#GUTS by bennie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seresinhangmanjake · 8 months ago

Text

Together and More

Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader

Summary: Daddy!Benny moments from the birth of his baby to a parenting anxiety episode to a few years down the line with a little toddler.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free* Unofficial Part 3 to Come Back Knockin’ and Come Back Together. I say ‘unofficial’ because it’s more like an epilogue-y time-jump thing and I might go back later and add more fics between the last part and this to bulk up the story (if people are interested. If not I’ll probably just move on to new Benny fics unrelated to this story). Fluffy family cuteness. Girl dad!Benny. Angsty-ish at brief points (if you squint, I suppose). Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Typos.

Words: 3400

Benny Cross Masterlist

When the nurse escorts him into the delivery room, Benny freezes. Wide blue orbs flick between you and the bundle in your arms, and despite the distance, you can see his hard swallow. You can practically feel his heart thumping, reverberating off the walls, and when his lips part, you’re unsure if it’s from awe or anxiety or a mix of the both.

When it comes to your husband’s emotions over the birth of his child, it has varied by the day. There’s been a steadiness and consistency to his excitement, thankfully, but he has vacillated between trusting in his ability to be a father and questioning what good he can bring to a kid’s life. This last week in particular was the most chaotic for his ups and downs knowing your due date was around the corner.

“Hi Daddy,” you say, hoping your smile will ease any brewing discomfort in his system. Benny doesn’t move, but his gaze has officially decided to glue to the baby. For the moment, you’ll take that as a win. Had you given birth eight months ago, you’re not sure he would have touched his child with a ten-foot pole, let alone looked at them. “Well, are you going to come see her or what?��

Benny snaps out of the shock gripping his body and he blinks. Swallows again. “It’s a girl?” he asks, a mild tremble in his voice.

With your nod, he takes a deep breath, and from the continuation of your encouraging smile, his limbs regain their functioning. It’s a snails-pace twenty steps, but eventually, he makes it to your side.

There’s a twinge of guilt in your gut from feeling relieved while he’s tightly wound with tension, but you can’t help it. Benny is unpredictable until the last second. As much as he’s been reliable during your final months of pregnancy, nipping at your mind was the possibility of a second disappearance. But he didn’t run. He’s here. He came to you. He came for her.

Benny’s knuckles whiten around the railing of your bed as you pull your daughter away from your chest and tilt her forward so he can take in her sleeping face.

“Hold her,” you say, raising your arms toward him. Benny’s eyes widen. He backs up and you sigh, having expected that response. “Benny.”

“I’ll drop her.”

“Yea, because you’re so weak-muscled,” you tease with a playful roll of your eyes. You cradle your baby against your body so you have a free hand to reach out and grab him by the wrist, guiding him back to the edge of the bed.

“Hold your arm out,” you instruct. A beat passes but he does as you say, allowing you to nestle her into the curl of his strong arm. “Cup her head with your other hand. Like that. Good. See? You’re perfect.”

He’s holding her like she’s some sort of rare, expensive bike part that took a year of his life to track down, but his shoulders slowly untighten as he starts to rock her back and forth like the natural you suspected he would be. When she opens her doe eyes to stare up at him, Benny’s brow pinches and tears start falling down your cheeks because his eyes have turned glassy and you’ve never before witnessed the sight. It’s unlikely anyone has.

“So?” you ask. “What do you think?”

Benny nods. “You did so good, baby,” he says, glancing up at you with a grin. He’s quick to return his gaze to his daughter. “You made us a beauty.”

You sniffle. “You contributed to that as well.”

“Yea, but she looks like you.”

It’s possible as she ages that she’ll develop a feature of yours here and there, but when you look at your daughter now, all you see is him. His nose, his eyes, his lips. She’s him, and you’d tell him so, but you’re not sure your words would break through the trance the baby has him in.

—

When you wake, he’s not beside you. The sun is long from rising, and yet there’s no warmth, no lingering scent of his cologne, and when you flip over, the comforter remains smoothly spread out on his side.

You kick the covering off your legs and stand, snatching your silk robe off the closet's doorknob to slip over its matching nightie. You know where he is. It’s where he’s spent many of his nights in the past three weeks.

In the corner of the nursery, perched in the quilted chair, Benny is hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers woven and clenched as he stares at the crib where your daughter lies fast asleep under the low glow of her nightlight.

“Benny…” you start, making your way to him. His stare doesn’t break from the baby as he leans back against the cushion and spreads his legs so you can take your place on his lap. An arm slides across your lower back, a palm plants on your bare thigh, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You didn’t come to bed,” you say.

Benny hums in acknowledgment.

“You’ve got to be at the shop in four hours.” To that, he doesn’t even utter a sound.

It’s not until you say, “Are you ready to tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?” that you get a response.

He exhales heavily, then says, “What if I’m not good enough for her?”

The question doesn’t surprise you. You assumed it was something along those lines, simply from observing his behaviors since you came home from the hospital.

Benny’s smile rivals the sun whenever he takes his daughter in his arms, but the longer he looks at her, the more he thinks, and the more he thinks, the further that smile falls. He cradles his baby and his mind runs away with him. He peers too far into the future, digging up every possible problem and road bump ahead. Problems and road bumps—some of which you have no doubt are outlandish—that may never come to fruition.

Your fingers weave into the blond tips at the nape of his neck and you delicately scrape the base of his skull with your nails.

“That’s crazy. You’re amazing with her,” you tell him.

“She’s only three weeks old,” Benny argues. “There’s plenty of time to fuck it up.”

“Ben–”

You’re cut off by the intensity with which his eyes drill into yours. A raw realness of concern swirls in blue irises. “What if she needs things that I can't afford to get her?”

Your brow raises. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he tells you. “What if she resents me for not havin’ better to offer? Her friends’ pops will have better jobs than me—more money in their pockets. We don’t even have a car to take her places; we’ve been borrowin’ Betty’s, for fuck’s sake. And this neighborhood? Baby, this street isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

You sigh. He’s right. You hate to admit it because you hoped he was worried over sillier matters, but every bit of what he said is fair. Your daughter will have friends whose fathers have established careers and the salaries to match. There will be lawyers and doctors and financiers living in areas that, while vastly nicer, still feed into the same schools your child will attend. You will need a car, ideally within the next few months because Benny can’t be riding to daycare with the baby clipped into the side satchel on the seat of his bike. And yes, the neighborhood has undeniably taken a turn in the past year. You should start planning your lives on a budget so you can get a small place outside the city.

But the difference between you and Benny is that you know all of this is attainable. You know the two of you can do this. You know you’re both good enough and smart enough and resourceful enough to raise your baby.

Benny removes his palm from your thigh and rubs his fingers across his forehead. You put your hands on his cheeks to turn his face back to yours.

“Benny Cross, you are not going to fuck up. Our daughter is not going to resent you,” you say with absolute certainty, adding extra force to your tone. “She needs you and she needs me, and that's it. Everything else we will figure out in time.”

—

Three Years Later

You love to watch them. You love to watch how they exist together. You love how Benny tucks her into bed at night; how he wakes her extra early on Saturdays to make pancakes—one of the few meals he managed to master; how she stares up at him with a trembling bottom lip until he reluctantly agrees to play dollies with her; and how eager she is to take interest in anything and everything he has to show her.

In the beginning, it wiggled your nerves to see her so curious about bikes—what mother wants to imagine her daughter on the back of a motorcycle—but she is her father’s daughter. Trying to shield her from her interests would only make her want to pursue them more, whether you agreed to it or not, so you took a step back and let it happen, knowing Benny would approach it appropriately.

Now, it’s another one of those moments between them that you love to watch—this time watching without their knowledge as you peek through the sliver of space in the barely open door that connects the kitchen to the garage.

The garage door is up to permit some natural lighting, and Benny, ratchet in hand, sits on a section of concrete that is shaded from the prying heat of Summer’s sun. He’s messing with the body of his bike as Lucy stands to his side; close, but not so close that she could be harmed should he accidentally lose his grip on a tool.

“Ok,” he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He offers Lucy the ratchet and says, “Wrench please.”

Lucy carefully takes the tool by the handle—just as Benny taught her—before looking into the open box at her feet. Her head tilts as she examines its contents, and then she leans down, places the ratchet back where it belongs, and wraps her little fingers around the wrench. Pulling it out, she waves it back and forth with great enthusiasm before presenting it to her father.

Benny smiles and she places the tool in his open palm. “Good job, nugget,” he praises as he softly pinches her round cheek. She giggles.

Lucy takes in Benny’s every movement, observing like a tiny apprentice would a master. She’s attentive and nods along with everything he says even though she has no idea what a lick of it means. She does so until Benny finishes the job and closes up the toolbox.

The second both of his hands are free, Lucy vaults herself into her father’s arms with such vigor that she nearly knocks him onto his back.

“Fixed it?” she asks, placing her hands on his shoulders and hoisting herself up so she’s at his eye level.

“Fixed it,” Benny confirms with a nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When you push the door open, their heads whip in your direction. Benny’s face splits to reveal a row of white teeth, and Lucy’s eyes—the same shade as Benny’s—light up, sparkling so stunningly that you almost don’t want to let the next words out of your mouth.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you say, “but it’s nap time Lady Lu.”

Lucy gasps and looks at Benny to verify that he’s just as shocked. To her great enjoyment, he plays the part.

“Momma’s got us on a schedule,” he tells her.

Her face scrunches in distaste. “Yucky!”

“Yucky?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead in mock offense. “Sounds like Daddy is teaching you to rebel against authority,” you say, crossing your arms as you give your husband a pointed look, “which I would really prefer he hold off on for a few years.”

Benny’s faux shock fades to a chuckle. “Alright,” he concedes, setting Lucy on her feet so he can stand. “Momma’s right, nugget.”

He winks at you and you grin as you reach toward him, grabbing his face to draw him in for a quick, thankful kiss. Just as he’s about to go in for a second peck, Lucy tugs on his hand to redirect his attention where she wants it: on her distress.

“But–But you guys don’t have nap time!”

“Oh sure we do,” Benny says as he lifts her into his arms and settles her on his hip. “We nap when you nap.”

She glances at you, and when you nod she mutters an unconfident “Oh.”

Not wanting to insult her feelings, you suck in your laugh. Your daughter despises the thought of missing out on any fun and has decided that it must be when she naps that her parents go wild. Little does she know that you take any opportunity to rest, and if Benny is home, so does he.

It’s been a hardworking three years. Exhausting. Taxing to a degree that your bodies still haven’t fully recovered. Benny spent the majority of his waking hours at the shop while Kathy and Betty offered to watch Lucy so you could get a job as an office assistant; painfully dull work, but not an opportunity you took for granted considering you had no training in the area before you were hired. You both worked as often as you could for as many hours as your employers would allow, so much so that Benny would hold you through the tears you shed worrying if it was subconsciously affecting Lucy. You didn’t want her to know her parents for their absence, but at the end of the day, it was all for her, so you pressed on.

You and Benny found peace and relaxation in the simple things—late-night rides; bonfires with the club; Saturday morning cartoons with Lu—but the rest of the time you were wearing yourselves out, and not always in the pleasurable way.

But it was worth it. Every headache from lack of sleep, every aching joint from your constant desk sitting and Benny’s physical labor, every emotional outburst that the two of you would coax one another out of—worth it.

Six months in, you got that car you needed. By a year, Benny had bought into the shop for fifty percent. And at the end of two years, you found a house just outside the city—a modest three-bedroom with a yard and a garage.

“Are you sleepy now?” Lucy asks, her voice already beginning to lose the oomph of its energy.

You softly snicker. Your daughter always hits her marks. Like clockwork, about two minutes post-nap-time announcement, regardless of whether or not she fights you on it, her eyelids struggle to open after each blink and her words leave her mouth at a more sluggish pace.

“Very,” you nod again. “But we certainly won't nap if you won't. We wouldn’t want to miss out on any fun with you.” The tip of your index finger taps her tiny nose.

“N-No, I'll do it,” she says, “if you guys are tired too.”

“We are, nugget,” Benny tells her. “So let's get you to bed, sound good?”

She’s fading fast but she uses some of that remaining energy to give a little grin before laying her head on her father’s shoulder and releasing a yawn. “Yea, Daddy.”

