FIC: All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go (1/2)
Author: Spacebabe
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Chibs/Juice (established)
Warnings: Bad words, dudes doing naughty things to other dudes, bondage, angst
A/N: Beta’ed by the amazing edie_sunshine. This would have been a much, much weaker story if it hadn’t been for her TLC. Thanks, sweetie!
Disclaimer: Fictional situation involving fictional characters. Kurt Sutter, Sutter Ink, Linson Entertainment, Fox 21 and FX Productions hold all rights to Sons of Anarchy. No money made. I’m just playing in their sandbox.
All Tied Up and Nowhere To Go (Chibs/Juice), Part 1
Juice comes from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of noodles in his hand. As he passes, he pokes at Chibs’s foot propped up on the armrest of the couch. “Got a hole in your sock.”
Chibs wriggles his big toe and sees it poke through. “Ventilation.”
Juice snorts and sits down in Chibs’s ratty old armchair. “Feel kinda bad for Jax and Opie,” he says. “Being out in this weather.”
Chibs has to agree. The rain is pouring down like it’s never going to stop and the wind rattles the windows and screen doors like the house itself offends it. But for once, the two of them has had a full weekend off, nothing that needed to be done, nowhere they needed to be. These kinds of laze days have been few and far between lately.
He watches Juice curl up like a bloody cat in that armchair and start slurping down noodles and broth. He’s wearing baggy, gray sweatpants and a washed out black Teller-Morrow t-shirt that sags over his shoulders. Chibs is pretty certain it’s one of his. Looks better on Juice than it does on him.
“Want some?” Juice asks, mouth full.
“That’s not food.”
Juice grins and continues to stuff his face. He slurps down a few more spoonfuls. “Hey, your clock is off.” He points at the wall above the couch with the spoon.
“I know.” Chibs doesn’t have to look to know Juice is right. The ugly green thing’s been stuck at twenty past four since late May.
“Why don’t you reset it?”
“Eh.” Chibs makes a dismissive motion with his hand. “We’re all part of the cell phone generation. Don’t need that thing anymore.”
But Juice isn’t listening, he sets the bowl on the table and climbs onto the couch, one foot on the armrest next to Chibs’s head, the other on top of the backrest. Kid’s like a fucking monkey sometimes.
Balancing precariously on the armrest, Juice takes the clock from its nail. Chibs takes a light hold of his ankle, strokes his thumb against the smooth, warm skin above Juice’s sock.
“If you fall and break yer neck, can I get yer gadgets?”
Juice laughs. “You don’t even know the name of half of them, so no, you can’t have my gadgets.” He looks down at Chibs. “You need a new battery. Got one?”
“Kitchen.”
Juice jumps down, puts the clock on the table and disappears into the kitchen. Chibs hears him rummaging through the cabinets and the kitchen drawers.
“Third drawer,” he offers. He pokes at the hideous thing with his foot. Gemma gave it to him shortly after he arrived in Charming. Ugly then. Ugly now.
“Got it!”
Juice returns, changes the battery and climbs back up, hanging the clock on its nail before jumping down, smooth and limber. He leans over the armrest, looks down at Chibs upside down and with a grin he plucks the shades from their perch on Chibs’s head and puts them down on the side table.
Chibs reaches up, pulls him in for a kiss with a hand around the back of his neck.
“I’m donating all my stuff to Jax if I die,” Jucie says when they part. ”At least he’s got half a brain to use ‘em.” He comes around and Chibs scoots in closer to the backrest to give him some room, angles his body sideways. “You can have my gerbils.”
“You don’t have gerbils, idiot.”
“Good thing, too. You’d forget to feed them, and they’d be ex-gerbils in no time.“ Juice shifts and wriggles, his knee pressing in between Chibs’s. “You realize you guys will be fucked if I die?”
Chibs puts his hands on Juice's hips, hikes him a little closer. “How d’ya figure?”
“The only thing you guys use a computer for is for porn.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know-“
“Okay, fine. Porn and Solitaire. Happy? You’re still fucked the day I die.”
“Please,” Chibs snorts. “The mumbo jumbo you do, how hard can-“
“You’ll be so lost that you’ll be trying to contact me through one of those… whaddaya call ‘em, spirit boards…” Juice is pressed so close against Chibs they’re sharing the air between them.
