Claimed By The Biker Colusses

Gentle Power, Rough Desire

The garage lights hummed overhead like they were in on our secret.

Colossus still had me perched on the workbench, his big hands framing my hips like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. My legs dangled on either side of him, boots brushing his thighs. The kiss we’d just shared still buzzed on my lips — deep, hungry, and so damn human it made my chest feel too small.

He rested his forehead against mine, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “You’re trouble, Lena Voss,” he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice. A real one. The kind that crinkled the corners of his gray eyes and made the scar on his collarbone look less like a warning and more like a story I wanted to hear every night.

“Trouble’s my middle name,” I teased, tracing the edge of his cut with one finger. “Right after ‘Grease-Stained’ and ‘Doesn’t Take Shit.’”

A low chuckle rumbled out of him — that rare, deep sound that felt like a reward. “Should’ve guessed. Most girls see the patch and the size and either run or throw themselves at me. You just… fix my bike and call me a mountain man.”

I grinned and nipped his bottom lip. “Because you are a mountain. Big, grumpy, secretly soft in the middle.”

His hands flexed on my hips — not hard, never hard — but the heat in them made my pulse spike. “Soft, huh?” He leaned in, beard scraping my jaw as he kissed the spot just below my ear. Slow. Deliberate. Like he was memorizing me. “Keep talking like that and I might forget I’m supposed to be careful.”

I shivered, fingers curling into his tee. “Good. Forget it. I like you a little reckless… as long as it’s with me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes stormy with want and that old fear. “You don’t know what you’re asking, wrench girl. These hands—”

“These hands just held me like I was the only thing worth protecting in this whole damn compound.” I took one of them and pressed it flat against my chest, right over my racing heart. “Feel that? That’s not fear. That’s me choosing you, scars and all.”

Colossus exhaled like I’d punched him in the gut — but in the best way. His thumb stroked the curve of my breast through my shirt, light as a whisper, and the gentle power in that touch made my breath catch. Rough calluses against soft skin. A giant learning how to be tender.

“f**k, Lena,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

“Promise?” I whispered back, pulling him down for another kiss.

This one was slower, deeper, like we had all the time in the world even though bikes were rumbling outside for the night run. His tongue brushed mine, careful but hungry, and one hand slid under my shirt to rest against my bare lower back. The warmth of his palm spanned almost my entire waist. I arched into him, legs wrapping around his hips, and he groaned into my mouth — a sound so raw and needy it made me dizzy.

He lifted me effortlessly, turning so my back pressed against the cool metal of the chopper frame. The contrast — cold steel behind me, burning giant in front — sent sparks everywhere. His mouth moved to my neck, beard scraping deliciously as he kissed a path down to my collarbone.

“You taste like grease and trouble,” he murmured against my skin. “My favorite combination.”

I laughed breathlessly, threading my fingers through his thick hair. “And you taste like the only man who’s ever made me feel small and powerful at the same time.”

He smiled against my throat — I felt it — and the simple joy in that smile cracked something wide open inside me. This wasn’t just heat. This was Colossus letting me see the man under the enforcer: the one who laughed at bad jokes, who worried about crushing flowers he didn’t mean to step on, who wanted to be soft for someone.

A sharp knock on the garage door shattered the moment.

“Colossus! Ride’s leaving in five. Viper says bring the wrench girl — she might need to tweak the bikes before we hit Reaper territory.”

It was Jax, the prospect, sounding way too cheerful.

Colossus groaned and pressed one last kiss to my lips — quick, fierce, full of promise. “To be continued,” he said, voice husky. “When we get back. No interruptions.”

I slid off the workbench on shaky legs, adjusting my vest. “You better. I’ve got plans for those gentle hands of yours, mountain man.”

He smirked — actually smirked — and it made him look ten years younger. “Careful. I might start liking being called that.”

We stepped outside together. The compound was alive with engines and low voices. Viper gave me a once-over and nodded. “You ride in the cage again. Colossus rides point. Any Reaper bullshit, you stay behind him.”

“Got it, Prez,” I said, saluting with my wrench.

Colossus helped me into the van, his hand lingering on my lower back a second longer than necessary. Before he closed the door he leaned in, voice low just for me. “Stay safe. I’ve got plans too… and they don’t involve you getting hurt.”

The door shut. Through the tinted window I watched him swing onto his Harley, massive frame settling like it was made for the road. He glanced back once, gray eyes finding mine, and that crooked smile flashed again.

My phone buzzed in my pocket — another unknown number. I ignored it, but the screen lit up with a text preview: Mom: He’s bleeding, Lena. Please.

I powered it off and leaned back against the seat.

The chemistry between Colossus and me was no longer a slow burn. It was a wildfire.

But fires like this had a way of lighting up everything around them — including the shadows my family kept dragging straight to our door.