samcro and mayans

You’d spent weeks trying to get Angel to take you Stockton to visit EZ. It wasn’t exactly a short drive, and truth be told it wasn’t a place that you really wanted to go by yourself. Every week you would ask him, and every week he would come up with a different reason why he couldn’t go.

“Do you even care?” you finally snapped one day.

It got Angel to stop in his tracks. Suddenly the juice that he had been so interested in pouring into his glass was no longer holding his attention. He slammed the carton down much harder than necessary. You knew that it was a low blow, and a question that you had no right to ask, but you were so sick of getting blown off because of excuses so thin that you could see through them without squinting.

He shook his head at you, jaw hardened. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

It was the meanest he’d ever sounded with you and it set you back on your heels. You nodded as you tried to pull your words back together, the look on his face having caused them to scatter. You sighed, looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him. “Sorry.”

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “You know I fucking—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your tone genuinely apologetic as you said, “and I’m sorry. That, that was fucked up. I shouldn’t have…”

He stood there silently for a few seconds after your voice trailed off. You were wondering if he was going to tell you to get the hell out of his place. That was usually how the discussion ended. He always found a way to say it somewhat nicely, but every week when you showed up, you always left empty-handed.

“Why do you wanna go so bad, anyway?” he finally asked as he put the carton of juice back in the fridge.

The question gave you pause—it felt like the answer to it was glaringly obvious. Instead of giving a straight answer, you flipped the question back on him. “Why don’t you? Don’t you…” you tried hard to pick your words carefully, “Don’t you miss him?”

He frowned for a moment. “’Course I miss him”

“Then why won’t you go with me?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as he tried to figure out the best way to answer that question. He busied himself with taking a sip from the glass he’d just filled, his gaze flitting everywhere that kept him from having to look you in the eyes.

Finally, he looked at you, hands still fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “The fuck am I supposed to say to him? He’s,” he shook his head, “he’s lookin’ at twenty years, and you want me to just go in and? What? Talk to him about the fucking weather?”

You frowned. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where Angel was coming from, but in your head it wasn’t a good enough reason to not go. How were they supposed to figure any of it out if he never showed up?

“You’re right,” you started, and you could see it on his face that he wasn’t expecting you to say that, “he is looking at twenty years.” You stepped in a little closer to him. “All the more reason to make sure you actually go and see him. You can’t,” you caught yourself, “we can’t just abandon him in there because it’s uncomfortable to show up.”

The hurt look on Angel’s face let you know that he could see you were right. It didn’t mean that he was going to cave to it easily. He sniffed, shaking his head slightly. “If it means that much to you, I’ll give you my fuckin’ keys and you can take my car up there yourself.”

“Angel—”

“No,” he stopped you short. Stepping in closer to you, he made himself a little taller, a little more intimidating. “You wanna go and see him? Fine. No one is stopping you. But don’t,” he shook his head, “don’t make this my fucking problem too.”

“But—”

“If he wanted me there,” his voice became sharper and sharper with every word, “he’d fucking tell me.”

“And how is he supposed to do that?!” You stepped in, putting yourself as close to chest-to-chest with him as you were able. “That’s your brother.”

“And he’s your, what, again?” he snapped. “Remind me?”

That stung in a way you hadn’t been expecting. “Fuck you.”

“Get out,” he said, nodding towards the door.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ leave.” He pointed with his hand this time, adding extra emphasis.

You did as he said, knowing that you weren’t going to get anywhere with him. You slammed the door behind you as you left, not sure if you were slamming it because of Angel, or because of the whole entire situation. None of it felt fair. None of it was fair. For a moment you wondered if you would be better off if you acted like Angel, just trying to turn a blind eye to it all and pretending that everything was normal. You just didn’t have that in you.

So you finally took matters into your own hands and made the long trek to Stockton with just the radio to keep you company. You discovered that there were quite a few stretches of highway that got next to no radio reception at all, so it was just you and the static from the speakers. If your mind hadn’t already been so loud, the near-silence would’ve driven you insane.

Once you were there, the last thing that you wanted to do was sit back down again. But that’s exactly what you were instructed to do once you’d made it through the very tight security of the Stockton County Correctional Facility. The waiting area wasn’t as packed as you thought it would be, which made you sad in a way. Clearly Angel wasn’t the only family member who didn’t care to make the time to show up.

