Author's Note: Took less than a month this time! Ha. Hello again, friends. The main thing I have to say about this chapter is FINALLY! You'll catch on pretty quickly what that means. I feel like this chapter is a combo of smut and "the plot thickens". I've been doing a rewatch of the series (I'm about halfway through season 5... which is always the hardest season to get through for me...) and I think that helped the muse get to work. But you want to get onto the good stuff so, as always, thank you to anyone who's reading/reviewing/faving... You're the reason I manage to keep eventually posting. HUGE thank yous and kisses to OntheWildside (I think your new chapter gave me an extra push!), TorchwoodAngel2788, angelicedg, Valerie E. Mackin, liferscove2118. I appreciate your kind words more than you know and I'm so glad you're enjoying this journey with me!

This chapter contains smut. If you don't like it... well, how did you manage to watch SoA if you don't like smut...?

This is unbetaed... All mistakes are my own.

Disclaimer: I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Pretty Thing' belongs to Broods. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby and Amber

'Lost in love with you it's a pretty thing… a pretty thing… Lost in love with me could be what you need… what you need...'

Shelby woke with a start, looking around wildly as she tried to place where she was. The room was unfamiliar, but when she took a deep breath, she quickly recognized the scent tangled in the bedclothes.

"Opie," she thought to herself, carefully laying back down and curling into the pillow. The mixed perfume of cigarettes, leather, and the spice of aftershave washed over her as she snuggled deeper into the spot. Her gaze moved to the bathroom door as the sound of the shower cut out followed by the drag of the curtain.

The door opened and the man in question stepped out from a cloud of steam, tying a towel low on his narrow hips. His hair hung dripping over his shoulders, trails of water running down his torso. The brunette swallowed, her green eyes taking in every inch of him, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her head.

The biker glanced up, a flush over his cheeks when he realized she was watching him. "You're awake," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers. "How you feeling?"

The brunette shrugged, slowly sitting up in the bed. "Been worse," she replied. She bit her lower lip as she wrung the sheet in her hands. "I'm sorry I just passed out… you could've made me go back to Amber's, called her to come pick me up..."

He shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Wasn't going to let you leave like that," he told her, reaching out to rest his hand on her covered knee. "It was a lot."

Shelby glanced at his hand, noting the tan lines on his fingers from the heavy rings he tended to favor. "Still… I didn't mean to inconvenience you or anything…"


She glanced up, meeting Opie's gaze. "You could never be an inconvenience to me, alright?" he replied, giving her knee a squeeze. "I like having you here."

She flushed at his quiet confession, lowering her gaze. "Well, if nothing else, I'm sorry I took your bed," she replied, still trying for an apology.

Opie left out a humorless chuckle. "You didn't."

Shelby glanced up, confusion in her expression. "This isn't your room?"

He cleared his throat. "What I meant is that I've been sleeping on the couch since…" He trailed off, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

"Oh…" Silence fell between, letting the truth hang in the air. "Sorry-"

Opie moved his hand to cover her mouth, cutting off another unnecessary apology. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for," he told her. "Do you think I would let you be here if I didn't want you to be?"

The warmth of his hand over her mouth seemed to almost burn, sending waves of heat through her bloodstream. Slowly, he lowered his hand, his palm skimming the path of her body, settling on her hip. Their eyes locked, speaking volumes even as they both stayed quiet, taking the other in. His fingers gently pressed into her side, seeming to pull her closer as their lips met, neither quite sure how the gap between them had managed to close.

His lips were warm and firm over hers, the hair of his beard tickling her chin. She sighed into the kiss, her body sagging towards him. A shiver ran through her as droplets of water soaked through the thin fabric of her shirt. She moved a hand to his hair, her fingers tangling in the soaked strands, streams of water coursing down her arm as she squeezed.

Opie gently pulled, moving her onto his lap, letting out a grunt as the movement dragged the towel over his cock. His fingers kneaded the soft skin of her hips as she undulated against him. He skimmed his hands up the smooth expanse of her back, savoring the feeling against his palms as he kissed her deeper, his tongue rolling against hers.

"You okay?" he whispered, pulling back a touch when he felt another shudder run through her. He ran his fingers through her chocolate strands of hair, savoring the silkiness against his skin.

Shelby swallowed and slowly opened her eyes, her breath hitching as their gazes locked. She moved her hand, letting her knuckles gently glide over his jawline. "I'm perfect," she murmured, leaning in to press her lips back to his.

