Gang Up: A Bikerland Novel (18 page)

It was close to the agreed upon time—each row of front line warriors waiting for the other to move, waiting for the order from their leaders.

Case himself was ready, keeping a watchful eye on Troy. In the distance, though, he could see Brall. Dressed for the fight of his life. Leather over his broad form, a thick pipe in one hand and a gun in the other. Which made sense. There was no guarantee that Case would keep his word. Case himself was dressed for a real battle for the same reason.

Troy held his arm up, readying his men. Case knew he loved a good speech.

“Boys!” he cried. “We're gonna have ourselves a battle today. We're gonna have ourselves a victory! We're gonna have ourselves—”

But he had to stop talking then—because no one was listening to him anymore. Sandra had walked out in front of all of them, a terrible serious look on her face. The roar of the bikes died down so that she could be heard. Heard in front of all the men, all at once. Just like Case and Brall had planned it. Behind her were five men and women—townspeople from Temple.

She spoke plainly. “I am here to speak against this man.” She pointed to Troy. “You all know him. You all know what he is. He is a snake, pure and simple, and he always has been. Always.”

Some murmurs in the crowd. No one necessarily disagreed. Even Troy's own men saw his snake-like qualities as something of a plus. Troy himself looked uneasy at this declaration, his gaze casting shiftily at the townspeople behind Sandra.

“To escalate the conflict against the Cauldron,” Sandra continued, “Troy acted alone and killed their man Carthage. When Case did not respond immediately, Troy took it upon himself to destroy the grain tower and part of the Compound to incite his actions against Brall.”

These accusations held weight with the crowd. The first was true beyond doubt—and the second made a certain sort of canny sense. Everyone knew Troy to be devious.

“But his worst offense—what I cannot forgive him for, what I find even worse than the murder of innocents under our protection in Temple, is that it was Troy who killed Titus.
My
Titus.
Our
Titus. And this conflict, however it shall end, cannot continue with a traitor in our midst.”

The crowd did not like this at all. Some murderous insults came out against Troy—plenty of people already believed it had been him who did the deed. Some others called for proof.

She gestured to the men and women behind her—five in all.

“These good people—who have no stake in this conflict, who do not care who runs Temple—they all saw Titus run down and shot in the head by Troy. Just like he did to Carthage, which we
all
know Troy did. The very same way! This man,” she pointed to Gadson, the town baker. “He received favors from Troy up until this point. Special protection, special payments for his goods. Why would he turn on Troy now, you ask? He was protected and paid. He turns on Troy now because this has gone too far! Because he wants
justice
.”

The crowd was boiling now. Case's men and Troy's men began to separate out—but curiously, even Troy's men began to separate from their own. There were plenty who were willing to believe such truths about Troy and not follow him. Not bad men, all.

Foregoing all deception, though, Troy lunged at Sandra with the knife in his hands. She sidestepped his clumsy attack, though, and knocked him into the dust. Troy leapt up and charged again, but Case was there and punched him down.

It felt good, hitting the bastard in the mouth. The son of a bitch who killed his father. Case decided he would do it again. He kicked Troy's knife away and then kicked him in the ribs, knocking the wind from him. Then he pummeled him on the ground. No one interfered, and before long Troy's face was bloody from Case's efforts.

Case wanted to beat the man to death. But Troy's personal retinue approached fast, and they would protect Troy no matter what Sandra said. They were paid by Troy; they depended on him. So slowly, Case backed up toward his own men. Maybe there would be a battle after all.

“Kill him! Kill both of them! Kill the traitors!”

But his voice carried no weight anymore, not with the crowd. Now they were against him. It was one thing to be accused of murder. But to try to attack the matron of the entire Family, the widow of their leader? Heavy rumbles of disapproval littered the crowd. Troy’s warriors tapered away one another, thinning out and merging into Case's crowd. Only his most faithful stayed behind and circled up around Troy; there were not many. Brall’s soldiers, as agreed upon, gave them nowhere to run. Troy and his people were surrounded.

“You sons of bitches!” Troy yelled, his voice distorted from his broken nose. “You wouldn't be nowhere without me. Nowhere at all!”

