Berzerker Read online

  Berzerker

  Twirled World Ink 1

  J.M. Dabney

  Copyright © 2016 J.M. Dabney

  Cover Art © 2016 Winterheart Design

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0-9975943-8-1

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9975943-8-6

  DEDICATION

  To the lovers of all characters no matter size or shape, color, religion or lack thereof. Because as it should be Love is Love.

  CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  Author’s note

  1 Black Leather, a Hairy Belly and Knuckle Tattoos

  2 The Mission is a Go

  4 Attack of the Nudist

  5 Cabin Fever Has Set in

  6 Loving the Future In-Laws

  7 That Escalated Quickly

  8 Landon’s On the Run

  9 To Tease or not to Tease?

  10 A Study in Patience

  11 All Bets are Off

  12 Because Grown-Ups Understand Boundaries

  13 Ambushed by the Bitchy Ex

  14 Oh Shit, This was Serious!

  15 Dammit, did he have a Stalker?

  16 He’s about to Lose his Job

  17 That Motherfucker Fucked Up!

  18 What the Fuck is Zerk doing?

  19 What’s an Engagement Party without a Barfight?

  Epilogue

  Just Call him the Twirled World Matchmaker

  Author’s note

  Although this is a series each title can be read as a standalone with a Happily Ever After and no Cliffhanger.

  Thank you for Reading!

  1 Black Leather, a Hairy Belly and Knuckle Tattoos

  Today proved he shouldn’t have fucking bothered getting out of bed. Brian set at his station in Twirled World Ink and tried not to sink into the floor with the need to disappear. Was it only twenty-four hours earlier he’d fooled himself into believing he could have something good? He scrubbed his huge, tattooed hands over his face and ruffled his thick beard. If he cared, he’d think it was time for a trim, but he didn’t. Before the ex he was happy with who he was.

  For a year and a half, he’d dated the same guy, which was a record for him. Before it was a few months tops and then he’d find some excuse to run. With his attitude and gruff nature, the only place he fit was with the other crazies of Twirled. Finding someone for a quick blow job or fuck was easy enough, but contradictory to outward appearance, he wanted weird things—a relationship with a guy that saw him beyond the tattoos, belly and his Harley Fatboy— Someone who took the time to look passed all the shit everyone considered flaws.

  A rumble sounded in his chest and he shook his head.

  Ron was a bit out of his league. He’d always assumed the slick, pretty man was slumming or whatever. When they’d moved in together a year ago, he pushed his insecurities aside. The rational part of his brain told his ass not to move in, but did he listen: Fuck no.

  A few months ago, Ron received a promotion at work, started looking for houses and eventually he’d found the perfect one. It was too flashy for Brian’s tastes, but he thought he’d get used to it. It turns out he didn’t have to worry about that. Ron never intended him to live there.

  Which is the reason he was at work on his day off, hours ahead of the doors opening. He was homeless, wasn’t the first time, well, maybe he wasn’t homeless. He could definitely go back to the Twirled house. Most of his friends lived in the same place and he knew no one rented out his old room, yet he couldn’t make himself call Trouble and explain what was going on.

  Trouble and the rest never liked Ron, understandable since Ron wasn’t exactly the bike runs and roadhouse type. They worked long, weird hours so when they had free time they partied hard and hung out. Ron thought it unnecessary to spend so much time with the people you worked and lived with.

  The fateful and soon-to-be-realized fucked up day he met the man was when Ron came in to get his first ink done. A maze of scroll work with initials hidden within its depths. It looked like something you’d find on a wrought iron gate in front of a stuffy old mansion. That should’ve been his first damn clue.

  He hadn’t been a fan of it, but really, it was Ron’s skin. He could do what he wanted with it. A few weeks later they’d went on a date. If he looked back with an objective mind, then he’d have realized earlier it was a disaster in the making. He just couldn’t put his finger on the early signs.

  “Zerk?”

  A beautiful masculine voice jerked his attention to the back of the shop when Landon Phelps his boss’s son appeared, a huge smile on his too gorgeous face. He shouldn’t be noticing anything on Landon was gorgeous or otherwise.

  “Can’t stay away from the place, not even on your day off,” Landon quipped

  “Hey, Landon, what you doing here?”

  He didn’t want to go into details about why he was there. Landon was a sweet guy, but he was also best friends with the rest of the shop crew. They’d know this bullshit in no time. Fuckers were famous for group texts.

  “Berzerker.”

  Oh fuck, he knew that tone, and in no more than three syllables, the man brought him to his proverbial knees ready to confess. Landon was like a feeling’s barometer. No one kept secrets from him. Someone could utter one word and Landon was all over their mood. He’d never met someone as empathetic as Landon. It was annoying sometimes, especially when things were best kept to oneself.

  A Twirled intervention was not on his to-do list anytime soon.

  “What,” He was about to get up when a compact soft body sat sideway on his lap. “Personal space, Landon.” He knew it was pointless as soon as the statement was out of his mouth.

  “You’ve worked here three years, when have I cared about your personal space?”

  He knew he wasn’t getting out of it so he just blurted out his latest fuck up. “Ron broke up with me.”

