Work Text:
They’re halfway to Lodi when Juice lays his bike down hard.
It hurts like a motherfucker, but he’s in good shape considering. He knows he’ll have some serious bruising, might even need stitches in a couple places. Chibs catches up to him quickly.
“You stupid fucking bastard, what was that?” Chibs roars, hauling him up off the ground by the collar of his cut. Juice winces and bites down on his lip to keep from making a sound. Chibs’ eyes widen slightly and he drops his hands to Juice’s shoulders, pulling him in carefully. Juice allows himself to melt into Chibs for a moment before pulling away.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m fine,” Juice replies softly, eyeing the ground. Chibs follows Juice’s gaze, but his stops at Juice’s knee.
“Jesus, Juicy. You don’t bloody look fine,” he says, pointing to the deep gash from which Juice is bleeding. It’s not a little bit of blood either, Juice knows this because he’s starting to feel a little light headed. Chibs pulls him in close again as he sways on his feet. He eyes Juice curiously for a moment before moving his fingers to the thin scarf around his throat. Chibs takes it in hand and drops to his knees before Juice.
Juice stumbles back in surprise, but Chibs catches his uninjured leg in his grasp, “Take ‘er easy, will you? I’m not gonna bite.”
Juice can’t help the little tremor that runs through him at Chibs’ words. The Scotsman carefully wraps the scarf around Juice’s injured knee and ties it off tightly to help staunch the blood flow. Chibs’ fingers linger for a moment and then he’s standing, giving Juice a reassuring slap on the shoulder. It hurts.
Juice tries to refuse a lift back to Charming, but Chibs isn’t having any of it.
“I’m not lettin’ you ride in this condition. We’ll have the prospects pick up your girl,” he says decisively, nodding towards Juice’s bike. Juice sighs heavily in resignation and hobbles over to Chibs where he’s straddling his Dyna. “Get on.”
Juice carefully swings a leg over the seat and settles in behind Chibs, trying to put some space between their hips. He hears Chibs huff as he turns to look at Juice over his shoulder, “Quit bein’ daft. You’re gonna fall off if you sit like that. Settle in and ride like a proper bitch, yeah?” Juice feels his cheeks flush. Chibs still hasn’t fired up the engine. He’s waiting for Juice to comply.
Juice clears his throat and slides forward until he’s pressed up against Chibs.
“Hands,” Chibs says.
“For the love of….”Juice trails off in a grumble and places his hands on Chibs’ waist, fingers gripping leather and skin. Chibs grins and then his Dyna’s roaring to life beneath them. The vibrations are so strong they send Juice forward until he’s nearly plastered against Chibs, hips pushed right up against the small of Chibs’ back as they take off down the highway.
Juice has gotten used to the way Chibs touches him; a slap on the back, an enthusiastic hug, a casual arm slung around his shoulders. There isn’t a day that goes by that Chibs isn’t touching him in some small way, but they’ve never been this close. Juice knows that Chibs doesn’t mean anything by it, that it’s just a little brotherly love, but Juice can’t help the way he likes it. Probably more than he should.
Juice bites at his lips and shifts his grip on Chibs as the wind licks at them both. Chibs feels strong against him, solid atop his bike. And he smells good, like sweat and nicotine, leather and gunpowder. Juice’s heart hammers against his chest. He can feel his cock getting hard, thickening within the confines of his jeans. The heavy vibrations of the engine aren’t helping any. He needs to stop thinking about the way Chibs feels and smells; stop thinking about what it would feel like to be pinned and writhing beneath him, Chibs buried deep inside him.
The bike surges again in a burst of speed and it’s all over. Juice slips against the leather of the seat and he is suddenly all too aware that his cock is digging into Chibs’ back. Chibs stiffens against him and Juice feels his heart drop.
He’s going to chalk it up to blood loss. A concussion. Adrenaline.
Something.
Anything.
The rest of the ride home is uncomfortable, with Chibs riding rigidly and Juice with a terrified, white knuckled grip on Chibs’ cut. When they pull up in front of the clubhouse, Chibs waits patiently for Juice to release his hold and slide off the bike. Juice hears the engine cut as he shuffles inside slowly, his whole body throbbing, stomach rolling with shame. Juice has just got the Chapel door open when he feels someone at his back, pushing him inside, hears the door slamming shut behind them.
Juice doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Chibs. He’s breathing hard. Angry, Juice thinks.
“Juice,” Chibs murmurs and it sounds softer than Juice thought it would, but he can’t bring himself to turn around. Juice gasps as he feels Chibs’ breath against his neck. “Look at me.”
Juice turns slowly. Chibs doesn’t look angry. He looks curious, but Juice can’t stop himself.
“Chibs, I’m sorry man, I—“ Chibs cuts him off swiftly, a long finger to his lips. Juice swallows down a hundred excuses as the finger trails down his chin, his throat, his chest, his stomach until it catches in the top of Juice’s jeans.
“Do you always get hard when you ride?”
“No,” Juice replies softly, unable to meet Chibs’ gaze, but Juice can see him nodding in his peripheral.
Chibs falls to his knees and Juice waits for him to inspect the wound. He doesn’t.
Juice jerks, eyes widening as Chibs locks his mouth over Juice’s clothed cock and sucks. His hand falls to Chibs’ shoulder, fingers digging into Chibs’ cut and the skin beneath it. “Jesus Chibs, what—oh,” Juice moans as Chibs sucks harder, soaking the fabric of Juice’s jeans. His mouth feels so hot even through the layers that separate them. If Chibs wants to suck his cock, Juice sure as hell isn’t going to stop him. He’s wanted this for too fucking long.
When Chibs finally gets his mouth around Juice’s cock, he nearly loses it. Chibs’ mouth feels deliciously wet and scorching hot and Juice can’t help but fuck his hips into it. Chibs lets him. Juice has never had his cock sucked like this before. Chibs gives head like he’s getting paid to do it, moaning around a mouthful of cock. The slick slurping sounds are driving Juice crazy. He’s getting close when Chibs pulls off with an obscene pop.
“I could go down on you for hours,” he says huskily, lips brushing against Juice’s sensitive cock.
“I’m not gonna last hours,” Juice moans, fingers sliding into Chibs’ hair. Chibs smirks up at him.
“I’ll take what I can get,” he replies before swallowing Juice back down. Chibs sucks him hard and fast, lets Juice fuck his throat. Chibs knows when he’s got Juice on the brink; his thighs start trembling, balls drawing up tight.
“Chibs, Chibs I’m gonna come,” Juice chokes out but Chibs doesn’t let up. Juice holds tight to Chibs to keep from falling as he comes hard, shoots rope after rope into Chibs’ hollowed mouth.
Juice feels more lightheaded than ever by the time Chibs pulls off his cock. Juice watches with moderate disgust as Chibs cleanly spits the mouthful of come on to the floor as he rises. Chibs must notice the look because he smiles.
“I don’t swallow for anyone, sweetheart.”
“The boys are gonna love that one,” Juice says, rolling his eyes.
“What do you think prospects are for?” Chibs laughs. That’s when Juice realizes that Chibs hasn’t come yet. Juice can see how hard Chibs is beneath the leather of his pants. Juice reaches out for his belt, but Chibs catches his hands in his own.
“Later. Right now we’ve got to get you fixed up,” Chibs says, walking Juice towards the door, narrowly avoiding the pool of come on the ground.
“Later?” Juice asks, his voice sounding too soft and apprehensive even to his own ears. Chibs looks back at him, all warmth and reassurance.
“Absolutely, love.”
Tara comes as soon as Chibs makes the call, but Juice is so happy that not even her needlework can wipe the stupid grin off of his face.