Sex & Mayhem 01 Road of No Return (14 page)

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Zak sighed, remembering Stitch’s lips on his, so soft in contrast to the stubble. “I don’t know, he’s just... sexy, and very passionate. He’s this sort of butch guy who suddenly gets his hands on a man for the first time. It’s like he’s insatiable, and I guess I like to teach him new stuff,” he muttered, stroking the leather of the tattooing chair. It wasn’t nearly as soft as the skin on Stitch’s sides. “And besides, he’s fun to be around.”

“Oh! You got yourself a virgin? Did he last more than thirty seconds?” Travis’s hands were as steady as ever, but he grinned from behind his black beard.

“He’s not a virgin. He’s bisexual, and yes, he can last much longer than thirty seconds.” Zak chuckled, wondering how long it would take for Stitch to apologize. His earlier behavior was not on.

There was some commotion in the reception room of the tattoo parlor, and Zak’s hairs bristled when he heard Stitch’s voice.

“Do I look like I care?”

“Oh, fuck...” Zak uttered, clamping his fingers on the edge of the chair. “It’s him. It’s his voice.” His heart started racing with anger. There was just no way Stitch’s presence here could be accidental.

“Is he picking you up or something?” Travis asked. “Lois, tell him it’s gonna be another half an hour,” he yelled to the other room, oblivious to who he was dealing with.

“No, he’s not. I told him I had plans for tonight,” growled Zak, “What a crazy piece of shit.”

“Sir, you can’t…” They heard Lois say, but by the sound of heavy steps against the floor, Stitch ignored her. Seconds later, the bulky body in leather leaned against the doorframe.

Travis looked up with raised eyebrows. “Well, hello there…”

From his position, Zak was looking straight into the lacing at the front of Stitch’s pants. He’d recognize that groin area anywhere by this point. Heat coursed throughout his body, so intense that Zak half expected his eardrums to burst with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check out what’s so important. Nice place you got here, Travis.” Stitch said and walked around Zak in slow steps.

“I— Thanks,” Travis uttered. “Do you want to get a tattoo as well?”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s a controlling piece of shit who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘privacy’,” growled Zak, increasingly agitated. Every footstep sounded like that of a lion rounding up his prey.

Travis was completely silent as his gaze followed Stitch around the room.

“I just wanted to know where you are.” Stitch scooted in front of Zak’s face. He spoke casually, but his face had none of that crooked smile he so often gave Zak.

Zak snorted through gritted teeth. “What are you? The fucking NSA?”

“I like to know where my stuff is. I'm an orderly guy like that,” Stitch said through clenched teeth, and Travis breathed in loudly through his nose, pulling away his hands.

Zak blinked and with the tattoo machine off his skin, he rose to a sitting position. His whole body turned into wood. “
Your stuff
? Did you just call me that?”

Stitch stood up in front of him, imposing like a fucking baobab. “I think we need to have a chat. Travis?” He looked over Zak’s shoulder. “You’ve got half an hour to finish up.”

Zak shook his head, gritting his teeth. “We are
not
having a chat. Fuck off.”

“Oh, we sure are having one.” Stitch said and turned around without another word. He disappeared behind the door, leaving Zak gawping at the empty space.

“That’s it,” he growled, hitting the chair. “Forget what I said, I’m breaking this thing up. He’s not right in the head.”

Travis swallowed. “Zak, I don’t want any problems in my shop. He looks like he wants to wreck something. What did you get yourself into?’

Zak narrowed his eyes. “He’s not doing anything to your shop. Just look at him, acting like a big baby that can’t get the toy it wants.” He shook his head and rolled back to his stomach.

“These guys don’t fuck around. You know that. You must have inked at least a few.” Travis went back to tattooing, but kept looking back to the door. “Not to mention he’s most probably in a closet so deep he’s, like, in Narnia.”

“You got that right. But he’s all talk. Seriously, he helped me trim my dog’s fur and plant strawberries in the garden. And he likes cartoons.” Zak sighed, lying still to be done with it. “I guess I can’t stay tonight after all.”

