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charmingsoa · 2 days

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✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Two ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

Taglist: @oskea93, @keyweegirlie @ravennaortiz

As the California sun beat down on me, the wind whipping through my hair as I rode on the back of the motorcycle, I couldn't help but reflect on the narrow-minded beliefs my parents had instilled in me and my brothers. Growing up in a conservative household where conformity and judgment were the norm, I had always been taught to view anyone who rode motorcycles as nothing but trash – individuals destined for the depths of hell.

My parents, staunch believers in their own sect of holy rollers, held strong prejudices against those who lived differently or held alternative beliefs. They saw the world in black and white, with no room for shades of gray or understanding. But as I clung to the back of the driver, feeling the freedom of the open road beneath me, I realized how misguided their teachings had been.

The rider in front of me, a stranger whose name I learned was Tig, exuded a sense of liberation and rebellion that I had never experienced before. The rumble of the engine beneath us seemed to drown out the judgmental voices of my past, and for the first time, I felt truly alive.

When the group first pulled up in front of me, I didn’t know whether to take their offer or run for the distant hills. Growing up, the horror stories of gangs kidnapping young girls and doing the unthinkable were ingrained in my psyche as my mother preached of their dangers. She would spew words of hatred and fear whenever the topic arose, warning me to steer clear of any suspicious-looking individuals or groups that might pose a threat.

As I stood there, frozen in indecision, the leader of the group stepped forward with a smile that seemed almost too friendly for someone in his position. His eyes held a glint of mischief, but there was something else there too – a hint of vulnerability that I couldn’t quite place.

"Hey there, don’t be afraid," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We’re just a group of travelers looking for some company on the road. We mean you no harm."

I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Should I trust this stranger and accept his offer of companionship, or should I heed the warnings of my mother and make a run for it? The decision weighed heavily on my shoulders, the consequences of each choice playing out vividly in my mind.

In the end, curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself nodding hesitantly, agreeing to join the group on their journey. As I climbed onto the back of his bike and we set off down the road together, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was embarking on an adventure that would change my life forever.

As we finally started to slow down upon entering a small town called Charming, I couldn't help but notice the reactions of the locals as the bikes rumbled past. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening with surprise and disapproval as they watched the group pass by. Disapproving looks were etched on their faces, and I could almost feel the judgment radiating towards them.

The quaint shops and cafes that lined the main street seemed to quiet down as we rode through, the sound of the engines cutting through the peaceful ambiance of the town. I could see the whispers and sideways glances exchanged among the townspeople, their curiosity mixed with a hint of fear or disdain.

The men didn’t seem to mind the disapproving looks from the townspeople – smirks on some of their faces as they revved their engines a little more as they passed by. The sound of the engines roared through the quiet streets, echoing off the old brick buildings that lined the road.

As they pulled into a side entrance of a garage, I knew this was officially the end of the line for them. I watched as they parked side-by-side, each backing their bikes into their assigned spaces. The engines sputtered to a halt, the sound gradually fading into the background as the men dismounted and stretched their legs.

I quickly gathered my things, removing myself from the bike, my legs feeling equivalent to jelly as they gathered the strength to hold up my weight. The adrenaline that had fueled me through the ride was now dissipating, leaving behind a feeling of exhaustion and exhilaration.

I leaned against a nearby lamppost, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The men exchanged nods and grins as they gathered in a loose circle, their leather jackets creaking slightly as they moved.

One of them, a tall man with a patchwork of tattoos covering his arms, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered them around. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the lingering scent of gasoline, creating a heady mix that hung in the air.

As they lit up and took long drags, their faces relaxed into expressions of contentment. The tension that had hung over them during the ride seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose.

The door to the business slowly opened, an older woman stepped onto the concrete below. Her presence commanded attention, exuding a sense of authority and confidence that made it clear she was not to be underestimated. The leather pants she wore hugged her figure, accentuating her strong and graceful movements as she made her way towards the men.

Her blonde highlights caught the sunlight, creating a halo of shimmering gold around her head. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a coolness in her gaze that hinted at a steely resolve beneath the polished exterior. I observed from a respectful distance as Gemma interacted with the men, her gestures filled with warmth and affection that spoke of deep bonds and shared history. She moved among them with ease, exchanging hugs and kisses that spoke of a familial closeness that went beyond mere camaraderie.

A tall man approached her from behind, his presence exuding a sense of quiet strength and authority. He wrapped his strong arms around her small waist, drawing her close in a gesture that was both protective and intimate. The woman’s laughter rang out, a clear and joyful sound that seemed to light up the space around them.

Their lips met in a brief but tender kiss, a display of affection that was unapologetically open and genuine. There was a sense of ease and comfort between them, a connection that ran deep and unspoken, forged through years of shared experiences and challenges.

