☽

“Are you jealous?”

Vegas snarls. Pete’s choker is fastened so tight around his neck that even slipping one finger under it is a challenge. Vegas doesn’t give up, though. His forefinger slithers in, ends up snugly sandwiched between the material and the softness of Pete’s flushed skin. Vegas feels his pulse under his fingertips, and the way his heart rate picks up as he hooks the digit around the collar and tugs at it harshly, like you would to a disobedient dog. [. . .]

Pete is a good lay, possibly the best Vegas has ever had, but nothing more than that. Never. At least, that’s what Vegas keeps telling the latter—and most importantly, himself—in order to sleep at night. There’s no place for jealousy in this miserable arrangement of theirs. Vegas feels like Pete needs the reminder. “You wish,” he spits, right before he makes matters worse. “You’re nothing but a cheap piece of ass to me, and don’t you ever forget it. I couldn’t care less how many more people you have sex with.”

Pete should feel dirty and humiliated. He does. He likes it. Vegas knows that. He sees it in the way his skin flushes an even deeper red, chest heaving with labored breaths. “What I really wish for,” Pete says after a while, voice cracking. He’s so affected. He tries swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, to no avail. Vegas waits for him to recompose himself enough to keep talking, unusually patient. “—is for you to fuck me.”

Vegas wraps himself around his body even faster, and Pete feels the trousers of his gi grow uncomfortably tight as all oxygen escapes him. He’s tapping for submission in no time, but of course Vegas ignores it. They’ve been fucking with each other since the very beginning, and it’s his turn now to have some fun. “So much choking in jiu–jitsu, huh?” he whispers, lips brushing against the shell of Pete’s ear. The latter tries to hold back a shiver with all his might, but it’s to no avail. Vegas’ smile is vile to say the least. “How are you not constantly turned on during class?”

It’s such a stupid question, really, and in any other occasion Pete wouldn’t waste time before he told Vegas exactly so. At the moment he’s nothing but an overstimulated mess though, so his distinctive sass will have to wait. Or not. “What if I was?” He sounds precisely as out of breath as he is. Pete’s eyes flutter close at the delicious lack of air. It’s starting to hurt, and it’s wrong, but it feels so incredibly good.

Again, Vegas finds himself inspecting Pete’s reflection in the mirror. And as his eyes finally land on the clear bulge in the latter’s pants, his vision tinges red with fury. “You little slut,” Vegas spits, but it doesn’t have its usual bite. He actually sounds insecure, and he hates himself for it. This can’t possibly be the reason Pete likes jiu–jitsu so much, right? He’s just messing with him… right?

Pete’s eyes roll to the back of his head as Vegas’ grip around his neck and torso tightens even more. “Let go,” he asks, and it doesn’t sound authoritative in the slightest. They both know Pete doesn’t actually want Vegas to let go, and the awareness only spurs the latter on further.

“Beg.” Pete could swear he hasn’t heard this much anger in his voice in a really long while. Vegas licks a stripe up Pete’s neck, teeth biting on his earlobe with such brutality that Pete is sure he’s gonna draw blood. God, he’s furious, blinded by rage to the point he can’t even see the obvious truth. Pete isn’t turned on because of jiu–jitsu. Pete is turned on because of Vegas. Vegas, Vegas, Vegas. Only Vegas, always Vegas.

“God.” The word left Snake in a dreamy gasp, her green eyes lighting up at the sight in front of her. “Am I seeing this right? Is this really…”

“A pink bathroom,” Danielle, their trusty realtor, promptly supplied. Both Snake and Happy’s aunt had been so lost in their contemplation they hadn’t even noticed her approach. Danielle saw the way the both of them jumped a little and couldn’t help the amused chuckle that escaped her lips. “Yes. People either love it or hate it.”

“I love it,” Isabela declared. Her stroke had left one of her legs completely paralyzed, and she needed to drag it around with the help of a cane. This inevitably made each one of her movements infinitely slower, but Isabela Lowman never gave up. She’d just reached the rest of the girls right on the threshold to the infamous bathroom, and hadn’t wasted any time in sharing her opinion about it.

“So, it’s sold,” Snake said, the sentence sounding more like a question than probably intended. Of course, she was joking. Maybe. “We’re buying this.”

“No, we’re not,” Happy almost growled, his face blanching at the ominous sight in front of his eyes. Pink tiles, pink flooring, pink fixtures, pink everything. Too much pink. Way, way too much.