—

“Well, that took all of fifteen seconds,” you say as Benny gently closes Lucy’s bedroom door behind him.

You start heading for your room with your husband trailing after you, but then there’s a tight grip on your waist and you’re spun to face in the opposite direction. Fumbling your steps, your chest bumps against Benny’s before he bends down, wraps a thick arm around your thighs, and tosses you over his shoulder.

When you yelp, you’re punished with a swat on the ass. “Hush, baby. You wake Lu and we don’t get our nap, and after workin’ on the bike all mornin’, I could really use one.”

He carries you to your bedroom, sets you on the edge of the bed, and throws himself onto his back atop the mattress. Then, arms spread wide, smirk across his face, he says, “C’mere,” and you crawl into your usual space against his body. After a synced sigh, Benny crooks his knuckle under your chin and tips your head back so he can seal his lips to yours.

You’ll never tire of this. Of him. The feel of him around you. The taste of him. The scent of cologne and motor oil. The way he nips at your bottom lip to pull a muffled squeak from your throat and how he smiles into the kiss at his achievement. It’s too damn good and nothing could match it.

Knowing how your future would have evolved if Benny hadn’t returned after learning of your pregnancy is impossible. Maybe you would have found happiness if you had moved on and met another man, but you wholeheartedly believe that that man, whoever he might have been, wouldn’t have had the capacity to be what you need. When Benny stepped into your world, he took the mold—your ideal image of the love of your life—and stretched it out to fit him perfectly, and then he immediately broke it so no man could so much as attempt to take his place. And it worked. There was never going to be anyone else for you. At least, not anyone who could give you what you have now.

As Benny’s fingertips graze over your cheek and bury into your hair, he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back. Lips press harder into yours and then they disappear. Your eyes snap open, a pout rapidly forming that he quickly kisses away.

“Wanna talk to you about somethin’,” Benny says lowly, whisper-like as his nose nudges yours. You do your best to straighten out your thoughts and pay attention, but it’s made difficult by the comforting weight of his body bleeding into yours and his thumb brushing back and forth along your cheekbone. “You know, Johnny and Betty said they’d watch Lu tonight if we want.”

With narrowing eyes, you reply “Yes,” drawing out the word, wondering where he’s going with this and why it has to interrupt the kissing.

“If you wanna take ‘em up on that, I was thinkin’ we could go for a ride, and then—” he shrugs the shoulder not supporting his weight above you, “I don’t know, maybe we come home and make another kid.”

Your eyes shift from mildly irritated slits to round saucers. “What?”

“Yea,” he says. “Thought it might be nice.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, if you’re willin’ to birth another one, I’d be happy to put one in you.”

A laugh bubbles from your chest. “Would you now?”

Benny nods, planting a kiss on your mouth. That kiss moves to your cheek, then his lips ghost along your jawline before landing on the sensitive spot just under your ear. “You just gotta say yes, baby,” he says, warm breath heating your skin, “and nine months from tonight, we could have our second one.”

Your fingers glide through his hair, fisting the strands as you angle your head to give him better access to your neck. He licks and sucks until you moan, and then you say, “You’re that confident you can get me pregnant on the first shot?”

Benny pulls his head back to look at you. “Course I am. When I did it last time, I wasn’t even tryin’,” he says, cocky grin in place. But then his features soften. “So? What do you think?”

Your lips quirk to the side and you hum. “Alright, Benny Cross,” you say. “Let’s make another baby.”

---

A/N: I keep writing scenes with mothers eavesdropping on father/child bonding moments 🫣

Taglist (if you wanna join)

#benny cross x reader #benny cross #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x you #benny cross fanfiction #bikeriders

866 notes · View notes

austinbutlerslovers · 6 months ago

Text

Benny Cross The Bikeriders Fantasy Part 5

Label Mature 18+

One shot/ Story Continuation

Chapter 5 Broken Promises

🔗 chapter 1 🔗 chapter 2 🔗 chapter 3 🔗 chapter 4

Summary When Benny is beaten to near death you tend and care for him night and day. The confident and strong man you once knew now seems lost forever in the unsure and frail Benny leaving you to put all the pieces back together.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Benny injured kink •fingering you while he’s hurt •oral on Benny for ego• riding Benny while he’s in pain • size kink• clit play • nipple play •Benny pushing his limits with sex• Benny claiming you • breeding kink • multiple orgasms •multiple creampies • aftercare

📖 Proof reader @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Based on the Bikeriders Movie 🩸 Mentions of Blood (Benny beaten severely)

🏍️ Inspo: Anonymous Requests Combined • Benny injured weak & helpless • Benny needing constant care/ depending on you entirely •Benny whimpering and begging •Oral on Benny to make him feel better •Sex with Benny while he’s hurt to make him feel better •Benny pushing his limits during sex while while injured

Broken Promises

Benny drives his bike aimlessly, the roar of the engine and the rush of wind barely dulling the ache in his chest. There’s no plan, just the need to escape the storm of regret swirling inside him. He fucked up—like he always does. The thought gnaws at him, relentless and cruel. You’ll leave him, he’s sure of it, and he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting mistake in your otherwise perfect life.

He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself that you love him, that you have to be completely in love with him. But deep down, he knows he’s messed up in the worst possible way.

He exposed you to the side of him that’s driven others away, and what’s worse is the realization that you deserve better—someone with a respectable life, someone who could offer you stability, not a rough-edged fucked up biker like him.

Benny’s mind races, but he doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants to drink, to drown out the sorrows that threaten to swallow him whole. He’s been riding aimlessly for so long that he doesn’t even know where he is.

He finally pulls up to an unfamiliar bar and dismounts his bike, his legs heavy, the pain from the fight at the rally taking its toll.

He glances down at the bandage on his hand the pain of it dull compared to the hurt in his chest.

You would’ve taken him to the hospital gotten him fixed him up, cared for him tenderly. But he’s sure that’s over now. He looks at his wedding band, the images of you smiling radiantly in your wedding dress flash through his mind, the happiest day of his life. Tears almost well in his eyes but he blinks them back he doesn’t deserve you he knows it he has to let you go.

He slams the bar door open, the force of it matching the turmoil coursing inside him.

“Whiskey and a beer, and when I’m done, keep em coming,” he orders at the bartender, who nods silently.

Benny slumps down onto a stool, once settled, he quickly downs the whiskey, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction, and chases it with a cold beer that does little to quench the fire in his gut.

As the bartender goes to refill his drink, two men approach. The scent of sweat and stale beer hits Benny’s nose as one of them snarls, “Hey, shithead, you can’t wear that jacket in here.”

Benny barely glances at them, but the second man steps closer, his voice louder, more aggressive. “Hey, shithead, you hear my brother? You can’t wear that jacket.”

Benny’s eyes narrow as he looks at one, then the other. He’s itching for a fight, and if proving his loyalty to the club will numb the ache in his heart, he’s ready. Anything to take his mind off you. His blood pressure rises as he calmly sets his glass down. “You’d have to kill me to get this jacket off,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Without warning, Benny feels a sharp, heavy blow to his back, a cheap shot that knocks him forward, sending pain shooting through his spine as he sees the broken wood from the barstool that was used.

He stumbles from his seat with the breath forced from his lungs, kneeling on the floor. Before he can recover, another vicious kick slams into his stomach. The force of it bends him double, his insides twisting in agony.

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to suck in air, but there’s no time. A third kick lands hard against his ribs, a sickening crack reverberating through his body. The pain is blinding, his vision blurring as he goes down, his cheek scraping against the grimy floor. The scent of sweat, beer, and blood fills his nostrils, mingling with the sharp, metallic taste in his mouth.

He tries to crawl, his blood soaked palm slipping against the wooden floor, but the two brothers aren’t done. Benny feels a brutal kick connect with his side, the impact sending him sprawling against the barstools. His body spasms as he spits up blood, the taste of copper thick on his tongue.

The bar is spinning around him, the dim lights flickering as his head throbs in time with his heartbeat. The next thing he knows, rough hands are gripping his jacket, lifting him only to be thrown toward the front door. He crashes to the pavement outside with a bone jarring thud, the breath knocked out of him again.

“He won’t stay down!” one shouts in disbelief. Before he can even think to defend himself, another boot kicks into his face. The pain is explosive, a white hot flash that leaves his vision swimming. He knows they’ll kill him if this keeps up, they’ve gone too far.

Benny’s pushes himself up, only to collapse again under the crushing weight of his injuries. Blood drips from his mouth as he struggles once more, his body trembling with the effort. This time he manages to get one knee under him.

“He’s getting back up!” one of them shouts in frustration as he looms over Benny.

“I’ll keep him down“ the other snarls off to get something to maim him with. The taste of blood is sharp on Bennys tongue, his vision wavering with the strain to stay conscious.

Desperation surges through him, adrenaline cutting through the haze of pain. Bennys hand scrambles to his boot, fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife hidden there.

With a wild burst of energy, Benny pushes himself to his feet and slashes out, the blade slicing across the man’s face in front of him. The man screams in agony, clutching at his bloodied cheek.

“Oh shit, Henry!” the other man yells, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of his brothers mangled face.

But that horror quickly twists into fury. His gaze locks onto Benny with murderous intent, and he grabs a nearby shovel, his knuckles whitening around the handle as he barrels forward.

Benny finally feels a surge of triumph grinning as the man wails in agony clutching his blood streaked face. The small victory doesn’t last long. The second man crashes something heavy against the back of his skull.

The impact rings through Bennys head, disorienting him, and he drops to his knees, the world spinning violently as he slips to the ground clutching his head wet with fresh blood. “This’ll keep him down!,” he hears the man sneer.

Before Benny can react, the spade of a shovel sharply snaps through his ankle, the bones crunching beneath the weight. The pain is excruciating, a bright, searing agony that radiates up his leg as he groans seething through gritted teeth. it’s the final blow for his battered body as he begins losing consciousness.

The last thing he feels is the cold, hard pavement beneath him and the taste of blood in his mouth with all the pain of his injuries. Just before the darkness claims him, fleeting thoughts of you cross his mind, your smile, your touch, your voice but it’s all too late. The world fades to black, and his tormenting pain finally recedes into nothingness.

Decisions

You burst through the hospital doors, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. Fear gnawing at your insides, pushing you forward. Your eyes dart frantically across the lobby until they land on a group of bikers huddled together, faces grim. Spotting Corky you rush over, your voice cracking as you blurt out, “Where’s Benny!?!”

Corky exchanges a glance with Wahoo, who sighs heavily. “They won’t let us in, only family,” Corky says reluctantly.

Without a second thought, you practically sprint to the front desk, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. “I’m Mrs. Cross—I’m here for my husband, Benny Cross!” you almost shout, your voice trembling and rising, barely holding back the storm of panic threatening to overwhelm you.

The receptionist behind the desk gives you a sympathetic nod and quickly checks you in.

Within minutes, a nurse leads you down a long, sterile hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering above as you pass. Your hands instinctively cling to your arms, as if trying to physically hold yourself together.

The dread sits like a heavy weight in your chest, tightening with each step, but there’s also a fragile hint of relief—Benny is stable, he’s alive.

When you finally reach Benny’s hospital room, the nurse pulls his clipboard from the wall and begins reading his list of injuries, her voice low and clinical.

“Mrs. Cross, when your husband was brought in, he was severely attacked. He suffered fractured ribs, a fractured orbital socket, internal bleeding, blunt force trauma to the head resulting in a concussion, and the most pressing of his injuries—a severed Achilles tendon with a broken talus bone in his right ankle due to blunt force trauma. The injury is so severe that the surgeons are discussing the possibility of amputation.”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer. Your breath catches, and a sharp pain stabs through your chest as you clutch the wall for support. The hallway spins, nausea threatening to overwhelm you, but you force yourself to stay upright. You can’t afford to be weak, not now.

The nurse continues, her voice gentler as she sees the look of shock and devastation across your face, as you struggle to process the gravity of the situation.

“Your husband is on a heavy medication for the pain now and has been treated for his injuries. The surgeon will discuss the options with you both regarding how you would like to proceed with his amputation in the morning.”

You nod, barely registering her words, your focus solely on the door as she pushes it open for you. With a deep breath, you gather your strength and step inside.