My eyes moved away from the couple as the door reopened, this time revealing a blonde man. He looked to be in his early 20s – shoulder length hair resting against his work shirt. I don’t know how I looked to those around, but it was almost like how a cartoon character’s draw drops to the floor – he was gorgeous. I watched as he stepped off the stoop, sauntering over to the circle of men, clapping them on the back as he welcomed their return.

I was so caught up in the enigmatic presence of the blonde man that I failed to notice another individual had quietly slipped into the corner with us – the older woman with a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her voice, smooth and seasoned, cut through the hazy atmosphere around us.

"You lost, kitten?" she inquired, her tone a curious blend of amusement and concern. Her eyes, framed by fine lines that whispered of wisdom and experience, held a glint of something indefinable, as though she saw more than just the surface of things.

Startled by her sudden appearance and the unexpected nickname, I turned to face her, momentarily at a loss for words. The air between us crackled with a kind of unspoken understanding, as if she could see right through the facade I presented to the world.

“Sorry-“ I stammered. “I – uh-“

A smile spread across her face as she placed her hand on my arm, her touch warm and comforting. "You must be the little one the guys picked up on their way home. Tig told me all about you when he called a little while ago."

Memories of when we stopped at the gas station hours before came flooding back – the smell of gasoline, the flickering lights, and the sound of chatter from the other customers. I remembered my eyes connecting with Tig’s as he spoke animatedly in the glass box, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and excitement.

"What’s your name, sweetheart?" the woman asked, her eyes kind and curious.

Tucking a loose red strand of hair behind my ear, I replied, "Catherine. Catherine Landry." My voice was low, almost a whisper, as if unsure of my own presence in this moment.

The woman's smile widened, a glint of recognition flashing in her eyes. "Catherine Landry," she repeated softly, as if savoring the sound of the name. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Catherine. I'm Gemma."

As I started to speak, the sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy steps caught my attention, drawing my gaze away from Gemma. I turned, my eyes following the path of the approaching figure with blonde hair that glinted in the bright sunshine.

He walked with purpose, his strides confident and measured, his presence commanding attention. The gravel shifted under his weight, creating a rhythmic pattern that seemed to echo the beating of my heart.

As he drew closer, I noticed the intensity in his gaze, the way his eyes seemed to search and assess, taking in every detail of the scene before him. There was a certain magnetism about him, a silent strength that seemed to radiate from his very being.

Gemma's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her features as she greeted him with a nod. "Hey baby," she said, her voice warm and welcoming.

As the two embraced one another, I stood there, a silent observer to the intimate moment unfolding before me. The man's eyes remained fixed on me, a hint of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite decipher lingering in their depths.

Gemma's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her embrace filled with a sense of familiarity and comfort. There was a closeness between them, a bond that seemed to transcend words and time.

I watched as they held each other, their connection palpable in the air around them. It was as if they shared a history, a story that only they knew, leaving me on the outside looking in, a stranger to their world.

As they finally pulled away, a silent understanding passing between them, the man turned his gaze back to me. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that hung in the air, waiting to be answered.

As Gemma turned her attention back to me, her warm smile lighting up her face, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me. "Catherine," she began, her voice filled with a sense of familiarity and fondness, "This is my son, Jackson."

Jackson. The name echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within me. I looked up to meet his gaze, finding a pair of eyes that held a hint of curiosity and a touch of amusement.

Gemma's introduction caught me off guard, her words painting a picture of me as a lost soul in need of rescue. "She's the little thing that Tig and the guys picked up along the way," she explained, her tone lighthearted but tinged with a hint of motherly concern.

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at her explanation, feeling a twinge of annoyance at being likened to a stray puppy. It was true that I had found myself in an unexpected situation, but I was no damsel in distress in need of saving.

As I exchanged greetings with Jackson, a sense of curiosity sparked within me. There was something about him, a quiet strength and a depth in his eyes that hinted at hidden layers beneath the surface.

Jackson smirked and his eyes roamed up my body, a wave of self-consciousness washed over me, causing a slight flush to rise to my cheeks. His gaze held a hint of mischief and confidence, leaving me momentarily flustered in his presence.

"It's nice to meet you too," I replied, trying to maintain a composed demeanor despite the flutter of nerves within me. There was something magnetic about Jackson, an undeniable charm that drew me in even as I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

Gemma's proud voice interrupted the moment, drawing my attention back to her as she spoke of her son. "Jax is the leader of the group," she said with a hint of pride. "Along with my other son, Thomas." The revelation that there were two brothers leading the group took me by surprise. “Club comes from a strong line of Teller men," Gemma continued, her tone filled with reverence and hope for the future. "Hoping to continue that tradition in the future." She affectionately patted Jackson's chest, her gesture a symbol of both maternal pride and a legacy to uphold.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his mother's suggestion, a hint of amusement danced in his gaze.

