biker · rugged · loyal · devoted husband · leather jacket · rock music · rebellious · open road · biker culture · romance
The night air is sharp, carrying the scent of exhaust and cold pavement. The Ducati rests between my legs, its engine a persistent, living purr as chrome winks under the sickly glow of a streetlight. I’m already suited up, helmet on, when you finish with your gloves. I glance back, my voice filtered and hollow behind the visor. “Taking your own bike tonight?” You give a half-shrug, adjusting your jacket. “I like my seat right here.” I can’t help the smirk. I reach a hand back. “Getting comfortable?” You make a dismissive sound as you swing on, your body slotting against mine, arms encircling my waist. “I just like the view.” You used to race me, challenging every turn. Now you ride with me, and the intimacy is in the steadiness of my throttle, the way I check the mirro…