The Lone Ranger [Temptationist x Master Machiavelli]

[Temptationist]

The Lone Ranger:
Country Girl x City/Biker Boy

Since I had newly turned 18, it was my first summer completely in charge of the ranch. The horse ranch, which spread over about 100 acres of land, was a small one compared to most cattle ranches, but for the simplicity of the activities, it was plenty enough. The lands consisted of several horse barns, a large country-style colonial mansion, and falling apart barn-style garage at the edge of the road (situated next to the beginning of the long driveway leading up to the house). Usually, the ranch would open for the summer season to tend to the needs of many country folk. Most were young teens who were competing with their stallions or looking for a place to practice, but the ranch also attracted general horse lovers who wished to ride as a hobby and passion. Unfortunately for this summer, the ranch would only open late August, rather than May, due to the fact that it was under construction. As well as this, my parents had left to tend to business regarding the ranch (in another state). They were seeking to expand and purchase more horses, which would take over a month to complete. Because of this, I was left in charge of the ranch in the meanwhile.

Most normal teenagers would have taken advantage of this and gone full out wild; throwing parties and going crazy. But, I wasn't that type of girl. I had grown up in a small town where the high school consisted entirely of about 200 students. There weren't many friends to make, and even those, I didn't really get along with. Because I had grown up mostly on my own and on a farm, I had grown distant from my generation and matured too quickly. I still hung out with friends, but I became more attached to horses than I did people. This left me mostly alone while my parents were gone, but I didn't particularly mind that. I adored the horses, and was just in the midst of combing Hitcher.

The radio was playing country music pretty loudly, but the sound of a crash was loud enough to raise my attention and overshadow the radio. My head turned immediately as I heard the crash, and I quickly moved to turn the radio off. My first reaction was that it was the same no-good vandalizers who tried to break in several weeks prior. I swiftly snatched the hunting rifle that I carried with my everywhere since the initial break in. I walked out of the barn and headed towards the front of the house - completely prepared to shoot whatever I had too, including a person. As I moved closer and closer to the front of the property, I could see the single skid marks that lead into the garage. My eyes widened slightly as I see a gaping hole in the garage building, which was already crumbling to begin with. "Lord, almighty..." I grumbled, shaking my head.

Moving over to the barn, I followed the tracks and stepped into the garage. There I found a young man and his motorcycle laying on the ground. "Jesus..." I shook my head as I towered over the man. I poked him - more like a stabbing gesture - with the tip of the rifle as to check if the boy was still alive. To no surprise, he was. As his eyes would open, they would be greeted with a gun. "Move a single finger and I'll blow ya' brains out." I gave an intimidating grimace. The frown in my brow only emphasized that I was being completely serious.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

The road stretched out in front of him, and he had many more miles to go before getting across the state line. He had to make this drop before sundown or everything he'd worked so hard for would fall apart. The beast between his legs, the giant Harley-Davidson Evo engine growled as he cruised down the back roads- the highways were too risky, too many cops to fuck with him, just because he was patched. He wore a leather jacket under his 'cut', the leather vest which bore his Club colors. Along it's flank a large rocker read 'NOMAD'- he had no chapter affiliation, every club was open to him.

Leaning into a curve he touched his brakes... nothing! His speed was too great and in his attempt to gain control of the powerful bike he downshifted, and the rear tire caught a bit of loose gravel, kicking the bike even further out of control. He was headed across the road, fighting the handlebars... and then he saw the barn. "FUCCCCCCCCK!" He shouted as the bike left the asphalt and vaulted towards the structure. He was no longer in control, now just along for the ride- and from the looks of the weathered boards which were hurtling at him he'd be dead in the next few heartbeats.

He heard the crash, then darkness. His eyes opened slowly, no idea how long he'd been out. Something poking me...open your eyes. I force myself back into consciousness, struggling to comprehend what's happening. Pain in my leg... inside barn... hot chick... hot chick poking me. I roll my head from one side to the other trying to clear the cobwebs. She's threatening me? What the fuck? Try to focus... fucking quit poking me... she's got a rifle? Poking me with it?

His head began to clear and he looked up at the girl, smiling weakly. "My brains are up here," he offered somewhat weakly as he pointed to his head. "What's left of them that is. So do me a favor, point that thing somewhere else before one of us gets hurt sweetheart." With that he collapsed back into the pile of hay he'd managed to land upon.