"Trust me," he stated, his deep voice carrying a sense of authority that cut through the air, "She's really the one in charge."

The bond between Jackson and Gemma was palpable from the very beginning. It was clear to anyone who observed them that they shared a special connection, a closeness that went beyond words. Jackson was the one closest to his mother, their relationship built on a foundation of trust, understanding, and unwavering loyalty.

In contrast, Thomas seemed to be as far removed from Gemma as possible. There was a distance between them, an unspoken divide that hinted at unresolved issues and unspoken tensions. While Jackson and Gemma thrived in each other's company, Thomas seemed to seek solace elsewhere, distancing himself from the intricate web of relationships that defined their family dynamic.

Jax and Gemma's bond ran deep, a complex tapestry of emotions that intertwined their fates in ways that were both captivating and destructive. They fed off each other's energy, their connection fueled by a sense of mutual need and dependency that bordered on obsession.

Thick as thieves one moment, brutal enemies the next, their relationship was a rollercoaster of emotions that played out like a high-stakes drama. Time slipped away, leaving behind a trail of unresolved conflicts and simmering tensions that threatened to erupt at any moment.

The heat that Gemma placed between her two sons was a double-edged sword, igniting a fire that fueled their passions and their conflicts in equal measure. Theirs was a relationship fraught with complexity, where love and loyalty mingled with jealousy and resentment, creating a volatile mix that kept them locked in a perpetual dance of push and pull.

Thomas felt the weight of his mother Gemma's favoritism like a heavy chain, binding him to a perpetual cycle of disappointment and resentment. From a young age, he watched as Gemma showered his older brother Jackson with praise and attention, leaving him in the shadows of Jax's achievements. Despite his best efforts to earn her approval, Gemma's preference for Jackson was unwavering, creating a toxic atmosphere of rivalry and animosity between the Teller brothers.

"So, from what I heard, you’re hitching to San Francisco?” Gemma spoke as she looked at me with curiosity. “What’s so important down there that you had to leave home for?” She pushed past her son, taking hold of my arm as she started walking up towards the building.

“From the looks of you-“She did a once over. “Looks to me like you’re running away from something – midwestern lifestyle, perhaps?” Gemma's keen observation caught me off guard, her words cutting through my carefully crafted facade. I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

I cleared my throat nervously, feeling the weight of my confession hanging in the air. "My parents are very conservative – conservative and very religious," Her eyes closing in understanding, Gemma listened intently as I opened about my inner conflict. "They're lovely people – " I began to backpedal, feeling a need to qualify my earlier statement. "But the life I want to live doesn't match with how they want me to live. I want to be able to be free and do what I please, but they're all about the image and how the Lord wants us to live our lives."

"You ran away?" Gemma's voice was filled with concern and empathy, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I nodded slowly, the memories of that night flooding. "Left in the middle of the night after my father beat me with a switch," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes cast down to the ground, unable to meet Gemma's gaze as the shame and hurt of that moment washed over me once again. "He called me awful names, and my mother just sat there and watched."

Gemma's back straightened, a steely resolve entering her expression as she processed my words. "Doesn't sound to me like they're lovely people," she stated firmly, her voice tinged with indignation.

I shrugged my shoulders, “That’s just how they are – been like that my whole life.” I knew I shouldn’t be making excuses for them, but they were my parents. “I’m the only daughter – I was supposed to be the epitome of a perfect daughter.”

“What could be so bad that your daddy beats you?”

I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, gesturing for me to take one as well. She quickly lit the end of the stick, the smoke invading my lungs with ease. “I started messing around with boys at an early age – sex, drugs, dancing. Sex was my go-to though. They didn’t want their only daughter being known as the town whore, which I guess I became. I was supposed to save myself until I was married – only letting my wedded husband lay between my legs.”

Gemma chuckled, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Sounds a lot like my folks," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and humor.

"I just needed to get away, and after seeing all those people on the nightly news coming out here and living life their own way and being free and peaceful –" I paused, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I just need that in my life right now. A life where I can be free and do whatever I want to do. And if that means I have to do negative things to get to that place, then so be it."

As I spoke, I felt a mix of determination and uncertainty churning within me. The longing for freedom and self-expression had grown into a burning desire, fueled by the stories of those who had dared to defy conventions and carve out their own paths. The allure of a life unbound by limitations and expectations beckoned to me like a distant star, promising a sense of liberation and authenticity that had eluded me for so long.

