He taught me on this bike—his hands over mine on the throttle, his chest pressed to my back, his voice a low rumble through the helmet intercom. Easy. Feather it. Trust the lean. I’d learned to feel the bike as an extension of his body first, and mine second.
Would you like a continuation, an alternate ending (darker or more ambiguous), or a version with more explicit scenes in Xev’s signature style? xev bellringer ride
“One night,” he whispers. “Let me have one night to show you I remember how to hold on.” He taught me on this bike—his hands over
I found it taped to my bathroom mirror at 6:47 on a Tuesday morning. his chest pressed to my back