 

[Temptationist]

As you gave a witty remark about the position of the gun, I thought it would be most suitable to meet your demands. Shifting my rifle from a loose, dangling position to one that kissed your forehead. Grinning slightly, with an almost seductive look that could kill, I replied in a gentle western accent. "Like this?" As fast as my smile came, it also disappeared. Seconds after my comment, a noise in the distance caught my attention. "Sh." I interrupted rudely. Though, that didn't seem to stop you from further commenting on the gun. In a sudden motion, I gave a quick and aggressive kick to your shin with my brown leather cowboy boot and sneered, "Shut your blabblin' bazoo, city boy! ..." Pausing for a second, my voice sizzled into a softer whisper. "Ya hear that?" The sound was faint, but it was present. The sound of an unmistakable engine; that of a motorcycle. "Trouble." As I turned around to head for the opening in the barn, I flailed my hand behind me - gesturing towards you as if to dismiss you. "Keep quiet."

I leaned my back against the wall of the crumbling barn, and cautiously poked my head out to gaze at the street. In the distance, I could see a man on a motorcycle, similar to yours, driving away from the scene. Suspecting he was involved in the crash, I instinctively ran out of the barn and stood prominently in the middle of the road (though, still in plain site from inside the barn). Rising the rifle to my shoulder, I aimed, and fired. It only took me a couple seconds to decide what I wanted to shoot for. The tire? The actually driver? Or something else. I chose the latter, and shot the license plate for several reasons.

Grinning, I watched as the biker continued to ride off until he was but the size of an ant comparably. "Trouble." I repeated again to myself before making my way back towards you. "Hey, Hells Angels!" I grumbled and hollered for you; regretting and knowing full well that I had emerged myself into a whole new level of drama. As I approached the barn, I rose my rifle again and fired at you. Of course, the bullet missed and hit the hay, but it did not miss by much. "You've got 3 god damn seconds to explain to me why another no-gooder is circlin' my property and is followin' you around? Three seconds!" I braced to take another shot, this time, I wouldn't miss.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

I could hear the low growl of the V-twin engine as well... definitely a motorcycle and I look at you impassively after you kick me in the shin and you turn and head out of the barn. It could be anyone- it was a nice enough day and more and more 'civilians', dentists, doctors and the like were riding Harley's these days. I draw my Colt .45 from the shoulder holster I'm wearing under my leather jacket and manage to pull my leg out from under my wrecked bike. It looks a mess and were it a horse, I'd probably put a bullet in its brain pan to put it out of misery. I keep low, crouching and favoring my uninjured leg, waiting and watching.

My pant leg's stained in blood and I know I've got a pretty good gash from the crash, but now's not the time to deal with it. The engine noise is racing away and I watch somewhat surprised as you stand in the middle of the road and bring the weapon expertly to your shoulder and fire. I can still hear the bike, no crash so either you missed, or you weren't aiming for the bike or rider. You don't seem the killing type.

'Hell's Angel' Who the fuck are you calling a Hell's Angel. Fuck those corporate pussies. You swing the rifle up and fire, catching me off guard and you seem unaware of the fact that I'm armed as well. Now you've fired your round and I'm on my feet like a feral dog, rushing you, oblivious to the pain in my leg- the adrenaline has taken care of that; or the possibility that you might get a second shot off. You can clearly see murder and fury in my eyes and on my face. This isn't the first time someone's fired a gun at me and certainly won't be the last. My hand wraps around the barrel and I hold tightly, shoving it back hard into your shoulder and away from my body, not letting go as my pistol moves hard and fast for the center of your chest, my finger alongside the rail and not yet on the trigger.

My voice is filled with venom and violence- sure I'm from the city, but not a place a country girl like you would ever see. "I told you to point that fucking piece somewhere else before one of us got hurt." I'm pissed and I doubt, in your soon to be short lifespan, you've ever seen someone as ready to kill . "How in the FUCK should I know?" I'm shouting- not really giving a shit about your 'tough girl' act. You've got nothing on biker chicks. "I have no fucking idea who you just took a shot at, but if he's the dude who fucked with my bike he was probably making sure I was dead." My pistol is now pressed between your perfect, firm breasts and I'm digging the muzzle into your chest. "Drop the fucking rifle- we're going to both quit the gun play. Understand sweetheart? I'm not going to tell you again."

 

[Temptationist]

As you pulled out the gun I had literally... absolutely... no reaction. The facial expression on my face went from a firm grimace to a... firm grimace, because nothing had changed. It was as if I was completely used to these kind of situations, where I'm being threatened by a gun. My eyes didn't even so much as jitter as you stepped forward and placed the gun to my chest. They remained fixated on your blue eyes. As the gun slid to in between my breasts, my eyes narrowed to stare you dead in the face. I could sense the tension, but here in the country I was used to fighting for dominance, giving the unspoken consensus that men were above women. My silence was a form of challenging you; testing your patience but as well listening to your every word.