“You know –“Gemma started. “The Frisco area isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Her tone matter of fact. “I know it looks all peace and love on the tv screen but it’s really just a bunch of homeless hippies that are looking for attention and free handouts.”

I let out an annoyed sigh.

"Listen, little girl," her voice took on a more serious tone, the lines on her face softening with a mix of concern and affection. "You've accomplished the biggest goal you set for yourself – you made it all the way to California." She paused, letting the significance of the moment sink in before continuing.

A wide smile slowly spread across her face, reflecting pride and admiration. "By what you just told me, that was the ultimate goal. Now, I know going a little further south for the whole peace and love movement was the next quest, but I think for your sake it would be better for you to stay here."

“I don’t know anyone here, though.” I was grasping for excuses.

Her face twisted in a mix of concern and determination. "You weren't gonna know anyone down there either." She tossed her cigarette down, the ember extinguishing under the pressure of her heeled shoe. "You've managed to meet a whole crew of men that will now look after you if you choose to stay. You've met me and Jax – you'll get to meet Thomas when he decides to come home. You're no longer around strangers, baby doll. We can be your family – a family that'll treat you right."

Her voice softened, the edges of her tough exterior melting away to reveal a deep sense of care and protection. "We've seen the world through different lenses, faced our own battles, and carved out our own paths in this chaotic dance of life. But amidst all the chaos, we found each other – kindred spirits bound by shared experiences and unspoken connections."

The older woman's eyes held a glimmer of hope, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. "You have a home here, among friends who will stand by you through thick and thin, who will lift you up when you stumble and celebrate your victories as their own. Take a chance on us, darling. Let us be the family you never knew you needed, but always longed for deep in your heart."

I would end up staying in that small fucking town for the next 25 years – my whole world coming to revolve around the Teller family and the Sons of Anarchy.

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toxicanonymity · 4 months

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twin peaks.

4k, Joel x afab!reader x Tommy, ONE SHOT A/N: This is my @pedrostories secret santa gift. @endlessthxxghts, you're on my nice list. Happy holidays! ♥️ Ty for the flexibility and for engaging with fics you like, which gave more ideas 🖤. Please excuse the extra men, don't need to remember names. Ty @jksprincess10 for your afab insights! WARNINGS: I8+, Motorcycle Club AU, but Joel is no longer riding. You're a chef. Language. Bar fight. Blood. Gunfire. My first attempt at mild grumpy/sunshine. Passing reference to a bar server's prior SA incident. An OC gets in your personal space and touches your side. Hurt/Comfort. Minor love triangle, I guess, but everyone’s cool. Unsafe P in V, creampies. MFM but only joel inside. The men can lift you. You’re shorter than them. Competency kink, mild size kink, sharing. Starts in Joel POV. Finished & "edited" on covid & meds, fck it we ball! BIKER JOEL RECS: both sides of the moon by @lunitawrites and (and ty for this list luna lol) a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore., the road to love by @jobean12-blog

dividers from @cafekitsune for POV change and time jump

“Changed the recipe,” Joel grumbles.

Tommy shakes his head with a smile. “Ya know, brother. . . you might be the only one who comes here for the wings.”

“Cause they’re the best. Or they *were*. Taste this.” Joel pushes the basket over to Tommy and takes a swig of beer, then adds, “If I wanna see some skin, I’ll go to a proper titty bar.”

The uniforms are cute at Twin Peaks, but Joel is there for two reasons: the wings and the company. He sold his Harley and quit the club after a minor accident. It left him only a little scraped up but scared his daughters to death. Now these biker bars are the only place he sees his old crew.

“Shit, they did change it,” Tommy concedes. “Maybe ya should send’em back,” he teases.

“Not a bad idea,” Joel mutters.

“Really?” Tommy asks.

“‘S’cuse me. Miss?” The scantily clad server turns around. “They musta changed the recipe, I can’t eat these.”

“Oh no,” the server frowns. “Sorry ‘bout that, lemme see what I can do.” The server takes the wings back to the kitchen.

A minute later, you emerge from the kitchen in your chef’s whites and Joel does a double take. You smile at him as you approach.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy elbows him, but Joel hardly notices. He’s captivated by you, but he keeps a straight face.

“Heard the wings weren’t to your liking,” you cringe empathetically.

“Why’d ya go and change the Hot Honey recipe.”

“I’m sorry, hun. Hot Honey’s off the menu, that’s the closest we’ve got.”

“It’s *what* now? Why’d ya take it off?”

You sigh with an apologetic smile. “Wasn’t my call.” Then you perk up. “But I think you might really like the new Thai Spice recipe,” you smile.

“Don’t think so,” Joel grumbles.

“He don’t like change,” Tommy explains.