The room is dimly lit, the only sounds the steady beeping of monitors and the soft hum of medial machinery. Your eyes fall on Benny, lying motionless in the hospital bed.

His once strong, commanding presence now looks so fragile, covered in bruises and bandages. His face, usually so ruggedly handsome, is almost unrecognizable swollen and discolored under his right eye. His right leg is encased in a heavy white cast, elevated slightly above the bed, and you can see the bulk of bandages peeking out from under the sheets.

He looks so vulnerable, so different from the man who always seemed indestructible. The sight of him like this breaks your heart all over again.

You approach him slowly, your footsteps silent on the cold, tiled floor. As you get closer, Benny stirs, his eyes fluttering open. When he sees you, a flicker of something crosses his face relief, happiness, maybe even disbelief. He weakly smiles, twisted by pain.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shivers, his battered body tensing as he tries to shift, to reach for you. But the pain is too much, and he winces, his breath hitching in his throat. Seeing him like this, struggling even to move, brings tears to your eyes, but you push them back. He needs your strength now, not your tears.

Carefully, you search for a place to touch him, a spot not covered by bruises or bandages. Finally, you find a small patch of uninjured skin on his arm and gently place your hand there, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin.

He closes his eyes in relief as he exhales shuddering a breath. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come,” he rasps, his voice hoarse from pain and medication.

“Of course I came,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion. “I’m here, Benny. I’m not going anywhere.”

Benny’s eyes open again, and he looks up at you with a mix of guilt and gratitude. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I fucked up….I let you down …and I left you.” He chokes out.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. “No, Benny. You didn’t let me down. You’ve never let me down, and Im still right here for you.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching, desperate to believe your words. Then, slowly, he reaches up with his good hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your own, and despite everything, it gives you comfort.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his eyes closing as exhaustion takes over.

“You deserve more than you think Benny,” you reply softly, your voice barely a whisper.

As the minutes pass, Benny drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain and medication pulling him under. You stay by his side, holding his hand, careful not to disturb the IV line or the bandages. You watch over him, your heart aching with love and worry.

Morning breaks with a muted glow through the hospital blinds, casting long shadows across the sterile room. You haven’t slept a wink, your eyes never leaving Benny as he lay beside you, his face pale and drawn with pain. You’ve spent the night doting on him and holding his hand, determined to be there for him, no matter what comes.

A gentle knock on the door draws your attention. You stiffen, knowing the doctor’s visit will bring the news he’s not ready to hear. Benny is sitting propped up with the help of pillows, his eyes closed as he rests against the headboard still groggy from the medication and pain. You squeeze his hand a little tighter to wake him as the doctor enters.

The doctor exchanges morning greetings as he walks over to Benny’s bedside, flipping through his medical chart in hand, his expression solemn. He takes a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking in a low, steady voice.

“Mr. Cross, I’m afraid the injury to your ankle is extremely severe. The spade of a shovel penetrated deeply, causing extensive damage to your Achilles tendon and the surrounding soft tissue fracturing your tibia and breaking the talus bone. The prognosis for functional recovery is poor, walking without significant assistance or support will be highly unlikely. After assessing all available options, the only viable course of action is to proceed with a below knee amputation.”

The words hit Benny like a physical blow. You feel his entire body tense beside you. His eyes widen in shock, disbelief washing over his face.

The doctor continues, explaining the necessity, the risks, the slim chances of saving the foot, but Benny’s face is frozen in that same look of shock.

Bennys lips part slightly, as if trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable and utterly devastated. This man, who has faced down danger more times than you can count, is now staring down a future he never imagined possible.

When the doctor finally finishes, he gives you both a moment, quietly excusing himself to let you process the news. The room falls into a heavy silence. You’re still holding Benny’s hand, but he’s not gripping back, his eyes distant, staring at a point far beyond the hospital walls.

You watch as the reality of what he just heard begins to sink in. His strong, handsome face starts to crumble. Tears well up in his eyes, and before you know it, they spill over, down his cheeks. The sight of Benny crying, breaks something inside you. He’s never cried, not in front of you, not ever and it’s as if the weight of the entire world has come crashing down on him in this single, moment.

He lowers his head, unable to look at you, his shoulders trembling as he begins to sob covering his face. Not just a tear or two, but deep, gut wrenching sobs that shake his entire body. You can’t bear it and move closer sitting beside him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you can.

You stroke his hair avoiding the bandage there and hold him close to your chest as his fingertips weakly cling to your dress.

Minutes pass before the sobs start to subside, leaving Benny breathless and shattered. His face is streaked with tears, his eyes red rimmed and haunted. Finally in a voice that’s barely a whisper,he looks you in the eyes as he pleads, “Please… don’t let them take my foot off”

You meet his gaze, your heart breaking all over again as you see the depth of despair in those blue eyes, the same eyes that have always been so strong. You gently caress his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as he struggles to say more. Finally, he chokes out what he’s really been dreading, “If they take my foot off I can’t ride any more,” he shudders, his words heavy with sorrow and fear.

His confession surprises you, the full weight of his words sinking in you as you hold him close. Benny’s loyalty to the club runs so deep that the thought of losing his brotherhood is more terrifying to him than the loss of his own limb. Above all else, Benny is a Vandal, and without that, he fears he will lose himself entirely.

Burn it down

Word spreads like wildfire through town, whispers and rumors reaching every corner until they finally land at the Vandals’ clubhouse where everyone gathered after the rally. The air inside is thick with smoke and tension, the usual hum of conversation hushed as the members sense something brewing beneath the surface.

Cal is the first to get the call. The landline phone on the wall rings sharply, cutting through the heavy silence. He picks it up, his expression growing darker as Corky’s voice crackles through the receiver from the hospital. The news hits him like a punch to the gut. Benny had been jumped by members of a rival gang at a bar in Lakeside. The beating was so severe that they nearly severed his foot, leaving him in a hospital bed, fighting to keep his leg.

Cal’s hand tightens around the phone, his knuckles going white as he listens to the details. His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering there as the full weight of the situation settles in. When the call ends, he slams the phone down, the sound echoing through the clubhouse, catching the attention of everyone around.

Without a word, Cal strides across the room to where Johnny is sitting, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Cal leans in close, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge as he whispers the confirmation.

Johnny’s face hardens immediately, his eyes darken, with a burning rage that simmers just beneath the surface his jaw tightening as he absorbs the full weight of the news. In his chest, he knows he’ll never let this go. One of his own was hurt, and someone was going to pay dearly for it.

Without a second thought, Johnny gathers the Vandals. There’s no need for words they can see the fury in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches, the barely restrained violence in his every movement. They mount their bikes, the roar of engines filling the air as they ride with purpose, their destination clear.

The bar comes into view, a building that now holds the weight of their wrath. The Vandals pull up in front, engines roaring as they line the street, the deafening sound echoing through the air. The bikers stay mounted, revving their engines menacingly, a warning to anyone inside that trouble has arrived.

Johnny dismounts first, his eyes narrowing as he strides toward the entrance, Cal and Brusy flanking him like shadows. The door swings open, and the atmosphere inside shifts immediately. The tension thickens, the air heavy with the unspoken threat as the patrons turn to see who just walked in. Everyone can feel the danger that now hangs over the room, knowing that the men standing in the doorway have come for retribution.

Johnny’s gaze sweeps the room before locking onto the bartender. His glare is enough to freeze the man in place. “I don’t want any trouble here,” the bartender stammers, fully aware of the reason for this unexpected visit.

Johnny pauses, already knowing exactly how he wants to exact revenge for Benny, as he steps closer to the bartender.

“Young kid got beat up in here real bad,” Johnny begins, his voice low and menacing, carrying the unmistakable promise of violence.

“I need you to tell me who did it. Write the names down, tell me where they live, and I’ll let you leave.”

The bartender, eyes wide with fear, doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a piece of paper and a pencil with shaking hands, scribbling down the names as quickly as he can. The presence of Johnny and the Vandals is overwhelming. When he finishes, he hands the paper over, his hand trembling.

Johnny takes it, glances at the names, then hands the paper to Cal. “Send a few guys, make sure they don’t walk again,” Johnny orders, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Cal exits the bar on his mission of retribution for Benny and gives the signal for the Vandals to head inside.

As the Vandals enter the bar and surround Johnny, their sheer presence amplifies the already building tension in the establishment. Sensing whats next the patrons begin to flee.

Johnny lights a cigarette, the flame flickering as he inhales deeply, the smoke curling around him.

“You can leave,” Johnny says to the bartender, his voice calm but filled with menace.

Desperate to save his livelihood, the bartender asks, “What about my bar?”

Johnny doesn’t even glance at the bartender, his gaze distant as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “Burn it down,” he orders to the Vandals coldly, flicking the lit match onto the floor.

The bartender barely has time to react before the Vandals spring into action. They trash the bar with ruthless efficiency, smashing tables, shattering glasses, and ripping bottles from the shelves. Liquor spills everywhere, creating a flammable torrent that they quickly ignite, setting the entire place ablaze.

Johnny, Cal, and the others step outside, lining the street as the flames take hold. The fire spreads quickly, its flickering light painting the night sky in ominous shades of orange and red. The heat intensifies, and the sound of crackling wood and shattering glass fills the air as the bar is consumed by the roaring blaze.

Johnny stands at the front, his expression unreadable as he watches the building burn. The flames dancing in his eyes, reflecting the rage that still simmers within him.

To his left, he notices the fire department arriving, their lights flashing. To his right, the police pull up, their cars blocking off the street. Yet, both the fire department and the police take no action as the building is consumed by the fire ignited by the Vandals.

Brusy, standing beside Johnny, glances nervously between the two groups. “Why aren’t they doing anything?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Johnny smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up as he watches the flames devour the building. He doesn’t take his eyes off the blaze as he replies, -“Because they’re scared.”

The fire rages on until the bar is reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoldering rubble. Johnny knows that the message has been sent. This is what happens when you mess with the Vandals. This is what happens when you hurt one of his own.

Long Road

When Benny is finally discharged from the hospital, he’s a shadow of the man you once knew. The powerful, confident presence he always carried has been stripped away, replaced by a hollow shell of uncertainty and pain.

His eyes, once so full of life and defiance, are now dim, the spark of confidence deadened by the trauma of his injuries. Benny struggles to navigate the world on crutches. His right leg remains, encased in a heavy cast with no promise that he’ll ever walk normally again. Each step up the stairs a painful reminder of how much life has changed for him.

You’ve already prepared the downstairs guest bedroom, anticipating that the stairs would be too much for him to handle. The room is decorated in deep, soothing shades of blue, with a large window offering a view of the garden.

All his clothing and medications are neatly arranged, and you’ve even brought a television into the space, knowing how much he loves to lose himself in movies and shows.

You wanted to create a space where Benny could feel comfortable, even if everything else in his life feels like it’s falling apart.

At first, Benny tries to hold onto some semblance of independence, but little by little, you watch as his dignity is stripped away. He can barely navigate the house without help, and you find yourself taking on the role of caregiver, administering his medications, changing his bandages, preparing his meals and changing the linens on his bed.

You help him every time he’s too weak to manage on his own, and each time you do, you see the shame flicker in his eyes.

When you dress him in the mornings he doesn’t even look you. With his body so tender and weak he does his best to pull his body through his clothing but always turns away in shame once you fully dress him, feeling unable to face you.

The hardest moments come when it’s time to bathe him. The once proud, strong man who could have easily overpowered you in the shower, now stands in silence, his foot propped on chair to keep his cast out. He watches you with a mixture of gratitude and deep, aching sadness as you carefully clean his body, avoiding the tender spots and bruises.

“You don’t have to do this,” Benny mutters one evening, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. His head hangs low, his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding your eyes.

“Benny, I want to,” you reply gently, wringing out a washcloth and carefully wiping down his arms. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”you warmly smile.

He swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Not like this… not like some goddamn invalid.”

You pause, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his words. “You’re still you, Benny,” you say softly, trying to meet his eyes. “This doesn’t change that. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes filled with a pain that’s deeper than any physical wound. “But what if I can’t?” he whispers, the fear and self-doubt he’s been hiding finally spilling out. “What if this is all that’s left of me?”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We’ll face it together, Benny you’re not alone.”