I didn't have the gun pointed to you, since I often seemed clumsy with the rifle - though I was not. I was an excellent shooter, and I didn't need to have a fun raised and prepared to fire a good shot. Hence, the gun was hanging by my side, finger ready on the trigger. Finally, after a moment of wicked silence, my lips curled into a questionable grin. "Didn't your Momma ever teach you to watch your language? I see your lips movin', but I'm not hearing any words." Coincidentally, I wasn't as classy as most country girls were, but it was because I grew up in a male-dominated family with 8 brothers, so I learned to keep my head up.

I quickly turned around, not being phased by the pointed gun. Moving towards to hole in the barn, I paused after taking several steps forward and shifted slightly to look at you from over my shoulder. My light eyes looked you up and down, noticing the bleeding leg of yours. "I just need you to understand somethin'..." My voice had softened greatly, almost making me sound like the sweetheart you called me. But I wasn't. "You're on MAH property... which just so happens to be located in the middle of no where. Got a phone? It won't work round here. And judging by the fact that someone just tried to kill you - I can bet a race horse that you've got no friends, and no one to help you but me." With my free hand, I pointed to myself with a closed fist but erect thumb.

"I may appear to be a dumb country folk, but I know your kind. And I know no man of innocence's got some riding fool tamperin' with his brakes. OH! And I think I forgot to mention, the next neighbor aint for another 2 miles and the next public place after that aint for another 5 miles. So unless you want to walk 2 miles with a bleedin' leg over to Mr. Hickson's house, in which the bitter man holds a personal vendetta against bikers since his son was murdered four months ago, I granted that's not a very wise idea seeing as how he'll definitely put a bullet in your head, even if I won't."

I paused, letting that all sink in. "Am I makin' sense to you?"

 

[Master Machiavelli]

The air is heavy, the tension- like a wet blanket hanging over us. Your reaction, or lack thereof impresses me just a little. Most girls would have just given up...given in, but not you. Maybe you can be as hard as you act. He hoped that she wouldn't be put to the test- especially if it had been a 'Triple Sixer' she'd shot at. They'd be back for sure.

With a hand still firmly on the barrel of your rifle I drop my pistol to my side, admiring the red ring the end of the barrel leaves on your lightly tanned chest. "She wasn't around much." Is all I offer when asked about my 'momma,' "and I tend to get a little pissed off when bullets are being fired in my direction." I watch for a reaction but you've moved to the hole my bike tore through your barn. The sunlight shines in behind you as you look back over your shoulder at me and I can't help but smile a little as take in your beauty as you look me over from head to toe.

I listen to what you're telling me, taking stock of my situation but, the throb in my leg beginning to make it's presence known. Hurts like hell, but I can put weight on it, so I know it isn't broke. "No argument there." I agree with you, "It's your property and I've got no one here but you to help me." I'm a long way behind enemy lines- lines invisible to a civilian and I'm going to need her help. I move over to where my bike is lying on it's side, slide my pistol back into its holster and grab hold of the handle bars to right the machine. It's a mess and I manage to keep the curse under my breath as I see the damage to the motor and carburetor.

"You don't look any sort of dumb to me," I offer as I lower the kickstand and let the bike slump against it. "And this wasn't exactly planned, you know- I didn't mean to come crashing through your barn." I say with a wave to the hole in the barn and the condition of my bike and dig out the burner phone from my vest. No signal, just like you told me. "If he was a 'Trip Sixer', he'd kill me for my cut. So yeah, I'm no innocent- I'm no citizen." I lean against the broken bike, looking downwards towards my leg and draw the large hunting knife attached to my belt and cut open the bloody pant leg revealing a deep and oozing gash. "I'm called Mace, what's your name... if you don't mind me asking?" I ask smiling as I wipe the blade on my pant leg before examining the wound. "Any chance of giving me some of that help you mentioned?"

 

[Temptationist]

"You've obviously done something to grab his tail. Your head's on the line for a reason. And if he wants you dead, he'll find ya - and let no one in his way to stop him." I gave a firm grin as I watched you cut open your bottoms. Looking at the wound, I held in the need to cringe. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't pretty at all. I could tell by the formation of the gash, that there was something probably dislodged in there, like metal or perhaps wood. Whatever it was, the particles needed to be removed before it got infected. I sighed lightly to myself, turning my head away from you to face the wall. Under my breath, ever to softly, I muttered, "God dammit."