“I was looking forward to a night out… but to be honest, you better go and sort your shit out with him. He didn’t seem ‘all talk’ to me.”

Zak growled and stretched over the chair. “I’ll let you know.”

*

Twenty minutes later, Zak said his goodbyes to Travis and walked out of the shop, going straight for his car. He knew he’d find Stitch somewhere on the way, waiting for him like a jealous dog. Stitch wasn’t to be seen anywhere in the street, but the moment Zak started the engine, the familiar black bike roared behind him, and he didn’t need to look into the rearview mirror to know who was following him.

Zak shook his head and turned back to show him the finger. He couldn’t believe this... thing they had would be ending in such circumstances. Stitch was an ass, how could Zak have missed this amidst all the hot fun they had been having. He drove straight for Lake Valley, eager to just be done with this shit. How dare Stitch intimidate his friends, or talk to him as if he were his slave or some shit like that? What was going on in that dumb head?

The menace on the bike was never out of sight, and Zak didn’t know if he should be happy or annoyed when on an empty road in the middle of nowhere Stitch started driving past him. At least that was what Zak thought until Stitch kicked his door.

Zak blinked, looking at him, only to glance back at the road. What the fuck was up with him? Zak started furiously turning the handle to lower the window. “Get lost!”

“Pull over!” Stitch yelled back at him, baring his teeth like a mad dog.

Zak rolled his eyes. “I’m going home.”

“Pull. The fuck. Over!” Stitch’s eyes weren’t visible from under his shades, but Zak knew him enough to imagine just how much fire they were throwing his way.

Zak gritted his teeth and knocked his forehead on the steering wheel so hard the horn went off. They might as well talk here if that would send Stitch away from his tail. He slowed down the car and pulled over to the grassy side of the road, into the shadow of the trees. Stitch stopped right in front of him, and as much as Zak was annoyed with him, it was hard not to notice how good his ass looked in those leather pants. Then again, it was an ass Zak had no access to, so it only pissed him off more.

Stitch took off his helmet and made his way to Zak just as he shut the door of his car and leaned against it with a frown that he hoped would give Stitch the message. He was so angry his fists kept clenching on their own.

Stitch walked up to him and pushed his chest. “The fuck was that, huh? Why you giving me so much attitude? Am I not good to you?” he hissed at Zak.

Zak growled but crossed his arms on his chest, choosing not to push back. “Get your hands off me.”

“Or what?” Stitch looked into his eyes with a sneer.

“Or nothing. I’m through with you anyway.” Zak shook his head. He couldn’t believe this guy. Who gave him the right to act all bossy all of a sudden?

Stitch’s eyes went wide, and he actually took a step back. “With me? You are through with me? The fuck is this supposed to mean? You wanna go back and fuck Travis or something?”

Zak rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to fuck Travis, and I didn’t want to in the first place. That’s not the point. The point is, that you threatened my friends, manhandled me, fucking
spied
on me, and now you demand something from
me
? You’re not right in the head!” he yelled, pointing his finger at Stitch’s chest. His jaw was aching from how tense it was.

“What are you, a fucking flower? I’m gonna do what I need to do. You can’t just fucking disrespect me!” Stitch’s face got red from rage.

Zak let out a snort. “If you want respect, then you should be respectful in the first place. I’ll not accept you trying to control what I do. What did even give you that idea?”

“It’s not control. It’s… surveillance. You can’t be with me and just go off to another city without letting me know!” Stitch walked to the other side of the empty road, breathing in deeply.

“What world do you live in?” Zak raised his hands, almost ready to yank his hair out of frustration. “I will fucking go wherever I want. It’s not like I was leaving for a week.”

“That’s it, I can’t take this bullshit. I’m not fucking air. You need to think of me when you make plans!”

“Unless you drop this attitude, don’t come over to my house again. It’s fucking creepy,” growled Zak, looking straight into Stitch’s brown eyes. As angry as he was, he knew he would miss him around. But there was no way around it.

