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“It’s not gonna fit.”
“Yes, it will, Jax. You just have to hold still.”
Juice has his ear pressed up to the door, wondering what the hell is going on in Jax’s room.
“It’s too long. I’m telling you, it’s gonna go in crooked. Plus, I’m getting a cramp.” Jax’s voice is husky, strained.
“If you stop squirming and just hold it straight, it’ll just slip in on its own,” Tig’s deep timbre echoes back.
Okay, whatever is happening, Juice is dying to know if it’s as bad as he imagines. He crosses himself, kisses the knuckle of his index finger. Shielding his chocolate eyes with his palm, he knocks.
“Jax, you in there? I’m coming in so if you’re not decent, holler,” he says as he turns the knob.
Regardless of the state of affairs, Juice has decided to barge in.
This has not been unusual behavior of late. In fact, Tig and Jax have been spending a ton of time together. Nobody’s really questioned it, most of the club naturally pair off. He and Chibs, Hap and whoever is around. That weirdo’s not picky.
It used to be Jax and Ope, but since Ope got killed…
It wouldn’t surprise Juice is all, if Jax and Tig found solace in one another, especially with the loss they endured.
Is Juice a little jealous? Maybe. He might be slightly crushing on the club pervert. Just hasn’t had the courage to act on it. He and Chibs are more friends with benefits now, anyway, and lately things have fizzled out.
For whatever reason, it’s been a couple weeks he hasn’t been able to get Tiggy off his mind.
So if what’s transpiring here is the President sleeping with his sergeant, so be it. It’s just that Juice is using the room right next door and he doesn’t want to be privy to it on a Saturday morning. Well, not without warning at least.
Or being invited to join??
“God, please don’t let them be fucking,” he prays. Or is it more please let them be fucking??
The door flies open, and Juice peeks through his fingers, as if he were bashful.
What he walks in on is a very confused Jax holding a board above his head. The prez’s wiry muscles are taut under the wood’s weight, both he and Tig are fully clothed, albeit in very muscle-hugging t-shirts.
“Juice?” Tig greets him. He’s holding a screw driver in his left hand, which he pops into a tool belt hanging crookedly off his waist. Juice inhales deeply, awkwardly scratching his head. He wasn’t aware “construction worker Tig” is something he’d ever need to see.
But goddamn. Burn into memory… check!
“Hey guys,” Juice huffs, a coil of heat rising up his spine.
His gaze inevitably draws to Tig’s arms, tanned to a golden amber with a dusting of ebony hair covering the forearms.
Jesus, when did he stop being Tig the perv and when did he start looking like such a snack?!
Everything about this man screams “sex,” and even Juice is not immune to his charms.
Not that Jax isn’t walking masculinity. Someone would have to be dead not to want to fuck Jax. It’s just… Juice has a thing for older guys.
On second thought, perhaps it was a pang of jealousy that led his hand into invading their privacy?
“Juice, you okay?” Jax raises a curved eyebrow and waves. “Dude…”
Juice is a bit… distracted. Tig body’s is engineered to be nearly perfect. The guy’s not 20 anymore, but Jesus Christ is he still hot!
Everything about him begs attention. Even his biceps, tightly confined in a grey v-neck t-shirt. Just enough chest shows to entice Juice to linger there, leaving him desiring to see more, to touch. Taste?
Juice catches himself and blushes deeply.
Tig rubs his trimmed goatee, suspicious of what might be passing through the boy’s mind.
“Juice, why were you covering your eyes?” he asks. “What exactly did you think we were doing in here?”
One hand uncomfortably perched on his hip, he chuckles to himself. “Well, I, ... I heard ‘it’s too long and it won’t fit’.. I just imagined the worst.”
Juice clears his throat in obvious embarrassment. His mind immediately runs with a million scenarios.
How would Tig feel inside him? What’s it like? And if he were sandwiched between him and Jax…
“Oh god I have to stop this,” Juice scolds himself, his chest expanding in a deep inhale.
Jax grins, a couple straw-colored strands falling into his face from his unruly mane.
“So, you were eavesdropping and thought I was getting sexed by Tiggy? And the best solution to this was you interrupting us?”
Tig removes the tool belt and places it on Jax’s desk, snorting. Juice’s chocolate eyes crinkle as he giggles, kind of wishing Tig would put the belt back on.