Minutes kept ticking by, and you could feel yourself becoming restless. You tried not to fidget around too much, or look too nervous. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were anxious because you were doing something wrong. Some of the other people in the waiting area left to go visit whoever they were there for. You watched people come and go while you simply sat there in limbo waiting for your name to be called. A few different times you looked over at the man who was sitting behind the desk closer to the exit, and then over at the two correctional officers who were by the doorway that led to the actual visiting area. No one was making eye contact with you, and you didn’t want to walk up and start asking questions.

Finally, one of the guards walked over to you. “Sorry, Miss, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Wh-what? Did, did I do something wrong?” If there was something that you could fix, you’d do whatever they asked. They couldn’t just send you away, not when you’d already made it all the way there.

He shook his head, not sounding upset but not sounding overly sympathetic, either. “You didn’t. But you need to go.”

“Is EZ okay?” you asked, panic making your blood start to run cold. “Did something happen to him?”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” you cut him off even though you knew that you shouldn’t. “Why can’t I see him?”

You must’ve looked more pitiful than you thought, because for a moment the man’s face seemed just a little less jaded and unkind. It was a fleeting moment but it was long enough to convince him to tell you, “Said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh.” You hated how fucking sad and pathetic you sounded, especially to this guy of all people.

You tried not to think about the tears that were quickly gathering in your eyes as you grabbed your bag and stood up from your chair and started to make your way towards the door to leave. Getting out was a much faster process than getting in, especially when you hadn’t even gone in to actually see anyone.

The drive back home felt far longer than the drive out had. It felt like you had been crying for the entirety of it, but you knew that that wasn’t true. You still found it hard to believe that your body hadn’t run out of tears yet. Mile after mile of road disappeared beneath you but it still felt like you weren’t going fast enough. You couldn’t outrun the feelings that were clawing away at you.

You didn’t know how you ended up parking back at Angel’s. When you left, you had every intention of going home, flinging yourself onto your bed, and crying yourself to sleep. But somehow you ended up back here. You were about to just keep on going, or even just finally allow yourself to pass out in your car. You didn’t really want to see Angel, not with the way the two of you had left things, not with how things had played out with EZ. All of the lights looked like they were off anyway, so even if you went and knocked on his door he probably wouldn’t answer.

Your hand was hovering above the gearshift, trying to figure out if you were going to put your car back in drive. It was only then that you noticed the way that your hand was trembling, and once you noticed that, it was like the floodgates opened back up instantly. Tears spilled over onto your cheeks, sobs forcing their way past your throat as you dropped your face into your hands. Your whole body was shaking as you cried, like there were so many feelings in you that you simply just couldn’t physically contain them.

Time was irrelevant as you sat there hunched over in the driver’s seat of your car. Your face stayed planted in your palms, the rest of the world completely tuned out despite the fact that you weren’t even at home.

The sound of someone rapping their knuckles against the glass of your window caused you to scream, jumping and pulling against the seatbelt that was still strapped across your chest. All of the sadness that you had just been drowning in was instantly pushed to the backburner as your heartrate skyrocketed.

Turning to see who it was, some of the anxiety drained out of you when you came face to face with Angel. He was leaning against the side of your door, one arm braced against the top of the frame as he used the other to knock. His hair was a mess, eyes letting you know that you either woke him up when you pulled in, or he’d woken up randomly in the middle of the night and just so happened to see your car out front.

He nodded towards the door. “Come on.” He pulled your car door open for you. “Don’t just sit out here all night like some kind of PI or some shit.”

The comment got a weak smile out of you as you undid your seatbelt. Grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you got out of the car, not in any great rush to shut and lock the door behind you before following Angel. He didn’t say anything else as the two of you walked, you just one small stride behind him. You were a little thankful for that in a way, but you knew that the silence wasn’t going to last forever.

You found yourself standing in his living room, bag clutched tightly to your side as you stood there unsure of what you were supposed to do now. It wasn’t as though you spent a lot of your free time here, especially not at this hour, especially not after the blowout the two of you had had in the morning. Nothing about this was within the scope of your routine.

“Next time,” Angel said as he walked to the kitchen to get coffee for each of you, “just come up and knock.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t, um,” you wiped at the stray tears on your face, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he poured coffee into the two mugs he’d gotten out. “You know what time it is? I don’t wanna see anybody right now.”