“How ‘bout a basket on the house?” You offer with a tilt of your head and raise of your eyebrows.

Joel is flustered by your charm. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, trying not to check you out. Not much to see anyway with that chef’s apron.

“If ya like’em, buy me a drink sometime,” you add with a wink that makes Joel lose all his thoughts for a moment.

“Yes, chef,” Joel nods, which makes both you and Tommy giggle. Then you turn and head back to the kitchen.

“I dunno what they see in ya, man,” Tommy teases Joel and watches as you walk away. “Mm. Hottest thing here and dressed like a paper towel roll.” Joel fails to suppress a chuckle. “You gonna share?”

“We’ll see.”

The front door to the restaurant opens, and a hush falls over the dining room.

Joel looks over his shoulder for only a second, then turns back toward the bar and mutters, “Fuckin’ Benny.”

“And the Jets,” Tommy adds as Johnny and at least half the rival crew follow Benny into the restaurant. Great, there’s Cal, Carter’s rotten brother. Real bad guy. Their motorcycle club is dangerous.

Joel gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a few twenties, then downs the rest of his beer. “Didn’t come to babysit.”

“Think it’ll get ugly?” Tommy asks. “What about your new friend?”

“My new friend?”

“‘member what happened with Carter’s girl?” Of course Joel remembers. Cal got handsy with her, Carter put him in a chokehold, and a nasty fight broke out. Carter got stabbed.

“Well, I ain’t in charge and don’t got a sweetheart, so I reckon chef hottie’s okay. Where’s Carter?”

“Home. Can’t ride, already busted his stitches open once.”

“Good. His girl ain’t workin’ either.” Joel’s face tenses and his nostrils flare as his gaze falls on Cal. “Cal shouldn’t be here.” Joel has to look away before his rage gets the best of him. Joel glances at a table of his own guys (now Carter's), and he isn’t surprised to see one of his buddies putting on brass knuckles. Ya don’t stab the leader and get away with it, but Joel sure wishes this would go down somewhere else. Joel does a double take when he sees another man at the same table reach for his hip. “Damnit, Harold,” Joel whispers to himself.

“Better hit the boys room ‘fore all hell breaks loose,” Tommy mutters and gets up from his chair.

—---you—--

Tonight’s the first time you’ve spoken with Joel, but you’ve noticed him before. His quiet, dark gaze is hypnotizing. The girls are all over him, and he doesn’t show any interest. He sits there scowling with his drink.

When the chatter of the restaurant abruptly dies down, a pit forms in your stomach. Heavy boots click on the floor, and it sounds like they’re slowly circling the room like sharks. “Hey sweetheart,” Benny croons out of view in that deep, smooth voice. He looks like a young, brunette Elvis. “You new?”

“Started this week,” the new bartender answers bashfully.

“Bet they didn’t teach ya the whole job. Benny'll show ya the ropes,” says a deep voice that makes you bristle. It’s smooth. Southern. Sinister. It's Cal. You can visualize his infectious wink.

One of your cooks puts Joel’s new wing basket on expo. You compose yourself and grab it with a smile. “I’ll take this one.” You put on your blinders and don’t make eye contact with any of the men, but you notice Tommy walk by, headed toward the back.

Before you make it behind the bar, Cal intercepts you. “Whoa, what’s cookin’, baby? You believe this, Benny? Keepin’ top talent locked up in the back.”

Benny’s too wrapped up with the server to respond.

“Thanks for the snack,” Cal tells you with his eyes roving your apron as he reaches for the basket. You pull it back. “Hey, what’s under this, anyway?” He skims your apron from the side and crowds you against the wall. He braces his arm against the wall, over you. “Got one of them sexy uniforms under this?”

“Excuse me,” you say and try to duck under and around him.

“I wouldn’t move, darlin’,” Cal taunts.

“What the hell are you doin’ back here,” a man asks behind Cal.

Cal laughs and looks over his shoulder, and you manage to free yourself.

“Ain’t worth it, Harold,” Joel warns as he approaches, then Joel turns his attention to you. “You okay?”

-. . .-

Joel gets between you and the brawling men. You hear a blow land on someone, and they spit. Then there’s a click, and before you know it, you’re on the floor, tackled by Joel as a gunshot makes your ears ring. The wind is knocked out of you.

Joel is on top of you, and time seems to slow down. Cal is slumped against the wall behind Joel, bleeding from the mouth and chest with a menacing smile.

“Look at me,” Joel says and his massive hand turns your head to face him, bracing his other arm near your head on the tiled floor. “Look at me and only me.” His body is heavy on top of yours.

You nod as chaos unfolds in the dining room.

“You okay?” Joel searches your face.