Benny closes his eyes, his jaw clenched feeling his emotions they are inescapable. The strong, invincible man he used to be seems like a distant memory now, replaced by someone who’s been forced to confront his own fragility. And yet, even in his weakness, you see the man you fell in love with, the one who’s willing to fight, even if he doesn’t believe in himself anymore.

When the shower is over your dry his hair and body, wrapping the towel snugly around his waist. You help him out offering your hand as he struggles to step. The flickering memory of how powerful he used to be, how he used to pull you close, lifting you off your feet, flashes through your mind. Now, he’s unsteady, relying on your strength to make it back to bed.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as you guide him to the bed, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

You smile at him feeling a sense of comfort knowing how much he needs you. “I’m going to take good care of you Benny.” you promise him.

He doesn’t respond, just nods weakly, his head hanging low. You gently remove his towel and his hands rest on your shoulders for support as he carefully lifts his good leg stepping into his pajama pants. His other leg, encased in cast remains stationary. You kneel lower and guide the fabric over his foot, maneuvering it gently around the cast, ensuring not to jar it.

Benny bears most of his weight on his good leg, trying to keep his balance as you inch the pants up, past his thighs, and finally over his hips. His muscles tense with the effort, and you can see the strain in his expression as he tries to suppress the discomfort.

As you reach for his white tee, your eyes linger on the bruises expanding across his chiseled physique. The once smooth, unblemished skin is now a patchwork of deep purples, sickly yellows, and angry reds, the marks of his brutal attack etched deeply into his flesh. The bruises that spread across his ribs and abs are the darkest and most menacing you’ve ever seen.

You pull the shirt over his head, and as he lifts his arms, he winces, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. The severe pain is evident in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that he tries to hide, but it’s there, unmistakable.

The simple task of bathing and dressing is exhausting, and he lowers himself onto the bed ready to rest. You pull the covers over him, smoothing them down gently, and sit beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re still my Benny,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Nothing’s going to change that.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, letting himself believe you, letting himself hope. But the road ahead is long, and you both know it.

Days turn into weeks and the independence Benny once cherished seems like a distant memory now replaced by the reality of his current limitations. But slowly, very slowly, there are small signs of progress.

As the bruises gradually fade, little by little he begins to regain strength in his movements. With each task he manages to do on his own, a flicker of determination returns to his eyes. The Benny you know is still there, fighting to reclaim his life, one small victory at a time.

One afternoon when he’s feeling able, you take him for a walk in the garden. The sun is warm on your skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the scent of blooming flowers fills the air. You hold his arm, guiding him carefully with his crutch along the stone path. His steps are cautious, but he’s moving, and that alone fills you with hope.

As you walk, Benny’s eyes scan the garden and his gaze falls on a patch of overgrown weeds, beginning to overtake the roses. You can see the frustration flash in his eyes. In the past, he would’ve bent down and yanked those weeds out without a second thought, his strong hands making quick work of the task. But now, he just stands there, his hand tightening on your arm.

You see the pain in his expression, the way his jaw tightens, and you reach up to lovingly touch his face, whispering softly, “Soon enough, Benny.” You smile, trying to reassure him, but his gaze remains fixed on the task he can no longer fulfill.

You gently pull him close, resting your head against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent comforting and uniquely him.

You run your hand softly down his arm, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. For a brief moment, he looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours and catching the warmth in your gaze. But then he quickly looks away, his eyes growing distant again.

Your heart sinks, aching for the intimacy you’ve lost. You miss the way he used to hold you, the way his hands would roam your body, claiming you with a passion that left you breathless. Now, his touches are faint and suppressed as if that piece of him is missing.

Still, you cling to the small signs of his returning strength, feeling a thrill each time he manages something on his own. But the distance between you remains, a silent barrier that grows with each passing day.

At night, he sleeps with his back to you, the warmth of his body just out of reach, and you lie there, staring at the ceiling as you have for weeks, yearning for the connection you once had.

Your mind often drifts to those intimate moments in the dark, when his body would press against yours, his breath warm and reassuring against your neck. You remember the way his hands would roam over your skin, tracing every curve of your body seeking you out with a need that matched his own. His kiss, once so erotic and all consuming, would leave you breathless.

Even now, with him only inches away, lying with his back to you, those memories stir something deep within. Your breathing becomes unsteady, your heart racing as the desire forms, the familiar ache building with every thought of how he used to take you.

Without thinking, you suddenly reach out toward him, your hand hovering just above the space between you. The temptation to touch him is almost overwhelming. But then you notice the unevenness in his breathing, labored as he sleeps in pain.

You know all too well how damaged he is, barely able to move without wincing, and the thought makes you pause. The urge to touch him is strong, but the memory of his pain holds you back.

You remind yourself that he needs rest, not another reminder of what he can’t fully engage in right now. With a deep breath, you pull your hand back, feeling the ache of unfulfilled desire settle in your chest.

Whimpers

The next evening, as you prepare to bathe him, Benny catches your hand. “I can do it,” he insists, his voice firmer and there’s a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a long time. You hesitate, unsure whether to push back or let him try.

You nod slowly, watching as he stands inside the tub, his knee bent to keep his casted foot elevated on the chair placed just beside it. He’s determined to prove something, to you, and to himself. You know you should leave him to it, give him the privacy he needs, but something keeps you there, lingering just out of sight and you slowly realize you want to do more than just care for him.

Benny begins to wash himself, his movements slow and deliberate, the warm water cascading over his body, highlighting every ridge and curve of his muscular frame.

His broad shoulders, marked by dark bruises of purple and yellow, glisten under the light, the water tracing the powerful lines of his torso.

As he runs the cloth over his chest, the defined ridges of his abs become more pronounced, slick and firm beneath the sparse bruising.

His strong arms, glisten with water, his biceps and triceps flexing slightly as he carefully cleans around the tender areas. The water flows over his skin, accentuating every hard line of his muscles, making his body look both powerful and vulnerable in its raw strength and beauty.

Your breath catches as you watch him, a rush of arousal flooding through you making you quickly turn away, trying to suppress the heat rising within.

The memories of how powerful he used to be in bed flood your mind, the way he would take control, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him. The feel of his mouth on you, the way his hands would explore every inch of your body. You squeeze your knees together, your breaths coming faster unable to suppress your overwhelming arousal.

“Hey,” Benny’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn back to see him struggling to reach the towel. “Can you…?”

You’re at his side in an instant, handing him the towel. Once he’s dried off he wraps the towel around his waist and you help him to the sink.

He stands on his own, bearing more weight on his good leg while holding the counter’s edge. You watch as he brushes his teeth, the mundane task somehow taking on a new significance.

You join him, the two of you side by side, as you spit and rinse. He leans down to wash his face and you reach out, placing your hand soothingly on his back. You can feel the muscles flexing beneath his skin, still strong despite everything else, and you trail your fingers along his spine, lingering longer than you should.

When he dries his face and stands up, you both look at each other in the mirror. Benny’s hair is slicked back, still damp from the shower, and though his tan skin has paled from weeks spent indoors, he’s still so handsome that takes your breath away. The sharp lines of his face are softened by exhaustion, but there’s a ruggedness to him that you’ve always loved.

“You look very handsome, Benny,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turns to you, and you stare at each other in the intimate space. The words he wants to say make his breath catch in his chest as if the thought of speaking them aloud is too much to bear.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty as he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly. He places it gently on your chest, his thumb lightly tracing over your skin in with a reverent touch, and before you can reach out to touch him, he lowers his eyes and pulls his hand away, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand.

The brief contact leaves you aching for him, a deep all consuming longing settles in your chest. When Benny reaches out to you again, your heart flutters, hope surging through you. But his voice soft and filled with hesitation as he breaks the silence. “Can you help me to bed?”

For a moment, dismay flickers through you, quickly replaced by a wave of guilt as you hear the tenderness in his request.

You push your physical thoughts of desire aside understanding how wounded he is and gently take his arm, guiding him with care toward the bed.

His weight bears heavily on you, the strain in his muscles evident as he struggles to maintain his balance.

He places one hand on the nightstand for balance as you hand him his soft pajama pants and a thin white undershirt. You watch for a moment as he pulls them on with slow, deliberate movements. A small smile tugs at your lips, seeing that he doesn’t need your help this time. Satisfied, you turn and head to the dresser, quickly slipping into your silk nightie.

You return to his side, carefully picking up each vial of his medications from the nightstand and dispensing the correct dosages into your palm.

Once he’s dressed, you bring him a glass of water, holding it steady as he takes his pills. You watch him swallow them down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drains the glass. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, a routine you’ve fallen into, yet an aching distance lingers between you, a gap you can’t quite bridge.

Once he’s finally settled on his side with the covers pulled up to his waist, you climb into bed beside him, reaching over to click off the light.

As you’ve done all month, you lie back, staring at the ceiling. The guest bedroom is directly next to the garden, so you can watch the shadows of the trees sway above you. Their branches move gently in the night breeze, creating a dance of light and darkness across the ceiling.

The room is filled with the soft swaying of leaves outside, a sound that usually calms you, but tonight it only amplifies your desire for Benny.

You glance over at him, his back turned to you, his body tense even in the darkness. Your heart aches as you reach out, and this time your hand hesitantly touches his shoulder. His skin is warm beneath your fingers tips, his muscles tight and tense.

He doesn’t turn to face you, but his voice breaks the silence, low and heavy with an emotion you can’t quite recognize. “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers, his words so soft they almost disappear into the air.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, feeling the conflict within him, the war between his pride and his vulnerability. You know what you’re about to do is impulsive, but you can’t stop yourself. The need to reconnect with him, to feel that intimacy again, the thought is overwhelming. Slowly, you slide closer, turning and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

You press a soft kiss to Bennys neck and his body tenses at your touch, his breath catching in his throat. “…Baby...” Benny whispers, his voice shaky, filled with uncertainty and apprehension.

“Shh,” you whisper softly, pressing your lips to the back of his neck again feeling the slight tremor that runs through him “Let me take care of you Benny.”

Your hand moves down, sliding beneath his waistband, your fingers brushing against his warm skin as you reach between his legs. You find his thick shaft, soft and unresponsive gently curling your hand around it. As you begin to stroke him softly, his hand suddenly rests on top of yours, stopping you.

“I can’t..” he whispers, his voice breaking, the words filled with so much pain and defeat that it tears at your heart. You can almost hear his pride shatter, the sound of it reverberating in the stillness of the room.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly feeling the depth of his anguish. You withdraw your hand, placing it instead on his back, rubbing soothing circles over his tight muscles, trying to comfort him the only way you can. “It’s alright, Benny. We don’t have to do anything. I’m here for you, no matter what.” You say reassuringly.

Benny doesn’t respond, but you can feel how he shakes slightly with each breath. The vulnerability he’s showing is both heartbreaking and precious, a side of him he’s never allowed anyone else to see.

You continue to rub his back, your touch gentle and soothing gradually feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease under your hand as his breathing starts to slow.

The warmth of his skin under your fingertips and the scent of him so close stir something deep within you, the familiar ache forming involuntarily between your legs.

You quickly lay back, squeezing your thighs together, a soft sigh escaping your lips trying to calm yourself. But in the heat of the moment, driven by impulse, your fingers slip over the silk of your nightie and reach into the lace of your panties.

You find your aching clit, swollen and sensitive, and begin to circle it with a feather light touch. Each gentle stroke sends waves of pleasure through you, blending with the soothing caress of Benny’s back.

Your breaths grow rapid, heart pounding as you chase the edge of release, your fingers dancing over your sensitive skin. The weight of your emotional turmoil heightening your desire, leaving you craving the sweet relief of climax.

You keep your movements soft and quiet, not wanting to disturb Benny but the need is all consuming.

Benny shifts slightly, and at first, he seems oblivious, lost in his own pain. But then, you feel him turn over, his eyes locking with yours as he notices the subtle movements beneath the sheet.

Your hand slows to a stop feeling the uncertainty creeping in. For a moment, the room falls into a hush, the tension undeniable as you take a breath. His gaze lingers, full of curiosity and something deeper, as he takes in the sight of your flushed cheeks and the delicate rise and fall of your chest.

Without a word, Benny slowly pulls the sheets down, exposing your body to the cool night air. His gaze dark and intense as his eyes fixate on your hand nestled between your legs.

