just a smol town writer

You’re a good man. Oh, how marvelously wrong those words were. If there was anything Isek was not, it was a good man. He personified each of the seven deadly sins, and not a single of the virtues. He would lie, steal, cheat and murder his way to the top. He would have left his brother to rot in a prison cell if it meant gaining the throne for himself. And murdering his own father, well — that was a deed bound to have happened sooner or later, regardless of the safety of the man standing before him. No, Isek wasn’t a good man, but goddamn did he want to be for Remington. To give him the life that he always deserved, to treat him how he ought to be treated. Isek was born into this life, sculpted to fit perfectly among the other pieces on the board; but Remington, he was drug into this life, forced to fit the mold of what was needed within the ranks of the Kovali empire. And now, with Isek on the throne, he’d never have to worry over doing the wrong thing. There was just one more thing to take care of.

“Emir is still out there,” he finally breathed, after having tried to focus his attention upon his husband. Instead, all he could see was the blood stains, drying into the fabric of the drapes. He needed to come up with a plan, needed to figure out how to spin this so that he came out on top. But he couldn’t do that in this state. “I need to take care of this,” he spoke, voice damn near void of any of the emotions he had just found himself shifting through. 

Remington wasn’t sure what else he needed to say. In fact, he was nervous to say the wrong thing as well. He knew that he couldn’t make Isek do something that he didn’t want to do. Shaking his head, he looked back at his husband, the one person he had sworn to protect for the rest of his life. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, his hands still on the other’s jaw. Remi was slowly losing his grip on the situation, but he knew it wouldn’t do them both any good to panic. Not after Isek had murdered his father in front of them, then Remi finishing off the bodyguards. What would his siblings say? Emir would come for their heads, that was for sure. 

“I know,” he murmured, trying not to panic. Instead, he stood up, pulling Isek with him. “But right now we need to leave. Please, Isek. If your brother gets here...” He didn’t want to think about what would happen. He knew Emir would probably shoot him first, but it still put Isek in some kind of danger. 

The words were nothing new to Myles, having heard them time and time again over the last few months. Over breakfast, through a text while he was trying to distinguish which project needed his undivided attention, when they were wrapped around each other in bed; it was words that he had grown used to. But — spoken now, with a tragedy looming on the horizon, Myles could hear how different they were. “I’m all yours, Jules. For today, and the rest of our lives.” There was no question about it, and even though it had taken Myles a bit to come to terms with it, he never wanted anyone other than Julian. “I love you, too.”

God, why had he been so stupid? To show up at a drop, for starters. And to blatantly tell this man, who currently held a gun to his head, that he was indeed a police officer. He could practically hear his superior office drilling him for being such a moron. But he needed to focus, on the pounding of his heart, on how to get this man to release him without making a scene. Or without getting shot in the process. “Look, I’ll just go and —,” whatever he had been thinking of saying was immediately cut short, the sound of Luke’s voice reaching him. Shit. He barely had a second to register this new development when he felt the gun press against the back of his head.

Having one weapon pointed at his head was alarming enough, but the feeling of two muzzle nestled against the one place that would ensure his demise — well, there was no calming the racing of his heart from that. But he trusted Luke, more than he trusted many others. So when he was tugged away from the gun at his forehead, he fought the sigh that wanted to slip from his lips. This was hardly over with, and he needed to keep up the persona that he was in deep shit. Hell, he clearly still was.

As he was pulled away from the unknown man, he kept his hands outstretched from his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his own weapon. It was nestled against the small of his back, the metal cool against his skin. He could feel the flush of his skin, knew that his heart was pumping blood much quicker than it was intended to. “Luke —,” the name slipped out as soon as they rounded the back of the truck, but he barely had a chance to say anything further as his back hit the metal of the vehicle. “We got a tip that something was going down, alright? The department was pulling in everyone. They know it’s your MC, they were preparing for the worst. And I couldn’t —.” He inhaled sharply, hand reaching up to press the heel of his palm against his chest. “I needed to come here, find something that I could use to stop them.” His gaze shifted towards where he’d come from, before returning to the man before him. “Luke, they’re likely already on their way.”