“Fuck you then.” Stitch emphasized it by showing Zak the finger. “You either ride on the bitch seat, or you can find yourself a different guy. A fucking preschool teacher for all I care.” He stormed off to his bike, reminding Zak of the snarling dog on his club patch.

Zak’s eyes opened wider as he watched Stitch jump on his ride. Zak scratched his head, staring at Stitch’s back. Did this guy actually think what they had was something more than fun? What a bizarre development. Not that it mattered because a controlling, aggressive type was the last person Zak would want to be with.

All he got from Stitch was a swirl of smoke left by his bike shooting off like a rocket.

*

Zak came back home to a wrecked porch railing and a broken window. He cursed beneath his breath and walked up to the door, unlocking it without much haste. Versay barked from somewhere in the house. The pest didn’t even greet him at the door, that was how much everyone wanted to see him today. He supposed now that Stitch wouldn’t be coming over anymore, his life would get much less exciting.

He dropped the keys on the cupboard and walked in, his gaze searching for the dog, but he stopped mid-stride when he noticed an odd, darker pattern on the wood. It wasn’t immediately recognizable, but when he moved his gaze all the way to the broken window, and the shards of glass scattered around a large rock, it all became clear.

“Versay?” he yelled, following the trail all the way into the kitchen where all his worries were confirmed. The dog was curled up in his basket and whimpering. The poor thing was shivering all over and when Zak kneeled next to him, he noticed all the little shards of glass in his paws. Stitch was so gonna pay for the vet. And for the window. And for the fucking porch railing.

“Fuck off, Milton,” Stitch said without even turning around from the fridge to look at Crystal’s not-so-new boyfriend. Since breaking up with Zak, everything seemed to go to shit. Not to mention the guilt he felt over Versay getting hurt on the glass. He hadn’t meant for that to happen, he had just been so angry. He got treated worse than a dog, and for what? For trying to know what Zak was up to. Big deal. It looked like homo relationships worked differently, and Stitch was shit at them. To make matters worse, he was spending more time at home, and Milton was making him crazy with everything, from his tendency to leave the toothpaste on the sink, to his choice of tea. Fucking herbal. Milton was like a fucking rusty nail that sat in Stitch's ass and never let him relax.

The only good thing that came out of this situation was that Stitch was spending a bit more time with Holly, but even that was shrinking now that the stakes at the club were getting higher. Just today, he was rushing for a meeting at the clubhouse because Gator wanted to talk about some new opportunity for the Hounds. Which in real-talk meant most probably muling drugs.

“I would just like to get to the refrigerator,” Milton said in that ridiculously polite tone of his.

“Well, I’m choosing a snack, so you need to fucking wait,” Stitch snarled, looking at the empty side of the fridge.

“But, I would like to point out, it isn’t your kitchen time.”

Stitch turned around and looked into the guy’s eyes with heat rising in his body. “It’s my fucking house, Milton, so I will do what the fuck I want!”

Milton’s gray eyes narrowed, but he stepped back, crossing his arms over the Superman symbol on his T-shirt. Stitch had no idea what Crystal saw in this guy. He wasn’t completely ugly, and not too skinny, but ditching a prime example of man such as himself for... Milton? He couldn’t get his head around it.

“What’s going on in here again?” hissed Crystal, rushing into the kitchen with her red hair wild and still wet from the shower.

“It’s not his time,” said Milton matter-of-factly.

“Crys, this is ridiculous.” Stitch grabbed a sandwich from the fridge, to get this over with.

“That’s not yours, Stitch!” Crystal raised her voice and walked up to him. He raised his hand up so she’d have to jump if she wanted to take the sandwich from him.

She pressed her lips together tightly and stepped back, with a flush across her cheeks. “Can’t you buy your own food?”

Stitch opened his lips wide and pressed the whole sandwich into his mouth at once. He pushed Milton on his way out and went straight for the door. He was late anyway and couldn’t speak with his mouth so full.