#be grateful they like the slop i put out because if they didnt it wouldnt exist. meow.

[pulsedmaggot]

jimrey, 28 from the prompt list 😈

tucks hair behind ear hi natey its been 8 months. since you put this in my inbox i dont even remember where the og prompt list is but ermmm heres jamber & cobalt doing it. on a bike !!! ¡¡¡ te quiero !!! ... y lo siento </3 | prompt 28: motorbike | warnings/tags: theyre kissin, theyre fingerin, in public, on a bike, it's a whole thing, established relationship because i love that for them, lowercase intentional because i suck, no slipknot but imagine if you will: 2019ish era them | words: 1,586

for 18+ audiences only, minors dni

the venue they're in starts to pick up that atmosphere of dust that can only be captured by a blaring strobelight.

on stage, there is a man, who may or may not be jim’s entire moon and stars, blasting waves of sonic excellence that can only be absorbed by the audience roaring back at him. jim is off to the side somewhere, leaning with his back pressed against a bar with a smile on his face. that's his corey up there, ping ponging around, sweaty curls strewn about his forehead while his hands never leave his guitar. it brings jim to a familiar memory; that same face of pure ecstasy, same sweat, minus all the people and the singing. maybe some singing actually, knowing corey.

lights turn down then up then down again, and jim knows where to find him later, and corey knows where he wants jim to find him. he didn't have anything to drink during his time loitering around the bar (maybe he had a shot, come to think of it, but it tasted like pure gasoline water so it shouldn't count), but he leaves a nice tip on the counter. his guy’s show left him in a generous mood, maybe even an array of moods to explore later, if post-show corey wasn't ready to curl around a bag of snickers bars and pass out on his couch once they left.

he's outside and the second love of his life is sitting pretty on a kickstand, its chrome finish sparkling patiently in the lowlight of the alley. the closer jim gets to his bike. ready to rev up and wait for his boyfriend (an insane word to use for them, at their age, but they've found that it works for whatever they're doing anyway), a body he doesn't remember putting on it steps into view. shorter than him. sneakers that flap when they skid across the pavement. curls hanging low and sticky to the neck. a stupid smile and an even more stupid, beautiful, mellowed-out gaze. ah yes, of course. who else but the aforementioned boyfriend.

“still can't believe you ride this thing.” corey scoffs, his palms resting on the leather-wrapped seat jim just got replenished not too long again. “when are you gonna get a real car?”

“like you don't know how the inside of my car looks.” jim is chuckling when he wraps his arm around corey’s shoulders as silent praise for an act well done. “when are you gonna stop hopping in and out of my sick rides, huh?”

“never.” corey noses his shoulder. jim feels his teeth. “never.”

they stay looped around each other, corey’s trembling body searching for more of jim with his hands. jim feels corey sliding up his motorcycle, and the bottom of his heart itches at the idea of this idiot flipping them both over. he holds corey by the small of his back, tickles him with the forest of hair covering his chin, has a window open the moment corey recoils to complain. corey slows down when jim’s lips suffocate his. their clothed knees are safe from gravel another day.

corey is humming deep, inhaling every time jim exhales, and that he can't put on a brave face for, let alone keep them from tasting a broken tooth.

“hey, c’mon,” jim may be grinning like an idiot, but he has enough sense to pat corey just above his ass, “let's take off, yeah? i’ll let you wear my helmet.”

corey makes a noise, hangs his head like a sad puppy while his hands smooth down the front of jim’s shirt. if he didn't know better he'd think he was pouting. if he knew worse than that, it'd be turning him on more than it should.

“no one's gonna see...” one of jim’s buttons slips free, then another, then he's catching corey’s wrist and holding it tight when their eyes meet. “james.”

“um-” jim swallows back a tablespoon of his own spit when corey looks at him with a flushed face and furrowed brow, his mouth is open and waiting, and upon closer inspection of his groin something else is also waiting, trapped behind skinny jeans. “see what?”

corey makes that noise again. tries to pull jim closer. starts scooting backwards up the seat of his harley.

“i’m sayin’, like-” jim laughs, because this is far too ridiculous to still be hot, yet corey’s eager prick is still begging for attention, “like, how? not no, exactly, just… how.”