“You’re a fucking idiot. You’re a fucking...” Luke was trying to calm himself down, already feeling like he was about to start hyperventilating. Not only that, but he knew Rhys couldn’t take too much stress, and this was the exact type of situation that Luke never wanted the man to be in. “What the hell is wrong with you? You should’ve let them come. They’re going to expect you dead.” Luke ran his free hand through his hair, tugging on it as he took another breath. “Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word. You....fuck.” The last thing he wanted was the others knowing that Rhys knew his name, or that he was even affiliated with them.

Where: Abandoned warehouse Who: @hephaestionwrites​

The tip had been intercepted, slipped from the desk of one of the detectives. Rhys knew what it would say, knew which gang would be implemented in the takedown should it transpire. And a part of him couldn’t let that happen. He knew what Luke would do, knew the extremes the other would go to if his MC was on the chopping block. So he intended to get there first, intended to hopefully find something that he could bring back to the station that would set the blues on a different path. One that took them far away from Luke.

Rhys hadn’t quite considered he wouldn’t be the only one to show up early. He lived his life by the book, always following the rules ( except as of late ). He didn’t know how the gangs would want to scope out the drop spot, to gain their vantage point prior to the deal going down. He had been hoping to find something. Anything to take back to his superiors to say that the deal had already gone down, that the tip had come a little too late. But he failed to see the danger that this could bring, especially when he showed up in his civilian clothes and no backup.

“You don’t want to do this.” It was the only thing he could think to muster up when he’d been caught, not far from the entrance of the warehouse. He didn’t recognize the man, couldn’t say that he’d ever seen him in his life before. Which made him believe that this wasn’t one of Luke’s men. And that made this situation that much worse. “Look, just let me go and we’ll pretend none of this happened. You don’t want to go down for killing a cop.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say, especially when he felt the muzzle of the weapon press against the center of his forehead. Shit, he needed to come up with something fast.

The warehouse wasn’t their usual drop off spot. It was something chosen by the other gang, the one who was bringing over two hundred pounds of cocaine over the border of Mexico. Luke didn’t like dealing in drugs. Hell, he’d been addicted to all of them before, and seeing them just made him cringe at this point. It wasn’t anything he was proud of, not anymore. Instead, he was relying on the thoughts of Rhys. It was the one thing that made him more careful than anything, ensuring that he’d be able to return to the man he loved every night.

Pulling up to the warehouse, though, all of Luke’s dreams seemingly came crashing down around him. Rhys was there with a gun to his head – and the member of the other gang looked ready to blow his head off. “Fuck,” he breathed, ignoring the look from the other man that had came with him. He quickly got out of the car, pulling out his own gun as well as he moved towards the pair. Until Rhys spoke, and Luke almost wished he was over there to punch his boyfriend himself. “Hey!” Luke’s gun was out immediately, though he placed it against the back of Rhys’ head, glaring at the other gang member. “You brought a cop?” He snapped, reaching forward to grab hold of Rhys’ jacket. He yanked the man away from the stranger, putting himself between the two now. 

You and me. It’s all the reassurance that Rhys had ever needed, to know that no matter what, it was going to be him and Luke. Their lives may be private from each other, there may be parts that didn’t sit well with the other, but at the end of the day, it was the pair of them. It had always been the pair of them. “You and me,” he affirmed, keeping his gaze on the man before him. There was nothing perfect about their situation, but when Rhys had been sitting in that hospital room, when the doctor had told him about his heart, the only person that he had desperately wanted by his side was the man now seated before him. Which is why he couldn’t tell if it was Luke’s hands against his bare skin or the words that sent a shiver down the curve of his spine. “I know,” he breathed, gaze shifting over the other’s face. “I know you will.” 

But protection wasn’t the only concern on Rhys’ mind, knowing that every day he chose to stay in this relationship, he was compromising his future with the police department. Each time he chose to come to the clubhouse, to get on the back of Luke’s motorcycle, he was putting his career in jeopardy. But when the other pressed on, when he seemed so adamant about figuring out how to protect the both of them, along with their ways of life, Rhys found himself caring just a little less. “Whatever it takes, alright? A call, a text, a fucking smoke signal; you tell me when, and I’ll figure out how.” Even if it meant getting in trouble with his captain, Rhys would do anything possible to not jeopardize what Luke and he once again had. “I love you, too,” he breathed, lifting a hand to draw Luke closer. “Even if you are shit at pool,” he teased, his lips ghosting across the other’s as they curved ever so slightly at the edges.