I knew at this point I couldn't just leave you on your own. Now I was obliged by my own moral conscious to help you. As as you asked, I could not refuse. Taking a deep breath, my eyes returned to yours. "I'll fix you up..." I said that as if it was an unfinished sentence. As if there was something I was going to add to it; like an IF or a BUT. But, it didn't come. It was as if I had changed my thought course, or given up on the sentence and left it hanging. Despite this, I paused for a moment but soon spoke again.

"Take the bike outta here. We're going to hide it in the other barn where you can work on it there." Pausing for a moment as I looked around the small garage-barn, I smirked. "We're torching it." My eyes gazed over to you, looking you dead on with the most serious expression. I was not kidding. "This aint goin' to survive repairs. It's going to come down with the next storm with it's structure compromised... But more importantly, if someone's after you, they'll be back, and they'll look for evidence. And we aint givin' it to them."

Turning around, I headed for the hole in the barn and exited. "The name's Sadie." I paused, "I'm going to assume you can't pay for damages you've gone and made... and considering I can't hold this 'Trip Six' or whatever, accountable - you're going to repay my estate with hard man-labor." I paused, peeking over my shoulder to give a charming grin. I clearly enjoyed that thought.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

"Thank you Sadie." I offer smiling as I take in how gorgeous you are. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this- that wasn't my plan." I move slowly to stand up and off the Harley, pushing it towards the door. You've surprised me in more ways then you know.

"You're serious about burning this old barn down?" I ask, surprised, but I can hear the seriousness in your voice to know that you aren't kidding and let it go. Following you I push the bike out into the path leading to the barn, feeling the throb in my leg, but ignoring it for now, your smile and the way your ass moves as you walk causes me to think about what sorts of 'man-labor' I'd like to give you. I've got plenty of cash in my bedroll, twenty grand or so, but I'd never admit it- I'd much rather work off my debt.

"What sort of labor did you have in mind sweetheart?" I can't help but ask, a boyish smirk on my face, "You run this place all by yourself?" Damn but you're easy on the eyes and the shorts and top you're wearing hug every curve of your body. We make our way into the barn where I park the bike. I pull a bandana out of the leather vest I'm wearing and wrap it around the wound temporarily slowing the bleeding.

"Before you put me straight to work, how about we get me patched up?"

 

[Temptationist]

"As serious as a hunter and his catch." I asserted, giving a slight nod as I continued in to the open of our surroundings. It was a hell of a hot summer day. Clear skies, big bright sun, and blaring heat. It was one of those days that if you stayed out in the sun for even a few moments without sun screen, you'd get burned. Not to mention most likely heat stroke and a shirt full of sweat. I brought the back of my hand up to my forehead to wipe a couple beads of sweat that formed on my hairline. As I stepped further onto my property and away from the barn, my eyes turned to look down the street. Clear as day. It was rare anyone even drove down by here unless they were truckers or local farmers, but this area remained relatively quiet as it consisted of acres of farms.

My hand eased from the gun and I pulled the machine up to lean against my shoulder. The barrel of the up pointed up to the sky. Slowly moving my head to greet the blue of the sky, I grinned slightly - having to place my hand over my eyes to ease the tension from the sun. "I'm roastin' like a pork chop, out here." I tried to joke, though it came off more like an awkward statement. I hadn't had too much social contact in quite some time - so I lacked in that department. "Let's get out of this sun, getchu cleaned up." I turned to head for the old-style Southern farmhouse which was about 300 meters away from the side of the street. Although the house look relatively small from the end of the street, as we got closer and closer it became apparent it was quite a large estate.

"You'll be cleanin' up the stable. With a shovel." As I had been walking in front of you, I turned slightly to see your reaction and gave a charming grin. Shovel was just a clue as to /what/ exactly you'd be shoveling. "Ever dealt with horses?" Chuckling to myself before I made the next witty remark, I turned around to face you, but continued to walk backwards. "Ever ride anythin' else but that bike of yours?" There was a naughty look on my face, one that wouldn't be very expected from supposed classy southern belle like myself. I tried not to make it evident, but I took this opportunity to really look you over good. It had been years since I had seen a biker in this town, and the city boys were just so different than the generic cowboys that I had grown so tired of.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

Roasting like a pork chop? I couldn't help but grin. It was adorable in it's awkwardness and made you all the cuter in my eyes and I nodded as I agreed that it was high time to get my leg properly bandaged. Half liming down the dirt track to the farmhouse I get the sense that it's quite old, and perhaps your family has been here a long time. I have no idea what that's like- having moved around a lot from place to place; never having a proper 'home.'

