#how the flip has this over 200 notes already /pos

[yoy05]

A normal morning

(Under the cut is the original)

[pricklerick]

the r&m biker au that nobody needs

Rick meets another lone biker at a bar.

Sink is small and unassuming - at first glance, Rick’s gaze drifts right past him. It’s only when Rick notices a warm body at his elbow that he startles - he’s deep into his third drink and the lingering roar of the road is slowly melting into a mellow buzz -  and suddenly the nobody from before is a hot little snack sizing him up.

Rick is amenable.

Sink slides into the barstool next to him and signals to the bartender with a slick nod, and instantaneously, it seems, the next round is in Rick’s hand.

Rick is impressed. How had he written this kid off as not much to look at? Sink is all lithe limbs and tight, fuckable youth, his big brown eyes damn near sparkling with secrets and sex appeal.

They swap stories deep into the night, and by closing time, Rick has agreed to let Sink tag along with him for the next few days of riding. They are headed the same direction for a while, and the two clubs that control the territory have a ruthless reputation.

And Rick... well, he’s got a certain history with the Damned that is best left unmentioned.

He decides that Sink’s not so bad. He tells a good story and holds his liquor passably, and besides, two loners riding together are much less likely to be harassed than one alone.

Sink rides an ‘87 bobber that is just glorious in its simplicity. Rick finds himself admiring the rider just as much as the bike, catching himself staring at Sink’s smooth tan arms as they drape deliciously from his mini-apes, or oogling the contour of Sink’s ass as he leans into a particularly steep curve. When they stop to refuel at the only gas station in a 200 mile radius, Sink’s sudden laughter lights a fire in deep Rick’s belly. And when Rick’s POS starts leaking transmission fluid, the sight of Sink’s tiny, deft fingers slick with oil as he tinkers on his back leaves Rick’s mouth drier than the parched desert highway that they’re stranded on.

Things get a little hairy on the second day when they are passed by a large group of Fugitives. Rick’s got no beef with these guys, but they come up on them from behind in a swarm, revving their engines and flipping the bird, and Rick suddenly finds himself speeding up to ride between Sink and the gang. He stays there until they pass, his heart thumping wildly in his chest, damn near forcing Sink into the growlers as the Fugitives blow by.

It’s miles before Rick’s adrenaline ebbs.

That evening, they talk. Rick drinks deeply from his flask and gets a little more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with, but Sink takes it in stride, reaching out once to barely brush Rick’s cheek, even though he is stone-cold sober.

Mid morning finds them near to parting ways. Rick is almost sorry. But Sink flags him down at a crossroads, waving for him to turn left, and Rick follows, even though his road stretches onward for miles.

He tails Sink through the heart of shitty little town, winding past mobile homes and decrepit liquor stores in a series of twists and turns, each little facet of civilization sending a thrill of apprehension down Rick’s spine.

He shouldn’t be here.

Finally, Sink pulls in to what can only be described as a shack. The roof is worn and sinking, the siding grayed with age. Music plays loudly from inside, the bass thrumming above the vibration of Rick’s 2-stroke. There are a few bikes scattered in the dusty, poorly patched parking lot. Three guys in leather recline on the sagging front porch, smoking cigarettes and eyeing Rick with suspicious stares.

And oh, cunt-licking christ.

The guys are wearing the colors of the Damned.

Rick shoots a pointed glance at Sink, probably more wide-eyed than he’d like to admit, but Sink is staring back at him with a calm, dark gaze. “Trust me,” Rick thinks he mouths. It’s hard to be sure over the roar of the engine.

Rick doesn’t have time to answer, because Sink is already moving, killing his bike and reaching for the tiny little pack rolled on his sissy bar. In a well-practiced motion, Sink unfolds a vest, slipping into it as smooth as silk, and then, without a backward glance, he’s headed toward the shack.

“Sinkhole!” one of the guys calls. Sink raises a hand in greeting.

Rick can’t breathe. His heart stutters and restarts, his eyes glued to the vest that Sink is sporting.

THE DAMNED screams Sink’s top rocker in proud, bold font, President displayed in brazen red on his right chest.

Rick feels the blood drain from his face.