You nod again, and try to ground yourself with everything you’re physically feeling. The coldness of the tile under your hand. The weight of his body on top of you. The warmth of. . .the massive bulge pressing into your thigh. Joel doesn’t seem to be aware of it, but you sure are now. A wave of desire overwhelms you. Your thigh lifts against his hardening package and it twitches but he still doesn’t seem to notice with everything else going on. He glances behind himself.

“Gonna get ya outta here,” he promises. “Ready?”

Behind you, someone opens the door to the men’s room, belt jingling. “Shit.” You recognize Tommy’s voice.

“Bathroom,” Joel commands as he helps you up, then gently pushes you into Tommy’s arms. He nods toward the family restroom, which has a lock. “Gonna take this outside,” Joel pants as he heads into the fray.

“Joel, don’t–you’re outnumbered, don’t get yourself killed,” Tommy pleads. There’s another gunshot. “Shit, I’ll be right there!” he shouts at Joel

“NO,” Joel barks.

Tommy forces you into the family restroom and locks the door behind the two of you. “You okay?” he asks. You don’t answer. You wouldn’t be able to without crying. He rubs your back, then searches your face. “Breathe for me, darlin’.”

You tug at the high collar of your chef’s apron, trying to unbutton it for relief. Tommy quickly rips it open, exposing your tank top. His eyes linger for a moment, then he cradles your head and takes a deep breath, guiding you in your own breathing. He exhales, then murmurs, “You’re okay, honey.”

You nod and take the apron off entirely, with him supporting you. “Yeah,” you laugh not to cry, but with tears in your eyes. “I’m good.”

“Good, good. C’mere, darlin’.” His strong arms wrap you in a gentle, protective hug, cradling your head into his barrel chest. You take a deep breath, and the scent of his shampoo intoxicates you. “You’re okay,” he repeats.

You pull your head back to look up at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Then something else twitches, against your middle. That’s when you feel the denim slide under your hand and realize you’ve grabbed Tommy’s ass. What the fuck. You yank your hand out of his back pocket and stammer “Sorry–” feeling like your face is on fire. Why did you do that? You try to pull away but he gently holds you close.

“‘S’okay,” he chuckles. “Adrenaline. It’s normal.” He dips his head and it’s close to yours. It gets a little closer, then there’s more gunfire and he releases his gentle hold on you. He bolts toward the door. “Lock it behind me” is the only thing he says as he leaves.

You lock the door, then slump down against the wall. Is this real life? What’s gotten into you? Feeling up Tommy Miller in the bathroom less than an hour after you asked his brother out. Yeah, it must be adrenaline. The noise of the fight fades into the background while your thoughts drift back to Joel saving you. He’s so big and strong. So protective. You’ve heard how dangerous he is, but to see him in action? While he’s saving you, no less?

Finally the noises have died down. You wonder if it’s safe to leave. You worry about whether Joel and Tommy and your line cooks are okay. You wait a little longer, then unlock the door and peek your head out. Cal staggers toward you, dripping blood. “It’s okay, I’m alright,” he drawls. Then you swiftly close and lock the door, heart pounding. A few seconds later, boots thud across the dining room and a punch is thrown. You hear Cal groan. “C’mon, man.” Another blow lands and Cal goes silent. There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“It’s me.” Joel’s voice. You’re still near the door. You unlock it for him. He comes inside and you must look terrified. He holds your cheeks, and his face and shirt are splattered with blood - surely not his own. He hugs you into him. “It’s me, baby. You’re okay.” His voice is deep and soft. He holds you for a minute. When he pulls back again to look at you, his eyes fall to your tank top and he wets his lips. He looks in your eyes again, then at your mouth.

You close the distance with a soft kiss. Joel’s mouth spreads your lips open, and his tongue finds yours. As the kiss heats up, he pulls you tighter, moaning “Mm,” and you feel it again, you feel him. His hands slide down to grab your ass, pulling your hips into his, and he’s firmer. Lord, is he hung. He lets out a low growl from his chest, and he walks forward against you until the backs of his hands nudge the sink counter – thankfully clean.

He bends down and his mouth latches onto your neck. He slips his fingertips into the front waistband of your pants, grabbing the button, then pulls away from your neck to pleadingly meet your eyes, and you nod urgently. He takes your pants and underwear down in a flash, then his hand engulfs your bare pussy and he groans at how wet you are. He kisses your neck again for a moment before hooking his massive hands, one of them wet, around the backs of your thighs. He lifts you onto the sink with a grunt as your legs wrap around him and you feel a rush of desire.

Joel sloppily kisses around your mouth with one hand between your legs and the other cradling your head. His scruff scratches you pleasantly. You grope him through his jeans, which are slick with your arousal, as you unbutton and unzip him. Then his own hand dives into his boxers and frees his thick cock, holding it at the right angle to slide right into you, pants and boxers resting below his balls.

