no matter how much he cared for the little guy.