The guys on the porch are standing now. One is approaching Sink with a smile, the other two stalking toward Rick with malicious intent written all over their faces. Sink holds his hands up, and with an easy “It’s okay, boys, he’s with me,” their expressions relax. One of them redirects, slapping Sink’s back with a familiarity that borders on obscene. The other nods slowly, now eyeing Rick in open curiosity.

Rick’s brain is short circuiting.

Little Sink is one of the Damned. Shit, little Sink, the gentle, easy-going, laughing, hardly-more-than-a-child is president of the Damned.

And he’s brought Rick to the clubhouse.

Before Rick can fully wrap his mind around it, Sink is turning to pin him with those giant brown eyes. He’s grinning, winking, and Rick is fucking putty in his tiny hands. “Coming?” he smirks.

Intrigued, breathless, and more than a little whipped, Rick kills his bike and follows Sink into the clubhouse.

Some quick notes:

Yeah, Sink is still Rick’s grandson here, because I am all about that incest kink. They just haven’t figured it out yet.

“Sink” is short for “Sinkhole” because Sink really likes taking it up the ass. He’s fucking insatiable. Just imagine Rick’s face when he finds out.

This whole plot is based on a story that one of my work friends told me. He’s an old dude, and ended up escorting the fucking president of one of the 1%ers across the southwest, totally unknown until the dude felt safe enough to put on his colors. Not sure if they ever hooked up, though.

Yes, I ride.

[jenguerrero]

We moved to Texas about 10 years ago, and fell in love with some of its iconic foods: queso, kolaches, migas, sweet tea, and smoked brisket. Oh baby, that’s good brisket! I read all the books. No, that’s not an exaggeration. I like to tackle things nerd-on. And I practiced, just making one little modification each time til I got my perfect brisket.

Give it a try! If you love it, come find me again! 😀

Jen’s Barbecue Smoked Brisket

The day before your barbecue….

12 lb whole packer brisket – Costco carries some beautiful ones! This one is 13 1/2 lbs

So what you’re looking at here is *mostly* the flat. This will face down on the grill. I trim away the messy fat off this side. That stripe of fat that’s running diagonally, is what separates the flat (most of the pic) from the point (you can see a little bit of it about the dividing fat line). I trim the excess fat from the diagonal down. There was a hard chunk of fat without any meat in the bottom right corner, so I took that off, too.

Then I flip if over to the fat cap side, and trim the fat to about ¼ inch. (Some people prefer 1/2 inch. If you like fattier meat, you might want to trim a little less than I do.) The oddly shaped bit that sticks up at the rounded end, mostly on the fat cap side, is called the point.

Just note which is the flat and point, so that you’re able to position the thermometer probe correctly later.

Rub 3 Tablespoons Lawry’s seasoned salt 3 Tablespoons black pepper 1 ½ teaspoons garlic powder 1 ½ teaspoons chili powder 1 ½ teaspoons paprika 1 teaspoon mustard Mix the rub ingredients together and shake all over the brisket. Set it on a baking sheet in the fridge, so it’ll be all ready the next morning.

The day of your barbecue….timed about 11 ½ hours before dinner….

Set up your smoker to cook at 225°F. I’ve got a kamado-style grill. I build a nice natural charcoal fire. (If you’ve got an electric smoker, turn it on and set it to 225°F. Don’t add any chips til it hits 225°F! They wont start smoking until its good and hot.)

When it hits about 215°, I toss on 5 big mesquite or hickory wood chunks. Then I set the diffuser plate in. This allows smoking with indirect heat. Set a small pan on the diffuser plate with a little liquid. Water, apple cider, or a half can of cheap yellow beer all work perfectly. And finally add the grill grate with a thermometer attached to monitor the grill temperature at the level where your meat will be cooking. Adjust your top and bottom vents to keep the cooker at 225°F.

When it’s holding at 225°F, set your brisket in, fat side up. Smoke for about 7 hours, making sure that the temp stays right (I don’t worry as long as it’s staying between 210-240). In the kamado, that’s enough to smoke it. (If you’re using electric, add a small handful of chips each hour.)