“I guess I didn’t consider the consequence. Sorry. I have a tendency to act on impulse.”
Tig reaches out and squeezes onto the rich outline of Juice’s shoulder. He makes sure to get real close to Juice’s mouth.
“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence in my physical prowess. And had that actually been happening, Juicy, I assure you I’d have had the good sense to lock the door.”
Ortiz swallows, darting a look to Jax who’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“There’d be no doubt about it. I would have made it fit at all costs, sweetheart, and Jax would have been singing its praises so the entire clubhouse could hear.”
Oh holy God, Juice thinks. He’s hard now.
Jax does a double take. Did Tig just say that?! AND admit he’d be down to fuck?! Wait…
“As you can see, Juicy, I’m only helping young Jax here put up a shelf. It’s all terribly innocent, I’m afraid.”
“What a shame,” Jax mutters under his breath, catching even himself.
Juice suddenly feels stupid for jumping to conclusions, but it was an honest mistake given the conversation. Part of him is also oddly relieved that Jax and Tiggy aren’t lovers, (and he refuses to admit why he cares if they are).
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to both.
“Dude... next time like knock, for real. Don’t just walk in as you knock. I might have had someone in here in a… compromised state. Did you need something else?” Jax enquires, slightly annoyed. He’s still hung up on what Tig said earlier. Jesus Christ, it made his cock twitch.
Tig clucks his tongue. “Now now, Jackson, there’s no reason to be mean. He was concerned for your… safety? Isn’t that right, Juice? My enormous dick might have hurt your Prez?”
Now Tig is being facetious. Jax suppresses a smirk, getting uncomfortably aroused in the meantime.
Juice is so hot under the collar he doesn’t know where to look.
“Yeah, sorry. Both of you. I just... nevermind. Anyway, I was heading out to get groceries. Was gonna ask if you wanted something. Jax? Tig?”
Any chance either of you’d like me?
The blond declines. “I’m good for now. Thanks though. Just get the usual.”
Tig agrees. “Yeah. I had a late breakfast so I’m not hungry. But thanks.” Well, not hungry for food.
That little seed he planted has germinated. Would Jax be DTF? The way he perked up like that when he mentioned fucking him…
“Sure, no problem. I guess I’ll leave you to your... shelving.” Juice tiptoes out the room, walking backwards.
“Okay then,” breathes Jax. “And close the door, please.”
When Juice shuts it behind him, face palming himself right afterwards, all he wants is to get out of the house as fast as his legs will carry him.
He doesn’t, though. He tiptoes to the room next door and puts an ear to the wall. Something tells him these two won’t be behaving for long, not judging from both their expressions.
Juice holds his breath and waits. (He’s also not going to acknowledge whatever triggered the hardness in his pants. Self-denial is an amazing thing).
The two men remaining in the room contemplate each other in silence, one sizing up the other. Jax’s brow wrinkles as he walks over and turns the lock on the door.
Tig says nothing, but he picks up on a certain change of “vibe” in the room.
It isn’t so much the implication of there being something between them, it’s that now that Juice thought it, verbalized it… well, there could be something. Both are seeing one other with fresh eyes.
“Thanks Juice,” Jax muses. It took but a second. One presumption. Now everything is suddenly “grey.” Or dark with salt peppered into his facial hair, rather. A gorgeous, blue-eyed hunk of a problem.
There’s a dilemma brewing inside Tiggy as well. Sometimes that’s all it takes, one moment. The “obvious” goes and smacks you in the face like someone who jolts you from a panic attack.
Hard and immediate.
Would it be so bad for Jax to fall into his arms? After all the torture the poor kid went through, would having a mature man wanting to comfort him be so awful?
Lord knows he could use the affection himself. It’s been so long since he felt hands that weren’t obliged to touch him, or were paid for.
Tig plays dumb, shakes his head in amusement. The seed that Juice planted has definitely found fresh ground.
“That Juice,” Tig wags his finger. “Lemme tell you. He’s got quite the imagination,” the grit in his voice is scratching the itch that’s growing within.
He avoids the blond’s gaze in what is a rather pathetic attempt at seduction. He’s bent over, fiddling with his toolbox. The elder knows full well that his perfect ass is angled just right.