“Oujia board?”
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
Chibs runs his hand up under Juice’s t-shirt, feels the minute shudder. The skin is warm and smooth and Chibs flattens his hand, finding the slightly uneven texture of the scar on Juice’s back, the one he got in Stockton. Fuckin’ miracle they didn’t get his kidneys.
Juice pushes up on his elbow. “Hey, can I ask you something?” He twitches when Chibs’s fingers find that spot just under his ribs.
“Go ahead.”
“What’s the weirdest shit you’ve done? I mean, uh…” Juice makes a vague gesture that means nothing at all. “You know?”
Chibs has a pretty good idea what Juice is getting at, but the lad’s is ridiculously embarrassed about certain things, and Chibs can’t help messing with him. He keeps the grin from his face. “No. What?”
“I mean… y’know, with someone.”
It’s getting harder to not grin. Juice is clearly working up to something, and from the way he broached the subject, Chibs is guessing he wants to suggest something for the two of them, but doesn’t know how. “Spent a night with Tig in Tacoma last year. Pretty fucking weird, that.”
“You- What?!” Juice’s eyebrows approach his hairline.
Chibs replays his last words in his head and he groans when he understands what Juice heard. “Not like that, dumbass. Tagged along to Tacoma with him.” He runs his hand down Juice’s thigh. “Front row seats to the Tig Trager freak show. Gave the chick going down on me some very kinky ideas.”
“Oh.” Juice lowers himself down again. A laugh huffs out of him and the vibrations travel through Chibs’s body. “Jesus, what a mental image, you and Tig...”
“What?” Chibs slides his knee over Juice’s, slips an arm under him and pulls him closer, feels Juice mold himself against him. “Tig’s not to your liking?”
“I have this thing about people who get cozy with livestock. Not to mention stiffs.”
“Guessing a threesome is out of the question, then, eh?” Chibs grins and buries his face in the warm space between Juice’s shoulder and his neck.
Juice shudders. “With Tig? God, never. Not going to happen.” He sighs and his body relaxes when Chibs’s fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders, kneading. Then his head comes up, as if something just occurred to him. “That something you want? A threesome, I mean? With another guy?”
He doesn’t sound all that excited about the idea.
“Meh. Too much logistics involved,” Chibs says and rolls them both over so that Juice ends up on top of him. He scratches his nails through the short hair of the Mohawk and puts his mouth to Juice’s neck, spends a few seconds working on a hickey, before Juice catches on and pushes him away.
“No marks,” he reminds Chibs. “Your rule.”
“I’m thinkin’ that rule needs to be revised,” Chibs mumbles, his mouth back against Juice’s skin. But Juice is adamant. No marks. Chibs gives up. He shifts until he’s reasonably comfortable and runs his hands up Juice’s arse. Muscular and lean. He gives it a squeeze. He likes Juice’s ass.
“So, back to the question at hand. What kind of kinky shit did you have in mind?”
Juice ‘uhms’ and ‘aahs’ and Chibs laughs at him.
“C’mon. Spit it out. I know ya can. Do it every time yer on yer knees for me.”
That gets Juice chuckling, but he’s still hedging.
“Listen,” Chibs says. “I’ll say yes or I’ll say no, easy as that.” He pauses. “But I’ll tell you right now, callin’ ya daddy and wearing a nappy, yeah, not gonna happen.”
Juice snorts. “Waking up downtown to Hale’s ugly face, in nothing but that fucking diaper and a paper sign stapled to my chest,” he stabs a finger accusingly at Chibs, “stapled, man-“
Chibs raises his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I had nothing to do with that.”
It’s true. The cardboard sign offering Juice up for adoption and the binky duct taped to his mouth had been all Clay and Tig - payback for one of many messes brought on by Juice’s stupidity around anything that even remotely looks like it might give him a good high. That Chibs innocently suggested they dump him in the street to wake up, that’s another issue.
“Whatever,” Juice huffs. “Anyway, you’re safe. No diapers.”
“So, what is it then?”
“You ever, uh, ever get tied up?”