Luke had never imagined himself to be put in this kind of position. Or, hell, in a position where he would be in love with anyone. Instead, he’d imagined his life behind bars. He’d heard it enough as a kid, after all. A lost cause, a delinquent juvenile who wasn’t going to make anything of himself. And for a year he’d dealt with the horrors that happened behind closed doors of the state prison system. The last thing he’d ever expected was to walk back into Rhys’s life – and for the other to accept him anyway. It was why he was so adamant that they had to keep specific things separate, but if only for the greater good of their relationship. He let his fingers spread out against the bare skin beneath the other’s shirt, feeling the firm muscle there as a reminder that this wasn’t some fucked up dream that was going to be torn away from him again. “S’always gonna be you and me, man. Like hell if I’d let anything happen to you,” he was grateful for the height the pool table gave him as he sat on it, meeting the other’s gaze evenly.

“A smoke signal, huh?” The grin was there as he pressed a firm kiss against Rhys’ mouth, drawing the police officer in closer as he tightened his grip around his waist. He held the other man tight against his body, “I’m still better than you,” he grinned as he broke the kiss, pressing one more against his boyfriend’s mouth before he was pushing himself off the pool table. The crew would be coming back soon, he was sure of it, and he reached down to grab the other’s hand, “Let’s go home.”

“Oh, I’m so lucky?” He questioned, grin tugging at the edges of his lips once more. This is what he loved, when Milo was in a playful mood, when they talked about writing songs together as they had once done so long ago. It’s what connected them, what brought them closer, for Cooper always had a hard time not relating his songs to himself. He spilled his entire heart and soul into his lyrics, and many of them ended up being about the man beside him. 

“Seriously?” The word came out in an incredulous tone, watching as Milo retrieved the song that he had written. “That’s where it’s been this entire time?” He scoffed playfully as he smoothed out the piece of paper, eyeing the lyrics that he had once poured himself into.

“So don’t ever call me a non-romantic. Or whatever it is,” he joked, looking at the paper that had a bunch of scribbled words on it. “I wrote a tune to it, you know. It’s in my head, at least.” He could pull a couple strings on a guitar to show the sound, but he was too lazy to get up and get it just yet. It was far easier to just sit with Cooper and be close. 

There was no easy way around this. There was no simple way to say that if they didn’t tread lightly, one or both of them would wind up dead. It was the hard truth, the simple solution when it came to the lives they led. Luke was a criminal, Rhys was a lawman; both posing a problem in the other’s life. It was precisely why he had left, why he had chosen the easy way out when he saw only a complicated future, when he knew that eventually something bad was going to come of it. “A win win situation?” The words tasted vile on his tongue, Rhys frowning at the knowledge of what their relationship meant. There would always be a part of their respective lives that the other didn’t know. He could almost laugh at how completely insane they were for ever wanting to start this up again.

The press for what he’d been trying to say had the frown deepening on his lips, until he felt hands on his waist, tugging him forward. He moved until his knees pressed into the side of the pool table, until there was barely any space that separated one from the other. His hands shifted until they rested on Luke’s thighs, fingers pressing into the available space. That taste, the vile one that came with the truth formed at the back of his throat. If he did his job, if he alerted his fellow officers to what the MC was up to, he would be not only putting himself in danger, but Luke, as well. His own life was one thing, he had sworn to protect his city at all costs, but to put the other in danger? Because he was too stubborn to let it go? Rhys swallowed the taste back, leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the other’s, “What do you want me to do? Turn a blind eye, stay away when you tell me to, tell you when —,” but the words died on his tongue, Rhys knowing that he could never play both sides. As hard as it might be, he could look the other way when it came to the MC, but he could never knowingly give Luke information that would further along their criminal activity. It simply wasn’t in him.

“C’mon, Rhys. We can’t make this perfect. We knew our life wasn’t going to be fuckin’ perfect. But we’re doin’ it. You and me.” Luke was adamant that this was the one way they could try and survive their own relationship. Of course it wasn’t ideal, but Luke couldn’t help who he loved. It just happened to be Rhys, who just happened to be a cop. The press of the other’s body closer to his helped calm his nerves, and he slid his hands up and underneath the other’s shirt. “I can’t tell you what to do, babe. I can just say that I’m going to fucking protect you, no matter what, okay?”

