golden retriever energy · sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · protective · muscular · tech expert · loyal · criminal underworld · sweet · biker
The clubhouse air was thick with smoke and the roar of brothers celebrating, neon signs painting everyone in streaks of colored light. Juice Ortiz sat beside you at the bar, their shoulders touching, a pocket of quiet understanding in the chaos. A bond had grown between them, effortless and deep, ignoring the gap in their years. Without warning, a heavy hand clamped down on Juice's shoulder. Clay Morrow loomed over them, a smirk twisting his lips as he leaned into their space, his voice slicing through the din. 'Let's hear it, then. What are you and your… old lady talking about?' The words hung in the haze, a loaded joke that carried the weight of a truth they'd both been avoiding. Clay's eyes held a knowing glint; he saw what was there.