Opie shifted, holding her body to his as he moved to lay her down on the bed, his body blanketing hers. He couldn't get enough of her taste on his tongue, her mouth smoky and sweet against his, her lips like velvet. He moved a hand back under her top, his fingers gliding over her ribcage.

The brunette let out a giggle against his lips, making him pull back again. She blinked up at him, her lips curved in a smile. "Tickles," she told him, her fingers tangling in the still wet strands of his hair.

He smiled down at her as he flexed his fingers again, letting the tips of the digits glide over her stomach. "Ticklish?"

She threw her head back with a laugh, her hands moving to his biceps and squeezing. "Opie, stop," she said, her voice breathless as she tried to squirm away.

He gave a chuckle, flattening his palm on her stomach. "Okay, okay," he soothed, his hand gliding to let the tips of his fingers ghost along the curve of her breast.

Shelby bit her lip, her eyes locking on his. She swallowed as he watched her intently, his hand closing over her breast, her nipple cutting into his palm as she arched into his touch. She left out a sigh as he pressed his lips to her neck, her eyes fluttering closed as he massaged her, his mouth sucking at her skin.

The biker let out a grunt as he felt her hand against his cock through the towel, giving him a gentle tug. "Gettin' fresh?" he asked, his voice a growl.

The brunette nipped at his ear, a soft moan escaping her as he gave her nipple a pinch. "You started it, Winston," she replied. She moved her hand beneath the towel, wrapping her fingers around him. "Maybe I'm just moving things along…"

Opie let out a quiet groan, rutting against her. "Ain't we a little old for this heavy petting shit?" he asked, pressing his face to her neck, cutting his teeth over her clavicle.

Shelby chuckled, giving his cock one more squeeze before sliding her hand up his torso, her fingers absently tracing over his tattoos. "Never too old for foreplay," she replied.

He pressed a kiss to her neck before sitting up, taking the time to move his gaze over her, taking in every inch of her beneath him. His eyes stayed on hers as he slowly pushed her shirt up her torso. His gaze flashed to her breasts as she finished the shirt's path, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the side. "Shit," he breathed.

"What?" Shelby asked, her fingers deftly untying the loose knot of his towel, letting the terry fall from his hips.

He smoothed his hand up the valley between her breasts, letting his palm stop to cup her cheek. "You're beautiful," he replied, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip.

She pursed her lips, pressing a kiss to the pad of the digit before reaching up and pulling him down. "Make love to me, Op," she whispered, arching her hips into his.

Opie went rigid over her, freezing in place at her words. He shook his head, moving to push himself off of her. The way she breathed the words, her hair spread over the pillow… she looked too much like Donna… in that moment, Donna was all he could see.

"Opie, what…" Shelby's words died on her tongue as realization washed over her. "Shit," she muttered as he slid off the bed, wrapping the towel back around his waist. She rubbed her hands over her face before sitting up. She couldn't help the frustration that settled over her. She understood Opie's sadness, the reason that he seemed to push her away any time she seemed to make any sort of progress with him, but the fact of the matter was that Donna was dead. She wasn't coming back. How did her older sister still manage to get in the way?

Opie ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against his dresser. He wanted Shelby. Even with Donna's image at the forefront of his brain, he knew that he wanted to be with Shelby. "I can't do this here," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his beard.

The brunette left out a sigh and slid off the mattress, grabbing her discarded shirt off the floor. "I get it, I'll go," she replied, refusing to look at him.

He shook his head, crossing the room and gently grabbing her arm, turning her to face him. "I can't do this here," he repeated, trying to make her understand.

Shelby blinked up at him, the shirt still held tight in her grasp. "But I thought…"

Opie shook his head, giving her a reassuring smile as he walked backwards, pulling her with him. "Just need a change of location," he explained as they left the bedroom, heading towards the guest room down the hall.

"Clay, you gotta minute?"

The president nodded, glancing at Juice as he walked to the door. "Shut that for us, will ya?" he asked the Puerto Rican.

Tig tapped his fingers on the scuffed wood of the table, his eyes fixed on the scythe clutched tight in the reaper's hand. He tried to formulate the words, figure out exactly what he wanted to say as the door to the chapel clicked shut. He knew that Clay would be pissed. It didn't matter that yesterday had been out of his hands. He couldn't control Opie, he couldn't get a handle on Jax… and the mystery of this 'Mutton' character… how could he control what he hadn't even predicted?

"What's the problem?" Clay asked after several beats of silence, breaking through Tig's thoughts, making the man jump at the intrusion. "You miss me or something?"

The Sergeant scoffed. "Just thought we should talk."