"Cleaning out the stable, huh?" I answer still smiling and enjoying the turn my day has taken. My bike's a wreck, but somehow it seems worth it for the chance to spend some time with you as I fix it. "I've never cleaned a stable- that's for sure sweetheart." I don't miss a beat, and chuckle as you ask your next question. It's subtle, but the look on your face gives you away. "Absolutely, how about you? Ever straddled anything other than those horses of yours?" My eyes narrow slightly and share your expression as I imagine your long legs wrapped around my waist pulling me deeper inside you. The thought of it makes me smile all the more.

I follow you inside and stand by the chair you point out for me to sit in. "I've only got one other pair of pants with me, so I hope you're not easily embarrassed." My hand reaches and undoes the large buckle on my belt and I undo the top button of my pants, looking at you intently- the desire more evident in my eyes. "I'm going to need these," I say as I begin to tug the zipper down. The bulge forming in the front of my jeans is evident as I reach the end of the zipper. "Care to give me a hand with these?" I ask about the jeans, watching you intently.

 

[Temptationist]

As we entered the country-style home, I immediately stopped you from entering. Holding my hand against your chest, I grinned. "Be a gentlemen, now, won't you, and take off your boots?" I looked down to your feet before releasing the your chest and moving inside the side. Taking off my own muddy cowboy boots, I set them nicely and upright, side-by-side on the mat designated for them. Placing the rifle on a hook meant for coats, I let the gun dangle above my boots before continued into the house. I cleared my throat slightly and as I entered the large kitchen, motioned towards the chair with my hand. "Take a seat, city boy. And try not to break anything else."

I gave a quick glance at you from over my shoulder before heading for the cupboards. Bending down, I pulled open a spare drawer and reached into it. I took out a First Aid kit and a bottle of disinfectant alcohol. Injuries were common on the farm, so we always kept a full drawer dedicated to supplies. I grabbed some extra bandages and managed to fit all the supplies in one hand. With my other spare hand, I grabbed a bar stool and dragged it over to where you were sitting. "You're the one who may be embarrassed... Remember I ride horses for a livin'. But to answer your question... Only horses. Once a pig. But that won't happen again. " I chuckled slightly, and for the first time in a while, there was actually a shred of a legitimate smile. "I'd like to take a shot at ridin' a bull, though."

As I glanced briefly at your pants and crotch, I smirked at your comment. "Really? A big man like yourself can't handle a itty bitty zipper?" I reached out and grabbed the rim of your jeans, almost aggressively pulling you towards me momentarily as I pulled down your pants. Ours faces and lips just inches from each other. It was only a mere second before I pushed you back down and hard onto the chair with the same aggression. "I said sit." Grinning, I pulled off your pants completely and set them down to hang on another chair. "Where you from?" I said rather suddenly as I began to arrange and organize the medical supplies on the stool. The latex gloves clapped against my skin as I snapped them on before glancing at you.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

You're wearing cowboy boot, my own boots are thick leather with a squared toe and a thick rubber sole- good for riding a motorcycle and kicking the living shit out of people who piss me off. So I smile warmly as I slip them off, revealing the white gym socks I'm wearing beneath and set them beside yours, just as neatly. Then follow you into the kitchen. Try not to break anything else... yeah, I've had enough of that already today, but as I watch you walk, your tight ass and delicious curves swaying with each step there's something else I'd like to like to try and break.

You bend over for the first aid kit as I sit down in the chair and unexpectedly, a small "mmm-mm" noise escapes my lips as I watch you. God damn you're a little hottie. I just can't seem to keep from smiling, enjoying the banter and your thinly veiled innuendo. "I'll take my chances, but I've never ridden a horse. Why in the hell would you ride a pig?" I'm genuinely intrigued. "I'd be happy to give yo a ride on my hog, once it's fixed. But a pig sounds pretty filthy to me."

You're back in front of me with the bar stool and I stand still smiling as you smirk and jibe once again. "It feels better to have you do it." I offer with a wink as you ask your question and suddenly you're jerking me towards you. "You like it rough, don't you sweetheart?" My response is flirtatious as you're now close enough to kiss. I smirk and just as suddenly you've got me sailing backwards into my chair. You're pretty good at keeping a guy off balance... I land hard and can't help but wince a little, the gash in my leg isn't pleased; but I continue to help you as you get my pants down. Underneath I'm wearing a pair of loose boxers, without a button fly. Now that my pants are gone and my semi-hard cock is free, it's long, thick length rolls to the side, giving you the briefest glimpse of what lies beneath my shorts. I make no attempt to shift my boxers whatsoever as you lay my pants across another chair.

