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“And this is for the colossal sum of money we’ve just had to hand over to bail you out, you fucking waste of space!”
Lyle had fought back at first. He had attempted to parry Ash’s laser focused blows. He’d still been high probably, to think it was worth the effort. Ash was a goddamn karate expert, some sort of black belt or something, he outmatched Lyle in technique, speed and agility. Lyle should have known that. But he’d not been paying enough attention lately. He should have known better than to bother attempting to fight back. Ash was a lean guy, not much shorter than Lyle but a good 100 pounds lighter probably. Lyle had given him shit for his stature before this.
He was such a fucking numbnut. He was getting his comeuppance royally now. Ash was taking him to the cleaners, dancing circles around him, while he lumbered about, his body like a sack of potatoes, half drunk, completely unable to control his limbs, completely unable to stand up even.
And now Lyle was flat on his aching stomach, biting dust. Literally.
Ash threw in a nasty little pump kick to his stomach for good measure. Lyle heaved. But there was nothing to come out of his stomach anymore except bile. He’d already puked up the alcohol he’d drunk in his cell. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Would it have been a few days ago? He had a burger in some roadside bar back in Cali… but that must have been a few days ago now…
Ash pulled his leg back to kick again and Lyle winced. Ash was panting, all riled up, sweat dripping off his forehead, topless. His lean muscles rippling. Fuck, Lyle had been young and fit once. Like Ash. Now he was all gristle and booze calories.
He realized he was screwed up in a ball, fetal position, eyes squeezed shut, cowering like the little wimp he was. Fuck, he deserved nothing. He was nothing. He was a screw up. Cowering on the ground in his own blood and piss and vomit.
“Enough,” a voice cut through his self hating haze. A deep, commanding voice. The voice of his Prez. The leader of the Black Coyotes MC. Colt.
Lyle felt his foul breath stutter on his dry lips. He let out a whimper of relief and despair. For he knew now what was coming. And he’d take Ash’s beating over what was next any day of the week.
“Ash, pull him up,” Colt said.
And Lyle felt not only Ash’s hands on him, put Colt’s, as well. It took them both to heave him up, he was a dead weight. He felt his limbs hanging off him, like his soul, heavy and barely clinging to his bones. He was a wreck. Falling apart at the seams.
“Hang him back up.”
Oh yes, Lyle was then hoisted up and hooked onto some sort of meat hook, by his leather cut, his jacket. His feet barely touched the floor, he could take some of the weight, barely, on his tiptoes. It hurt.
He felt some sort of bodily fluid drip off his chin and splat on the concrete floor below him. Fuck, this was rock bottom.
“You got worked over good.” Another voice said, next to him. He turned. It was that new Prospect. Nix. Ash’s former cellmate, and more, from when Ash did his time in prison, for helping Colt escape. Ash got out pretty quick and Nix followed afterwards. Lyle hardly knew Nix. He’d been drunk when Nix had arrived. And drunk most of the time after that, too.
“Why the hell are you here?” Lyle drawled, his voice raspy as fuck.
Nix cracked a smile. He was hung up by his cut, too, but his was all new. He was a handsome young fucker, too. Oh, Lyle felt old and used up. Nix was there, all fresh, crisp tattoos and thick, well-manicured hair and a pierced little button nose and pouty lips.
“‘Cause I wanna be here.” Nix winked and flashed him a smile. “I’m next.”
Lyle frowned, and followed Nix’s gaze to where Ash was pulling his T-shirt off, panting, all riled up. Lyle’s gaze flicked back to Nix, who was smiling hungrily at Ash. Lyle couldn’t help but notice Nix’s massive boner tenting his jeans.
“Fuck me.” Lyle tried to roll his eyes but it hurt too much.
Nix didn’t hear, Ash was coming closer.
“Your turn, Nixy-boy.”
“Ash-baby, give me what you got.”
Ash unhooked Nix, like a kid getting a new toy off the shelf. Nix was bigger than Ash, closer to Lyle’s height, but in good shape, all young muscle.
“You two…” Lyle sighed but didn’t know how to finish his sentence. Love was love, he got it. Had he ever felt something like it? He watched as Ash and Nix squared up to each other, both now breathing heavily, both eying each other like they were each other’s meal.
“Compulsive viewing, huh?”
Colt stood right next to him, practically whispering in his ear. Lyle sighed.
“You asked Nix why he wants this… he wants it because he likes it.”
“Are they going to fight or fuck?” he asked through chapped lips, turning as best as he could, to finally look into the face of his Prez.
Colt’s brown eyes drilled back into him. Lyle held his gaze, took it. Just like he’d taken the beating.
