Brad glanced up at him with a grin. "What's it take to make a man like you purr, I wonder?" he wanted to know.

"I haven't quite decided whether or not you seriously want to find out," Mack replied.

That grin again, half-hidden by those long, blonde waves. With a flick of his head, Brad shook the hair from his face and stepped around the bike behind Mack. "Can I get on it?" Before Mack could answer, he pressed his face into the leather seat, still warm from the ride, and drew in a deep breath. "It smells like you."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Mack asked, turning around. As he stepped away from the motorcycle, Brad swung his leg over and pulled himself into the seat. "Hey, get off my bike."

Wickedly, Brad dared him, "Come get me off."

Mack shook his head, bemused. Even out here by themselves, Brad kept up the flirty banter, but the longer he stalled, the more Mack began to suspect that there wasn't anything to it. Just a young cocktease, that's all, who got hard on the game but never scored. "You don't know what you're messing with, kid," Mack cautioned. "Show's over. Get off."

Brad's hands froze on the handlebars where he had been pretending to steer the bike, and when he looked at Mack, all playfulness was gone from his eyes. "One," he said, his tone serious, "don't call me kid. I'm younger than you but not a baby. Yeah, it's cute when you do it back at Sylvia's, and yeah it gets a laugh out of your friends, but between us? Drop it."

Mack raised an eyebrow, surprised. The kid--Brad--had spunk. "Two?" he asked.

"Two," Brad echoed. His smile returned slowly, starting at his lips and lighting up his eyes. "I know what I'm doing here, Mack. I'm not the one standing off to the side with his arms crossed like a disapproving parent at a keg party. Everything I've said, I'm more than ready to back up." Leaning back in the Electra Glide's wide seat, Brad ran his hands down his flat stomach to the prominent bulge in the front of his tight shorts. His fingers cupped the obvious erection and squeezed--Mack felt that hand on his own dick, those fingers encircling him. "I think it's you who doesn't want to find out what I'm talking about. I think you're the one who's scared."

Mack gave a derisive snort, but couldn't take his gaze away from those hands and the shiny red package between them. "I ain't scared of you--"

Brad interrupted. "Then get over here and prove it."