"I'm from Farmington. The name's ironic now, there hasn't been a farm anywhere near the place in probably fifty years. But I've moved around a lot." You're just about to get started and once again I smirk as you snap the latex glove like they do on TV shows just before the officer does a body cavity search... so dramatic. "I take it you lived here all your life." My hand absently reaches up and strokes the back of your knee and slightly higher, my question more of a statement. "Try to be gentle sweetheart."

 

[Temptationist]

"Oh, Lord, no!" I exclaimed quite bluntly. "I don't do motorcycles." I motioned with my hand to add to the dramatic "no" I had just given. It was legitimate. I was legitimately rejecting a ride on a motorcycle. This wasn't only about teasing, or innuendo, I vowed to never ride. But I had also vowed to never get involved with a biker - but even that vow seemed close to breaking. I found myself lusting you more and more. I was oddly appreciating your humor, and even more oddly, I found myself charmed. Perhaps I really was bored of my life. It was something my friends and family always poked fun at. That I dropped country boys like flies, simply because I always grew bored of them. I wanted something new. Maybe what I wanted was someone like you.

It became all the more evident from the growing bulge in your pants that you wanted me, too. Although I noticed, I wasn't too sure if I wanted to do anything about that just yet. A part of me wanted to make you suffer some. I moved over to the sink where I grabbed a bowl and filled it with cold water. Walking back over to you I grinned to the "rough" comment. "I like angry bulls. Aint no fun in a bull with no drive. I like a challenge." I try not to notice your manhood in clear visibility, but my deprived little self felt tempted to give in to sin.

I set the bowl on the ground by the foot of your injured leg, before grabbing the supplies and taking them down with me as I sat on the floor. Crossing my legs, I pulled you towards me slightly and plopped your leg on my own. "Yep. All of it. Never been out of state or even out of town." I gave a smirk, but it faded quickly as I thought about how flat of a life I had lived thus far. I soaked a clean cloth and started to wipe down your leg, to get rid of any excess blood that was in the way. "I've never even been more than 5 storeys off the ground. Aint that sad?" Chuckling weakly, I gave no warning before pouring a bottle of disinfectant alcohol directly onto the wound. I literally drenched it and used the wet cloth to press against the injury, as to allow the alcohol to truly settle in. I giggled lightly as I felt your leg tense in my hands.

Releasing the cloth from your wound, I felt kinda bad for causing the sudden pain and decided to blow gently on your leg. "Better?" I spoke to you like a child, a smug little grin on my face. I continued to thoroughly clean it - making sure there were no more tiny fragments of wood, hay, dirt, and anything else that shouldn't be in the flesh.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

I watch you intently as you gather the supplies to clean and dress my wound and I still can't seem to help but smile as I appreciate the way you move. You sit at my feet, cross legged and take my leg, doctoring it with the damp rag. It feels good... soothing in fact. The cool water washing away the dirt and grime... I wish it were as easy to wash away the dirt and filth from the things I've done. I've never met a 'civilian' like you. Everyone in the city is working some angle; they've got some agenda. Maybe it's fresh air, maybe I landed on my head in the crash, or it very will might be you tending my wound, but I'd never considered my culpability for the things I've done. It was just 'the life' and that's what came with it. I'm half a heartbeat from an epiphany when you pour the disinfectant into my wound.

"MUTHERFU..." Can't swear. My brain, reeling from the burning sensation engulfing my leg, reminds me. "...GRRRGH." I grunt hard into the sting- my leg is on fire and you're one sadistic bitch. My face reddens from the burn, but I manage not to involuntarily kick you. 'Fight back' is my default reaction to pain, but you're trying to help... not hurt me I remind myself. Through angry squinted eyes I see you blowing gently on the spot, trying to salve the burn. Maybe you didn't realize just how much it would burn in a wound the size of mine. I'm about to give you a pass when I catch your smug little grin. Unbelievable.

"Thanks for that. You sure you got enough in there?" I try to find the humor in it- as my heart rate returns to normal. This beats a trip to the ER and stitches after all. I'm not saying there's a tear in my eye, because I'm a pretty tough dude, but I rub the bridge of my nose and squint as I do so, just in case some moisture from my eyes may have leaked out. "Ever treated an actual person before, doctor?" I ask as I shake my head from side to side, the grin returning to my face.

"Better?" I respond to your question as I watch you carefully clean my wound throughly and see the effort you're putting into making sure it's absolutely clean. Your doctoring is so much better than the shot of whiskey and a 'this is gonna hurt...a lot' I would have gotten from one of my biker brothers.

"Yeah, a whole lot better, darling."

 

[Temptationist]

In that moment, I tried so hard not to out right laugh as you began to swore and your leg almost jolted right off my leg. It brought me so much, almost too much, pleasure to see you cringe. Just a little pay-back for the attitude and the damage.