The lighter man scowled, pulling a cigar from his cut. "I ask again, what's the problem?" He snipped the end of his smoke and lit it, taking a deep inhale. "Something I need to know about yesterday?" He blew out a cloud of smoke.

Tig leaned back in his chair, resting his palm on the table top. "The hit went okay," he replied. "Opie shot him dead, I think we're in the clear."

Clay's scowl deepened. "I need better than think, Tiggy," he snarled. "Can't risk a blowback with this one." He slapped his own palm on the table. "I need you to tell me we're good, it's why you sit in that damn chair."

Tig left out a puff of air, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I know," he replied. "I'll take care of it. Be sure that we're perfect."

"What's the problem? You should have made sure all loose ends were taken care of yesterday, all I should be hearin' about today is that you got shit done."

Tig grit his teeth. "We got caught," he admitted. "I don't know how, but they saw it."

"Who?" Clay growled. "And how were you not more careful with this? I need to rip that patch off?" He pointed at the Sergeant At Arms patch on Tig's chest.

The darker man shook his head. "He came out of nowhere, brother. Said he was in the area."

The president sneered. "I don't care what you have to do, you make sure that son of a bitch doesn't talk." He shook his head. "Bad enough that the little prince is holding his own card with this."

Tig nodded. "I'll take care of it," he promised.

"I'm counting on you, Tig," Clay continued. "We need this to be buried with Donna. SAMCRO needs this."

Shelby bit her lower lip as fingers hooked in the sides of her panties, dragging them down the path of her legs. Her thighs parted as Opie tossed the scrap of cotton and lace over his shoulder. She let out a soft moan as his palms traveled up her calves and over her knees.

He could smell her arousal in the air, making his mouth water. He pulled her closer, draping her legs over his shoulders. He glanced up, meeting her gaze as he settled between her legs, parting her with the fingers of one hand. "You okay?" he asked, lightly dragging the tip of his finger over her clit.

She couldn't the whimper that escaped. "Stop teasing," she breathed.

Opie chuckled, leaning into drag his tongue over the path his finger had just taken. "You taste so good," he murmured. He sucked her clit into his mouth, making her cry out as he lashed his tongue over her.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her head. Her thighs shook before tightening around his ears, her other hand moving to the back of the head between her legs. She let out a moan as a thick digit pressed into her, Opie's tongue swirling over her bud before sucking her labia into his mouth.

The biker hooked his finger and gave a quick swipe of the tongue before lifting his head, slowly moving his finger in and out, savoring how wet she was for him. "What do you want, baby?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her thigh.

Shelby bit her lower lip, her hand moving to his beard and pulling him up her torso. She pressed his mouth to hers, moaning at her taste on his lips. "Fuck me, Opie," she muttered, nipping his lower lip and letting out a cry as he slipped another finger inside her. "Please…"

He slid his fingers out of her, moving to rest on his elbows, his body over hers. He kissed her, his mouth sealed over hers as he reached down, grabbing the base of his cock and slowly sinking into her, groaning as he sunk into her deep wet heat.

The brunette cried out as he filled her, stretching her around his cock. She dug her nails into his back, cutting into the skin of his back. He surrounded her with his scent, his body… She felt him everywhere. As his cock slowly moved in and out, she couldn't help but whimper, dragging her nails down his spine.

She was so tight and it felt so good to be with a woman again. The fact that it was Shelby, it felt like a piece that he hadn't even known was missing clicked back into place. Opie kissed her, swallowing her cries as he picked up speed, moving in and out of her, seeming to go deeper on each pass. He dug his fingers into her hips, moving her to meet him with each thrust.

"Harder, Opie," she moaned, throwing her head back. She felt like she was losing her mind, falling off the edge as he fucked her into the mattress.

Opie groaned at her words, his dick seeming to grow impossibly harder. He rolled to his back, moving her on top of him, not breaking stride. "Show me what you want, Shel," he growled, his hands holding her hips, moving her to meet him.

Shelby pressed her palms to his chest, moving up and down, the sound of their pants and skin slapping against skin filling the room. She could feel they were both close, so close she could taste it. She moved a hand to rub over her clit, to push herself just a little further.

He saw the path her hand was taking and before she reached her destination, his own hand was there, his thumb rubbing circles over her. He felt the way she pulsed around him and all he wanted was to feel when she fell apart. "You goin' to come for me, Shelby?"

She cried out at his words, feeling herself explode. "Oh God," she moaned as he rolled again, chasing to meet her as they both felt the orgasm move through her.