  “And? He was a bit of a douche,” Landon paused and then turned a questioning look to him, “Wait, weren’t you two supposed to move into your new place today?”

  “His new place, he never intended for me to go with him. He packed his shit and left mine behind,” He cleared his throat and started to perfectly imitate Ron, “I have a look and reputation to protect now and an ugly man like you—”

  “Fuck him.”

  The sheer vehemence in Landon’s tone took him by surprise.

  No matter growing up in a rough bike and tattoo world, Landon rarely cursed until he had a few drinks in him. The last time they got him drunk they’d counted the times Landon said the word fuck, but they’d lost track halfway through the night. He was also a drunk cuddler and Zerk would admit it was cute when Landon did it.

  “So, we moving you home?”

  Landon asked as if it was a foregone conclusion. Since he’d taken the job at Twirled there’d been a steady revolving door until recently. They’d finally solidified a crew in the last year.

  “I don’t think I can deal with the I-told-you-so right now.” He loved the guys, but they could be assholes when proved right.

  “That’s just everyone being them.”

  “I can stay in a motel for a few days until—”

  “Not a damn chance. This is what’s happening you can come home with me.”

  “I can’t do—”

  He almost started laughing at the constant interruptions. It was classic Landon. If he wasn’t getting his way, he’d hammer away by cutting someone off until they conceded victory to him.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Quit interrupting—”

  “No. Look. I’m rarely there with my work schedule and traveling. You can lick your wounds and get over the butt hurt, although I know you like the butt—”

  He couldn’t resist the laughter that started deep in his chest, “Can I say for all the preppy khaki cuteness, you’re an asshole.”

  “See you and assholes,” Landon looked so smug, “Come on. Let me get the paperwork so I can do the books tonight and we’ll go home.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can or I’ll force you to look at the pictures the parental units sent me.”

  “No,” Zerk shouted.

  Gib and Peaches were off on their yearly anniversary getaway and this year it was some nudist resort in the Caribbean. He didn’t think Landon had pictures with naked body parts, but he sure as fuck didn’t want to chance it.

  Zerk still had to look down at Landon even with the man on his lap and watched an onyx brow slowly lift.

  “Fine, but it’s only until I find another place.” He agreed as his gut told him he would.

  “Deal, but it’s not like I don’t have the room for you and Herc. Speaking of Herc, where’s my boy?”

  “He’s chilling in the moving van. I was just trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do.”

  “You left him alone. You know how sensitive the baby is,” Landon shouted.

  He nearly fell before Zerk caught him and settled him securely on his lap.

  “Well, we got a plan. I’ll grab everything and you can follow me home. We can get you moved in and settled, but then I have to go to the office for a bit.”

  “Okay.” He agreed because he didn’t see any other option. More than likely he’d be back living with his friends soon, but he needed some time to himself.

  # # #

  A few hours later, Zerk stood in a sparsely decorated guest room. Just a queen-size bed, a dresser and functional nightstands. Landon left a few minutes before to head back to the office.

  To be honest, he figured he should be dev
astated, but he was more dinged up by Ron’s parting shots about his looks and job. He’d grown up on a ranch in East Texas. He was as at home on horseback as he was his Harley Fatboy. The soft hum of his tattoo machine soothed him as nothing else in his life ever had.

  The sketches he’d started as a child turned into a dream when one of his father’s new hands hired on. Stu had been covered in colorful ink and at eight he’d asked the man so many questions. He’d started his apprenticeship as soon as he’d battled his Dad for freedom. Zerk loved the ranch, but something about those tattoos and the stories that went along with them. They had drawn him more than the sun rising on the land he’d assumed would be his one day.

  He hadn’t looked back or regretted it for one second, regrets weren’t in his makeup.

  A heavy weight settled against his leg and he looked down at Herc. The English mastiff topped out at a solid two hundred pounds. The original owner hadn’t realized the care involved in having such a large pet. Zerk’s sheer size of six-five and two hundred and seventy pounds made Herc perfect for him.

  A loud huff made him shake his head. “He’ll be home soon. Just don’t get too attached; we won’t be here long.”

  Telling Herc not to get attached to his already favorite person was stupid. The massive dog didn’t pay attention to anyone except Zerk. Although, once he’d started working for Twirled and Landon walked through the door the first time, Herc was attached to the man’s hip any time he was around.

  “Let’s get unpacked and settle in. Landon will be home at six, maybe we can throw together something for dinner.”

  Another loud harrumph and he was left alone. Great. His dog was going to sulk. Not only did he lose his boyfriend, now his dog had a new favorite. “Pathetic, Anderson, that’s what you are. Pathetic.”

  2 The Mission is a Go

  His man, his man, was in his house and that’s where Zerk was staying. Landon waited too damn long for Brian “Berzerker” Anderson to get rid of that douche boyfriend. Now if he could just get passed his insecurities, jump Zerk and claim all that sexy burly man then he’d be happy. Well, not jump him exactly, but that was on the to-do list too. He just didn’t know if he could do it. Fantasy and reality were two entirely different things, and real Zerk liked him as a friend, while fantasy Zerk never left Landon’s bed.