My bright blue eyes move to meet yours briefly as I grin, "Oh, I'm sure. Plenty enough." For whatever reason, I could help but keep that rugged little grin. I removed the cloth and placed it aside. "This needs sum stitches." I looked over to my supplies. "But lucky for you, I don't got any..." I tap my finger lightly on your leg as I stare at my supplies and try to think of an alternative solution. "The nearest doctor 'aint for another 9 miles. I'll have to make do with 'whut I got."

Pausing, I look up to you with an almost evil smile. "How's your threshold for pain, big-boy?" I chuckled, "I'm just messin'. This won't hurt..." I grabbed a sealed packed of medical strips. "... Much." Opening them, I pulled out several Steri-strips, which have a sticky adhesive for pulling skin/wounds closed. "Ya know'- I've treated a lot animals - mainly of horses." I nodded lightly as I started to pull your skin from both sides of the wound to close it as much as possible. "And, uh..." I started to chuckle, "None of them got no teary-eyed."

Starting to laugh lightly, I didn't make eye contact until I was able to maintain my laughter. I took a a sealed and clean pad of gauze, place it over the strips, and fastened it with medical tape. When my eyes moved to look at you finally, I couldn't help but laugh some more. I continued to wrap the tape all around your calf, to ensure the gauze stayed tight and sturdy. Finishing, I tapped your leg. "There we go, sunshine."

 

[Master Machiavelli]

I look at you as you continue to take perhaps a bit too much enjoyment in all of this, trying to maintain my cool. I'm reminding myself that even though you're taking delight in setting my leg ablaze with the disinfectant you poured into my wound to flush it clean, you really are helping me. A part of me- the hardcore biker really wants to let into you for laughing at me; give the leash which holds the monster within at bay a little slack. You don't realize you're poking at him with a very short stick- I'm a complete stranger to you and with the idyllic upbringing you've just described the other side of me, the one I've shown you, knows you've never seen the sort of violence and evil he is capable of. The smile leaves my face as I focus inwards and force him back into the shadows. I'm hardly aware you're speaking to me.

You're finishing the bandaging and my breathing and face have returned to normal. I manage to chuckle a little as you look up at me and laugh a little more. It's alright, I remind myself- you did make a bit of an ass of yourself just then. "Thanks." I answer flatly, trying to sound tough after you call me 'sunshine, but I know you see right through it and I shake my head as I begin to laugh myself. "Hell of a day." I mutter as I move my foot from your leg and begin to pull myself up from the chair to put some weight on the mended leg.

 

[Temptationist]

Just as your leg began to lift from mine, I began to pull myself up. Placing my hands on your knees rather swiftly, I used your body to pull myself – not coming shy of rather grazing my hands up your thighs as I did move upwards. I could feel the tension within both the air and your body from when I mention the tears. “I'ma only teasin'.” My smile radiated a sort of glow that could in itself melt even the coldest of of men. My smile was nearly perfect; I had glowing pearly whites, straight teeth, full lips, and an expression that brought attention to my bright blue eyes. I brought my hand to meet your chest and collar bone. Leaving it there for a moment, I nearly lost myself in your eyes. Clearing my throat, I was moved my hand.

I was rather quick to move away from you – a sort of distance I liked to maintain. I grabbed the bowl and supplies from the floor and stool and brought them to the counter. “If ya think today was hell...” I gave a playful chuckle. “Wait until you start to work for me.” I poked a sight over my shoulder. “I make even tough bulls cry.” Trying to lighten the mood, I turned back around and leaned against the counter. I watched you stand there, but before you could go for your pants, I lunged forward. Grabbing your pants before you could, I held them away from you. “You don' want those.” I just wasn't quite ready for you to cover up. Not just yet.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

"Really?" I ask and with the smirk still on my face I make a half-hearted attempt to grab at them, only to bolt forward on my good leg and wrap my arm around your thin waist to pull you close to me. A finger of my free hand strokes along the length of your neck as I look at you. "And why's that sweetheart?" I ask, my words laced with my desire as my voice deepens and my hand travels along your neck to your chin and then begins to move lower. I can feel my length stiffening at the possibilities which having you so close might present.

Instead of moving lower, I reach around to the nape of your neck and drink in your beauty as I move in to kiss you, half expecting you to be little more than a tease. You've got my full attention now and I'm not going to let this chance pass me by. "Seems a bit unfair that I'm the only one standing here in my boxers."

 

[Temptationist]

Pulling your pants from your sight, I watched as you moved closer. I moved my arm and hand that held the pants behind me - as a lame and weak attempt to keep them from you.