Snake immediately turned around to look for the Son’s face, baby pout on full display. Happy felt his stomach churn at the thought she still looked every inch like the naïve twenty–five years old he’d met seven years prior, when he’d started working as her bodyguard. An entire lifetime seemed to have gone by in the meantime, and yet, Snake was always the same.

“But it’s so pretty,” Happy heard her murmur. Snake moved a couple of steps in his direction, perfectly manicured hands landing on the lapels of his SAMCRO kutte. Then she raised the most shameless puppy eyes Happy had ever seen on him, saying, “I want a pink bathroom.”

Now, it was finally time to get undressed. She’d stalled around long enough, trying to postpone the embarrassment of the moment because she truly had no idea how she’d cope with it. “Are you…” Snake started, then promptly stopped to clear her throat. Nervousness had her voice cracking, for fuck’s sake, as if she was nothing more than an inexperienced teenager. “Are you going to leave?”

Happy knew exactly what she meant, and yet he decided to pretend he didn’t. A sardonic smile pulling at his full lips, he once again leaned against the marble of Snake’s sink and asked, “Do you want me to?”

They’d known each other for close to seven years, now. They’d gone through so many things. Happy had seen her defeated, on top of the world, exhausted, flirty, sad, protective, unsure, combative, naked. So many times. There was no place left for shame in the weird bond they still somehow shared. At least, so he thought.

For Snake, this was different. While it was true they’d shared close to anything under the Sun already, Happy had never seen her pregnant. Of course, at week twenty–seven her belly was so big it was impossible not to notice it, but her baggy clothes still managed to hide the actual proportions of that heavy truth. What would Happy think of her body, now?

She was carrying his babies, and while she had no problems with stretchmarks, weight gain and all kind of unpleasant stuff that brought along, she couldn’t help feeling self–conscious about it. Was Happy ready for this? Would he still find her… Sexy? And why was she even bothering with shit like this? They weren’t together anymore. They would never ever be, probably. So what if Happy didn’t find her attractive?

“Uh,” Juice’s voice brought her back to reality with a startle. Snake finally noticed his presence, alongside Bobby, Chibs and Tig. She’d been so caught up in her usual internal ramblings that she hadn’t even heard them approach. Now that she was fully alert though, trying to ignore their confused stares was proving to be impossible. “Are you…”

Am I, what? Pregnant with the twins of a man who doesn’t love me?

“It wasn’t the traumatic experience you think it was, I promise,” Happy murmured after a while, because he knew just how much she needed the reassurance. Not even seeing him in the clear light of his kitchen, getting further proof of just how perfectly fine he was, had been enough to calm her down. Happy wasn’t having any of it. “We ate almond chicken and watched cartoons.”

His kidnapping had really been little more than a formality. The Chinese wanted to seize Connor Malone, whatever was left of Galen’s men and their weapons. Happy had simply been unlucky enough to find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he’d never even thought the Lin’s could actually hurt him. They needed some kind of leverage against his club, and he’d been the first Son they could lay their hands on. Simple as that.

“Of course,” she snorted, eyes rolling in their sockets. “Why do I even bother?”

Indeed. Happy couldn’t for the life of him think of a good enough answer, so he just said, “I killed Lin.”

Snake didn’t even bat an eyelash at that. It’d happened mere hours before, so little time ago Happy could still smell the Chinese’s blood on his hands if he tried hard enough. But what was new? That was what they always did. Snake knew, Happy knew, they all did. “I guess he deserved that,” she shrugged her shoulders, completely unbothered. Anyone else would have probably felt disgusted, disappointed, anything. But Snake never, ever judged. She’d always accepted Happy for who he was, virtues and vices, and knew he would always do the same with her. “I’m sorry about Clay.”

Again, a wave of shock hit him. News sure traveled fast, even all the way to Bakersfield. How many more things did Snake know already? Just how much did she still care, despite everything? And why?

“Nah,” Happy quickly dismissed, the urge to make things clear almost searing. He couldn’t accept the idea of Snake being upset for a man who’d tried hurting his family so much, so many different times. Clay Morrow didn’t deserve her sincere distress. Arguably, no one did. “he deserved that, too.”

Danika, on the other hand, had other plans. With an all new perkiness, she sprang up from her seat and followed her employer in the foyer. Colette was talking to SAMCRO’s president, of course, but the mint–haired escort caught nothing of their exchange.

“Got you,” she said, perfectly manicured hands landing on the leather of Chibs’ shirt. “No more avoiding me.”

The Scot visibly tensed under her touch, and Danika had to swallow against the sudden urge to rub herself all over him. She’d seen the way his muscles flexed and widened while he was manhandling her, and couldn’t wait to relive the experience, but there were other pressing matters they needed to discuss first. “Pardon?” he bit out as soon as he realized he wasn’t getting rid of her, not this time.