He looks back into your eyes searching and understanding what you need. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above yours for a moment, the anticipation building between you.

Then, with a delicate touch, he guides his hand gently slipping it over yours within your lace panties.

The warmth of his touch sends a wave of arousal through you and your heart skips a beat as his fingers press lightly against yours, guiding your movements and urging you to continue.

You feel a sense of surprise and relief as his hand squeezes yours, intensifying the pressure on your clit.The room fills with the soft, slick sounds of your wetness, his fingers moving seamlessly over yours feeling the rhythmic thrust of your fingers into yourself as your arousal spreads across your inner thighs.

Your heart races, and your breath hitches as he begins to guide your hand faster, pressing your palm against your swollen clit harder. Soft moans begin to escapes your lips and the sound ignites something deep within Benny.

With a steady hand, he gently removes your fingers, and replaces them with his own. His fingers glide up and down your soaked folds until they are slick with wetness then he slowly eases them deep inside of you.

A desperate moan falls from your lips being deprived of his touch for so long, the feeling of his fingers is profound as they fill you with a satisfying depth that makes your breath catch.

Your wetness coats his thrusting fingers as he moves them expertly within you , his touch is steady despite his injuries and the sound of your slickness fills the room, mixing with your pleasurable soft moans.

Benny is fully focused on you and slowly moves closer pressing his body against yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, intensifying the connection between you even more.

His fingers glide in and out of you with deliberate firm strokes, expertly teasing, and coaxing you toward release. Your core throbs with need, tightening with each pass of his fingers, until you’re overwhelmed by the way he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink.

You moan loudly feeling your body quivering as the pressure builds inside you and Benny moves his fingers faster.

He is focused entirely on you and the way your body responds to him, driving him to push you even further, making you feel everything you’ve been missing.

He presses his thumb to your aching clit and circles it with relentless precision building the pleasure so high it’s almost unbearable.

Your legs tremble as your hands clutch the sheets, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you endure the overwhelming sensation. The pressure inside of you coils tighter and tighter, until you’re at the brink of inevitable release.

“..Come for me baby ” Benny finally says having a surge of confidence knowing he’ll be able to satisfy you. “Show me how much you need me” he says craving your pleasure to rebuild his own.

And with a final, expert thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your body convulses, your core tightening around his fingers as you cry out, the sound echoing through the room.

You pant heavily, your chest heaving as you come down from the high, your body trembling with aftershocks. The release is so powerful, you feel lightheaded, your mind spinning from the intense pleasure.

Benny withdraws his fingers slowly, his touch gentle as he pulls them from your throbbing core and he looks at you, his eyes dark with a desire you haven’t seen in a long time.

For a moment neither of you move, the silence only being broken by the sound of your labored breaths.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent plea lingering in their depths as he glances down at your lips. The intimacy undeniably as he leans in, closing the distance with a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving hesitantly at first, almost cautiously, as if he’s rediscovering something precious. His kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slide gently into your mouth, coaxing a moan from you as explores with a slow, deliberate rhythm making your heart race.

The taste of him, and the way his lips and tongue move against yours, send sparks of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your hands finally reach him, roaming over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin and you find yourself wanting to give him back the pleasure he’s just given you.

Your hand moves lower, slipping beneath his waistband, seeking out his cock. Your touch is gentle at first, your fingers wrapping around his thick shaft with a tender reverence. He’s only slightly hard, a stark contrast to how he used to be fully erect at the mere sight of you.

You can feel the hesitation in his body, the way he tenses, the lingering effects of pain and doubt clouding his response. You stroke him softly, trying to coax him to full arousal, but his cock remains the same, the weight of his injury hanging over him, holding him back.

Benny breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours, trying to find the right words, the right way to explain why he’s not quite ready. You meet his gaze, your voice soft and filled with understanding, “Teach me how to please you with my mouth, Benny,” you say with a blend of tenderness and desire.

His eyes darken with a mix of conflict and lust. For a moment, he hesitates, then slowly nods, the need in him beginning to overpower his reservations. “Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ll show you.”

Benny sits up, easing himself back to rest against the headboard. You gently slide your fingers to the hem of his undershirt, slowly lifting it over his head. As you pull the shirt off, your eyes trace the contours of his muscled body, each bruise telling a story of his pain, but also stirring something deeper inside you, a desire to make him feel good again.

The sight of him, strong yet vulnerable ignites a longing in your core. You place a pillow behind his back and with gentle hands, you begin to remove his pajama pants, easing them over his cast. Once fully naked Benny spreads his legs apart, making room for you as you settle between his thighs.

His body tenses with anticipation as you take in the sight of his cock, long and thick, though not yet fully hard, resting with an impressive weight between his legs. When you look up at him, there’s a mix of vulnerability and desire in his eyes, a silent plea for what’s to come.

You start slowly, kissing the sensitive skin along his inner thighs, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles as he reacts to your touch. Your lips trail closer to his cock, building the anticipation.

Benny watches you intently, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you finally kiss the head of his cock. Your warm tongue swirling around the tip, teasing him as you glance up at him through your lashes, silently asking him to guide you.

“That… feels good” he praises, his voice low and breathy. “Keep going…” he urges, his eyes filled with a raw intensity experiencing pleasure for the first time in what feels like forever.

You take his cock into your mouth feeling him harden against your tongue. His hips twitch involuntarily as you create a delicious suction, making him groan. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting a hint of saltiness that quickly dissipates, and he groans again, louder this time, the sound desperate and raw making your core throb with need.

“That’s it…” Benny mutters, his voice filled with satisfaction as his hand rests gently on your head lacing his fingers gently through your hair.

He lifts his hips slightly, wanting to push himself deeper into your mouth and you can feel the power shifting within him, his desire overtaking his initial hesitation.

“Take it …deeper” he urges, his hand tightening in your hair, guiding you as his cock fills your mouth completely causing an ache in your jaw.

You continue to glide your mouth along his heavy cock and it throbs against your tongue, growing harder with every suck.

“K-keep going, baby…” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, his need evident in every word as he savors the way you suck him off.

His tip brushes the back of your throat, and you slightly gag, the sensation causing your throat to tighten around him. The feel of it draws a deep groan from him, the pleasure undeniable.

Staring down at you, his eyes darken with lust as you try to take more of his cock and he groans in pleasure, savoring every gag of your inexperience as you keep going.

His grip on your hair tightens his breathes sharp as he begins to guide your head up and down on his throbbing cock.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, driven by the need to satisfy him, to give him everything he’s silently demanding.

His cock swells even harder and the pressure becomes too much, making it difficult for you to go on. A desperate whimper escapes your throat that vibrates his shaft and he groans in pleasure watching your body begin trembling with every effort.

His grip on your hair tightens as he fights the urge to take more from you realizing you’re giving him everything, pushing yourself to your limits and it makes his cock throb with an almost painful intensity.

His eyes go dark with a deep, simmering arousal craving more than just the pleasure of your mouth.

The thought of claiming you, of burying himself deep within you, overtakes him, and with a sudden, urgent need, he pulls your mouth all the way off his cock.

“I want all of you,” he confesses, his voice weaker and filled with urgency. You’re so desperate to feel him inside of you after pleasing his cock , that you don’t hesitate for a second.

His breath catches in his throat as you eagerly climb from between his legs, your excitement and longing undeniable as you straddle his lap feeling how wet you are as you position yourself on him.

He winces from the sudden movements and you see the pain you’ve caused, but your desire for him overtakes everything as you capture his mouth in a heated kiss.

He whimpers against your lips as your fingertips glide down his ribs over his bruises.

His body weakened from the beating he endured, makes every movement take more effort than usual, but having you like this, so eager and willing, makes him feel something special something powerful despite his condition.

It’s more than just desire, it’s the realization that even in his vulnerable state, you still want him, you still crave to have him.

You begin slowly grinding against his hardened cock, feeling the friction through the thin fabric of your panties and it makes Benny moan in your mouth.

He tries to continue kissing your lips, but the sensation of you moving on top of him is almost too much to bear and his body trembles slightly beneath you.

His hands slide up your sides, creeping under your nightie. He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the nightie over your head, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. His eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your breasts cupping each one with a tender squeeze. His fingers linger on your skin before they trail down, finding the waistband of your panties

Without a second thought, he digs his fingers into the lace and rips them apart. The sound of the fabric tearing makes you gasp, his lust for you intensified by his unrestrained need to take you.

He pulls you back into a searing kiss, wincing briefly as his battered ribs protest, but he doesn’t let it stop him. The intimacy between you is intense with the blend of vulnerability and raw desire making every touch, every kiss, feel profound and deeply intimate.

You break the kiss and rise slightly, allowing his hard cock to spring free and you both look down to watch it sway. Now painfully hard and thick it stands proudly. His shaft taunt and veiny, throbbing with need his tip red and swollen with arousal.

He shudders suddenly feeling his blood coursing so quickly, his breaths heavier, each one a mix of anticipation and the lingering pain from his injuries.

“I don’t want to hurt you Benny,” you say softly, your heart pounding with a mix of longing and regret.

You can hear his uneven breaths as his chest rises and falls, fighting to push past the discomfort. The strain in his eyes is evident, one still darkened by a bruise, revealing the toll his injuries are taking on him.

You reach up gently and lightly rub your thumb over the bruise, your touch tender as you try to soothe him, offering a silent comfort in the midst of his struggle.

“You won’t hurt me, baby,” he promises, and there’s a determination in his blue eyes that tells you he’s not backing down. He wants this as much as you do.

“Alright, Benny,” you whisper, surrendering to the pull of your desire. You cup his jaw, your touch gentle but filled with an urgent need as you bring your lips to his. The kiss is both tender and consuming, and you can feel the heavy breaths of exertion spilling into your mouth as his hands slide up to your waist.

Despite the pain radiating through his body, Benny’s resolve doesn’t waver. He’s determined to fulfill both your needs, to reclaim what you’ve both been missing.

His hands slide down your hips grasping firm, as he slowly begins guiding you down onto him.

His cock presses against your entrance and the resistance is immediate, your body sealed tight without him for so long. You can feel his breath hitch as he tries again, this time with force. His hands shake on your waist as he pushes into you with raw determination.

A shared moan tears from both of you, the sound raw, and desperate, as his cock finally penetrates, solid and unyielding, your walls gripping him with an unforgiving tightness.

You bury your face into his neck, moaning as his grip on you tightens, his hands steadying you as he pushes deeper, breaking himself into you, inch by inch.

“It’s alright, baby,” he breathes, his voice strained but reassuring, each exhale warm against your skin. His body trembles beneath you, his muscles tensing as he fights through the pain, but he refuses to stop. There’s something driving him, a need to claim you, to bury himself inside you until the pain is a distant memory.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes deeper. A loud moan spills from your lips as he finally fills you completely, holding you firmly in his lap, his control relenting as he waits, letting the initial discomfort melt into a wave of intense pleasure. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, every pulse sending jolts of sensation through your core

“I missed you baby,” Benny confesses, resting his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and uneven as he feels your walls pleasurably tighten around his cock.

“I missed you too, Benny,” you pant, your lips brushing soft kisses against his, enduring the throbbing ache and the intense fullness of having him deep inside you again.

His hands move down to your hips, his grip firm and steady as he guides you in a slow, deliberate rhythm pulling you against him pressing you deeper into his lap as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck ….you feel good,” he whispers, his words heavy with raw desire as his blue eyes meet yours, filled with a vulnerability and intense yearning.

You bring your hands to his jaw, cradling his face as you kiss him softly. Your lips brushing over his filled with longing and he guides your hips to roll down in his lap harder, making you take every inch of his cock deeper.

You both moan into each others mouths feeling the waves of ecstasy surge through your core and Benny feels every inch of him consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of gliding tightly inside your walls again.

His moans turn into soft whimpers as you increase the pace, riding him harder clinging to the back of his neck. You pull him closer, using him for leverage as you glide down faster and harder on his cock.

The sharp sting of his injuries and the soreness of his bruises intensify each time you settle on him, but he holds on to the overwhelming pleasure wanting more despite the pain.

His breaths come in short, shallow gasps as he looks at you with a mix of desire and vulnerability in his eyes, his body protesting, strained from each painful effort.

