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Dane pursed his lips. “How about high up, on your butt cheek here, so it pokes out the top when you’re wearing pants, but is only really visible and appreciated in all its glory when you’ve got your pants off...”
Colt thought about it. “Yeah, I like that idea. A lioness on my ass cheek, my upper thigh, my lower hip-” Colt starts indicating with his hand on his body.
“Yes, exactly.” Dane follows his hand with his. “Head here, I imagine her looking back at us perhaps, as she slinks away, body all sinew. Her eyes saying ‘fuck with my pride and I’ll rip you to pieces and slurp the flesh off your bones and leave your carcass to rot in the desert’,” Dane finished intensely, caught up in the drama of his imagination.
“Er... yes, that,” Colt said, slightly worried about Dane’s love for the macabre. He’d be a cool Prospect, too, actually. A resident tattoo artist, someone clever, steady handed, introverted and pensive. They always had a lot to bring to the table, the quiet ones. Dane might want to beef up a bit, but that’s why they had a weights room… Damn it. Colt couldn’t stop thinking like the Prez of the MC. It’s who he was. He needed to snap out of it, but he just couldn’t.
So Colt would lay there, musing away. Dane cleaned and wrapped the area he’d worked on that day, and Colt would head back to the Pines. He’d wanted to drive the van, but April had said no, keep the van off the road. It made sense, but it meant Ash called a taxi for Colt. He hated getting driven into town, he felt like a pussy. Colt hated anything that made him feel powerless and trapped. And riding in a taxi the short few miles into town did just that. But he’d put up with it for now, he had to.
* * *
The mornings started early,six a.m. wake up. They had fallen into a comfortable routine, and Colt loved it. Days ran into a second week, after they agreed to extend their stay. A routine, who would have thought it? He woke up in the mornings and could not wait for the day to begin. The alarm would sound, he’d reach over for April, and either pull her over him, like a second blanket, or he’d snuggle into her, bury his face in her hair and press against her warm, soft little body. But then she’d start stirring and they’d wake up together. The first few days Colt would wake up with a raging hard on and a sexual appetite to match and he’d mercilessly get down to the serious task of fucking her.
But they both learned that hard, messy sex before an hour and a half of yoga wasn’t the best idea. April complained that his cum kept leaking out of her. While the thought of that drove him half wild, they decided to hold off until after yoga and breakfast. Colt was getting into the whole yoga thing. The stretches were really helping his body, he felt more connected, stronger. Like his body was beginning to work right for the first time in forever. He focused on the present, letting any thoughts of his brothers and the MC come and go.
He let go of what wouldn’t serve him that day, and focused on how he was going to move forward. He stood still, breathed deep, and stretched hard. He heard his heart beating and felt the breath in his lungs. He listened to the positive affirmations that the instructor said. He noticed how beautiful the morning was when he walked out of the studio. He left the yoga classes feeling more put together and capable and ready for the day than he’d ever felt in his life. At first he’d hated admitting it to April. But then he’d embraced it, rolled with it and now was thoroughly enjoying it. Even the yoga pants were becoming quite comfortable.
Colt would then go down to the restaurant and meet April for breakfast, feeling light and limber and in control of his mindset. She’d smile and greet him with a civilized kiss on the cheek. They would eat breakfast, he had no clue what half of it was and he no longer cared. At first they’d start off calmly, chatting about their classes, how they were, nibbling delicately on dark rye bread and fruit pieces. Then Colt would start getting ravenous, but not for food. April, too, he’d notice her lips hang off her spoon, a fraction of a second longer than she should or needed to. Her eyes lingering on his lips. His hands. She’d cross her legs, fidget in her seat, change legs. He’d start shoveling food into his mouth for what he knew was about to come.
Then they’d be too distracted for any more food, and they’d stumble out of the restaurant like love sick teenagers, eyes only for each other. Colt’s cock would be plumping in those fucking pants, and she’d get breathy and giggly. And they’d finally trip back into their cabin, slamming the door behind them.
Then came manic undressing like their clothes were burning their skin. Sometimes they took a shower, sometimes not. Colt insisted on making it to the bed though. That was his one rule. Once there, any bets were off as far as gentlemanly behavior from Colt was concerned. They’d go hard, April screaming by the end with every ferocious pound. He couldn’t get enough. He couldn’t get deep enough, he couldn’t give her enough of him. And the release, when he caught up to it, was teeth shattering.