His thick, crisp accent had a shiver descend down Danika’s spine, and because she absolutely couldn’t help herself — what a fool — she found herself going up on her toes, chin landing on Chibs’ cool shoulder. They were even closer now, their scents mingling, Danika’s soft breasts pressed against the side of the arm she was still holding onto like a lifeline. “You’ve been prancing in and out of my house as you damn please, and never once stopped to say hi.”

Chibs’ jaw muscles flexed as well — it was so easy to rile him up, God — then he smiled at her, dimples as deep and endearing as his scars. Danika had tried caressing them one time, and that hadn’t ended up well. Chibs was… Complicated, to say the least. She needed to thread lightly if she wished not to scare him off for good. “Hi,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He’d given her what she wanted, no? And now it was time for him to go.

Yan Wushi drops down on his bed, and Shen Qiao soon follows. They’re still united as one: Yan Wushi’s hold on Mount Xuandu’s leader’s tight waist is cast–iron. No matter what happens, he’s not letting go. Ever. 

“Get comfortable, pretty,” he tells Shen Qiao, who’s still timidly hovering over him. Their combined descent has made it so that Yan Wushi is now sitting at the center of the bed, while Shen Qiao hesitates on his knees, unsure of what to do next. 

“Use this venerable one as your resting place.”

It was only when Happy marched inside ‘Diosa Norte’ for the second time that day that he realized how restless they’d all been recently. Between Clay, Barosky and the Aquino shooting, Sons of Anarchy had needed to deal with so many things — all at once — that even just thinking about stopping was impossible. They would never get any rest, but somehow Happy thought that was for the best.

What was he supposed to do if and when all of this was finally over? Think about his own problems? Reflect on the way he’d been doing nothing but run away from them all his life? It sounded absurd to say the least. So, Happy couldn’t afford to stop. Not even if it killed him. In the span of three days only he’d been to Mendocino with Juice, then Bakersfield to Snake, back in Charming — way earlier than he would have liked — and all around to discuss business changes with their ex–clients.

They’d all been very open to news of Clay and Clay only handling guns from that moment on. They perfectly understood why the Sons of Anarchy needed to step away, and they fully respected their choice. Seeing things work out smoothly was nice for a change, and Happy had gone back to his brothers with satisfaction filling his heart. His job was done. He wasn’t useless to this club at the very least. Maybe Italians needed a stronger push before they were fully convinced, but Bobby would handle that. For now, Happy could relax. Kind of.

“How is Snake doing?” Wanda asked, so suddenly — so unexpectedly — that he almost felt like doubling over in shock. They hadn’t talked nor seen each other since their last encounter, and since she’d looked rather busy with a client, Happy hadn’t thought she’d approach him at that time. Not to talk about Snake of all things. Her eyes briefly landing on Quinn’s figure — who’d followed him and Jax there, since the latter needed to discuss something with Nero — she kept going, “I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“Me neither,” Happy almost said, because it was the truth. He hadn’t seen nor heard from Snake in weeks, and he had no idea how she was doing. He couldn’t have answered Wanda’s questions not even if he actually wanted to.

Snake was famished, to be honest. She looked for Happy’s dark eyes, pulling back ever so slightly in order to regain some more breath. “Will you let me touch myself?” she asked, licking her wet lips slowly. This was so not like her. In bed, Snake didn’t follow orders. She got what she wanted, whenever, however she wanted it. Maybe it was time to change, though. Maybe she could allow some more... Experimentation.

“You can do whatever you want, princess,” Happy huffed out an incredulous laugh. Snake smirked up at him, her green eyes twinkling with something very similar to mischievousness. She was having oh–so much fun. In that moment, she didn’t need to think about anything. No Sal, no Tony, no kids, no death. Just pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.

“You’re being so good to me tonight,” she said after some more time, briefly kissing the tip of Happy’s dick before she pulled away completely, looking for his eyes once again. She tilted her head to the side, faking innocence. “Maybe I’ll let you fuck my tits, too.”

Happy’s body literally went into overdrive. Fuck. “Yes,” he groaned, his voice croaky. “Please.”

“There was an explosion at the clubhouse. It’s gone,” Tara said, choosing to rip the band–aid right off. “TM is still salvageable, I think, but it’s gonna take some time.”

I don’t give a shit about TM, Snake wanted to say. But she didn’t. Partly because speaking was proving to be oh–so difficult. What was she supposed to say, anyway? “Are you...” she started after some time, gulping and breathing through the nausea and sudden hyperventilation. “Are y’all okay?”