“Don’t stop,” he pants, his voice weak, almost pleading, as his hips push up against you, his body chasing the pleasure you’re giving him. His cock is rock hard and throbbing with need as he grabs your hips, pulling you deeper into his lap, making you take him fully.

“Yes, Benny!” you cry out, your body arching into him as he guides you to ride him harder, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully, driving his cock deeper, claiming you completely.

The sound of his light breathy and whimpers resonate within you, sending a thrill through your entire body as you watch him trying not to lose himself.

You lean in kissing him deeply and his whimpers are muffled against your mouth as you feel the pleasure of his thick cock gliding in and out of your walls.

His grasp tightens on your hips his fingers digging in desperately, determined to stay with you despite the pain, his need for you overriding everything else.

You grind down on him with force, feeling his cock push deeper inside you and a loud, desperate moan tears from his throat

His heart pounds wildly as he struggles to hold on, the pleasure of being inside you driving him to the very edge.

Every thrust, every touch, every gasp shared between you feels like a reclaiming of something lost. You feel the press of his chest against yours, the frantic beat of his heart, and the desperate way his hands grasp your body.

“I-I’m close… n-need to come…,” he pants, his voice trembling, each word filled with the sound of his struggle to hold on just a little longer.

You hold him closer, your breath warm and seductive against his ear. “Come for me Benny,” you whisper pressing your body closer, moving in perfect rhythm with him, intensifying his pleasure and urging him toward release.

His touch lightens momentarily, his hands guiding your movements to ride him slower, the weakness in his body clashing with the desire raging inside him.

But then, with a deep, guttural groan, he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fights to reclaim control.

“I wanna… feel you come for me,” he breathes, his voice rough with determination. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he places one hand on the bed for stability. He bends his un-injured leg for support and thrusts his cock into you such precision it sends shockwaves of pleasure surging through your core.

“Benny oh god!” you scream in pleasure your walls clenching with every thrust of his cock, driving him to push you further.

“Fuck!” he cries out, his hands gripping you tighter as he drives his cock even harder, reclaiming a depth that makes your eyes roll back in pleasure. “That’s it…” he says through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “Take it all,” he says with effort, his voice thick with intensity.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you moan loudly against him, pulling him closer as he fills you over and over again with a depth that has you seeing stars. His breaths are shallow and ragged against your neck filled with every effort it takes for him to keep going.

His eyes remain locked on you, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face, his own need to see you unravel consuming him, pushing him to hold on just a little longer, to push you over the edge.

You can hear the change in him, the way his voice catches with every thrust, his moans breaking into breathless pants. The deep, primal groans and the whimpers of pleasure that slip out when he can’t hold back.

“Let me feel it,” he pleads, his voice strained, his blue eyes locked on yours with a desperate intensity. “I need to feel you come.” He breathes, the need in his eyes is unmistakable he’s silently begging to be taken with you.

Your pleasure builds to a peak, and with one final thrust, he hits that perfect spot deep inside of you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm.

Your body tenses, your nails digging into his shoulders. You cry out his name, your muscles clenching rhythmically around his cock.

Benny can feel every pulse and shudder of your release, and his groans become louder, more uncontrolled against you, the pain that once held him back replaced by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

His cock throbs inside your walls, and you can feel his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight as he nears his release.

With a final, broken moan, Benny gasps, “I’m gonna—” his words are cut off by a strangled moan as his orgasm crashes over him. His hips jerk violently against you and he releases, his cock pulsing as he spills into you.

You moan loudly, feeling the warm rush of his cum flood your walls and his body trembles with the intensity of his climax, every ounce of pain gone, replaced by the addictive high of pleasure.

His breaths come out hot and ragged against your neck, each exhale trembling with the remnants of his pleasure. He buries his face there, nuzzling against your skin as he softly pants and whimpers next to your ear.

You stay there, still connected, as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies, entwined in a profound connection of intimacy. Every exhale of his breath against your skin a testament to his determination, a silent promise that he gave you everything he had left.

You gently trail your fingertips along his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly melt away as he rests into you, his body still trembling slightly from the exertion.

As he holds you in his lap, you can feel the rapid, wild beating of his heart against yours, his sharp breaths the only sound in the quiet room, echoing softly against your neck.

“I love you so much Benny,” you whisper, your voice tender and filled with emotion as you feel him relax even more, his grip on you softening as he sinks deeper into the comfort of your embrace.

“I love you too, baby,” he murmurs softly against your skin, his voice warm and affectionate, his breaths weak uneven. With a gentle exhale against your skin he places a soft, lingering kiss on your shoulder.

His body rests heavily against yours as his breaths become softer and the weight of him begins pressing down on you as he struggles to stay awake.

“Benny, you need to rest,” you whisper gently, trying to rouse him from exhaustion.

��Alright,” he relents and his voice barely audible as every muscle in his body seems to weaken, the weight of fatigue pressing down on him.

Carefully you sit up, feeling the lingering warmth of his embrace as you place your hands gently over his chest. You slowly lift your hips up sliding his large cock from deep within your walls, hearing a faint slick sound as the tip finally slips out making both of you moan softly from loss of contact.

He gazes up at you affectionately, and you notice a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes one you haven’t seen in a long time.

“You feel good, Benny?” you ask with an affectionate smile. His blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, his full lips parting as he pants for breath.

“Yeah” he breathes with a smile. You grin gently threading your fingers through his hair cradling the back of his head in your hands. You lean in and place a kiss on his forehead filled with pride and deep satisfaction.

The warmth of your touch and the gentle press of your lips make his eyes flutter closed as a soft sigh escapes his lips relaxing completely.

His arms hold you close as he presses his face against your chest, savoring the safety and comfort you bring him. The connection between you feels deeper than ever, a silent understanding that speaks volumes of your love for each other.

As Benny slowly releases you from his embrace, his arms tremble slightly with exhaustion. He shifts his body lower, his movements slow and unsteady as he places his palms on the bed for support.

You give him space as he lowers himself down, the effort leaving him almost too weak to move as he settles on the bed next to you.

With his final moments of strength, Benny pulls you into his strong arms, wrapping them around you in a protective embrace. You can feel the strain on his muscles, the way they tremble slightly, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels through the simple act of holding you close.

His chest still rises and falls with soft breaths, a reminder of how much he’s given, how deeply he’s pushed past his own limits just to be with you.

“It’s okay, Benny,” you whisper softly, your thumb tracing comforting patterns along his cheek. “Just rest now… I’m not going anywhere.” You say softly, hoping to soothe the lingering tension in his body.

A soft sigh escapes his lips as he relaxes against you, his body slowly giving in to the exhaustion. His eyes flutter closed as sleep finally overtakes him. His grip on you loosens but his hands still hold you close, even in sleep.

The tension and pain that had been etched on his face gradually turn into peaceful serenity, and the faintest hint of a smile forms on his lips, a quiet sign that tonight a part of Benny has been reclaimed.

His Resolve

You and Benny are fully aware of Johnny’s fiery retribution with the Vandals after the injuries Benny sustained, it was impossible to miss.

The news had been plastered all over the papers and television, detailing how the Lakeside bar had been burned to the ground while Benny recovered in the hospital.

As Benny lay in bed, fresh out of surgery, it was the first time you heard him laugh since his injuries. The sound was weak and raspy, filled with a mix of satisfaction and respect for what his brotherhood had done on his behalf. It was a glimpse of the old Benny shining through.

Now, with Benny slowly regaining his strength over the past few weeks, it’s no surprise when you hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle in the distance as you wash the dishes.

You quickly go to collect Benny’s plate from lunch in the living room. He’s resting back on the couch, his leg propped up comfortably on an ottoman as he watches I Dream of Jeanie.

As you reach for his empty plate, you pause to observe him. The moment Benny hears the familiar rumble of a motorcycle approaching the house, he sits up, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable excitement.

“That has to be Johnny,” Benny says, a grin spreading across his face. You manage a weak smile, but inside, you can’t shake the resentment that’s formed, knowing Benny’s injuries were caused because he was beaten for wearing his colors.

Benny quickly tries to get up, grabbing the couch for support, but he struggles to gain his footing, his heart racing with too much excitement. In his haste, he knocks his crutch to the floor, reaching for it in futility, unable to pick it up.

“Benny, sit,” you say warmly, guiding him back down onto the couch. “I’ll bring him here. You’ll have plenty of time to run around once you’re fully healed,” you add, placing his crutch to rest on the arm of the couch.

“Alright, baby,” he says, and you look into his eager blue eyes as he tries to contain his excitement.

You reach the front door just as Johnny knocks. He grins as soon as he sees you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, his voice carrying that familiar teasing tone. “Where’s the crippled old man?” he adds playfully.

“He’s in the living room,” you gesture with a warm smile. Johnny follows you inside, his boots echoing softly against the floor as he makes his way down the hall.

As you both enter the living room, Benny is relaxed with his arms spread across the back of the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. He’s trying to play it cool, but you can see how much he’s been looking forward to this moment.

“Look at you, all propped up like the queen,” Johnny teases, his eyes flicking to Benny’s casted foot resting on the ottoman.

“Who you calling Queen?” Benny shoots back, grinning broadly, his tone playful but carrying a hint of the old fire that’s been missing.

Johnny grins as he plops down next to Benny, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He hands one to Benny and places another between his own lips. With a flick of his lighter, they’re both soon smoking together, the air quickly filling with the familiar haze.

“You look good, Benny. You look alright,” Johnny compliments, but then he notices you still standing in the entryway.

“Oh, you mind if we smoke in here, seeing as Benny’s all fucked up?” he asks, glancing at you.

“That’s fine, Johnny,” you reply, feeling a bit out of place. You walk over to the television and turn the volume down, trying to make yourself useful.

Johnny quickly turns his attention back to Benny. “The guys thought you might be really out of it,” he says, nodding toward Benny’s cast.

“He is out of it. He can’t walk, Johnny,” you interject, crossing your arms.

“What did the surgeon say?” Johnny asks, completely ignoring your comment.

Benny takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up as he exhales. “They cut through a tendon,” he says, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“Jesus,” Johnny exclaims. “They tie it back together or what?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Benny replies, exhaling a stream of smoke.

The tension of feeling unwanted in the room makes you uncomfortable, especially as you see them both deep in conversation. With Benny clearly not needing you for anything you quickly excuse yourself, heading to the kitchen to make them drinks and give them space to talk.

The banter between Benny and Johnny flows easily and naturally, you hear Benny laugh loudly several times the sound echoing through the house as he has a fit.

You smile hearing him so happy and then feel a bitterness rising that you’ve never made him laugh that way.

The thought gnaws at you, and before you realize it, you’re squeezing the lemons more aggressively, the juice splattering as you make the lemonade.

When you enter the living room with the two glasses, the air is now thick with smoke. Johnny and Benny are just finishing their conversation as you hand Benny his fresh lemonade.

“We’d sure love to see you out there. It’s gonna be a big one, maybe the biggest one yet!” Johnny says enthusiastically.

“Biggest what?” you ask, curious, as you offer the other glass of lemonade to Johnny.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, waving it off, still engrossed in their discussion.

“It’s a picnic,” Benny explains to you. “Johnny says they’re going all out for the Daytona one,” he continues, before turning to Johnny. “How long is that, eight weeks away?”

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms.

“I mean, I’ll still be in a cast by then, but—”

“A cast?!” Johnny interrupts. “Nah, nah, you can shift with your left foot. You can always use your front brake if ya can’t put no pressure on it,” he says, gesturing to Benny’s cast.

Benny thinks it over as he takes a drag from his cigarette and Johnny seeing his hesitation uses the brotherhood to lure his decision.

“You know the guys..the guys would love to see ya out there. They’re all really worried about you.”he says earnestly

Feeling irritated by the smoke and being ignored, you place Johnny’s untouched lemonade down on the mantle harder than you intended, the glass clinking sharply.

You walk to the window, sliding it up forcefully and hitting it into place with several loud whacks as the fresh air immediately rushes in.

Hearing their conversation halt mid-sentence, you turn to see both Johnny and Benny looking at you with their brows raised in concern.

The weight of their gaze makes you feel exposed, as if they’ve noticed the frustration you’ve been trying to hide all along.

