Page 70 of Tracking Luxe

Lawless laughed low in his throat. An offensive sound.

"Always got summit to say, except now, huh?"

He worked the cock like he was stroking his own steel pipe, fluid leaking from the tip to make for a wet slide. Faster, tighter. Under him, bones and thick muscle grew taut, he knew better than most the sacrifice this guy was taking to have a taste of a craving, hadn't Lawless been there, done that, got the bloodstained T-shirt once over? But he was no one's convenience to be used like a sack of rotten potatoes.

Fuck you to hell, and take my momma with you.

It only made him angry enough to spill blood on the nice clean floor Z-girl would be pissed about.

Each jerk of his hand, riling up the thick cock only served to solidify his own irritation. He'd succumbed to this guy’s wicked hunger once before because he was hyped up on the murder of the evening, call him a sentimental bastard but bloodshed got his Johnson hard, on a fraught night when adrenaline was at its highest, everyone had done mad things.

Every. One.

It had been pleasurable. A depraved release and those were so easy to come by. In any other circumstance, Lawless would have forgotten it had even happened, he certainly hadn’t give it a second thought. Never to have repeated that’s for fucking sure. But giving him the eyes and acting like Lawless was someone’s menu to pick from, all the while keeping your deviant secrets. Nah. Now he was mad. He was no fuckers happy meal.

"So, are you a coward now? Maybe we should change your name legally."

"Fuck. Don't be a dick, Law." The body beneath him groaned, shoving his hips into Lawless' hand as he squeezed and pumped, the head dropped between his braced arms, Law could hear him struggle to drag air into his lungs past the blast of lust.

"That's funny considering what I've got hold of." With speed, he grabbed the back of the shirt and flipped the guy around, crashing him hard into the wall hard enough for a less robust guy it would have broken a bone.

Face to face, inches apart, just how he preferred right before he killed a person. He could taste the beer fumes on the chuffed air in his face. Dutch fucking courage.

The guy panted and waited for Lawless to make a move, his own dick so fucking iron hard ready to pump,pumpinto a hole, Lawless glanced down at the wanting meat and smirked like a taunting demon, not reaching down for it just yet.

"Wanted a bit of slap and tickle in the dark, did you?" When the guy growled and made to shove Lawless back, Law got right in his face, using his bulk to keep him there. "Youfucking came tome, remember, like a begging dog," he laughed, tauntingly. "Standing there wanting what I can give and too chicken shit with your cock out to even ask for it. Poor scared bastard so warm with your secrets can’t even say it out loud, can you?"

Willing victims were how Lawless described his bed partners, not that anything he did took place in something archaic as a bed, please. Who was he, Romeo?

"The gutless sub wants a dominant to be all mean and tough and give you a slap and climax is that right? Did your own hand stop working? None of the eager gashes out there willing to suck you dry?"

"Not a fucking sub." Growls dripped from the guy making Lawless smirk like the truthful bastard he was and add in a harsh whisper, "liar."

Only as Law wrapped his fist around that thick cock again, punishing the purple head with fast furious painful twists did he watch the play of emotions cross that hard face warring with himself to admit what Law already knew, the skull reared down, hanging on the thick corded neck and a puff of air expelled from his throat.

Defeat. Submission. Acceptance. Good fish.

Lawless realized then why the guy wasn't arguing or fighting back, no matter how much he taunted him with his secret truth.

He needed this like medicine. Humiliation was his kink, his valve to normalcy. And right then leaning into the wall, that massive chest heaving for air with Lawless jacking him off, Law saw how the release was desired.

And who was Lawless to judge? His own appetites bordered freaky by anyone's standards and fuck them if they said a word to him about it. No one judged the housewife on her knees for dear old husband, did they? Why then would they for the shit that jived for Lawless? Assholes.

His voice grew hoarse as he asked, "Do you need my belt, bastard sub?" His tone was very precise, spoken like the monster he was accused of. He’d go so far as to admit he wouldn’t allow anyone else to manipulate him this way, damn those warm fuzzy feelings he held for his club-brothers.

Snake's head reared up so fast, pinning Lawless with a startled stare, he gave three long blinks, heaving in air, he slicked his lower lip with his tongue, then said "Yeah."

Air shot through Lawless. The stab of surprise. He’d expected Snake to tell him no, to go fuck himself and storm off.

Medicine was a bastard, wasn’t it? It was a stinker what a guy needed to feel normal.

"Fuck. Okay.Okay. If I kill you it's your own fault, I won’t shed a tear at your funeral. I probably won’t even go to the service, not for the likes of you, not even if they served lobster, I’m busy that day braiding my hair." The humiliation was making the cock in his hand harder.

He let go to unbuckle and pull off his belt, the leather whooshed through the denim hooks, the metal echoing in the small closet.

Lawless' knowledge for many things was varied, he could pick out a person's hidden appetites long before they even spoke about them. He and Snake had never discussed Snake's sexuality, though he'd seen him fuck countless women in the years they'd known each other, nor had Snake ever talked about his broader ... proclivities, but last summer Lawless had recognized an undisguised need in his fellow troublemaker, one that had flashed through his eyes that fateful night. Murder had brought the jittering club brother to his knees and it had been Lawless who had leveled Snake back out.

The scales of power always tipped in his direction, he couldn't see a day when he'd give that up to anyone, least of all a sexual partner, it gave Lawless hives under his skin to even contemplate, but he could recognize the need in others, to let go and have someone else take the reins.

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