What if anybody got hurt? What if anybody died, and she’d had no idea for days?

“Yes,” Tara breathed promptly, probably sensing her panic. “We’re a little freaked out, but no one got hurt.”

“Thank God.”

“I’m staying at Gemma’s with the kids. Abel hasn’t slept in days. He’s barely eaten.”

Snake felt her heart squeeze painfully at the sudden realization. “They were there, too?”

Tara nodded, even if she knew nobody would see her. “We all were. Sons were about to go into Church. It was done on purpose,” she explained. “The Irish wanted all of us dead.”

Of course it’d been them. “But, why? Why are they doing this, still? Why aren’t they accepting any of Jax’s proposals?”

“I don’t know, babe. I refuse to try and understand how their pea brains work,” Tara said, and no matter how absurd it was, Snake almost felt like giggling. “Other charters are okay, though. They’re all reunited in Chester, now. I wanted you to know since I don’t think Happy’s gonna have much time to fill you in. It’s been tough for him. Well, for all of them, obviously. That was their home.”

Happy let the bathroom door close behind his back with a loud bang. Basically dragging his feet to it — why did everything feel so heavy all of a sudden? — he reached his bed and sat on it with a sigh, hunching over, elbows on his knees and hands at the back of his neck. He was at the clubhouse. They all were. Lockdown was becoming their only way of living. Or rather, surviving.

His tattooed skin was still a little damp from his shower. Happy had stayed under the running water for as long as he could, hoping that’d be enough to wash away all the blood and smell of death. It was pure wishful thinking, and he knew it. Now more than ever.

He’d never felt the need to run from it all. The fear that comes with knowing that no matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, there’s no way to make sure the people you love will always be safe.

That was part of the reason why he always kept everyone at arm’s length. The only people he’d ever trusted enough to actually let in had been his club brothers. Now, they were all gone. Almost. The MC had become a ghost of the safe, sacred institution they’d all known for years and learned to love. There were so many problems to face, all at the same time, it was becoming too much to bear.

They’d lost two more members that day. Happy swore he could still smell the stench of Phil and V–Lin’s bodies burning in the hole he’d dug up for the both of them. Nausea started churning his guts once more. He was used to death. Torturing, fighting, killing... They were basically second nature, at that point. Why did this have to feel any different, then? Happy knew why, but he had no courage to admit it.

“There’s something else bothering you,” she prompted, hoping Happy would take her bait and just... Let go.

“There are many things bothering me,” he admitted, then heaved out a sigh. He wasn’t looking at her when he talked next, and Snake knew exactly why. “It’s weird. I don’t like what we’re becoming. I have no idea when it started to change, but it did, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to this club. These are my brothers, but I feel like there’s something dividing us all. There’s people lying and doing whatever they want as if it’s nothing. As if this doesn’t mean anything anymore. And I guess it doesn’t, somehow, to some of them. Not to me. This is my family. I have nothing left.”

Snake nodded. “I know what you mean. I felt the same with Tara today. We haven’t seen each other in two weeks, but it might as well have been years. It’s all so different now. And I can’t seem to shake off the feeling she’s hiding something from me.”

“Yeah, I get that with everyone. It’s making me go insane. I doubt every word, every gesture. And I don’t like it.” They’d known each other for six years, and Happy had never opened up that much. Not to her, not to anyone. Part of him felt scarily exposed, the other was relieved. The weight on his chest felt undoubtedly lighter now.

A sudden sense of guilt twisted her insides so hard Snake almost found herself breathless. She was hiding something from Happy, too. There she was, keeping another pregnancy for herself even after promising there would be no more secrets between them. Happy didn’t deserve that.

Kluay gets in his shower, and even before Achi can think of doing something — anything, really — to shoo him away, slender fingers are massaging small circles on his scalp and temples. He suddenly doesn’t feel like fighting anymore.

“Your timing was off today,” Kluay murmurs, so close to his ear it’s almost unbearable. Achi feels his soapy hands rub his shoulders clean, and he hates just how much Kluay’s touch soothes him at this point. No matter how angry or irritated he is.

They definitely shouldn’t be doing this. He’s his coach, after all. They’re still on school grounds. Some part of Achi — the stupidest one, that’s for sure — really struggles to give a damn. He knows it’s all wrong, so why does it feel so right?

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, his voice barely there, stretching against Kluay’s body like a lazy cat.

“Yeah,” Kluay smiles, his face softening. “Hom almost beat you.”

