By Caro Dee

Jim tightened his arms as they leaned into the curve. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Only seventeen more miles to Little Bear Lake and then they'd stop for lunch. He could hold out that long. He had to.

Jim had had no inkling of what was ahead when Blair arrived home late Saturday morning, carrying two helmets, and announced that he had the loan of a motorcycle for the weekend.

"Sandburg," Jim demanded. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Blair cast a look down at his outfit and smiled a little uncertainly. "It is a bit... kinky, isn't it? But Snake said leather was the safest thing to wear on a motorcycle. If you end up sliding, it'll keep you from turning into hamburger." Blair shuddered at the thought. "Snake's bigger than me so the jacket's a little loose, but the pants fit pretty well."

Oh yeahhh. The leather pants hugged Blair's thighs, his ass, his... basket like a second skin. Jim shifted a little uneasily at that line of thought. Then he frowned. Snake? "You know somebody called Snake?"

Blair tossed one of the helmets at Jim and wandered into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. "Don't worry. Snake is a really decent guy. You'll like him."

Jim very much doubted that. "How did you meet this guy?"

"I tutored his little sister and he came by to make sure I treated her with respect. We got to talking and next thing I know he's offering to teach me how to ride a motorcycle. It's a real blast, Jim. You're going to love it."

"I know how to drive a motorcycle, Chief." The way the light shone off the smooth, black leather really accentuated Blair's assets. Jim blinked and looked away.

"Great! So get your leather jacket and put on some jeans and let's go, Jim. The open road is calling our name!" Blair grinned and bounced, setting the beer down on the counter. "The thing is I promised Snake that I wouldn't let anyone else drive it. You understand. Right, Jim?"

"Hold your horsepower, Marlon. That bottle goes in the recycling." The growl was half-hearted and Jim was already meekly heading up the stairs to pull his leather coat out of the closet. He carefully didn't think about why he chose his tightest pair of jeans. He was already thrown enough by the realization that he'd even noticed Blair had assets, that he didn't argue the driving arrangement. Maybe he had a leather fetish?

Ten minutes later, Jim found himself seated behind Blair as he competently kicked up the stand, revved the engine, and peeled out into the street. By the time Jim had indignantly noticed the snakes painted along the gas tank, it was too late to stop it.

He was already getting hard. The combination of the vibrations of the bike, the touch of Blair between his thighs, the smell and feel of the leather right in front of his nose, resulted in an erection like a steel rod. Jim bit his lip and suffered the pleasure in silence.

He still had himself fairly well under control until Blair hit the highway and opened the throttle. The increased vibration from the higher speed ran through his body like lightning, concentrating sensation where his body met the bike... the bike and Blair's ass.

The throbbing of the bike was strongest right between his legs where his weight pressed him into the motorcycle's padded seat. With a groan, Jim realized that he was getting the granddaddy of all prostate massages and there was nothing he could do about it. His whole insides were liquefying into this pulsating, insistent, building ecstasy. The landscape blurred and the wind whipped his harsh panting away before Blair could hear it. His entire focus narrowed down to two things: not rubbing against Blair like a cat in heat and experiencing every second of this incredible pleasure. Oh God, yessss! Please. Please. Don't let Blair know, but... don't stop.

He wasn't going to make it. Blair wasn't slowing down and all Jim could do was lock his grip and wait helplessly for the orgasm that was barreling full speed towards him. It hit and his moan was covered by the roar of the bike, but nothing could hide the fact that his hips were bucking uncontrollably into Blair's. It felt so goddamn good. Then Blair slid back an inch, pressing hard into Jim's groin, and Jim gasped as the sensation intensified. Oh God, Blair knew. He knew, he... Oh fuck, yes! His head fell forward, helmet clacking hard against Blair's, and he was mortified to realize he was actually biting Blair's shoulder through the leather jacket.

As Jim gasped for breath afterwards, Blair slowed down and pulled over to the side. When he switched off the engine, the sudden silence was like a blow. Feeling numb, Jim watched as Blair kicked the stand down and swung his leg up and over. He pulled off his helmet and stood, staring at the passing cars, while running a hand through his windblown hair. Then he looked over at Jim with a lopsided smile. "Something you want to tell me, Jim?"

Blair was hard. A wave of relief ran through Jim -- Blair was hard and he wasn't hiding it. Maybe things were going to be okay.

He pulled off his own helmet and smiled lazily, enjoying the quick intake of breath as Blair stood there waiting. He reached out and hooked a finger through the zipper ring of the leather jacket, pulling Blair in close. He stared a moment at that beautiful mouth and then met Blair's gaze. Grinning, he offered, "Want me to drive now?"

Bingo. Heart rate rising and perspiration on the upper lip. But Blair shook his head. "I promised Snake."

"It's your decision," Jim said quietly.

Blair stared and chewed his lip for a moment, then dropped his eyes. "Okay."

Scooting forward on the seat, Jim smiled and waited. Blair climbed on behind and awkwardly hugged him. Jim dropped one hand to twine fingers through Blair's. They sat there a minute silently, letting the tight grip of their hands speak for them.

"Ready?" Jim asked as he let go.

"Mmm... yeah."

Jim started the bike, threw a quick glance at the oncoming traffic in both directions and pulled out smoothly. To his delight, Blair slid forward and almost melted into him. Thirteen more miles to Little Bear Lake and lunch. After that, Jim was definitely renting a cabin for the rest of the weekend and they'd try this again without the bike.

Although, maybe they'd keep the leather.

Fin

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