It was not unknown to anyone that Cooper was absolutely weak for Milo Callum. Even after Milo had chosen a solo career over their band, over their relationship. Even after the years that had followed, the silence that had spread between the pair of them, Cooper had always loved the other with his entire being. Forgiveness had always been on the tip of his tongue, simply waiting for Milo to ask for it. “You never have to do it without me again,” he softly affirmed, gentle gaze resting on the features of the one person he loved.

Then the words were coming, the ones he had wanted to hear for so many years now. A warmth unlike anything he had felt filled his being, a smile curving at the edges of his lips, before Milo was disrupting it with his own. “I love you, too,” he tried to get out, arms moving to wrap around the waist of the other. He held Milo to him, silently promising to never let go.

“Let’s write a fucking best selling album, love.” Milo smiled as he pressed another kiss to Cooper’s mouth. He held onto it for a few more moments, brushing his thumb over Cooper’s cheek. “You’re so lucky to have me,” he crooned, the playful glint in his eyes still present as he laughed at his own joke. Brushing some of Cooper’s hair out of his face, he pulled him in to cuddle close on the couch. 

And if Rhys went, but Luke didn’t, he was an open target for the MC. It was the unspoken truth, the knowledge weaseling its way into his mind. He may have been allowed into the clubhouse, he may have been considered off limits when Luke stood protectively beside him, but out there? When he wore a shiny badge on his chest, safety switched off on his state issued firearm, Rhys was simply another cop getting in the way. And if he didn’t tread lightly, he was as good as dead. It was that knowledge that had him stepping back, a hand lifting to run fingers unceremoniously through shortened locks. “Fuck,” the word came out through gritted teeth, Rhys inhaling to prevent the hammering of his chest.

“I don’t know, alright? I don’t fucking know,” he urged in a defeated tone, hand dropping back by his side to hang loosely. This had seemed so simple back in high school, before he’d chosen to pin a badge upon his chest, before he’d taken the step to protect his city from people like Luke, like the men who frequented the club he now stood in. “I just — I can’t be left in the dark anymore, alright? You don’t have to tell me everything, or even the specific details. Just —,” he hesitated, trying to figure out exactly what he meant in this moment. Finally, after a beat, Rhys stepped back towards Luke, invading his space as he had done just moments ago. “I can’t protect you when I need to if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Luke watched his boyfriend for a few more moments, unsure how they were going to continue this conversation. He was trying to avoid all confrontation out in the real world, all things considering. “You get it, right? It ain’t fuckin’ ideal, but it’s all I got. If you’re not in their line of fire, I’m not in the fed’s area, it’s a win win situation, right?” He frowned a little more when Rhys cursed once again, and he moved to sit on the edge of the pool table. 

Rafal Kovali was dead. There was no possible way he could have survived that, Isek knowing that of all the things he was good at, his aim was exceptional. It had to be, given the name he bore and the blood that ran through his veins. Since he had been nothing more than a small boy, a gun had always been shoved into his hand, taught how to use it before he’d even learned how to ride a bicycle. It was that precise skill that had his hand shaking, his breathing ragged as his gaze focused on the blood that coated the drapes in his father’s office. He barely moved with the sound of the doors being shoved, barely flinched when the sound of two more shots echoed in his ears. Had the bullets been intended for him? Was he in too much shock to realize that he had been hit? The sound of his heart beating in his ears let him know that adrenaline was coursing through his being, that he might possibly be too ramped up to realize that he could very well be bleeding out in that moment.

The touch to his cheek finally snapped his gaze from the blood staining the drapes, Isek visibly flinching despite his mind knowing damn well who it was. He tried to focus his gaze on the features of his husband, to focus on the words as they slipped across his tongue. This place is yours. It’s yours. The words should have been reassuring, should have eased the shock from his being, Isek knowing that it was all he had wanted over the last three years. The throne, once held by his father, was now his for the taking. The kingdom, the legacy, the city were all his. “I’m sorry,” the apology slipped across his tongue as Remi held him close, arms wrapped around him like the safety net he had always argued he never needed. But his own hung limply by his side, his gaze once more focusing on the blood, “I had to do it, I had to kill him. He would have hurt you, he would have made me hurt you.” The words were spoken in a dazed manner, lacking in any emotion despite what he had just done.