Tig sat at the bar, Shelby's file open in front of him. He couldn't help but believe that the secret to Mutton was hidden somewhere in the papers that Juice had put together for him.

"Studyin' up?"

The Sergeant glanced to his right as Chibs slid onto the stool beside him, gesturing for the prospect to bring him a beer. He carefully closed the manila folder, resting his elbow on top of it. "Something you need, Chibby?"

The Scot took a pull from his beer before giving his brother a grin. "Just wonderin' what's got ya so enraptured there," he replied, knocking a knuckle against the corner. "Ain't never seen ya so intent on somethin' that didn't have a set o' tits on it."

Tig chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he assured the man. He slipped the file off the bar, tucking it into his cut. "I should be getting over to the shop anyway."

Chibs reached up, sliding his sunglasses down his nose to peer at Tig. "Ya hidin' somethin'?" he asked.

The older man scoffed. "Unless I'm dippin' my prick in you, Scottie, you don't have any reason to be grilling me about my shit." He moved off his stool, pressing his middle finger into the center of Chibs' chest. "Stay out of my business, alright?"

The Scot narrowed his eyes, wrapping a hand around Tig's bicep, holding him in place. "Ya threatenin' me with somethin', Trager?" he snarled.

Tig shoved him off, almost pushing him off the stool. "I'm just sick of you thinking I need you monitoring me these days-"

"There a problem in here, boys?"

The two glanced at the doorway of the clubhouse to see Gemma standing with a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. Chibs gave Tig once more once over before standing and taking another swig of his beer, slamming it back down on the bar. "No, no problem here, mother," he muttered, shoving himself away from the bar and walking out of the clubhouse.

Tig watched him go, his fists clenched, his nostrils flaring. "Fuckin' prick," he muttered, knocking the beer bottle off the bar with a crash.

"What's going on, baby?" Gemma asked, her heels clicking as she crossed the room.

He shook his head, glancing at her. "Just the two of us not seeing eye to eye these days," he assured her. "Nothing for you to worry about." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a side hug.

Gemma gave him a skeptical look. "Seemed like a little more than that," she pushed. "The two of you don't tend to clash like this."

Tig gave her a grin. "You're trying to make this something it's not, Gem," he replied. "Promise I'm not holding out on you. Just us guys buttin' heads, no big deal."

"It has something to do with that gash, doesn't it?" she asked, venom dripping from her tone.

The Sergeant chuckled. "Need you to be more specific with that term," he joked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know exactly who I mean," she replied. "That little bitch ain't nothing but trouble anytime she-"

Tig shook his head. "Whoa, Gem, calm down, alright? Has nothing to do with her." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Everything's fine alright?" He didn't wait for a response before giving her one last squeeze and letting her go. "I need to get to work, I'll see you later."

Gemma watched him walk out of the clubhouse, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't buy his innocence act. Not for a second. She'd found the disarray of her bathroom from the dinner party the other night and it didn't take a genius to figure out who had been been in there and what they'd been doing. Combine that with Tig's constant distraction, it was clear that little tart had managed to worm her way into at least two of her boys radar.

"I never like when you get that look…"

The matriarch looked up to see Clay walking towards her. "What look?"

Her husband chuckled, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his mouth. "The look that makes it seem as though smoke should be coming out of your ears," he replied, pressing a kiss to her palm and pulling her close. "What's going on, my love?"

Gemma frowned. "We need to get rid of Shelby," she told him quietly.

Clay raised an eyebrow. "Seems a little dramatic," he commented. "I get that you don't like her-"

She sneered. "This isn't about dislike," she retorted. "That little bitch is already causing trouble and I don't want to see what kind of damage is in store if we don't take care of it." She let out a huff. "I don't need her screwing with my family."

"What are you talking about, baby?" he pressed, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

"You haven't noticed what she's doing with Opie and Tig?" Gemma asked, a note of disbelief in her tone. "Winding them all up, scattering them…"

Clay frowned. "What are you talking about with Tig? She's messing with Opie, I know that, but it's good that he's distracted right now-"

"Come on, Clay," she cut him off. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed how off Tig is and just now I come in with him about to come to blows with Chibs…"

"And that was about Shelby?" he asked.

"He said it wasn't but-"

Clay cut her off with a kiss, resting a hand on her cheek. "Don't get so worked up about her, Gem," he soothed, pressing another kiss to her mouth. "If I find out she's making trouble in my town, my club? I'll take care of it."

Gemma sighed, pressing her cheek into his palm. "Promise?"

He gave her a smile and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You have my word."