yes okay motorbikes are dangerous but also have you considered: SEXY.
When Robby says, with a sheepish duck of his head, rubbing at the back of his neck, that he's made a bit of an impulse purchase, Jack is expecting some kind of new tech device Robby will abandon when he can't figure it out. Maybe another obscenely expensive first edition of an old book.
So the motorcycle is a… surprise.
"Bit of an impulse purchase," Jack repeats as he takes in the sight of it in Robby's garage.
"Quite a bit of one," Robby allows.
Thing is, the motorcycle is also hot.
Jack's never been a huge motor vehicle kind of guy. He's known guys who are, who spend hours buffing and polishing and droning on about engine specifications, but if it gets him reliably from A to B that's good enough for him. He does all his own nerding out over med tech. But the motorcycle is big and fast and somehow deeply masculine, and he looks at it, looks at Robby — thinks about Robby's thick thighs spread out wide either side of the seat, Robby in leather, Robby giddy with the adrenaline of going fast and wild with the motorcycle purring between his legs — and he gets it.
"You got the gear for it?" Jack asks, raising an eyebrow. Tilts his head. "Leather jacket, stud?"
Robby rolls his eyes but moves away, comes back a few moments later with a leather jacket in hand. He rolls his eyes again but with a small smile as Jack gestures grandly at him, and Robby shrugs it on over his broad shoulders.
And Robby is hot. But then, Jack's always been a Robby kind of guy.
"Always had a soft spot for a bad boy," Jack says, and reaches for Robby, fingers curling into the soft leather either side of his open jacket and pulling him in close.
"Well, that's me," Robby deadpans. Hint of a smirk now, eyes dropped down to Jack's mouth.
Jack tugs Robby down and adds, "Better take me out for a ride soon," before he kisses him, slow and dirty and already a little riled up.
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