Jax’s baby blues trace over the superlative buttocks bursting out of his jeans. He swallows, his Adam’s apple a bob in his suddenly parched throat.
The president is standing with the shelf poised against his hip, head tilted, when Tig looks up at him.
His blue steel stare speaks volumes.
“You okay, Jax?”
Tig takes a step in his direction, a smirk twisting his luscious lips.
The younger nods, hair tucked behind his ears with a shaky hand. The shelf falls over with a thud.
“Is it getting hot in here? Because I’m suddenly very warm.”
Jax doesn’t hesitate even a moment, his white t-shirt over his head and discarded on the floor before his sergeant can formulate an answer.
On the other side of the wall, Juice gasps, covering it immediately with a curved palm. He knew it!
Tig grins, a row of impossibly white teeth more an invitation than a reaction. He’s impressed by the broad shoulders and pecs flexing beneath the boy’s perfect ivory skin. He knew Jax was hot, but from behind this new filter… The whole Abercrombie model look, the lightly bearded jaw…
Fuck.
Perhaps it was just the idea of it being “wrong” that prevented Tig from ever considering him as anything but his friend and brother? But it’s not like the club isn’t incestuous already. Would it matter?
And ever since Dawn passed, he’s been so lonely. Not quite right. The void his child being murdered left, it was too much. He didn’t think he could ever stop the bellowing from within his soul. But with the time he’s spent with Jax lately… it’s suddenly been quieter. The screams that tear him from slumber so often, to where his own bed is no longer inviting, might mute if he had someone to wake up next to.
But Tig’s thoughts digress. “It might be, yes. Just a little hotter now. You know, Jackson, these physiological reactions are often... hormonal. And then there are pheromones, too. All that biology cooped up in a tiny room.”
Nice attempt at subtlety, Tig, Juice thinks. Will they just get on with it already??
“Are you feeling… hormonal, Jackson?”
He’d never he guess he would, but Jax trembles a bit at the suggestion. Now his curiosity is peaked, though. (And that’s not the only thing reaching for the stars. How hard is he now?!)
The door’s locked and there’s no going back. He reaches out to fumble with Tig’ shirt, fingering the thin cotton material at its hem.
“Tiggy,” he’s started stuttering a bit, “The shelf can wait.”
“Mmhm,” the man agrees, nose pressed to Jax’s long neck. He flicks his tongue against the tender part of Jax’s lobe. “I think it can, Jackson. I think it can.”
A second shirt joins the one already kicked to the side of the bed.
“You’re looking a little flushed, son.” Tig whispers, almost bare chest to bare chest now. He’s stalking his prey. One step closer to the kill.
Fuck me! Jax whimpers. What’s he doing to me? Jackson? SON?
“Yeah, it’s getting hot in here,” the prez states, undoing Tig’ belt as he licks him over the mouth with a papery tongue.
“I might have to feel you for fever, Jackson. I’m very conscious about your well-being.”
Juice gulps... if he could melt into the wall, he would. For now, the visual will have to remain in his head. His dominant hands reaches down. He looks up to the ceiling, eyes rolling into the back of his head when he grabs his turgid cock. Forgive me, he begs, struggling with the cotton.
“Keep saying my name like that, Alexander, and I’ll get down on my knees for you.”
Tig swallows hard, his hooded gaze saying EVERYTHING.
He smirks, placing a cool hand on Jax’s cheek, the other straying to the hem of his ever tighter pants. Two fingers circle the button at the top and pops it. A slide of hand has him inside Jax’s underwear in a heartbeat.
Speaking of, theirs are racing.
“I don’t think that’s where you’re supposed to check for fever,” Jax stammers, a knowing grin stamped on his plump lips as his own hands undo Tig’s pants.
Tig gives a little squeeze over the scalding flesh, thumbing the slick over the crown.
“Holy shit,” Jax shudders.
“Jackson, be a dear and take it out,” he moans.
Jax’s eyes widen when his gaze falls on Tig’s cock.
“I know,” Tig rumbles into his ear. “I know. But don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make it fit.”
The sound of a zipper barely covers Jax’s hiss.
_
There isn’t much else to say. They fall on each other with a visceral need. Teeth, lips… hands curled into claws that scratch at needy curves and sharp angles.