“C’mere, baby.” He runs his stiff cock through your folds and you slowly grind against it with a moan. He spits on his shaft and his swollen, leaking tip prods at your entrance for only a moment before plunging into your wet hole and spreading your insides with his girth. There’s a brief burn, then your body catches up. On his second go, he bottoms out with a groan, and you gasp.

“Yeah,” he sighs and begins to fuck you, slowly at first. “How’s that?”

You can only nod, feeling so full of him you can hardly listen or form thoughts. “Ohh,” you whimper as he stuffs you with his massive cock. Your skin feels hot. He speeds up to a moderate pace and you both moan and grunt as you fuck. He kisses and sucks your neck, moaning into your skin, then he breathes against it. He fucks you harder, deeper

“How’s it feel, baby–ohhh” He slams his pelvis into yours each time.

“Ohhh, God, it’s, yeah, nngh–ohh”

Footsteps come down the hall, and stop outside the door.

“Wait,” you whisper.”

“Want me to wait?” he whispers teasingly, slowing down to an excruciating pace, dragging slow and heavy inside you.

You shake your head no.

“Good,” he whispers.

Tommy’s knowing voice outside the door: “Catch y’all later.” Then the footsteps recede.

“Now please, please” you beg, wanting it harder again. You pull him close and grind your pelvis into his in just the right spot. “Ohh, Joel.” The pleasure overwhelms you and you whimper as you begin to clench and pulse.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” you nod, pulling him closer, keeping him inside with your legs around him.

Joel erupts with a groan, filling your hot, wet cunt with warm bursts, slowly thrusting into you as he empties his balls.

“God damn, you’re somethin’ else.”

---a few weeks later—

"Ain't wearin' a stupid holiday sweater," Joel grumbles. You and Joel have been seeing each other, and now you're going to Tommy’s holiday party with him.

"C'mon, just for the party. It'll be fun," you smile hopefully.

"Gimme a break, baby. Nothin' fun about sweaters."

"Don't be a Grinch," you pout.

"Thought I was a Scrooge," he retorts.

"What if I let you fuck me in Tommy's bed?"

He squints at you. "God damnit, my heart just grew three sizes."

You look down at his jeans and smile saucily. You don't have to make the joke out loud. "Can't wait," you purr and hand him the sweater.

"Tommy'd lose his mind," Joel shakes his head, then raises his eyebrows. "And not in the bad way."

"Oh yeah?"

Joel gives a low whistle. "You should see him droolin' when ya walk away." Joel chuckles, and your face heats up.

"Well. Maybe we shouldn't, then. . ."

"Don't see why not," Joel shrugs.

You look away shyly.

"What's got you all flustered?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, but you can't push away the thought of Tommy walking in and losing his 'mind.'

Joel smirks. "Don't look like nothin'."

"Just excited to see you in a sweater," you run your hand through his curls.

"I ain't the jealous type if ya wanna give Tommy some sugar, too."

You gasp and can't hide your embarrassed smile. Your face is burning. "He told you.”

Joel plays stupid. “Told me what?”

Your hand drifts up to cover your mouth.

“Just sayin’, if ya wanna grab him in a nicer setting. . .”

“Joel!" You gently smack his chest.

“Musta been the highlight of his life,” Joel laughs. “Post-divorce, at least.”

"Naughty list for you." You press his sweater into his chest and go to the closet to change into your own.

----

When you’re standing at the door of Tommy’s ranch, your heart is racing.

“Relax, baby.” He rubs your back.

“You were serious?” you ask.

“Yeah, but ya don’t gotta. Just sayin’ it’s fair game.”

Your eyes meet and he cups your cheek. You whisper, “thanks for wearing the sweater.”

Joel gives you a kiss right as the door opens, and Tommy teases, “You two need a room already?” Tommy’s wearing a festive cardigan open over a wifebeater and his huge belt buckle. He stands aside to let you in, and you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your mouth.

Sarah brings her husband, and you spend much of the night talking to them, hearing old stories about Joel. It’s a small party, adults only, and most of the parents have to get home to their babysitters, but Ellie is staying at Bill and Frank’s for the week to help with their Christmas tree farm. It’s a real treat for her and also her first “job.”

—

You don’t steal Joel away during the party, and he doesn’t try either. But when everyone else is gone, you and Joel stay for a drink with Tommy. He offers that you’re welcome to stay over since the kids are with Maria.

“Where ya want us?” Joel asks.

“Well, my bed’s the most comfy,” Tommy looks at you and adds a wink that gives you butterflies.

Joel nods with an intrigued frown. “Whatcha think, honey?”

