A/N: This one was written specifically for imaginingtheanarchy on tumblr. She couldn't find the right inspiration so I offered to take it to task. Follow her on tumblr!
Playlist: Untitled (How Does It Feel) - D'Angelo
Follow me on tumblr at: crimsonheart01
You were lounging on the couch, a beer in your hand, listening to the mindless prattle of the girls around you. Lyla had been kind enough to invite you, knowing that you were still new to town. You'd met her in the supermarket, and hit it off right away. You'd only been living here for a month or so now, so it came as a surprise when Lyla mentioned that her fiancé's club was having a welcome home party. At first you were nervous and declined, but she spent the entire week pestering you, convincing you that it would be a good time.
Now you found yourself surrounded by scantily clad women and gruff burly men. You learned right away that the meaning behind 'welcome home' was that some of the members of Opie's club were in prison and had been released earlier that day. It was still fairly early in the evening but Lyla did warn you these types of parties tended to crash out of control the later it got. You'd already witnessed your first public sex act when you made a trip to the bathroom. You rounded the corner and nearly tripped over one of the girls you'd been talking to earlier. She was on her knees, going to town on the black haired man. You apologized, covering your eyes and scurrying the other direction. When you sat back down on the couch, you laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. This was not for the faint of heart. You'd never been easily offended and that bode well for you.
You brought your bottle to your lips, letting the liquid smooth down your throat and swallowed. You gazed around at the room, noticing the haze of smoke that was now floating in the air. Through the fog you noticed one of the members leaning against the bar. He had his hand held out and a blonde woman was wiping his knuckles down. You glanced towards his face remembering him as the one who was in the ring a while ago. You'd been mesmerized with his match, pounding on a blonde guy with spiked hair. His fists were a thing of beauty, and the way he used them. They were more powerful than any gun he may own. You gulped, your mouth suddenly dry. The woman sitting across from him was caressing each of his fingers, replacing her touch with a white bandage. You'd always had a thing for nice hands and his were more than that.
You felt as your heart raced in your chest, the blood rushing to your head. You zoned straight in, admiring the outline of his fingers. There was a slight bend to the tip of his index finger, making it look like it was broken. You noticed the dimple set between his first two knuckles and felt the sweat form on your forehead. The veins connecting to each digit were pronounced, as if he was straining his hand. He twined his hands together, turning his arms out and cracking each knuckle simultaneously. You licked your lips. All you could imagine was the way those calloused palms would feel running up your naked thighs. His hands were large enough that you could picture them gripping your ass in a perfect handful. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making any involuntary noises. His hand wrapped around a fresh beer and you zeroed in on the gold rings adorning his index and right ring finger. Oh, what you wouldn't do to have the cool sting of his jewellery on your skin. You shuddered, all your emotions pooling between your legs. You imagined those long fingers trailing along your lips, memorizing the shape of your pout. You noticed his meticulously cut and filed finger nails and reveled in that little anecdote. Cleanliness was next to godliness, didn't you know? You felt the phantom pressure of his fingers on your most sensitive areas, squeezing, pinching and rolling. His hands skillful in every touch they made. No matter how brutal, or tender. You felt a nudge against you shoulder, and you swayed with the movement.
"Y/N?" Lyla asked, concerned by your stare, "You haven't said anything in like 5 whole minutes. Are you alright."
Your eyes immediately focussed and you found yourself staring deep into the eyes of the man whose hands you'd been admiring. How long were you zoned out? Definitely long enough for him to notice, if the flick of his tongue on his lips was any indication. You blinked a few times, turning to focus on the blonde woman next to you. You gave her a warm smile.
"Contact high." You joked, "I think I need some air."
She chuckled and nodded, watching as you stood up and made your way to the door. You strolled past the people milling around and pushed the clubhouse door open. Once you were out in the fresh air, you took in a long deep breath. You closed your eyes, rolled your head back and slowly let the air back out. You continued to rotate your head around, relieving the pent up stress in your neck and shoulders. Once you felt a little less bothered, you shoved your hands into your pockets and stared out at the line of Harley's. There was click from the door behind you and you tossed a glance over your shoulder. It was him.
"See something you like?" He growled.
Inch by inch you turned, facing him full on. Your eyes flicked down to where his hands were hanging at his side, then back up to his eyes. He twitched and your eyes snapped to his hands again. He clenched them together, working the muscles. You pulled your own hands out of your pockets and rubbed them together, a nervous tick. He took a step closer and you nodded. You wanted to feel those hands on your body. You looped your arm around his neck and melded your lips into his. His hands flung out, grabbing at your sides and you ground your body into his. He yanked up your shirt, rubbing his hands along your skin and you gasped at the contact. You threw you head backwards as his lips descended down your neck.
"Yes." You outright moaned.
This is what you'd been imaging since you set eyes on him and his rough looking hands. You grabbed his wrists and shoved them down your body to settle on your bottom. He squeezed and you squealed in pleasured delight.
"Take me somewhere." You breathed, "Please."
He groaned at the tone of your voice and hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his hips. He carried you across the lot while you nipped at his ears, licking down the side of his neck. He kicked the door to the TM office open and dropped you down on the couch. He slammed the door shut and pressed the lock in. You leaned up on you elbows, watching and he slid out of his cut and then pulled his t-shirt over his head. You licked your lips as he positioned himself over you, descending the length of his body along yours. You flexed your hips, rubbing your bodies together and he let out a tortured moan. You dropped down from your elbows, running your fingers down his bare chest. He dipped one hand under your shirt, the other keeping the majority of his body weight from crushing you down.
"Touch me," You panted, "Run your hands along my body."
He obliged you, starting at your stomach and making his way south. He yanked your jeans off and you slid your legs along his sides. His hands descended, gripping your upper thighs and contracting.
"Oh god." You moaned, "Don't stop."
You gazed down at him, his body kneeling between your legs. His smile was sinister and downright terrifying. You loved it. You giggled, this was turning out to be everything you'd imagined it to be.