Remington held Isek close, closing his eyes as he listened to the other speak. He wanted to make him feel better somehow, but he knew the shock of the act was going to stick with him for days to come. No one should have to kill their father, despite the fact that Isek had done it for him. “No – no, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t – if I was...” he trailed off, unable to continue his words as he pressed multiple kisses to Isek’s jaw. “I love you,” he breathed, trying to reassure the other man with anything he could. “You’re a good man. You’re the man they need, okay?” Remington wasn’t sure how good he was at this, and he ran his hand through Isek’s hair a few times to try and soothe him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry,” he echoed, squeezing his eyes shut once more as he held him tight. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, and Remington let his hand trail down the side of his husband’s face, “I love you. Nothing is going to fucking take me from you, okay?”

It was never an easy situation, when a loved one was dying. There was always so many questions, with very little answers to go with them. Lifting one hand to cup Julian’s cheek gently, he sighed softly, “I don’t know, Jules; I’m sorry. I think the only thing you can do is be there for her, spend as much time as you can with her.” His thumb brushed softly back and forth, “And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

“How stupid can you be?”

The words hit him like a goddamn punch to the gut, quite nearly knocking the breath right from his lungs. Remi had barely gotten the words out, had barely confessed to what they had done before his father was throwing it back in their faces. Isek should have been more prepared, should have seen this coming, that his father would have already known what they had done. He was foolish to have thought that no one would have blabbed, that no one would have gone behind his back for fear of what his father might have done to them. It was a mistake on Isek’s part, one that he was clearly going to have to pay for. “Stupid? We weren’t being stupid, Rafal. We were being —,” but his words were cut off, his father standing up suddenly from the seat he had been occupying. The seat that should be Isek’s.

“You were being what? Foolish, childish, weak? Our city is under attack, your mother is in a prison cell, and you thought that was the perfect time to go get married?”

The words were spoken in a sarcastic huff, one that drilled into the very marrow of his bones, settling in like a poison. How he hated his father, how he would have rather seen the man behind bars than his mother, or even his brother. “This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision,” he practically growled between clenched teeth, narrowed eyes focused on the features of his father, the man that had never quite seen him as a potential for the family throne. For years, he had been brushed aside, overlooked in favor of his brother. “This was a strategic —,” but again, his words were barely off his tongue before his father was cutting him short, this time with a laugh that seemed to fill the room.

“With the man that sent your brother to jail?”

The question caused his blood to turn to ice, his body stiffening at the realization of what had happened while they were gone. Fucking Emir, that worthless prick, he’d done something that was irreversible. Something that couldn’t be taken back, couldn’t be overlooked simply because Isek had chosen Remi to stand by his side, for now and ever. Emir had signed Remi’s death certificate himself. And that was simply something that Isek couldn’t allow.

The weapon was drawn before he’d given it much thought, the cold steel pressed snug into the curve of his palm, safety switched to off with his index finger curling around the trigger. “Sorry, old man,” he spoke to the smug look upon his father’s features. It was a look that conveyed that Rafal knew Isek wasn’t capable of what he was implying, that he was acting once more like the child his father thought him to be. “But I can’t let you do what I know you’re planning.” And before he even fully understood what his intentions were, before he could firmly wrap his head around exactly what he was planning, the sound of the gun firing filled the room. The spray of blood had his heart slamming into his throat, the crumple of his father’s body had the gun clattering to the floor, and the realization of what he’d done had him stumbling backwards. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

Remington was positive that he flinched; the harsh words thrown at him everything he didn’t want to hear. He knew that he wasn’t the one to speak up or even argue against the man that had allowed him into their family, but the truth was – he’d never been treated like a son. He’d been treated as the ward; the one kid who would become a weapon when he was old enough. And while Remington knew how to be calculating and murder someone, it just wasn’t him. No one but Isek had ever understood that, and Remi had never tried to make Rafal understand. 