You accepted the coffee as he handed it to you, grateful for something warm and inviting after how your entire day had gone. It wasn’t enough to fix it, but at least it wasn’t another thing going wrong. Angel watched as you took a slow sip.

“How was the trip?” he asked, even though the answer seemed fairly obvious.

“Think I’d be crying my eyes out to you if it had gone well?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, still too drowsy to muster up a real laugh. “Yea.” He took a few steps and sat down on the couch, too tired to keep standing. “Wanna…you know…talk about it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “We don’t have to. I know you don’t, you know…”

“Then why’d you come here?” The question wasn't accusatory like so many other statements he’d thrown at you over the last few weeks. He sounded genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. You stepped over and sat down next to him on the couch. “I just sort of ended up here.” He nodded in response but didn’t say anything else. There was a long stretch of silence before you finally caved and said, “He wouldn’t let me see him.”

Your voice was so soft and sad that Angel almost didn’t catch what you had said. Once he heard it, though, and realized the weight of it, his face softened. Normally you wouldn’t want his pity, but right now it was the closest thing you had to comfort.

“Shit,” he said, tucking his chin down to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “Not your fault.” Sniffling, you looked down at the mug of coffee in your hands. “You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea.”

You didn’t expect the soft bewilderment in his voice as he said, “I didn’t think he’d do that to you.” The statement hung in the air for a moment before he let out a sigh. “So much for him being the one feeling abandoned, huh?”

That got a sad laugh out of you that you hadn’t been expecting. Meeting his eyes, you shook your head, managing a tiny smile as you told him, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” he took another sip of his coffee, “you came to me, so, y’know.” The two of you shared a tired laugh before he let out a deep breath. “Wanna crash here?”

You nodded. “That okay?”

“Yea.” He stood up, trying to stretch and also manage to not spill his coffee. “Let me grab you some blankets and shit.”

You felt your body relax at that, the prospect of not having to get back in your car again and drive home, the prospect of not having to be alone after a day that had left you feeling more lonely than you thought you were capable of.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He saw the way you nodded and he said, “Nah, seriously. I don’t want other people thinkin’ they can show up in the middle of the night to my place cryin’ and shit.”

You laughed quietly. “I won’t say anything.”

"Fuck, dulce." Nestor groans, rolling his hips against yours, his fingers buried deep in your hips for leverage. He takes pleasure in the way your face relaxes into ecstasy every time his dick meets that spongy spot inside of you. The way your eyebrows furrow as he pulls out, and the rolling of your eyes to the back of your head as he presses back in, moving a thumb to roll over your clit. He feels your pussy clench around him as you reach to touch any part of him. Your nails find his chest, and he lets out a deep groan as you run them down his skin. He picks up the pace on his strokes, keeping the same tempo on your clit, leaving you a withering mess below him. Moments later, the two of you reach your climax together, Nestor then collapsing onto the bed next to you. His chest rising and falling as he tries to settle his breathing, his eyes finding your profile as you take a minute to breathe, your hands lying idly on your chest, eyes closed in relaxation.

Following the incident last month of the two of you being kidnapped, you had found yourselves making up for lost time in the bedroom (and on the kitchen table, bathroom sink, against the wall in the foyer, ottoman in the living room...wherever, really). It had been probably a year since the two of you had had this much sex. Being busy with work, and oddly disconnected from one another had pushed you to opposite sides of your king-sized bed, not sharing it at all some nights. But for the last few weeks, Nestor seemed eager to get home if not for any other reason than to bury himself in you. And well, who would turn down an orgasm from the man you love? However, should the two of you probably talk things through? Absolutely. Were you going to do it while Nestor is fucking your brains out? Absolutely not.

You peel your eyes open, and turn your head, meeting his dark eyes that beam at you with affection. You find yourself wondering if he's always looked at you that way, and if that look will fade when the post-nut clarity comes.

"Te amo." He mutters, as one of his hands reaches out to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your head. And then, he's up. He strolls to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You let out a breath, setting up in the bed and pulling a robe around your body. The sex...well, it's great. It's always been great, but sex feels like a band-aid for the disconnect. Nestor comes inside you and then goes off to work while you wait for him to come home and do it again. There is very little conversation...or apologizing.

You hear the shower turn on and let out a breath. A grumbling in your stomach reminds you that you should probably eat something. You slip on a pair of shorts and are digging through the fridge to find ingredients when you hear a rustling outside. Your insides freeze, and you lift your head to look outside your kitchen window. Nothing. You take a breath and shake your head, going back to your search when you hear it again.