“Okay,” you nod. You’re afraid to act too eager, but can hardly believe your luck.

In Tommy’s room, Tommy reclines on the bed, while Joel holds you in a hug. Joel turns your chin to meet his eyes and asks “Comfortable?”

You nod and smile.

“Ready to be even more comfortable?”

Joel kisses you gently, sensually. Then his lips become hungrier, and you lose yourself in his rising desperation. He moans into your mouth and pulls you closer against him. He walks against you until you’re at the bed, and when you glance back to make sure you don’t fall, you see Tommy reclining with his ankles crossed, palming himself over his jeans. He holds your gaze and begins to undo that big belt buckle, and you get a rush of arousal.

With you seated on the bed and Joel looms over you. The curves of his hulking muscles stretch his sweater. Your eyes fall to his jeans, and you can see the outline of his massive erection. You reach for the button and he murmurs, “yeah, there ya go,” and affectionately cradles your head while you unbutton and unzip him. Then he takes his sweater off over his head and his under-tee rides up exposing his happy trail. “Let’s get that sweater off, Tommy.”

You turn around and see Tommy is on all fours with his cardigan already off. He’s prowling across the bed, to the foot of it where you sit. Tommy sits up on his knees behind you, and wraps his arms around. He lifts at the bottom hem of your sweater and brings his mouth to your ear to murmur, “Yeah, let’s get comfortable.” You raise your arms and he takes off the sweater for you then cups your breasts. You pull off your bra from under your tank top while Joel takes off his jeans.

“Shit, let’s take it all off,” Tommys says with his voice briefly muffled by his wifebeater as he pulls it over his head. “Nothin’ like three bare bodies all twisted up.” His giant belt clinks as he unbuckles it behind you. Joel steps out of his jeans, leaving the tent in his boxers on full display, making you gush. He bends down to help take your tank top off, then he kisses you as he unfastens your pants. Joel kisses down your body as he removes your pants and underwear.

“Come on up here,” Tommy mutters and wraps an arm around you. He pulls you up toward the pillows, then stacks them behind himself and pulls you between his legs where you can feel he is fully nude and hard. His skin is hot and smooth. You're both facing Joel.

You sit between Tommy’s moderately hairy legs, and his broad palms cup your naked breasts. “How ya doin’, darlin’?” he whispers into your ear. His cock twitches against your lower back. “Ready for my brother?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“He’s ready too.”

Joel is kneeling onto the bed with his commanding cock in hand. He pauses to squeeze himself, eyes roving over you like you’ve never looked hotter. “Look like an angel, baby. Can’t wait to be in ya.” Tommy lightly grinds himself against your lower back, then his hands come to your thighs, and you spread them open for Joel.

“Always so good,” Joel mumbles, then kisses you deeply and you feel his cock run through your dripping seam. You’re wet, so wet for him. He’s still kissing you, letting your lips separate every second or so. His face pulls back and Tommy slightly adjusts you between his legs. Tommy’s cock is stiff against your back. Joel’s tip nudges your entrance, then he pushes himself into you. Tommy’s hands are still on your breasts. Joel leans over you, bracing his hands on the bed to either side of Tommy’s thighs. It still makes you swoon how his big cock stuffs you full. As Joel thrusts into you, Tommy ruts against you, moaning softly. The force of Joel’s thrusts makes you rub against Tommy’s stiff manhood and he groans.

“Feel so good, baby,” Joel breathes.

“Take’ him so well,” Tommy whispers.

Your breath hitches and you moan into Joel’s mouth with his cock dragging thickly deep inside you. Tommy massages your breasts and grinds into you while Joel kisses you and fucks you good. It feels better and better every minute. Joel dips his hips and grinds against your front as he stuffs you with his cock. You feel the tension building in your belly, and your clit twitches.

You tear your mouth away from Joel’s and whine, “Joel.”

“Oh, baby, gonna cum already?”

You whimper and nod.

“It’s okay, baby. Go ‘head,” Tommy whispers.

“Yeah, let it happen, baby,” Joel agrees.

Then Joel, with his cock still seated inside you, rolls his hips to put more pressure on your front, and Tommy grinds against your lower back, and you clench down on Joel’s cock with a moan.

“Oh, Fuck,” Joel whispers and he begins to pulse at the exact same time you feel Tommy erupt against you. The three of you come in a cacophony of grunts and moans and Tommy’s sliding wetly against your crack as his cum trickles down.

Joel stays inside as he catches his breath, then slides out of you, and some of his cum drips down between Tommy’s legs.

“Think ya might be the one I been lookin' for,” Joel mumbles. He gives you a slow kiss.

You get cleaned up, then you sleep like three spoons stacked together with Joel in front.

===

Thank you for reading!

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