Jax is breathing through his nose, Tig taking full possession of his hot, thirsty mouth. His beard grates against Jax’s chin, leaving an extensive red welt as he tangles himself into his silky hair.
An undercurrent of sexual awareness rips through them. Tig’s eager hands explore Jax’s body, their kissing as violent as their movements.
Fingertips airplay on Jax’s ribs.
“So beautiful, baby. So fucking perfect,” Tig moans, pushing his needy erection into Jax’s thigh.
“Jesus Christ, Tig, just keep touching me, please,” Jax pleads.
Jax is hard like marble under such creamy skin… Tig’s fiery muscle trails from his cavity, the boy tasting like nicotine and mint and sweet promise.
The first hickey is purple, deep. Tig knows when to bite in and when to suck his delicate derma, rolling it over his lower teeth.
“Ugh, fuck Tig,” Jax beseeches him. “I want you. Fucking get this shit off me already.”
Juice is pretty much dying beyond the wall. He’s sweating, lip sucked into the corner of his mouth. His tugs are slow for the moment, not wanting to cum too soon. Perhaps he can time it to their orgasms?
Tig’s nimble fingers work to yank the underclothes off the prez. Jax strips Tig of his and works his mammoth cock for a good minute with short, rough strokes.
“Fuck, I can’t even fit you in my fist,” he struggles for breath. Tig is thick, “beer can girth,” and once he’s naked, too, Jax falls to his knees, using two hands to jerk him.
“Jax, oh baby that mouth…” Tig grunts as his cock disappears. “Fuck Jackson…” he whines, an orange glow growing behind his lids.
Tig’s pubic bone bangs against Jax’s slick chin, blue eyes blown black as he revels in the ministrations. Fuck, he’s sucking on him so beautifully. His abs tense under the attention, a low heat burning in his gut.
“Baby, ugh… I want you. Get on the bed, let’s 69. I want to taste you, swallow your cum. We can fuck later. We can fuck into eternity but right now I need you in my mouth, too,” he suggests.
There’s an unbearable pressure between his thighs. Jax wipes a tear from his long lashes, having pushed most of Tig’ thick length down his gullet.
“Fuck yeah, let’s do it,” he mewls when he pulls off, shiny in saliva.
That’s when they hear it. A lamp getting knocked over in the room next door. The room that Juice has been using while his place gets painted.
Tig shakes his head, winking at Jax. “Wanna let him join in?”
Fuck that’s hot, Jax thinks, blinded by lust at this point. “The more the merrier.”
“JUICE!” they yell in unison.
“Oh shit,” Juice whispers, realizing he’s been discovered. Fuck his clumsiness, if he hadn’t knocked the side table over with his foot…
But isn’t this exactly what he wanted?
“Get your horny ass in here, Juice! Now!”
He can’t disobey a direct order from his President. And fuck that’s hot. Juice tucks his half-hard shit into his boxers and runs to the door, the flaps on his pants still open.
The door yawns. Jax’s smiling face appears over the frame. “You could have just asked to stay, Juicy.”
“Oh Christ.”
Tig is sitting on the bed, lazily jerking himself. Jerking... one of the most magnificent cocks he’s ever seen. It’s not even close to what he imagined.
Jax is… naked, too. And bleeding pre-come from his very erect and… beautiful cock. Are the Sons just blessed down there? What the hell?
“Come on in, Juicy,” an invitation in the smoldering depths of Tig’s eyes.
“Okay… I um… “ he stammers.
“Take your clothes off and get on the bed, Juice.”
It’s a command. Jax flips the deadbolt and takes his place next to Tig. They watch him undress, Tig stopping mid-drag to pat the place between them.
“Come over here, gorgeous. We’re gonna have some fun.”
Juice would pinch himself, but his throbbing erection is a pretty simple reminder that this is happening and above all, that this is NOT a dream.
He lies down on the bed, limbs weak with lust, and positions himself so he can see them both.
“Um… now what?”
“Feel free to jump in whenever you like…” Jax winks.
The president’s head cover’s Tig’s groin. Jax resumes his oral ministrations, face down in Tig’s bed of pubes as he chokes himself on his cock.