“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath. Taking no chances this time, you scurry back to your bedroom and bang on the bathroom door. “Nestor!!”

The panic in your voice damn near makes him panic. He quickly rinses the suds off his body and turns the water off. He wraps a towel around himself and unlocks the door.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He gives you a once over, noticing the way your chest is heaving up and down in a panic. You slip into the bathroom with him, and shut the door making Nestor’s brows furrow.

“I heard something outside.” You rush out, hushed.

“What was it? Like a person?” He asks, leaning over to open the door to go check.

“No, no, no. Don’t go out there.” You say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can turn the doorknob.

His gaze softens and he raises his eyebrows. “Mi dulce, you know I’m not the type to sit here and wait it out.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want them to find us again.”

Nestor grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. He’s still wet from his shower but you don’t mind. He holds you there for a second and you feel him press a kiss to your head. He knows you’ve been stressed since the incident. He’s watched as you glance around, rushing to the door of your home. He’s seen the panic on your face when you can’t find him at work events. Your newfound hyper-vigilance has not gone unnoticed by him.

“Mi amor, no podemos vivir nuestras vidas con miedo de algo que puede suceder o no.” Nestor says, taking your face into his hands. “I protected you then, and I’ll protect you now. Always.”

A shaky breath escapes past your lips and your eyes dance between his in uncertainty. You open your mouth to reply but his lips come down to your own for a few seconds.

“I’ll get dressed and take a look around. Give me five minutes.” He mumbles against your lips and then disappears before you can protest.

Ten minutes later, you are pacing around your living room, biting at your nails. The fear of not knowing if something actually was out there is starting to get the better of you when Nestor slips back inside. He slips his shoes off at the door and then meets your worried gaze.

His gaze meets your and he gives you a small smile. “The coast is clear, mi dulce.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and take a seat on the couch. Nestor’s eyebrows furrow as he watches your head fall into your hands. He crosses the floor and kneels down in front of you, his hands coming up to hold yours.

“I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?” Nestor questions, his eyes searching yours.

You want to reassure him. Tell him that you’re sleeping well and that you know he would never let anything happen to you. But the look in his eyes when those guys threw you into that van haunts you. He was helpless. And you were helpless. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do to maintain your safety. Especially after they separated the two of you.

Your mouth opens to whisper the lie to him, to tell him that you have faith in him but the words die on your tongue and his face twists in confusion.

“Hey,” Nestor breathes out, moving to sit next to you on the couch. You turn your body to face him, your hands falling to tug on your fingers. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”

You look up at him, your hands gripping onto each other to stop the shaking. “Something already did happen. And we couldn’t do anything.”

Nestor shakes his head. “You are safe now. You were always going to be okay. I would have never let them actually hurt you.”

“They did hurt me.” You whisper, looking away from him. “They did. And you weren’t there. You were in the van. And it’s not your fault and I’m not blaming you because you are just a human being. But I’m afraid, Nestor. All the time.”

Nestor’s heart shatters in his chest. You’ve been together for years, and no it’s not always been the perfect relationship but the love he has for you is deep and unrelenting. Never did he think that fear would be the thing you felt while with him.

He takes your hands gently into his, pressing a kiss to each of them and then meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you then. I tried.”

You shake your head and it’s your turn to take his face into your hands. “No, no, no. You did everything you could and I know that. And I love you for it. And I feel the most safe when I’m here with you. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed and he shakes his head. “What else can I do to make you feel safe? More boxing training? Do we need to find a new house?”

The desperateness in Nestor’s voice breaks your heart and you shrug, “Those might help. We can try them.”

He nods at you, his hands grabbing at you and pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. The two of you sit like this for a while. Probably too long, but despite your anxiety, you really do feel safest in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about how they hurt you?” Nestor mumbles against your chest after a while. You lean back so you can meet his gaze. His dark eyes are somehow even darker and you lean down to catch his lips with your own.

“Yes. But I don’t want the details to hurt you.” You mumble, using your hands to smooth over his hair.

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me, mi amor. I want to know.”

So you do. You sit in his lap and tell him everything. The pain, the fear, the shooting. Their greedy hands grabbing at you and making innuendos toward further abuse. The way they kept laughing that Nestor couldn’t help you. By the time you’ve told him everything, you can feel Nestor’s anger buzzing under his skin.

