Warnings: foul language; slash
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on characters created and owned by Kurt Sutter. No compensation, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing and posting of this. All rights to Sons of Anarchy belong to Kurt Sutter, Sutter Ink, Linson Entertainment, Fox 21 and FX Productions.
Note: This is written as a non-established relationship, so a first-time threesome (not exactly explicit). This is my first time writing such a pairing (threesome), so hopefully it is okay. Originally posted on livejournal's soa_slash as one of my many pennames. I should really just stick with one. :P


He isn't sure what to expect when it all falls apart and he loses everything in the blink of an eye, but it certainly isn't this - Chibs' arms wound around him, tight enough to bruise, and the kid, Juice, nestled up against his back, warm body flush against his. Comfort in the arms of brothers.

And they aren't in one of the back rooms of the clubhouse, lights off, hiding in the dark. No, they're at the kid's place, and though the lights are turned down low, Tig can still see the arms wrapped around him - white entangled with brown, and he's in the middle of it all. Like some kind of monkey in the middle.

He wasn't even drunk when they fell together earlier that night, drowning in the wake of the news that had wrenched the world right from under his feet. None of them were. There was just the numbness following what had happened, and the uncertainty of what would happen next. A future uncarved.

Chibs' insistence that none of them should be alone was followed up by a quick, discreet look at the kid, betraying his worry that Juice might not handle this well if left on his own. Tig couldn't have said no to the man, his brother in so many ways, if he'd wanted to, Chibs was a good friend. Not that he'd cared all that much what happened to Juice, the kid was a fucking retard half the time, and he'd yet to forgive him for that dog bite on his ass.

In spite of all the shit he's said about where he's stuck his dick, he ain't never had anything like this before.

Juice open and writhing beneath him, crying out in time with his thrusts, so warm, tight, accommodating; and Chibs, above them both, filling him, matching him stroke for stroke, making him hurt and ache in ways he didn't know he could- never knew he wanted.

And fuck, Chibs was even more demanding a lover than he, making him work for it, ride his cock while Tig moved inside of Juice. And then there was a moment when everything just stood still, and maybe there were fireworks, or maybe it was his brain going haywire, making him see colorful sparks, the moment between 'fuck' and 'oh god', when everything just slid into place.

Chibs and Juice and he. Push, pull, take, give, fuck, fuck, fuck. And it wasn't pretty or beautiful or anything but sex, but it was, at the same time so much more than making love.

Juice tight around his cock, Chibs filling him. And all he could do was moan and weep and beg for more, until finally, at last they, all three of them at once, came, screaming their completion. The cacophony of their mutual cries echoed off of the bedroom walls and came back to them choked and wanting.

Now, in the aftermath, he has time to think. Far from being freaked or disgusted or shamed, he feels more whole than he has in a long time.

Juice shifts behind him, trying to get comfortable, one of his long, sinewy legs - all muscle and not shapely or soft like a woman's - works its way between Tig's legs. the kid's foot is cold and he has half a mind to shove him away. Instead, he relaxes back into the kid, lets Juice nuzzle against him with his cheek, clean-shaven and smooth. His arm absentmindedly thrown across Tig's waist as though to anchor him.

"You doin' okay?" Chibs asks, his voice is sleep-slurred.

Tig nods, finds his own voice, and says, "Yeah." It comes out sounding like he's swallowed broken glass. Hell, he feels like he's swallowed that and more.

Chibs cracks an eye open, glares at him, loosens the death grip he has on him a little and then settles back, letting his eye slide shut. The man's arms are solid, scarred, dark hair thick and downy. The man's cheek is flat against Tig's chest, the bristles of his stubble feel like sandpaper. Not a thing about this is feminine or girly or unnatural. It just is.

"No you ain't," he says, "but you will be."

And just like that, Chibs holding him from the front, half draped over him and Juice cradling him from the back, he falls asleep. His world hasn't been miraculously fixed, but he no longer feels like it's ending.


So, what do you think? Feedback is greatly appreciated.