“Ugh baby, shit…” Tig laments. “Go deep, just like that, Jackson.”
He dares to push Jax’s head down further onto his leaking dick.
Tig won’t do much else after that except whimper, because he’s inhaling Juice’s impressive dick. Massaging the groove of his tongue up to the top of his palate with the head.
“Fuck, Tig… “ Juice manages, before diving onto Jax’s shaft.
The room reeks of musk and animalistic sounds. Smacking, moaning… Jax sucks off Tig, who sucks off Juice, who sucks off Jax.
It’s a play of coordination and need, each milking the other at a different pace based on their body’s readings.
Tig likes it deep, with a lot of suction. The nails of his free hand dig into Juice’s ass in approval, only because he can’t reach Jax’s.
Jax prefers the swollen, rounded tip licked and sucked lightly, his balls rolled in Juice’s palm as he wrings his length vigorously.
“Harder, faster,” speak Jax’s movements, bucking his sex into Juice’s mouth with a roll of hips when he’s close.
A sheen of sweat covers their flawless bodies from the delicious effort. Tig is the first to come, shooting a very thick and salty release straight down Jax’s throat. Spit and cum bubbles cover his flushed face when he inches back to swallow. He lets a bit drip out the side of his puffed lips, licking over the edge of his pert mouth.
“MMMMM” Tig hums against Juice’s cock, not able to verbalize his orgasm as the boy’s member jerks and spurts immediately after his.
A long necklace of jizz falls from his ruby lips and down his tattooed neck.
“Jesus, Tig, fuck!” Juice slurs, pulling off slightly.
“Get your mouth back on my cock, Ortiz!” Jax orders, blissed out. He’s so close to coming… the fucker stops now?!
Juice closes his eyes, savoring the feel of his president’s thickness in his cavity. He drops his chin, opens his throat, musky brine filling his belly moments later.
Three men covered in perspiration and semen lay side by side, index fingers testing contact with a gentle touch. They’re poised on the duvet like used sex dolls.
“Jackson, baby…fuck. No one has ever…” Tig pants. “I mean it’s hard because I’m so…”
Jax smiles to himself, satisfied he could take his sarge’s ridiculously thick cock so well.
“I like to deep throat, I’ve got no gag reflex and an enormous mouth, so,” Jax compliments himself.
Tig rolls over, sucking the cum from Juice’s neck and chin with slurps. He sticks his tongue out and offers it to Jax.
“You all taste so fucking good. That was fucking amazing, Juicy. One of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had. You’ve ruined me, kiddo” the president marvels, patting Juice on his glistening thigh.
Juice is beaming, playing with Tig’s chest hair. “This was by far the hottest thing I’ve ever done, guys. The hottest. What I’d really love is… “
Tig bites. “Lemme guess… you want me to fuck you? See what that width burns like stretched out in your ass?”
He tilts his head, kissing Tig first, then coaxing one from Jax. He nuances his thought by nodding.
“I switch, if you want I can fuck either of you, too.”
Tig traces a circle over the skull on Juice’s slick chest.
“We’ve got ourselves a very resourceful little soldier, here, Jackson” he grins.
Jax angles in for another dirty, jizzy kiss from both of them.
“That you are, Juicy. So willing,” Jax whispers, nodding against his bruised lips.
“Tiggy, can you fuck me with the tool belt on?” Juice asks, filing away his shyness for later. Tig laughs, throwing his head back.
“Anything for you, sweetheart. Now get on all fours for me, Juicy. Jackson… be a dutiful boy and grab the belt, some lube and the condoms? I want to watch Juice service you as I fuck him.”
“I’m more of a top, Tiggy, but I’ll make the exception because it’s you. And I want a ride on that thing, too. Just sayin’.”
“Jackson, you let Juice fuck you first, trust me. You’ll need the prep for this monster. Juice has been taking Chibs’ fat cock for years, he’s used to it.”
Juice laughs, spreading himself for Tig, his weight sagging into the springs below.
Jax moves his head slightly to gain perspective. If this isn’t the hottest shit…
“Jesus Christ I’m glad I gave the rest of the club the day off. I don’t think we’re gonna get out of here before nightfall.”
“I’m counting on it,” Tig says slyly, dropping his head to nuzzle it between Juice’s ass cheeks.