Benny then turn to Johnny and makes his decision without you. “I’ll be there,” he says with certainty, his tone final.

“Alright” Johnny says with a wide grins clearly pleased with Bennys decision. “ I’ll get out of here,” Johnny says as he gets up. “You rest,” he adds, pointing at the cast. Benny smirk as he takes another long drag from cigarette.

Johnny gives you a brief nod, “sweetheart” he says his eyes barely meeting yours before he turns and heads for the door. He leaves without another word, his abruptness toward you making you feel slighted.

The front door slams shut, the sound grating on your nerves, amplifying the irritation that’s already boiling inside of you.

You stand there for a moment, piecing together the conversation and the choice Benny made without consulting you. The tension in the room thickens, your earlier discomfort now edged with frustration.

You walk closer to Benny, crossing your arms as you look over him relaxed against the couch smoking his cigarette with a careless ease.

“You wouldn’t really ride your motorcycle injured with a cast would Benny?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

“I dunno,” he replies, waving his cigarette hand through the air dismissively. “Turn up the TV, would you?” He says in irritation hating that his injury prevents him from doing the simplest things himself.

But you stand firm, unmoving. “I don’t want you riding, Benny,” you say sternly.

He slowly glances over at you, raising an eyebrow at your firmness.

“Yeah, it scares me especially this soon after surgery. I don’t like it,” you continue, doubling down on your resolve.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly. “You don’t like it?” he repeats, his voice carrying an edge as he squints at you.

“I get worried!” you say louder, the thought of him permanently injuring himself just to prove something to Johnny and the Vandals making your heart pound with anxiety.

The silence that follows your words is heavy with tension, and you can feel the growing distance between you and Benny with each passing second.

Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring off into the distance, lost in thought as he weighs his options. His jaw tightening as you watch the internal struggle playing out in his mind.

“I should just go,” he finally says, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, his voice steady tinged with an underlying sadness.

His eyes flicker with a cold, distant determination, as he nods slightly. “I should just leave,” he repeats, the words heavy with finality.

His words hang in the air, and you feel your heart drop, the realization hitting you hard that he’s considering genuinely leaving again.

“What?” you respond, your voice rising in pitch as your resolve begins to soften.

He nods his head, a look of realization crossing his face as he stares off blankly into the distance.

“It’s better this way. You’d be better off,” he finally says, his voice low and steady. He raises the cigarette to his lips with a deliberate slowness, taking a long, drawn out drag, the smoke lingering as he exhales, solidifying the weight of his words.

“Stop it! Stop it!” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as the fear creeps in gripping your heart.

The memory of the last time he abandoned you abruptly flashing through your mind, he left you without a second thought once his mind was set, leaving you shattered and utterly alone. The panic begins to set in, a cold, suffocating sensation that makes it hard to breathe.

Benny continues, the hurt in his voice becoming more evident, “You wouldn’t have to take care of me, worry about me…”he says revealing the truth he’s been harboring.

You shake your head frantically, tears welling up in your eyes as you tremble at the implications of what he’s saying.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, letting his words sink in before exhaling slowly.

“When I heal up, I’ll leave,” he says with cold finality, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if the words are a sentence he’s already decided on.

The statement hits you hard, knocking the breath out of you, and you take a moment to gather your resolve.

Benny doesn’t say anything more and leans forward to stub out his cigarette, the action slow and deliberate, like he’s putting the final seal on a decision that’s been weighing on him for far too long.

He leans back, arms outstretched, a look of painful acceptance on his saddened face, torn between what he feels is right and what he desires.

In a moment of quiet understanding, you slowly sit on the couch beside Benny, finally able to see what he has always needed most of all. Your acceptance of his resolve, the need to do what he feels he must even when you don’t agree with the decision.

As you look up at him, your eyes are filled with a mix of sorrow and reluctant understanding, fully grasping that he’s been struggling with.

Benny meets your eyes with a look of determination and coldness, his emotions buried deep behind a wall of detachment.

Knowing exactly what he needs in this moment you lean against him and wrap your arms gently around his torso holding him closely and providing him the love and comfort he so desperately needs.

You nestle into him and press your face gently against his chest as he looks down at you with a sternness and confusion in his gaze but then, gradually, his expression softens and he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you close with a grip that is both possessive and protective.

His face buries into your hair, and you can feel the tension in his body slowly begin to ease, knowing that even though you don’t agree with his decision, you still accept him for who he is.

His hands thread through your hair, cradling your head as he holds you against his chest. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words until you finally break it.

“Benny, I don’t want you to go,” you relent, your voice soft, filled with a final act of surrender, understanding that he will do what he feels he must.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering as he deeply inhales your scent, something so beautiful and sweet, something that anchors him when he feels lost.

His thumbs gently trace reassuring circles on your back as he rests his head against yours, no longer torn between his loyalty to the brotherhood and his love for you.

In this moment, the conflict within him fades away,and he feels completely at peace in your embrace more grounded and connected than he has ever felt before in his life.

Just you

At night, as Benny stands in the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired muscles, he has only one thing on his mind…you. The steam fills the small bathroom, clouding the mirror as he steps out, dries off, and brushes his teeth.

He uses the door frame to steady himself as he makes his way to the nightstand, his movements slower as he balances on his uninjured leg but he’s determined to do everything himself to prove himself to you.

He quickly takes his medications, and climbs into bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against his warm skin.

When you enter the bedroom, Benny’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. You’re wearing a silk robe, which you slowly slip off to reveal a delicate nightie underneath. The fabric clings to your curves in a way that stirs something deep within him, awakening a longing to create something passionately between you.

As you glance around the room, you notice that Benny has already taken care of himself. He’s brushed his teeth, taken his medications, and is already tucked in, waiting for you.

“Do you need help with anything, Benny?” you ask softly, your voice tinged with pride, knowing he managed to take care of everything on his own.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours from where he’s resting in bed. For a moment, you see a flicker of something …lust, perhaps, but then it’s gone, replaced by a steady, confident gaze. “Just you,” he says, his voice low, the words laced with an undertone that sends a thrill through you.

A smile plays on your lips as you nod feeling a sudden blush creeps up your cheeks from his words. “Alright, Benny, I won’t be long,” you say sweetly, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face for the night.

Benny watches you go, a spark of desire igniting in his chest, seeing the soft sway of your hips, the gentle curves of your body. He aches with longing, his eyes following your every step, craving the closeness that’s just out of reach.

He lays back against his pillow, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to show you how much he needs you, how deeply he loves you. His cock is already swelling with desire, hardening at the mere thought of you.

When you return and climb into bed with him you reach over and click off the light, plunging the room into the darkness of moonlight. With a small, sigh, you settle in, your body turned from Benny as you prepare for the usual nights sleep.

But Benny shifts in bed moving closer, his hand reaching out gently brushing against your hip. His touch soft and tender, a silent request for intimacy as he waits for your response.

You feel the eagerness in his touch and feeling a bit slighted from your argument earlier you teasingly ignore him.

He grows bolder, his fingers gripping your hip with a firm but gentle pressure, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles along the curve. Despite his advances, you stay unyielding.

“Baby,” he finally says softly, his voice low and pleading with desire. “I need you…”

His hand lingers poised on your hip awaiting for your response and you cover your mouth unable to stifle the soft unmistakable sound of a giggle that escapes.

Benny smiles understanding your playful challenge.

“You gonna make me work for it tonight, hm?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as his hand trails slowly along your side, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through you.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you nod, feeling the spark of anticipation growing between you. You bite your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. “Mm-hm,” you confirm with a nod.

Benny’s smiles slowly trailing his finger tips down your shoulder, his touch tantalizing and deliberate, sending a warm shiver through your body.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. “Seeing you in your little nightie and now you teasing me like this..,” he says, pulling gently at the silk strap, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“Now I need you, more than anything,” he confirms, his voice thick with desire as he leans in closer. His breath is soft against your neck. His chest presses firmly against your back as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you intimately against him. “Don’t tease me like this baby,” he breathes into your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

You close your eyes, trying to hold onto your resolve, but the heat of his body and the intensity in his voice start to warm you up to his touch as you slowly give in. “Benny…,” you begin, your voice soft and breathless, but he shushes you with a quiet “shhh,” his breath warm against your ear as his hand slides down your side, the silk of your nightie gliding smoothly under his fingers as he teasing the edges of your panties with a feather-light touch.

“Mm Mmn, you wanted to tease me remember?” he says, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. “Now it’s my turn,” he continues, his tone deepening as his fingers widen their grasp, exploring your body with a possessive touch keeping you on edge. He draws out your anticipation with every firm deliberate squeeze. “Let’s see how much you can take,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine

His words break through, and you can feel the wetness increasing between your legs. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, the heat in his eyes making your heart race. “You’re not playing fair Benny,” you whisper, your voice breathless.

Benny’s lips curve into a knowing smile as his hand continues its slow exploration, sliding under the silk of your nightie. “Who said I was playing?” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. The look in his eyes is one of pure, unrestrained lust, and it sends a wave of heat through your body, making you ache to give in to him completely.

“Benny…” you begin softly, your voice tinged with need, but he silences you with a kiss on your lips, slow and deliberate. The tip of his tongue teasing yours, sending waves of heat through your body. You moan into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure building inside you.

His hand slowly slips under your nightie, gliding over your heated skin. He finds the edge of your lace panties, his fingers slipping inside to explore the slickness of your arousal. His touch is teasing and slow, his fingers glide through your wetness, each stroke making you crave him even more.

Benny’s lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers continue their exploration as he slips them deep inside of you, finding that sensitive spot within and stroking it with a rhythm that makes your body tremble. Your whimpers mix with your gasps, each sound growing more desperate as the pleasure builds inside you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers against your neck, his voice low with desire. “I love feeling you like this baby,” he praises.

As his fingers curl inside you, he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit in time with his strokes. The sensation is overwhelming, every touch sending you closer to the edge. Your hips begin to move against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction, your breath coming in short, heated pants.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice filled with encouragement. “Let go for me baby. I want to feel you come.”

The combination of his skilled fingers and his his words send you spiraling closer to the edge, the pleasure mounting with each passing second. Your body quivers in anticipation, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.

Benny’s kisses travel down your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse point as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm.

You feel every nerve in your body lighting up with desire, your whimpers turning into needy moans as you get closer and closer to release.

Your breathing quickens, your body tightening around his fingers as you teeter on the edge of release. His other hand moves to your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending even more sparks of pleasure through you. The intensity is almost too much to bear, and you can’t help but moan loudly as the tension coils its tightest within your core.

“Benny-!” you cry out, your voice breaking with pleasure as your walls clench around his fingers as you moan feeling the intensity so powerful it makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Come for me… soak my fingers, just like that.”

His words push you over the edge, and with a final stroke, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever.

Your moans are unending, filling the room as Benny holds you close, his fingers continuing to coax every last tremor from your body. Your panting and whimpers become breathless gasps, your entire being lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that courses through you.

He presses his lips to your neck, whispering softly, “That’s it, baby… so good for me ” his voice full of satisfaction knowing he’s given you exactly what you needed.

You come down from your high, your body trembling and weak and Benny withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips with a satisfied smile. He licks your arousal from his fingers, savoring the taste with a look of deep satisfaction.

Then, with a gentle yet insistent touch he guides your lips to his for a soft, lingering kiss.

The taste of pleasure on your lips sends a thrill through Benny as you struggle to catch your breath, feeling completely spent and utterly fulfilled. But the lingering intensity in his gaze tells you he’s far from done.

His hand slips under your nightie, his fingers tracing slow, sensual patterns around your navel. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “I want to fill you up baby,” his voice heavy with desire, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

“I want to create something lasting with you,” he reveals, his voice laced with intent. He lets the gravity of his words linger between you, his breath warm against your neck as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles just below your belly button, lingering there with purpose.

His lips graze your ear as he leans in closer, “I want to have a baby with you,” he confesses, his voice tinged with longing, a deep need to create something permanent, something that binds you both in a way that nothing else can.

His touch feels different now, more intimate, as his hand moves gently across your stomach. The thought of carrying his child, of creating something lasting and beautiful with Benny, fills you with a deep profound sense of connection and love.