“In bed?” Chibs shakes his head. “Nah.” He sits up. “You?”
Juice shakes his head.
Chibs thinks about it, really thinks about it, tries to imagine being tied down, at someone else’s mercy. The scenario doesn’t sit well with him, but fuck, Juice is looking nervous and hopeful and Jesus Christ…
“So… Who’s gonna be the one doing the tying? You?”
Juice looks down and shrugs, a minute, one-shoulder motion. “That okay with you?”
Chibs clears his throat. “Depends. What ya got in mind?”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“You gonna tie me up, then what?”
Juice frowns for a moment, like he hadn’t thought that far. Then, another shrug. “Whatever you want.”
Okay. Chibs might be able to work with that. “What about gear?”
Juice looks confused again.
“For tying me up,” Chibs clarifies. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. Jesus Christ, they’re actually sitting here, in his living room, talking about letting Juice tie him up and fuck him. Fuckin’ surreal.
“I figured we could use rope? And cuffs? Padded?” The tips of Juice’s ears are bright red.
Chibs swings his legs over Juice. “Getting a beer. You want one?”
He can feel Juice’s eyes on his as he crosses the floor.
The kitchen is dark. He pulls open the fridge and squints at the light as he rummages around for a cold one. He’s never been into the whole bondage thing. Padded cuffs make him think of his older cousin Liam. Chibs has no idea who the fuck decided it was a good idea to bring an eight-year old to a locked ward at Gartloch. He’d stood in the doorway to Liam’s room - far too old to hold his ma’s hand, but he remembers wanting to - and he’d stared at his cousin, limp and pale with thick padded straps around his wrists and ankles and waist. Liam had been so pumped full of shit he wasn’t even Liam any longer, just a drooling, muttering head case.
He grabs two Millers and closes the fridge.
Juice is still on his side on the couch, a hint of a crease between his brows. He sits up properly and catches the beer bottle Chibs lobs at him. Chibs leans against the doorframe, twists the cap off and downs half the beer in one go.
He already regrets he didn’t grab the vodka instead.
“So. You wanna tie me up, eh?”
Jucie shakes his head, his grin tight, sheepish. “Never mind.” He takes a gulp of beer. “Was just a stupid idea.”
“No, no, it’s cool,” Chibs tells him.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Juice reaches for the remote and won’t meet his eyes. The air between them feels weird, charged with creeping tension suddenly, and Chibs gets a vivid memory flash of Fiona towards the end - silent, closed off.
Chibs sighs and rolls the cool bottle over his forehead. The lad’s taken a left somewhere in that head of his and ended up in a place where it’s a given that Chibs will tell him ‘no’. It seems to be Juice’s default assumption, thinking that what he wants doesn’t count, doesn’t really matter, and Chibs knows how rarely he actually comes straight out and asks for things.
He pushes away from the doorpost. “Come on,” he says and leaves Juice behind in the living room just as the TV flickers to life.
He’s already at the front door when Juice catches up.
“Where are we going?”
Chibs finds a hair tie in his pocket and pulls his hair back before shrugging into the cut and the jacket. “Assume the stuff‘s at yer place since ya showed up here without a bag.”
Juice looks offended. “What? You’re assuming I already got stuff without checking with you…”
Chibs lifts a challenging eyebrow. Knowing Juice, he’s probably had the stuff for ages, but never found the nerve to say anything.
Sure enough, Juice manages about one more second of insulted glower, then his piss poor poker face can’t keep up the charade any longer. He shoves his hands into his pockets and hunches his shoulders a little.
“Maybe I’ve got some stuff…”
Chibs grabs his helmet, tucks it under his arm. “Alrighty, then.”
“Hey, wait. We don’t have. Seriously. It was just something-“
“What? Thought you wanted to have yer wicked ways with me.”
“Yeah, but…” Juice makes a face. “You don’t seem terribly into the idea.”
Chibs pulls him close in a half-assed headlock, and Juice stumbles a little before settling in against him. “Guess yer gonna have to show me the light, eh?” He steals a kiss and lets go before Juice has a chance to start grabbing him.
He leaves Juice to lock up the house with the spare key and steps out into the rain.
This way to part 2