Work Text:
(1)
Juice's first night back, Chibs doesn't ask him any questions, just follows him home from the res, walks silently into the house behind him, pulls him close as soon as the door is closed between them and the chill night air.
Kisses his throat.
It flips a switch in Juice, turns off the weird fog of autopilot he's been running on since the sunlight outside of Stockton first hit his face. "I missed you," he exhales against Chibs's skin, tongues him there until he feels the vibration of a moan against his mouth, then grins and scrapes teeth against skin.
"Bedroom, Juicy," Chibs rumbles, and they're wrestling each other down the narrow hallway, pulling and shoving at leather and denim and soft worn cotton, Juice laughing against Chibs's mouth as Chibs curses his boots, not wanting to bother untying them.
Then they're on the bed together, naked and warm together. A little too drunk from the party at the clubhouse after Lyla and Opie's wedding to do anything properly, but it's enough for now - warm wet mouths against warm rough skin - just regrounding to one another.
It's enough for now just to sleep next to each other.
(2)
The next morning, Chibs slides under the comforter, wraps his lips delicately around Juice's soft cock. He's missed this, feeling Juice get hard in his mouth, and he's pretty sure the kid needs it as much as he does. He keeps it soft, slow, fingers toying with Juice's balls as he takes in the soft moans the kid makes in his sleep.
Presses his own hard cock into the mattress.
He feels it when Juice slides over the line, sleeping to waking, hears the soft relief in the lad's voice as he murmurs, "Chibs," hands sliding into his hair and tugging softly. "Jesus, that's perfect."
Chibs moans around him, plays it up for Juice. He was awake most of the night, soothing the fits and starts of Juice's broken rest, heard Clay's name too many times for comfort and this seems like the way to fix it. He's so into it, making Juice feel good, that it takes him a little longer than it should to twig to it when Juice starts freaking out, when his breathing shifts from turned on to panicked. It's only when Juice's low mutter sinks into his brain - "...stop, stop, please fucking stop..." - that he pulls away, slides up Juice's body and pulls him close.
"You have to tell me, lad," he murmurs. "Juicy, I'll help, but you have to talk to me."
He knows Juice well enough that he expects this to not be easy, is pretty sure he'll have to fight for it, but what he gets is a flat voice from Juice and blank eyes fixed on the ceiling as he says, "I let Clay fuck me. Pretty much every night - throat, ass, whatever he wanted, and all I could think of was you."
Chibs rubs his nose against the unfamiliar short hair covering the ink on the side of Juice's head, breathes in the scent of him that still isn't quite right, still smells of the cheap soap Juice had to use in Stockton. "'S different inside, Juicy. You know that, right?"
Juice shakes himself a little, meets Chibs's eyes and there's more of the lad there this time, the warmth and humor that drew Chibs to him in the first place slowly starting to filter back in. "I know," he says. "I'll be ok. It's just... weird. Being out, the shit with the Russians, seeing you. It's just a lot, all at once." He flashes a crooked grin. "I need a long ride, need to smoke a little dope. Let you finish what you started this morning."
Chibs laughs, pulls the kid close and kisses his forehead. "Coulda been worse," he says. "You coulda been in with Tiggy." The look that gets him is one of stark horror that makes him laugh harder.
"Fourteen months of Tig's undivided attention... I'd have had to have made sure I got shivved, too." Juice mock-shudders.
"Not funny, lad," Chibs says, rolling Juice to his back, kissing him full and slow, tongue and teeth and lips moving against Juice's until Juice is relaxed under him, muscles loose and easy, moans sliding from his mouth into Chibs's like shared air. "Better now?" he asks eventually, sliding easily down again. "Want me to keep going?"
Juice winds his fingers in Chibs's hair, tugs just hard enough to make Chibs moan. "You fucking better."
(3)
On their way out of the house, Juice suddenly stops in the living room, pulls up so short Chibs has to stumble around him to keep from running over him; bites down on a curse and just waits while Juice moves slowly around the room. He trails an absent hand over the bookcase, along the entertainment center, takes in the old, handmade quilt that he recognizes as being from Chibs's folded neatly over the back of the couch.
"Thanks," Juice says, voice low as he circles back around to Chibs, sliding his arms around the other man and tugging him close, taking comfort in the solidity of the body against him. "For taking care of the place. It looks good."
"Not a problem," Chibs says into his ear, and if he's honest, he's spent more nights here than at his own place in the last fourteen months. "Told you I'd keep it warm for you."
-End