It might be possible to kill Troy without losing any more men himself, but Case couldn't take the chance.

“Leave here,” Case told him. “Leave, and never return. Take your poison elsewhere, and we’ll let you live.”

“Fine.” Troy spat on the ground. “The hell with all of you.”

Troy made to walk off. Waving a hand, Brall ordered his soldiers to make a path for them.

Case turned then to his mother-in-law. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I—Case!”

Troy ran at him, that long sick knife in one hand. But Brall was there in a flash, inhumanly fast for a man his size, and clubbed him hard over the head with the pipe he carried.

Troy fell to the ground, dead instantly from the mighty blow. Brall tilted his head slow, watching the life fade from Troy's eyes.

A cheer went up from the crowd watching—both Family and Cauldron. There was never a bad time for either group for a little good sport.

Case looked at Troy's new corpse for several moments, shaking his head. Then, he turned to Brall.

“You saved me.”

Brall shrugged. “I guess I did.”

They shook hands. The crowd cheered again.

“You and me, we ought to talk,” said Case. “About this town. How to run it. I'm starting to think we can do more together.”

“That,” Brall smiled, “is not such a bad idea.”

It was only now that Robin and Abigail approached, hand in hand.

“Boys,” said Abigail. “If you’re done being best friends and all, we had something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh yeah?” Case laughed. “What’s that, doll?”

“It was more like a proposal. A ceremony,” explained Robin. “To bring us all together. And to get your dicks real,
real
wet in us.”

Brall and Case both were interested now. And their interest only grew as Robin and Abigail explained the entirety of their plan.

––––––––

T
he two gangs met on common ground. In the middle of town, outside of the Compound walls, where everyone could come watch. Robin loved it—loved the attention it garnered her. It made feel like Abigail, purposefully going after the gaze of others on her body, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed it. She luxuriated in it.

She deserved it, she realized finally.

All her life she had been trying to be shy. Trying not to overstep, to stay out of everyone’s way. To stay out of Troy’s way, honestly. If ever she was too loud, too good, too pretty, too bad, too anything that wasn’t completely neutral and just enough out of his way that he wouldn’t notice how out of his way she was being—then he was hounding her. Tormenting her. Urging and trying to be inside her.

Inside her, where he had been.

And it had been glorious, that entering. It had been glorious because it had left not a mark on her, not a taint. It was her triumph, the one moment where she knew absolutely what she had hoped for all along—that a man like Troy couldn’t own her anymore than a hawk owned the sun simply because it flew in front of it from time to time.

But Brall...her perfect, mammoth Brall. There was a man. A real man—no, a Real Man, a Real Male, a God to keep her in her place at his feet. Her pussy ached with such thoughts. Her soul burning, sides aching, lungs quaking to have him push her down and enter her once more.

Across from Robin was Abigail. Together, they wore almost nothing—just thin white cloth robes to cover their stately, toned bodies. The robes flattened from the wind against their bodies, revealing their curves and the large swell of their respective chests. For some reason Robin couldn’t surmise, Abigail looked nervous as the men closed in on them.

“Are you all right?”

Abigail nodded slow. “Yes. I think so. It’s just...” she shook herself. “Before, when I did the indoctrination, it was all about me, even though it was about everyone. It affected everyone, I mean. Now it’s about all of them, too, and I know it.”

“We are all of them,” said Robin, shaking her hair out as the men approached. “They’ve nowhere to be if they’re not flooding us with their cum. Filling us with their cocks. They’re nothing at all if they’re not fucking us.”

She said this was a casually imperial attitude, with all the intellectual capacity and emotional reserves she had at her command. The men had thought they ran things—and certainly they did in many ways—but it was for women that they did all their fighting.

Abigail bit her lip. “I don’t feel like I’m anything without Case fucking me.”

“That’s called balance, love. And it’s a beautiful thing.”

“I’m so glad it’s us,” Abigail said to Robin. “You and me. We deserve it.”