You turn your head slightly, your lips barely brushing his as you whisper, “I want that too, Benny.” Your voice is breathless, filled with anticipation and desire. You place your hand over his, pressing it more firmly against your stomach, silently encouraging him, letting him know you’re ready.

Benny’s eyes darken with intensity at your response, his fingers tightening their hold on you. “It’s all I want now,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with raw emotion. He leans in, kissing you softly at first, savoring the warmth of your lips. Then, his kiss deepens, growing urgent and passionate, making your heart race.

He pulls back just enough to say, “I’ll show you how much I want you,” his breath hot against your lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulls you closer pressing his hard insistent cock firmly against your thighs. The sudden, powerful contact makes you moan, revealing in the strength of his desire that he’s been holding back, waiting until this very moment to let you feel just how much he needs you.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with longing.

His hand glides up your side, fingers tracing lightly over the silk of your nightie and he hooks his finger under the strap, slipping it off your shoulder.

You help him with the other strap, feeling his breath warm against your neck as he guides the fabric lower. He presses soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, each one more tender than the last, as he pulls the nightie down as far as he can.

You lift your hips, allowing him to hook his thumb into your panties, sliding them down along with the delicate nightie. He glides the fabric over your legs slipping everything off completely, leaving you naked and exposed beneath his gaze.

His hand finds your arm guiding you from your side onto your back and the away his hands move with such reverence and desire, makes your heart race.

“I know we can’t have a baby yet,” Benny says, his voice tense with lust, his eyes roaming over your body.

“But I’m going to practice tonight like it’s for keeps,” he promises.

Benny lifts himself over you, his movements controlled and steady. His body hovers above yours, the intensity in his eyes never wavering as he positions himself to take you completely

You reach up, trailing your hands along his broad shoulders holding them for support.

“Benny, I’m going to make sure we have that baby,” you promise him, your voice filled with resolve. “I’m stopping my pills tonight.”

His eyes gaze into yours with a strong sense of fulfillment and a slow satisfied smile forms at the corners of his lips.

With his strong arms braced on either side of your head, he lowers himself down, his lips capturing yours in a deep, sensual kiss, savoring every second, every touch, as if he’s determined to make you melt beneath him.

He settles between your thighs and his body is a delicious weight on yours. The sensation of his firm chest pressing against yours sends a thrill through you as the heat of his skin and the hard planes of his abs fit perfectly against your soft curves. It’s intoxicating, the strength of him surrounding you, making you feel both protected and utterly desired.

His hardened cock teasingly presses against your wetness,and the sensation makes you moan into his mouth which he captures in his heated kiss.

Your hands instinctively slide down his back, trailing over the firm muscles that tense beneath your fingertips. You reach down to the curve of your own hips, grasping the hem of your panties, desperate to remove the final barrier between you.

Benny’s lips trail down your neck, his kisses hot and lingering, and he helps you, his fingers brushing against yours as you tug at the delicate lace.

He grips the fabric firmly and there’s a brief pause, just enough time for you to feel the anticipation build, and then, with a sharp, satisfying tear, he rips the delicate lace apart. The sound of threads snapping fills the air, mingling with your soft gasp.

Benny slips the lace from your body and flings it aside, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss that is both raw and possessive. His body presses harder against you, his cock throbbing with need as he nudges it insistently against you.

His hands slide up your sides cupping your breasts as he circles your nipples with his thumbs, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You moan softly into his mouth, arching your back, pressing your chest against his hands, craving more of his touch, more of him.

Benny pulls back, breaking the kiss his breaths heavy and uneven as he presses harder against your sensitive nipples, rolling them slowly under his thumbs. He watches you intently, savoring every cry, every moan that escapes your lips, taking his time to draw out your pleasure.

“I want to hear more of those sweet sounds,” he rasps, lowering his mouth to take one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue flicks teasingly over the sensitive peak before he sucks gently, working his lips and tongue in unison as your moans turn into soft, breathless cries.

His free hand continues to knead and tease your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Your walls clench around nothing in response to the sensations he’s pulling from you.

Every lick, every pinch is planned, deliberate, keeping you teetering on the edge as he takes his time, savoring the way your body responds to him.

He shifts his body against yours, his hardened cock sliding through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness across your thighs. The slick heat between you only amplifying your physical need for each other.

“Baby, you’re so wet for me,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he feels the slickness coating his length. He nudges his tip against your entrance, making you cry out, your hips lifting in response, seeking more of him.

His hands slide down from your breasts, gliding over your waist and settling firmly on your hips. His grip is possessive as he spreads your legs into the perfect position.

His cock is hard, throbbing with an almost painful need as the tip presses against your entrance. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust as he slowly pushes his hips forward.

His large cock eases into your slick tight walls sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body, your moans blending with his low, guttural groans as he pushes you to take it deeper.

He moves with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch as he fills you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pressure that has you arching into him, craving him as he continues to push. Benny groans, the sound deep and primal, as he buries himself into you completely his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with his ragged breaths as he begins to move, each thrust measured, designed to push you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tight, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts , the rhythm between you building, intensifying with each passing second.

“Baby.. you feel so good,” Benny pants, his voice rough with desire. His lips find yours again, capturing your moans as his pace quickens, the pleasure coursing through you both. You can feel the tension building, the sweet, unbearable pressure signaling your impending release. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

He breaks the kiss, his breath warm and uneven against your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up soon,” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. “Gonna make you big and round, carrying our baby.” His hand slides possessively to rest on your stomach, his touch lingering and firm. “Everyone will know… how much I wanted this, how much I wanted you,” he breathes, his lips grazing your ear with each word

Benny’s other hand moves down, slipping between your legs his fingers brushing over your clit with deliberate, teasing strokes.

His fingers circle your clit, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his words sink in, heightening the intensity of the moment. “You want that, don’t you?” he breathes, his voice deepening with desire.

You moan in response, your breath hitching as you manage to say, “Y-yes!…Yes I want that Benny.”

“Good “ he says grinding his hips harder and pushing his cock deeper, as his hand continues its relentless assault on your clit. “I want you to come baby,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, “come knowing what we’re going to make together… knowing how much I wanted to get you pregnant tonight.”

His words, his touch, and the deep, steady rhythm of his thrusts drives you to the edge. Your orgasm builds coiling the tension tighter and tighter until you can’t hold back any longer, it crashes through you, a tidal wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your body convulsing around him as you cry out his name.

“Take it deep for me” he groans with exertion feeling your walls tightening around his cock and a final, powerful thrust, Benny follows you into oblivion, his groans are guttural and raw, as he comes inside of you, his cock pulsing as his body trembles with the force of his release.

His breath comes in short, ragged pants as his hips gently grind against you, savoring every last moment of pleasure. Each spasm of his cock sending waves of warmth through your body.

He softly collapses against you, his breaths hot and ragged “The next one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice filled with exhaustion and excitement making a shared grin spread across both of your faces, knowing your mutual desire for the real thing.

He plants a tender kiss on your forehead, both of you spent but utterly satisfied, lost in the afterglow of a moment that feels like a new exciting path on your life adventure.

He’s Mine

After making sure Benny is settled in the morning, his breakfast finished and his medications taken, you sweetly kiss him on the forehead and tell him you’re going to make a quick dash to the grocery store.

As you get behind the wheel of your Mustang, you decisively head toward the Vandals’ club the grocery run was a rouse you had planned. The roar of the engine beneath you revs in the background of your focused thoughts. Your mind is set on a single goal: getting Benny out of the Vandals and claiming him all for yourself.

Once you arrive at the club you park the Mustang with precision, ensuring it’s securely locked before striding across the street. Dressed in a fitted crop top and high-waisted jeans, with a purse casually draped over your shoulder, you project confidence and determination. Each click of your heels against the pavement resonates with purpose as you approach the Vandal club.

With a deep breath, you push open the front door, your resolve unwavering.

The interior is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and stale beer. Only a few members are scattered around, some lounging, others staggering with drunkenness. Their eyes follow you as you enter, faint whistles being heard some looking you over with curiosity and others something darker.

One of them, a long haired man with tattoos creeping up his neck, steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he gets a closer look. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your skin crawl. “You lost, little lady? Or maybe you’re just looking for some company?” he adds with a sly grin.

You don’t hesitate, your voice cutting through his sleazy haze like a knife. “Where’s Johnny?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, your stance firm and unyielding.

The man holds up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. “Easy pretty lady. Johnny’s in the back. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Within minutes, you find yourself sitting face-to-face with Johnny in his office. The tension in the room is thick. You are leaned back in your chair, arms and legs crossed, barely concealing your irritation. Johnny, with his elbows resting on the table and fingers interlaced, has a look of avoidance on his face as he tries to gauge your mood.

You lock eyes with Johnny, your gaze unwavering as his eyes dart around, deliberately avoiding yours.

Beneath the surface, your anger simmers, but you keep it in check, your voice firm and resolute.

“You can’t have him, the club can’t have him,” you state, each word carrying the weight of your decision, leaving no room for argument.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Who?”

Your voice sharpens, cutting through the tense air. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Benny!” you snap, sitting up straighter as your arms cross tighter against your chest.

Johnny’s smirk fades, replaced by a cold, calculating look as he finally grasps your intent. Before he can respond, you press on, your voice steady but charged with emotion.

“He’s mine,” you declare with a possessive edge staking your claim on Benny with every ounce of determination you have.

Johnny’s eyes lock onto yours, recognition dawning that you’re not to be taken lightly. Benny was right you are tougher than you look.

Johnny remains silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of your words. A flicker of respect crosses his face as he realizes you’re not backing down.

You lean in further, frustration and fear making your voice rise.

“If he keeps riding his motorcycle for the club, he’s going to die one way or another. It’ll kill him, and you know it!”

Johnny meets your eyes with mock concern, his voice dismissive. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

You don’t back down, your eyes brimming with the intensity of your emotions.

Johnny looks away from you, thinking it over, trying to convey the nature of Benny’s independence.

“I don’t own Benny, just like you don’t own Benny,” Johnny says, his tone hardening to emphasize the point.

“Ain’t nobody can tell that kid nothin’,” he continues, as if the matter is settled but your eyes still lock onto his undeterred.

“He’s grown,” Johnny adds, his tone firm as if that finalizes everything.

As you continue to stare him down Johnny makes Bennys independence clear.

“If he wants to ride a bike, he’s gonna ride a bike,” Johnny says with a shrug, the finality in his voice knowing Benny’s choices have always been for himself.

You lean forward, your voice firm and pleading. “Not if you tell him not to. Not if you tell him he’s out of the club.”

Johnny scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “C’mon,” he mutters.

Your anger flares, your eyes locking onto his.

“I’m his wife, NOT you,” you snap, each word sharp and pointed.

Johnny’s eyes narrow. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he quips

You meet his gaze, unwavering and full of raw emotion. “Oh, I know you love him, I love him too,” you confess, your words hanging in the air. “That’s why you’ve got to help me.”

For a brief moment, something flickers in Johnny’s eyes, something like hesitation or guilt, but it’s quickly replaced by his hardened expression. “Are you done?” he asks, his voice cold, his brows easing as if trying to brush off the weight of your words.

You shake your head, the tension still thick between you. “I don’t know, am I?” you retort, challenging him with your defiance.

Johnny leans back in his chair, his patience wearing thin, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something he won’t name. “You got anything more to say?” he asks, his voice tight with barely contained annoyance.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “No. I said it,” you confirm, your voice final.

The silence that follows is heavy, an unspoken showdown as you both stare at each other. Finally, Johnny looks away, his expression twisted with annoyance . You stand abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you push it back, your heels echoing in the small office as you head for the door.

Before you leave, you turn back one last time, your voice sharp and definitive. “You can’t have him. The club can’t have him. he’s mine”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Johnny alone with the truth he doesn’t want to face: you’re determined to separate Benny from his life, as a Vandal and he can’t allow that to happen.

🏍️ To be continued 🏍️

Part 5: For Keeps

With every thing stripped from Benny he begins to understand what he really wants out of life, and after a fateful turn of events putting your life at risk, his decision is finalized changing both of your lives forever.

🔗 Master List

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @butdaddyilovehim99 @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories @fallout-girl219

🏷️Always Tags Me List 💌

@lindszeppelin @abswifey @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade

416 notes · View notes