Colt also just loved the aftermath, too, though. Lying there, most often sweaty and pulsing and panting. Alive and living the dream, with a satiated April stretched out beside him. Full of his cum, smiling languidly back at him. He got high off it. They’d finally get up again around mid morning. April did some of the other classes. Her favorite was sound therapy. She described it like she went into a room and lied down and listened to someone playing a giant gong. Colt couldn’t face something like that. He’d work on Ash’s bike, or get a massage on his shoulder, which already felt better. Or he’d go into town to see Dane, get some work done on his tattoos.
Once he got back to the Pines, he’d meet April in the spa. He had to be careful of his tattoo work and couldn’t get that wet, but he’d go and sit at the side of the jacuzzi, dangling his feet into the hot, fizzing water, his calves and feet welcoming the feel. He liked it when she was there alone, and he could talk to her openly. Murmur about how he’d missed her and what he wanted to do to her. She’d be relaxed and lethargic after her yoga or Pilates, mindfulness and sound therapy shit or whatever else it was she’d done that afternoon. She’d smile and bat her eyelashes, that would be dark and clumped together from the water, her skin glowing and pink from the heat. Sometimes, though, April wasn’t alone, there were others with her. Colt could sometimes hear giggling and squeals before he’d even left the changing room. He’d walk out into the spa and groan a little.
The spa was all white marble with gold accents. It smelled of rosemary and eucalyptus. There was a big pool for swimming, and three hot tubs to the side. There were saunas on the other side, and treatment rooms where he’d go for his massages. But April was always in the jacuzzi. If she was there with a gaggle of other ladies, he’d go over, smile and wave and give her a kiss. He’d wink to the others, and stroke April’s check tenderly.
He made a show of it, he liked to make the other ladies raise their eyebrows and giggle. He liked to make April flustered and blushing. Then he’d go and lay on one of the loungers. He’d just close his eyes and tune out the gossipy women, listen to the water ebbing, music, just soak up the calm and thank his lucky stars he wasn’t in prison or dead.
* * *
There wasa couple their age that Colt had taken an immediate dislike to. When he saw April in the jacuzzi with them he’d grind his teeth, ignore them completely as he bent down to April and grabbed her chin or her neck. He’d kiss her possessively, roughly, and fix them with a cold glare. Then stalk over to a lounger immediately. He didn’t care how uncomfortable it made them. Or how unpopular it made him. Something about them made him feel slimy. The woman had lip fillers that made her look like a guppy, bleached blonde hair, and wore all of her makeup in the pool. Her mascara always seemed gloopy and smudged. And she wore her jewelry, too. Big, gold hoops in her ears, necklaces around her neck, and bangles on her wrists that jingled every time she gestured with her hands, which was often as she talked a lot.
The guy with her was a sleazy ass, too. He had a mustache, which he clearly thought made him look more edgy or something. It didn’t, it made him look like a goat. He also wore his big silver Rolex in the water. They clearly felt they had to prove something and couldn’t be without their status symbols. Their teeth were both bleached an unnatural paper white and Colt had the urge to punch him hard.
One particular day, after Colt had got the last bit of the black coyote fleshed out on his back, he’d gone to join April in the spa and the couple had been there. “Oh, your husband is just so good looking.” The woman squeaked in her New York drawl as Colt loped over to them.
“Now, now honey bun, you making me jealous?” The mustache guy laughed out loud. Too loud, too desperate. Colt didn’t even think, he just dropped to his knees and kissed April from the poolside.
“Stay, Mr. Black, we want to get to know you!” The woman trilled and jabbed a claw-like manicured fingernail his way.
“Yeah, come on buddy, let’s talk business, man to man.”
Colt snorted like a raging bull. Preparing to charge. He looked to April to say, get me out of here. April had a mischievous little smirk on her face. “Yes, come in here, Mr. Black, let me introduce you to Clarissa and Miles.”
Colt gave her a loaded look. Fine, you want to play, he thought. I’ll fucking play.
April bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. She wanted to watch Colt squirm a little, try to play nice.
“Hi guys.” Colt plastered an obviously fake smile on his face and sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi next to April, planting his feet on the seat in the water where the others sat. April hoped this wasn’t a terrible mistake.
“Get in here, you!” Clarissa cackled, and Colt got an eye full of huge fake tits as she jiggled in an attempt to entice him as if he were a dog responding to a bone. April noticed smugly that he didn’t glance down at Clarissa’s tits. He was the definition of nonchalant. He was only a foaming beast about her own tits.
“Ahh, sorry, sugar, I can’t.” Colt bent sideways to show the large white dressing Dane had conscientiously taped onto his back, covering the whole of the coyote tattoo.
“Ahh, tattoos!” Clarissa squealed with delight.