“Isek–” Remington was more than willing to take the heat, and to take the brunt of every word that Rafal was throwing at them. Heavy was the head that wore the crown – and he knew Iskender had always felt the weight. Remington moved forward to try and at least touch the other, but his husband’s reaction was stopping him in his tracks, just as Rafal’s words had. Emir had said something, of course. And now? Now there was no going back. “Rafal, that wasn’t–” The flash of a gun had Remington pausing, and he quickly drew his own. The gunshot that rang out, however, had Remington’s breath catching in his throat. “Isek, Isek–” he turned towards the door as it was shoved open, and Remington fired off two shots into the chests of the two bodyguards that had ran inside at the noise. They hit the ground, and Remington was setting his gun down on the desk before he was moving quickly over to Isek, “Hey – hey, look at me,” he breathed, putting his hand against Isek’s cheek as he met his gaze, “Look at me. You’re okay. I’m here,” he pulled the other towards him, wrapping his arms around him as he held him tight. Remington was still in shock, unable to look at the body that had crumpled to the ground behind the desk. “We’re okay. This place is yours. It’s yours, love.”

It was unfortunate, how quickly the mood between them had to shift. From the moment that he’d stepped into the clubhouse, Rhys knew that it was inevitable, that eventually his cop mentality would make an appearance. It was the shifting gaze of Luke that had finally forced him to see what he was clearly either trying to ignore or be oblivious to. The empty clubhouse, the insistence that they come there that night; it had all been too good to be true. And before he was able to stop himself, Rhys had found himself at the mercy of needing to know what was obviously being kept from him. 

“You have to be shitting me,” the words came out in a huff, a sarcastic laugh sounding out as he shook his head. Of course, it all made sense now. The MC was doing what they did best, and he was being kept out of it. “And you know what I do is prevent that shit from happening. So tell me —,” he spoke as his gaze shifted back to the other’s features, setting into a hard appearance as he wrapped his head around what he was about to ask. “Am I here for my own good, or for the good of the club?” Because despite whatever claim he might make, Rhys would always be on the side of the law. It was his career, his life, and he would stop at nothing to make sure the people of his city were safe.

Luke released the hold he had on Rhys, knowing the mood might as well be ruined at this point. He had tried to skirt around the fact, to make sure that nothing would be awkward between them when things like this happened. Truth was, he wasn’t even sure how to act in these situations. Luke was always one to fight first and ask questions later – after all, he was a convicted felon who had only been out of jail for, what, a year? 

Everything had always boiled down to one thing: Milo’s image. It was the very thing that had propelled him forward, the very thing that had kept him on the path to success, and the very thing that broke him, time and time again. Cooper had seen it firsthand, had witnessed it during the signing of the band to the days spent on the tour to the inevitable break up of what had originally brought them all together. It was Milo’s need to keep his image that had driven a wedge between them, that had seen Cooper returning home with their bandmates while Milo continued onto the road to fame. It was now, once again, driving that same wedge between them. But this time — this time, Cooper wasn’t going to let it win.

“Milo —,” the name slipped across his tongue slowly, softly as his gaze focused intently on the man before him. The very one that was dropping to his knees, shifting forward until he was situated between Cooper’s legs. Hands reached out, cupping gently against Milo’s cheeks as he leaned forward, “You are so much more than your music and voice. You can be anything you want, alright? You can do anything you want.” He pressed, thumbs stroking softly back and forth against the available skin. “But we don’t have to talk about that. We don’t have to consider you giving up music, alright? I just — I can’t sit back and watch you throw your life away. You’re an amazing musician, even without the drugs and alcohol.”

“Cooper,” he echoed the other’s name when his own was said, studying the look on his boyfriend’s face. He knew they would always be together, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in their way again. Cooper was the one for him, and if he was being sincere, he couldn’t really live the right way without him, either. He leaned into the touch on his cheek, meeting the other’s gaze, “Not without you.” The words were spoken quietly, and with all the conviction he knew he was feeling. He couldn’t do anything without Cooper, anyway.

Julian had every right to be angry; at him, at the situation, at the whole goddamn world. And despite the flash of anger that ignited in the pit of his stomach at being accused in such a way, Myles would never have faulted the other for lashing out. Instead, he inhaled deeply as he nodded his head, showing that he understood what was happening. He was family, in a way. Though they’d never spoken about a longtime future, Myles knew that his ended with Julian. “Hey,” the word came out softly, Myles stepping forward to reach up with both hands, placing them gently on Julian’s arms. “No one expects you to be handling this a certain way. And I’m here, for you, for you mom. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it for you.”