Abigail pulled her in then, kissing her fierce and hard. Their soft lips sliding over one another in furious, aggressive motions. God, she loved the idea of performing for men. They were all watching, all hooting and hollering at the beauties loving on one another.

When they finished the kiss, they were surrounded. All those men waited for them to give the say-so. And so, they each pulled at the other’s robes, revealing their naked bodies and kneeling down, facing one another. Slowly, grinning, they scooted back a bit—allowing enough room for two men to stand between their faces. Their beautiful, hot faces that soon would be fucked by the hardest, biggest cocks that their gangs had to offer.

Case and Brall approached together—their claim was first.

As a symbol of the peace between them, Case approached Robin, and Brall towered over Abigail. The girls leaned in and slid their mouths over the cocks of the other woman’s man, getting them nice and hard for one another. Robin’s heart filled with lust from the knowledge that the hard-on she gave Case would go on to fuck her best friend senseless.

It turned her on so much to watch Brall fuck another woman’s mouth and throat. Why wouldn’t it? What she loved most about him was how utterly masculine he was. That meant being virile; it meant having an uncontrollable, animal-like lust within him. If he had to exercise on it another woman—on any other woman—then all Robin expected was to be given the courtesy of being aware of it. She would cheer him on if he liked; she would gather virgins for him if that was what her man needed. Ancient Empresses did it for Emperors long ago; Robin read books. Why not do it for her own Emperor, her perfect conquering man?

Her lips slid hotly around Case’s cock, moaning with happy lust as his shaft grew in her mouth. He was going to be so hard, so wonderfully hard as he fucked his love. And it would be because of how well Robin sucked him.

At about the same time, the two men decided they were hard enough to get to the real business. Both of them were such virile hunks that even with a crowd of more than a hundred people watching, they easily got hard. Their ripped, hulking bodies only served to make Robin’s pussy drip more. She got down on her back, holding her pussy up to her man as an offering of love.

“No,” said Brall, grinning. “Turn around. I want to take your ass. I’ve already gotten your pussy.”

Robin knew he was teasing—he would want her pussy if that’s all she offered. But she offered everything to Brall, and he knew it. She gladly gave up her ass to him, bending over at the waist so that he could slide right in. Robin was not a short woman, but she did not have to bend her knees or adjust her posture at all to let Brall’s slick enormity, wet still from Abigail’s saliva, push into her tightest, most private entrance. Nothing had ever felt like that before—stretched so far, pushed into a space so tight.

Brall let out a long, shuddering grunt, slowly pumping out layers of precum into that forbidden canal as he slid deeper and deeper. The first thrust didn’t get him all that far, but the precum did its work for his shaft. After five or six slow thrusts, he was able to power up and go all the way in, balls deep.

His hands wrapped tight on her wide hips and clutched her tight to his pelvis, and Robin screamed with agony and ecstasy, both. Mostly the latter—it felt too fucking
good
to be filled like that to really be in much pain for long.

Robin couldn’t tell if Brall entered her first, or if Case entered Abigail first. But honestly, it didn’t matter—they were both fucked at just about the same time, entered fully and their faces pushed into one another. The two beautiful young women kissed wildly, their men pushing their mouths into one another as the girls kissed more and more.

Brall’s man—Garner—approached her from in front. Another cock for her: good! Eagerly, she slid her lips across his shaft, taking him inside of her warm, wet mouth. He started half-hard, perhaps nervous. But Brall—seeing his woman suck another man—only fucked Robin harder. Jealous, perhaps. The thought turned Robin on more, being able to spur a man like Brall to even higher heights of emotion.

But Brall’s new encouragement of strokes served in truth to make Robin suck Garner’s cock harder—to force her mouth faster and surer up and down his thickening shaft, indeed making it thicken all the quicker. Soon, Garner was fucking her throat wholesale. To make it hotter for him, Robin opened her eyes wide, staring up into him as he pushed down into her warm embrace.

Across from Robin, Abigail’s own brutal fucking was going gloriously, perhaps even better than Robin’s own. Case’s huge cock was driving hard into her cunt, but then of course he was—that was what Case deserved after so much bloody conflict. A nice, hot warm cunt from his special sisterslut.