“you've never fucked on a bike before?” corey drops his fussy attitude once jim releases his hand, says it like it's on the same level as baby’s-first-second-base.

“you have?”

“no point in discriminating based on vehicle size with the way i fuck, james.”

“alright, you're putting your helmet on-”

before he could slide it off the handle bar and smack it onto his lap, corey is reaching up again, threading fingers through his short hair and pulling until their lips meet again. he reclines, and jim’s heart is ready to fall out of his ass when corey breaks their kiss to turn himself over, bracing himself on the handlebars. he's sitting just above the seat on his tip-toes, swaying his hips back and forth while he chirps that hoarse little giggle of his. even if what corey was doing- baiting him into being rode on his bike with no experience on how these things worked or didn't work- was completely dangerous, jim would be lying if he didn't agree with the alerted status of his own dick right now. it's stupid and raunchy, far too much and far too corny, and really… the only thing that would've stopped him, onlookers or other city-dwellers, wasn't around at the moment.

“do me like one of your biker-mag models, ja- aw, fuck-” corey’s gagged on two fingers tracing their way up and around his mouth, then he's slowed his breathing to accept them, moaning unabashedly when jim’s pointer tickles the back of his throat. jim looks down to see corey humping the front end of the seat, smirks to himself at the idea of an invisible tail wagging.

“yeah?” jim’s lowered himself to corey’s ear to slide his tongue behind it, one hand yanking down corey’s jeans- and to the surprise of no one, not one seam of underwear was to be found- while the other circled his hole.

“fuck yes.” corey is squeezing at the break pump so tightly jim is glad he remembered to keep this thing off, and extra glad corey’s hole takes his fingers so well.

corey whimpers through the first few pushes, and it echoes down the alleyway too loud, too pointed. not that jim wouldn't want the world to know how good he fucked his guy, and how good he could lie down and take it, but he also wouldn't want the wrong person overhearing. listening in. he bends over to corey’s mouth to stick his tongue in it, still standing at the side of the bike while he opens him up. corey is grunting sweet vibrations into jim’s beard, leaving both their mouths slick with spit and tooth-worn. the faster he flicks his wrist the deeper corey whines, and it's when he twists his fingers to push deep inside him that he hears the tell-tale beginning of corey’s orgasm.

he smiles into their kiss before breaking it.

“careful.” he scrapes his teeth on the bridge of corey’s nose. “don't wanna make a mess.”

“james-” corey might look fucking perfect right now, might have that dopey cross-eyed stare of his with his mouth hanging open, like he did whenever he was about to release.

“you do?” he slows down for two pulls, dragging his knuckles over where he thinks corey’s prostate might be, and he might've made the right calculations due to corey’s foot tapping haphazardly against the kickstand. luckily, for the both of them, it stays put. “you wanna cum all over my bike, don't you? make a fucking mess of yourself, where anyone could see?”

corey croaks through a swamp of expletives, and the motion he makes next could mean his eyes are shutting tight, and wouldn't you know it, corey’s gritting his teeth when he starts babbling. and due to the thrusting of his naked hips over jim’s seat picking up in speed, jim can safely say that corey has jizzed all over his pride and joy. his harley. his baby. the second love of his life.

“shit, james i- i am so fucking- fucking sorry, I couldn't-” corey makes a frustrated noise, shakes his head when his hips roll to a stop, “couldn't hold it, jamie, ‘m sorry-”

he slips his fingers out of corey with a sigh, letting him tug his own pants back up and watching him fuss over the stain. he crosses his arms, thinking about how far they'd have to go to his house to get wipes, disinfectant, his favorite conditioner-spray.

“look, man, i can-” corey zips himself up. rocks on his heels as he talks, his foot still tapping to the tune of nothing, he gestures vaguely at the venue door behind them, “i can go back in there, and get- get something to- i don't know-”

“nah, you're fine.” jim takes a step closer, watches corey tense up where he stands next to the bike, “you can make it up to me.”

and as jim starts to undo his belt, he figures that a corey could stand to suit some gravel on his knees.