Julian looked down when he felt Myles’s hands on his arms, and he let out another sigh. Glancing up at the other, he bit his bottom lip, “Listen, I just uh...I don’t know. My sisters are usually fighting; Heidi is bossy, and...the rest of them can’t fucking decide what they want to do. She’s gonna die, there’s no stopping that, but what the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t even know what we fucking need.” He glanced back at Myles, searching his gaze, “What am I supposed to do?”

“God, you’re such a dick,” but the words came accompanied with a laugh, Rhys shaking his head as they lingered between the pair of them. “Next time, I’ll be sure to shove your ass against a wall. Make it quick, just the way you like it.” He countered with a devilish smirk, one that would rival the way in which he was raised. But that was the thing about being around Luke, the other made him want to do all the things he had been warned against, to let in to all the temptations that were constantly being presented to him.

“No bite, huh? Wasn’t aware that was one of your kinks; duly noted, baby.” He quipped with a roll of his eyes, shifting on his feet as he stood at the other end of the pool table. Most people took him serious because of the gun often attached to his hip, a notion that Rhys was all too familiar with. But when in the presence of Luke and the rest of the MC — it was as if the weapon were nothing more than a toy. Even now, standing in the clubhouse, he felt like he was a child, someone that wouldn’t even be feared if he’d had the weapon drawn and safety switched off. It was precisely why, when Luke gave another glance around the room, he knew that something wasn’t being told to him. And despite knowing that he needed to let it slide, the mentality of being a cop couldn’t be ignored any longer.

“Hot and bothered, huh?” He questioned as he started towards Luke, depositing the stick onto the table instead of handing it over. Moving until he stood before the other, he pressed against him until he could situate his hands against the edge of the table, “Maybe I do want to lose.” He spoke lowly, huskily as his eyes searched the features of the man that he still stupidly let own his heart. “Or —,” now he was leaning back, but still giving the other barely enough room to move, “Or maybe I want you to tell me what’s really going on, Luke. No more bullshit, no more lying. Why are we the only ones in this clubhouse right now?”

Luke’s grin was slow, even as he watched Rhys move around the pool table. “I don’t mind if it’s rough and quick – I know how to do a closet fuck before getting on with our day,” he teased, shaking his head. Rhys was all grace in his long limbs, which was surprising again. The cop was tall, lanky, but didn’t trip over himself. Luke leaned back when the man got closer, and he smirked a little more as he felt the hard press of his boyfriend’s body against his own. Now he was really grateful that most of the MC was gone; they’d be getting catcalled – or bullied to get a room. 

      Parker was almost a little overwhelmed by the emotion of happiness that rushed through his chest. Not too long ago, he’d been in a hospital fearing Corey might not make it through. But he’d gotten lucky and now here they were, actually allowed to take the next step in their life plan. Parker had almost given up on becoming a parent, and now his heart was beating happily in his chest because it would happen after all. “I love you too,” he mumbled back, his lips splitting into an even wider grin. Scrunching his nose up a little when his husband ruffled his hair, he shook his head. “Shut up, I just wanted to make sure.” The last thing he wanted was for Corey to regret this step further down the line, after all.

       At the look in the other’s eyes, the smile on his own lips only grew. “Yeah, adopt from the foster system,” he said softly, nodding to underline his statement. After falling for Corey, it had never really been a question that Parker wanted to give kids like him a chance to have a proper home where they were truly loved. “Yeah, we should do that,” he grinned, leaning in to press another kiss to Corey’s lips, before playfully shoving him in the chest. “Fuck you! You’re not sleeping with anyone but me,” he laughed, folding his arms in front of his chest as if he was mad. “Yes, let’s get started. There’s plenty of children in the foster system who need parents as soon as possible.”

“Always ruining my fun,” he grinned, putting his arms up a little to defend himself from the shove. He chuckled anyway, smiling in reaction to the look on Parker’s face. It was hard not to smile when Parker was looking at him that way. “Foster system it is, yeah. I don’t know – should we – like...age range? Do you want an actual baby?” He said the words carefully, not wanting to sound like he was turned off by the idea. He just knew it’d be more work, and Parker would have to possibly quit – Corey didn’t mind working.