His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your chest. "I should've ripped them limb from limb."

You let out a quiet chuckle and press a kiss to the top of his hair. "And I know you would have if you had known."

Nestor leans his head back against the couch, deep in thought. You trace a finger along his jawline and wait for him to gather his thoughts. Several minutes later, he meets your gaze and you don't recognize the look on his face.

"Do you remember that apartment you lived in when we first met?" He asks, one of his hands coming up to smooth down your hair. You nod, silently wondering where he's going with this.

"I remember the first time you invited me over." He starts, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I was so nervous. Worried that this life wasn't going to be what you wanted, and absolutely positive that it wasn't what you deserved. I walked into that apartment and it was in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Santo Padre and somehow, you had made it nice. The walls painted a green color and plants everywhere. You were wearing these baggy pants with a white shirt and denim button-up thing, and you offered me lemonade." Nestor lets out a laugh at the memory, as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "No one has ever looked at me and thought to offer me lemonade."

You smile, "I just didn't want you to be thirsty."

Nestor's eyes lighten up as he laughs. "You're the most effortlessly thoughtful person that I know." His face grows serious and then he closes his eyes. "I know that this past year has not been easy. And I know that I have driven you to some dark places in your mind and I can never apologize enough."

You wait for him to finish, your fingers running up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him as he speaks.

"I can't promise you that people like those pieces of shit won't hurt you again, mi amor. I wish I could. I can promise you that I will die trying to stop them." He says seriously, his eyes locked onto yours. "And if you want to leave and get out of this shit, I won't stop you. Hell, after the year we've had I wouldn't blame you."

Your face crumples at his suggestion. You shake your head at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. Nestor's hands find your waist and squeeze as you deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle into his hair and tug as you resituate yourself on his lap. Nestor lets out a deep groan, and you feel him pressing against you.

You grind down onto him, his lips trailing down your neck, suckling onto the skin there. You're breathless by the time his lips find yours again and he lifts your legs, laying your back down gently on the couch. Your robe falls open and he quickly undoes the tie, his dark eyes trailing over you.

You shrug off the robe and toss it onto the floor, reaching down to remove Nestor's shirt and then his shorts. His lips find yours again and his hand trails up your leg. He revels in the sound you make when his fingers brush over your sex. He removes his lips from yours and trails them down your body. He lines his mouth up to your sex and licks a long stripe up, his tongue focusing on your clit. Your hands find his hair again and you let out a moan. His lips wrap around your clit and he inserts a finger into you. Then another.

"Oh my fuck." You curse, your back arching at his assault. Nestor continues for several minutes, adding another finger which causes you to cry out. The familiar pleasure builds in your lower abdomen and you moan out his name as the pressure snaps.

His fingers fuck you through your orgasm and then he comes up, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself on him. You groan, gripping onto his back. You can feel him pressing into your leg and spread your legs further to accommodate him.

"Hmmm, always so thoughtful." He mutters against your lips. You grin and urge him forward. "What is it? What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me." You mumble, tugging lightly on his hair. He growls, and teases his tip at your entrance. One of his hands come up to rest against your throat. He meets your gaze and tightens his grip as he sheathes himself inside you.

"Oh fuck, Nestor." You moan out, your back arching against him. He lifts his hip and thrusts back into you. Hard. The sound that comes from his throat damn near makes you come right then and there.

Nestor sets a quicker pace than usual, never letting up pressure on your throat in a positively delicious way. His eyes stay locked on yours, silently checking in on you as he watches your mouth drop open in pleasure.

"Fuck mi amor, you look so fucking good like this." He grumbles, his mouth coming to make its assault on your ear.

You let out a moan and reach a hand down to your clit. The familiar twinge of pleasure begins to build again and you let out a louder moan.

"That's it, mi dulce. Go ahead and fucking come for me." He coaxes, his hand tightening some on your throat. Your orgasm washes over you in waves and Nestor fucks you through all of them before reaching his high as well.

He pulls out of you slowly, immediately removing his hand from your throat. His eyes meet yours and he presses a kiss to your lips, grinning at the fucked-out look on your face. He settles himself between your legs and rests his head on your bare chest.

Several minutes pass before anyone speaks, but oddly enough, Nestor is the first to break the silence. "I don't want you to think that I'm complaining but you didn't answer my question."