Lyle and Sirius were outside of the bar, having a smoke, when the burly biker rode up and parked his hog out in front, and got off. He was a large man, well over six feet tall with a thick gut, wearing leather from neck to boot to glove, his face and head shaved to shining with a thick ring in his septum. Still, Lyle and Sirius had dealt with worse before, and when the guy gave them both a side long glance and smirked, Lyle let loose a stream of tobacco spit towards him.
“What’s so funny, fucker?”
“Don’t fuckin’ mess with us,” Sirius added.
The guy stopped and turned to them both and said, “Heh, not making trouble guys, I was just wondering if you knew that your friend there is a total faggot.”
Before they could reply he’d stepped into the noisy bar, and both guys felt their anger boiling.
“Fuck that fucker, callin’ you a fuckin’ faggot–let’s go kick his ass,” Sirius said.
“No fuckin’ way he’s getting away with calling you that,” Lyle said at the same time.
The two guys stopped and stared at each other then, and they realized that they had no idea who the guy had been talking about–but he’d clearly only been talking about one of them. They never did go find the guy in the bar–in fact, neither one of them said much for the rest of the evening, just throwing each other sidelong glances, and drinking more than they should have, before hopping into Sirius’ truck and heading back to the trailer park they both lived.
It was the dead of night when Lyle burst into Sirius’ trailer, mumbling, “No fuckin’ way am I the fuckin’ faggot around here, I’ll show that fucker–” but Sirius was waiting for him, and he tackled his friend to the ground. It wasn’t an easy fight, but Sirius finally pinned his friend down and started pummelling him with his fists until Lyle was pleading with him to stop, and then Sirius rolled him over and raped his ass for the first of many times until the next day, when they went back at the bar.
Sirius was drinking and smoking, as usual, but Lyle, eyes black and ass raw, was kneeling next to him, head down, when the biker arrived again. “Nice faggot you got there,” he said on his way into the bar.
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like him–no use for a faggot myself. Not really my thing.”
The biker walked over and gave Lyle a look over, roughly shoving a few gloved fingers into his ass before handing over a couple hundred bucks to Sirius. He collared Lyle up and dragged him into the bar behind him, Lyle only looking back at Sirius once, and the look chilled him a bit, and he chugged the rest of his beer.
The glare had said this: “You were lucky–this could have been you, if I’d beaten you. If I’m a faggot, then you’re a faggot too.”