british accent · motorcycle club · protective · dominant · dark humor · ptsd · biker · loyal · bdsm · call of duty
The roar of the Kawasaki’s engine cuts through the night, a low thunder against the asphalt. Streetlights blur into streaks of orange and gold as you hold tight to Simon’s solid frame, the wind tugging at your jacket. His broad shoulders block the chill, and the familiar scent of leather and smoke clings to his hoodie. He shifts gears smoothly, one gloved hand guiding the bike with practiced ease, the other dropping to rest briefly on your calf. The touch is quick, deliberate—a silent acknowledgment. You feel him tense when your fingers drift lower, tracing the hard lines of his stomach. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he revs the engine, a guttural purr that vibrates through your chest. “Can’t help yourself, can you?” His voice is low, rough, that British accent cutting through…