I hadn't quite grasped what I had done, nor the situation that currently faced me. You were the situation. And the situation consisted of me breaking a hell of a lot of rules, and a done of boundaries I thought I followed. When I grabbed the pants from you, it was almost like an instinct - and only now was I realized it was a sexual instinct. I couldn't look at you without thinking about your man putting me in my place - so I knew I had an inner battle to win.

Despite this, as you approached and leaned in closer, moved your hands, and looked into my eyes I knew I would lose. There was a burning desire in me that could even be seen in my glazing eyes. As your hand came to my neck, and your lips came closer to mine, I moved forward to kiss you, but didn't. Instead, I resorted to stopping myself just a bare inch from your lips. My eyes shifted to look at your lips then back over to your eyes as a mere seductive smile crept the corner of my plump rosy lips. I gave a rather rough swallow - one that depicted my slight nerves but I tried to bury it in pride. "Then, uhm..." My smile grew just slightly as I gazed at you, "..Why dontcha do something 'bout it?"

 

[Master Machiavelli]

My smile grows wider as I feel your words on my lips, the soft exhalation of them as they leave your mouth and float across mine is delicious. What am I going to do about it? Good question. I can sense your desire, hear it in your breathing, see it in your eyes and your seductive smile. The ball's in my court and you feel my fingers on the small of your back spread, my pinkie slipping between the top of your shorts and your skin. You're warm and soft against my hand, made rough from years of bar fights and turning wrenches.

My first instinct is to kiss you, your lips so full and ripe...but I refrain. I see it in your eyes; it's what you want. I do as well, but this is the first time since we've met that I think I might actually be in the driver's seat. So I lean in, nearly brushing your lips with mine before sliding them past you and instead kiss the spot just under your jawline beneath your ear and I easily pull you into me with the strength of my hand on your back. You feel my excitement as I press you against me. My other hand slips easily into the back pocket of your shorts, cupping your perfect ass and I give it a little squeeze as I place another kiss along your neck moving very slowly towards your chin.

There's no need for words.

 

[Temptationist]

As your lips moved closer to mine, my heart began to beat just a little faster - though I tried to stay composed. But when your lips moved right before touching mine, my heart nearly stopped. As you switch course as kiss my neck, the sense of surprise could have very well caused me to slap you right in the face. Although that moment of teasing disappointment was there, it was only momentary before the sensation of your lips against my jaw very well melted my insides.

Instinctively, my free hand moved to your chest. I lightly gripped your t-shirt and didn't even notice I was equally pulling you as you were pulling me. I fell against you gracefully and without hesitation. Although I had been difficult before, I hadn't been with someone in so long, and I felt this unbelievably strong attraction to you that I was unable to resist.

I allowed you to trail the kisses on my neck; even moving my head just slightly to the side to grant you that access. My eyes sunk to a half-close as I deeply enjoyed the feel of your groping and embrace. My hand fell to an open and I dropped the pants I had once taken. All the while, the hand that held your shirt released. I trailed that hand down to your stomach and continued to move until I came to snag the rim of your boxers. I pulled on them lightly, pulling you closer to me as my head tilted to face you. My now-pant-free hand crept into and under your shirt to meet skin of your torso, and my wanting eyes searched to look at yours.

 

[Master Machiavelli]

I feel your fingers glide across my abs and they tighten unbidden in response. My right hand still cups the back of your head, it's strong fingers laced and intertwined in your long dark hair. My left slowly traces along your spine, beneath your cute blue plaid top and moves higher as our eyes lock. The hunger and desire in my eyes is palpable and I can feel my heart quickening in anticipation. My breathing deepens as I read your expression. You are nothing like any of the women I've known. There's an honesty and purity to you I've never seen before and it's intoxicating. The anticipation of what may happen in the next few heartbeats is equally powerful. You are so beautiful and the sexual tension drips from your long, lithe body.

Locked in your gaze, I feel myself leaning forward as I draw you in with both of my hands. My lips find yours- moist and soft, warm and tender and I kiss you, gentler than you might have expected at first. But the taste of your lips serves only to stoke my passion and as I slowly part your lips with mine, my tongue dances out to seek yours. My left hand at your back presses you into my chest and I revel in feeling your breasts pressing against me, imagining how they will feel on my mouth and tongue.

My right hand lets go and follows the curve of your left ears before traveling to your slender neck. I stroke your jaw with my thumb as my hold on you changes. You feel my strong left hand as it moves down your spine to the small of your back and lower still, over the curve of your tight, perfect ass and then my fingers curl around it, pressing you into my growing hardness.