Probe 1 is in the center of the flat. It starts at about 45 degrees. When it hits 170, I wrap the brisket, put the thermometer back in, and return it to the smoker. When it hits 205, it’s done. Probe 2 is clipped onto the grill grate to give me the temperature of the smoker right at meat level. I’m looking for 225, but am just checking to see that it stays between about 210-240. I love this thermometer. He’s a nice value play at $60, and comes with 2 probes and a grill grate clip. It has meat settings and doneness levels pre-programmed, so you’re set even if you don’t have your temps memorized. I *wish* it was Wi-Fi, but it’s not. ThermoPro TP20 Wireless Remote Digital Cooking Food Meat Thermometer with Dual Probe for Smoker Grill BBQ Thermometer

Wrap the brisket in Pink Butcher Paper. (Amazon sells it. I’ve seen it at restaurant supply stores and grill stores, too.) Stick a probe thermometer right in the center of the flat of the brisket. Put it back in the smoker, and let it cook til that internal temperature probe reads 205°, about 3 more hours. I used to pull it anywhere between 200-205, but after reading the Franklin BBQ book, I pulled one at 200 and the next at 205, and laughed when we noticed the difference.

Remove it from the cooker and leave it in its butcher paper. Wrap the whole thing in a double layer of foil and rest for an hour. If it goes a little longer than that, it’s not a problem.

Slice that smoky deliciousness (a serrated bread knife will do the trick if you don’t have a brisket slicer) and hand it to people that are about to be a whole lot happier. You did it, you barbecuing magician, you! I love this brisket knife, and it’s cheap! Yay! Mercer Culinary Millennia 14-Inch Granton-Edge Slicer Knife. I recently picked up an electric slicer for roast beef po’ boys, and that’s flipping fantastic for brisket, too. Not so cheap… Chef’sChoice Electric Food Slicer.

This must be served with pickles and raw onions. Barbecue sauce and cheap white bread are optional. I can’t give you my barbecue sauce recipe, because it’s not mine. We love the espresso BBQ sauce from Franklin’s BBQ. Found the recipe online for you! Franklin’s Espresso Barbecue Sauce. My youngest can’t quick poking her finger in the sauce and licking it. If you’re on your way to our house, sorry. Yeah, she does that. And she doesn’t apologize. She laughs when you catch her. If you’re a book nerd, you might already have the recipe. I found it in three of my books, Aaron Franklin’s Franklin Barbecue: A Meat-Smoking Manifesto, Steven Raichlen’s Barbecue Sauces, Rubs, and Marinades–Bastes, Butters & Glazes, Too, and Terry Thompson-Anderson’s Texas on the Table: People, Places, and Recipes Celebrating the Flavors of the Lone Star State. 

Great side dishes: coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, mashed potatoes, baked beans, corn on the cob, jell-o salad, fruit salad. About that corn….

Jen’s Chile Lime Corn

I love lime flavor on corn. The powdered lime has a concentrated lime flavor and since it’s moisture free, it doesn’t object to being mixed with butter. Magic, I tell you.

1 stick unsalted butter, softened 2 teaspoons kosher salt 2 teaspoons True Lime powder 1 teaspoon chili powder 1 teaspoon paprika Combine

8 cobs of corn Grill for 10-12 minutes. Brush with the tasty butter towards the end.

If this were summer, I’d buy corn in the husk, remove the silk, soak it for an hour, then brush it with the tasty butter, and pop it in the smoker when I pull the brisket off, and smoke it in the husks until it’s tender, about an hour to an hour and a half. 

The first pic is sliced with an electric slicer, and the second is hand sliced….

There are so many barbecue books that I love, but here are some of my absolute favorites……

Franklin Barbecue: A Meat-Smoking Manifesto. Although he does have recipes at the end, that’s not really what this book is about. It feels like you’re being mentored. Aaron walks you through all the components of barbecue from wood, to smoke, to meat selection, and you can see what he’s looking for, and how he’s interpreting it. If you’re a barbecue lover and at the nerdy end of the spectrum, I think you’ll love it. I read it cover to cover, unable to set it down, like the meat-smoking page-turner of a manifesto that it is.

    Meathead: The Science of Great Barbecue and Grilling. This one is a killer smoking and grilling book. His Last Meal Ribs are a thing of beauty. <sniff> If you’re an electronic recipe person, you can find him online at AmazingRibs.com.

Jen’s Barbecue Smoked Brisket and Chile Lime Corn We moved to Texas about 10 years ago, and fell in love with some of its iconic foods: queso, kolaches, migas, sweet tea, and smoked brisket.