Achi’s eyes roll into their sockets so fast he feels sick for a minute. “As if.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, so rough her guts twisted with an unexpected wave of lust. That was the Happy she knew and adored.

“Make me.” Snake had to provoke him, because that was what they did. Bickering was just another form of foreplay, for them. Happy didn’t think about it twice, and instantly went for her lips. Snake jerked away from him barely in time, unable to contain a shocked gasp. “I don’t wanna kiss you right now!”

That wasn’t exactly true, to be honest. Of course she wanted to kiss him. Always. But even after rinsing her mouth and violently brushing her teeth for ages, she still felt dirty and stinky. Happy didn’t deserve to experience that. Or so Snake thought.

Before she could actually even notice, he’d forced her hand away from his lips and went for it anyway. It was fast and soft. Snake’s eyes were wild with disbelief when she murmured, “You’re disgusting.”

Happy laughed, tightening his grip around her waist just a little bit more. Snake burrowed in deeper, clinging around his torso harder and hiding her face against his neck once again. Happy had never been one for cuddles. Just the thought of it always had his skin crawling. But right at that moment, he felt like there was nothing he’d rather do than give her the physical comfort she deserved. “You love it.”

“I love you.”

“Tell me what you want, princess,” Happy ordered, his voice rough, knowing full well she wouldn’t put up a fight. He had to make sure though, so he let one of his hands caress her breasts. So close to where she needed his touch the most, but never really there.

Snake squirmed against his warm body — more than aware of what exactly Happy was doing and loving it all the same — and thought that if he really wanted her to beg, then she would. “You,” she whispered, and Happy hummed low in his throat, clearly satisfied with the answer.

Not fully, though. “Only me?”

Snake shook her head immediately. Once again, he was proving to know her better than anyone else. “No,” she said, because she had absolutely nothing to hide — or be ashamed of. Happy was open–minded enough to accept the fact that sometimes she just wanted to kiss girls, girls, girls.

Both his hands moved on her hips, and she couldn’t help spreading her legs just a little bit, hoping he’d give her more and more. “Who else do you want?”

“I’ll let you choose. I’m not picky.”

So Happy did. Or at least he tried to. Barbara — that was the name on her necklace, anyway — was strutting around in a purple mini–dress and strappy heels. Snake gave her a long once–over, then turned to face Happy again, her cheeks now suddenly flooded with color. “She looks like me,” she grumbled, because she did. Blonde hair, light eyes, puffy lips — and huge tits, of fucking course. Happy had a type for sure. “Not her. I’d feel like I’m fucking my own twin or something.”

“Then you choose,” Happy conceded, barely holding in a laugh.

Snake started searching for the right girl, feeling so naughty, and dirty, and good. Finally, her eyes fell on Wanda. There was something about her that instantly lured her in. She looked incredibly young, her blonde hair falling in elegant curls over her shoulders. When their gazes locked, she gave her the biggest smile — something so pure, almost girl–next–door like — and Snake noticed they were almond shaped and oh, so bright.

“I want her,” she immediately said, and nodded in Wanda’s direction, so that she’d understand she could approach them. She did, her perky little ass looking like perfection wrapped in the skirt she was wearing.

“Hey.” It was Snake’s voice putting a stop to his thoughts — fucking finally — and he unconsciously leaned against the doorjamb of her bedroom, blatantly checking her out for a hot minute. She was still getting ready for gym: her blonde hair loose and disheveled — since it was too short to tie up, anyway — wearing a bright green crop top and black leggings that hugged her figure a little too nicely. “Gimme me a minute, I can’t find my sneakers.”

“Whatever. We’re not training at the gym today.”

Happy immediately saw Snake’s face light up, but knew it wasn’t gonna last. For the past three months or so, he’d spent every single day teaching her basic self–defense stuff, and she quite enjoyed it. It made her feel stronger and more protected.

But she didn’t necessarily love it. Training was hard, and she was a couch potato at heart. A day off would be very well welcomed. But, “Couldn’t you have said so before? I would have gotten ready for work, by now,” she pointed out after some time, her eyes literally shooting daggers at him.

“You’re not going there either.” He knew she’d probably get even more irritated, but stayed vague anyway. Teasing her was always too funny to pass up.

But Snake was the most unpredictable woman Happy had ever met, and she managed to surprise him once more. “Uhhhh,” she purred, moving towards him ’till they were basically toe to toe. So very dangerously close. “where are you taking me, then?”

Happy let one of his hands cup the back of her neck — to keep her far away from him, not because he wanted and needed to touch her. Of course. “Put some shoes on and you’ll soon find out.”