Page 17 of Bull's Boy

“Oh, he doesn’t—you don’t have to do that,” Malcolm said in a rush, turning to Ollie. He seemed embarrassed, tugging on one of his earlobes. “I’m sure you don’t want to babysit me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Before Bull could figure out how to insist, Ollie laughed and pinched Malcolm’s cheek. “That’s adorable. This crowd will eat you alive if you’re left on your own.” He shot a sly glance at Bull. “Unless that’s what you’re looking for? In which case, Mase and I can help find someone to devour you.”

“Totally!” Mase agreed, even though it hadn’t looked like he was paying any attention, staring at something across the room with a spacy, vacant look.

“Oh, I… Um.” Malcolm glanced around, seemingly overwhelmed at the idea. When his gaze landed on Bull, he dropped his eyes, face reddening.

Bull squeezed his hands into fists to stop himself from yanking Malcolm away from Ollie and into his side, making the decision for him and offering silent comfort all at once.

Grinning like the devil personified, Ollie waggled his eyebrows at Bull and started pulling Malcolm away. “We’re going to have a blast.”

“Behave, boy,” Six called after him, but Ollie only threw an air-kiss over his shoulder before the three of them were swallowed by the crowd on the makeshift dance floor.

“Come on,” Six said, turning in the opposite direction. When Bull still hesitated, he snorted. “Ollie’ll make sure your boy’s safe.”

Annoyingly, Bull felt his face heating. He scowled at Six. “He’s not my anything. We’re just friends.”

Barely even that, though he supposed they were moving in that direction. And that was… good. Great even. If “friend” was all he could hope for, then he’d be the best damn friend Malcolm had ever had.

Six didn’t say anything about his denial, but Bull had the distinct impression he didn’t believe him. Which was crazy. Why would Bull deny them being in a relationship when Malcolm was perfect?

“Busybodies,” Tomas muttered, taking a sip from his lowball glass and shaking his head. He didn’t seem overly concerned about the fact that Bull’s mom knew about club business—he was still sort of reeling at the fact they were actually having sex parties—but he didn’t seem pleased either.

Tomas had been the MC’s President since the Michigan chapter’s creation, having split off from the founding chapter down South. He had to be at least a decade older than Bull’s thirty-five years, his dark hair gaining a little more gray every time Bull saw him.

Though, he figured that could also be from the stress of managing the club and all of its businesses. Marv didn’t share a lot with him about all the pies the MC had a piece of, but Bull knew enough to be impressed with Tomas’s savvy management decisions.

“I’ll talk to my mom,” said Houston, the MC’s Vice President, barely hiding his grimace. He was a big Black guy with solid muscles but the most easygoing attitude of any of the club’s officers. Always quick with a smile and a genuine question about how a person was doing.

His boyfriend, Kenneth, was curled up next to him, eyes half-closed. The golden-brown skin of his torso was beautifully displayed with an intricate design of a teal rope. Houston was an artist with his ropes, apparently.

Bull was learning all kinds of shit that evening.

“And Cynthia,” Houston added. “Though I don’t know that either will listen to me.”

His sister Cynthia was the club’s lawyer and a complete badass. Bull had only met her once, but it was enough for him to be intimidated by her. He was grateful he wasn’t the one who had to tell her she needed to be careful about talking club business in earshot of her mom.

Tomas grunted, then turned to Bull expectantly.

He held up his hands. “Yeah, no. You want someone to tell Sally to mind her business, you better ask Marv or do it yourself. She will not listen to me.”

Plus, there was no chance he was risking hearing her say the wordssex partyagain.

Tipping his head to the side in consideration, Tomas scratched at his salt-and-pepper beard. “I’ll stop by Bo’s sometime next week. Impress upon her the importance of discretion.”

Bull tried to hide his shock. He hadn’t actually thought Tomas would want to do it himself. “Alright. She’s usually there in the mornings, so breakfast would be a good time.”

“Good time for what?” a young Black man asked, flopping down on Tomas’s lap and wrapping his arms around him like a clingy koala. His jeans were obscenely tight, leaving nothing to Bull’s imagination. He looked away quickly before Tomas saw him accidentally checking out his boy.

“To have a chat with Bull’s mom about not gossiping about the MC,” Tomas said, like it would be that easy. He ran a hand down one of the guy’s legs before sliding back up and cupping his ass. “Enjoying your birthday party, gatito?”

He nuzzled into Tomas’s neck, his response either too low for Bull to hear from where he sat a few feet away or the kisses to Tomas’s throat tattoo were his answer.

“Mason still dancing?” Tomas asked, and Bull reflexively looked toward the mass of people, recognizing the name. He hadn’t realized Ollie’s friend had been one of Tomas’s boys.

His breath caught in his throat when the crowd shifted and he laid eyes on Malcolm. He’d periodically checked on him since they’d parted ways, doing his best not to obsessively watch him talk and laugh with other people and only succeeding maybe half the time. But now… now he was moving to the music, head tipped back slightly and eyes closed. Completely lost to the moment.

Bull couldn’t look away, the rest of the clubhouse disappearing until the only thing left was a dancing Malcolm, his hips moving enticingly.

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