  He’d known he was different from his peers and even in his own family since he realized he never quite fit. Landon grew up in one tattoo shop or another since he could remember. At first he learned the business at his mother or father’s knees. His lullaby the hum of a tattoo machine as it moved over virgin skin. Bikers and freaks his babysitters. Although, sweet, short and slim Landon was always on the outside looking in at his family and friends.

  He was a stuffy accountant with no tattoos to his name. He’d decided to get one and then the day he was going to schedule it, Zerk showed up at Twirled. Landon had decided it wasn’t the right time yet, but deep down he’d known the truth. No one else would do the ink. The sketch was tacked up over Zerk’s station and had been for three years. Every time Zerk asked him was he ready all Landon could say was not yet.

  Zerk didn’t understand what the tattoo meant. Not the design, but that held significance too, but it was Landon’s claim on the big, gruff man. To him, there was an intimacy to the art, an undeniable trust. Needles piercing skin and inking permanence into a blank canvas. He trusted Zerk, but Landon didn’t trust himself—just yet.

  Ordering Zerk to move in with him was the first step. So far that was the only step, but he’d figure out the rest of the Win Zerk Mission later.

  He gathered his laptop bag from the passenger seat and opened his door, slipping from the car. For a few minutes, he longingly stared at his garage where his vintage Knucklehead languished. He needed to take the guys up on one of their Sunday runs soon. It had been months since he’d been out with them.

  Not wanting to wait any longer, he jogged towards the front door and opened it. Walking inside, he called out to Zerk. “Honey, I’m home.”

  Huge paws on hardwood greeted him seconds before Herc was barreling toward him. “Hi, baby.” He sat his bag aside and knelt on the floor to give Herc scratches. The fearsome animal whined like a big baby.

  “He’s either been in your bed or beside the door all damn day.” Zerk grumped and Landon couldn’t help laughing at the man’s sulk.

  Zerk leaned against the door frame pouting and rolling his eyes, but it was the strip of hairy belly that nearly made him drool before he controlled himself. In all the years he’d known Zerk, never once had he seen the man shirtless. That little peek of the rounded belly was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Man, he was sad, he laughed to himself.

  “He missed me. You rescinded visitation when you got with the douche.”

  “Yea, yea, I made that chicken stir fry you like for dinner.”

  “Great, thanks,” With one last rub Landon pushed to his feet. “Let me get changed and I’ll be right back.”

  “No hurry. The rice has a few more minutes.”

  Landon nodded and headed for his room.

  Okay, he needed clothes. His whole nudist lifestyle had to change. He’d grown up in a house and family where nudity was normal. He didn’t have the greatest body, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. Not everyone could look like some cut supermodel and he wasn’t attracted to the slick, perfect look either. Gruff and husky Zerk was just his type, especially that hairy belly and thick, grab worthy beard.

  He changed quickly into a pair of loose, seen better days jeans and a t-shirt that didn’t quite meet the waistband leaving his flat stomach exposed. Landon mussed his perfectly styled hair leaving it in a mess of uncontrolled waves. For work he parted it to the side and tamed it with unknown amounts of product to put on a façade of professionalism. At home, he preferred the sex-mussed bed-head look. Sadly, it only got that way by him using his fingers to mess it up.

  He didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d been fucked—or even had someone fuck him how he liked to be fucked. The last guy he’d dated for a few months was way too gentle. Landon sighed, he couldn’t remember the last time a man left him with fingertip bruises on his hips or bite marks—bruises his shirt would tease all day and remind him of the night or morning before. He might be tiny by male standards, but dammit he wanted to be manhandled. Sex bruises were the best bruises.

  The scents of dinner called his name. He hadn’t taken the time to grab lunch since he’d brought Zerk back to his house to get settled. He walked down the hall and he entered the kitchen to find the massive man with his back to him. Landon smirked and headed straight for him. He wrapped his arms around Zerk’s waist. “I’m keeping you,” he stated as he leaned to the side to see around Zerk’s mass.

  “Don’t get used to it. You know my weird hours.”

  “I’m still on those weird hours. Too many years of being at the shop and time zone differences with work trips. What do you need help with?”

  “Nothing, the tables already set. Just need to make the plates.”

  “Let me grab them and we can eat,” He stepped away to grab plates, “Plans tonight? Trouble sent me a text earlier about everyone getting together about ten at Scary’s for beer and billiards.”

  “His house or the bar?”

  “Bar, he complained of cleanup and all the bodies he had to step over the next morning. I think the last straw was when he found Trouble naked in the middle of his living room and had no idea how he got that way.”

  “Trouble doesn’t need a reason to get that way.”

  Trouble was a sweetheart. He became friends with him when they were kids and until Trouble went off to a short-lived run at college they’d been inseparable. His best friend had some shit going on, but it wasn’t his place to share Trouble’s secrets, not even with Zerk.

  “I didn’t want to tell him I took his clothes.”

  “Why the fuck did you take his clothes?”

  “He lost them in a bet.”

  “Why would—” Zerk shook his head and turned his attention back to the stove, “I don’t even want to know.”