Fandom: Sons of Anarchy
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Nothing like a good old fashioned love story between a porn star and a man in a motorcyle club.
I know not that many people on my flist have even heard of this show but Sons of Anarchy has quickly become one of my favorite shows and I wanted to try something out. There really is no point to this story. It was just a chance for me to explore the budding relationship between Opie and Lyla on the show. Should I be worried if I was able to really tap into the mind of a porn star like I was able to with Lyla? What does that say about me?
He’s the first man in a long time (probably the first man if she can remember them all) she has been around who hasn’t tried to hit on her the instant he finds out what she does.
Just because she fucks on camera, they think she will fuck any man who crosses her path. When he talks to her though, for one, he stares into her eyes and not her chest. And he isn’t talking to her as a porn actress. He talks to her like she’s Lyla and the impact of that on her is so great, whenever he’s around, she actually feels a little weaker in the knees and she can’t remember that ever happening to her before.
He’s been through a lot. She doesn’t have to know him to know that. One look at him tells her. He’s been through things he doesn’t talk about; things she doesn’t ask about.
They’ve been spending more time together, hanging out at his house every night, which actually is as innocent as it sounds despite it being between the two of them. Their kids – his son and daughter and her boy – get along, which helps these evenings, and usually, sometime during the night, the three kids fall asleep in the back bedroom and the two of them remain on the couch, the blue glow from the television shining onto their faces.
He sits on one end and she sits at the other but she doesn’t mind the distance between them. She can look at him this way without it being so obvious because she realizes sometime during the third night that they do this that she likes looking at him.
Opie’s a lot larger than her – tall that if he stands too close to her, she has to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. Those eyes of his, those deeply sad eyes, they make her just want to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and hug him as tightly as she can. She begins wondering other things – like what his hair underneath his constant-present hat looks like. How his beard would feel as it scratched across her skin. If his rough fingertips could gently trail down her bare back.
She knows she shouldn’t think these things. This is a broken man sitting next to her and it isn’t right – not that she is put together without her own cracks and chips but for once, she has met someone who has it even less together than she does. Anytime she is around Opie, all she really wants to do is hug him and the strange thing about it is, she thinks she wants him to hug her more than kiss her. She honestly cannot remember the last time a man just hugged her. He didn’t touch her or try to use holding her as a preamble for something else. A man has never just hugged her for the simple purpose of putting his arms around her and holding her against him.
Lyla turns her head to look at him, for once not caring that she is being rather obvious about it. He doesn’t seem to notice though. Actually, when they are doing this, when they are hanging out, he doesn’t seem to notice her too much at all.
She frowns to herself, reluctantly moving her eyes back towards the television. Maybe he isn’t attracted to her. Maybe he has no problem with a woman like her around his kids because they like her but as for him, maybe he doesn’t want to be with someone who does what she does for a living.
“Can I get a glass of water?” She asks him, already standing up, not wanting to sit near him anymore at the moment and without looking at her, keeping his eyes glued to the movie they are watching, he nods his head.
She leaves the living room and goes into the kitchen, getting herself a glass – knowing which cabinet they are in – and as she stands at the sink, filling it up with tap water, she takes a deep breath. She has no idea what she is doing there. She enjoys his company, practically craves it, but he couldn’t seem to care one way or another whether or not she’s there with him.
Closing her eyes, Lyla takes a greedy gulp, feeling the water rush down her throat. She needs to leave. He has too much going on, has too many things in his life he clearly needs to deal with and really, she doesn’t seem to be helping him with any of it. She actually isn’t that good at helping anyone – not even herself it feels like.
Her eyes fly open again when she feels something come up behind her and looking over her shoulder, she sees Opie standing directly behind her, his body warm and hard, his chest to her back, his hands sliding onto the counter on either side of her, palms resting down flat. She is suddenly completely surrounded by him and her heart leaps into her throat. In the weeks since they started doing this, he has never put himself this close to her. Not in his home. When he comes by the studio, yes, and he sits next to her when they take the kids out for something to eat but never like this. This… is completely new.
“Opie…” she starts to say but honestly has no idea what should come after his name.
He apparently has nothing to say either considering how silent he is standing there.
“Opie,” Lyla says again, still looking at him over her shoulder, his eyes burning into hers.
She stops breathing when he lifts one of his hands and presses it on her stomach, his fingers touching the bare skin exposed between the bottom of the tank top and the top of her jeans she is wearing. The instant she feels his fingers on her, she nearly shivers. She is actually surprised at how gentle his touch is on her. She isn’t used to men being anything near gentle with her. And this man doesn’t exactly look like he has ever done anything gentle in his entire life.
She feels her eyes close as he lifts his other hand and brushes her long locks of blonde curls away from her neck, pulling them over her shoulder and she can’t help but gasp and arch her back as he then slowly lowers his head, his lips brushing across the back of her shoulder before moving to the crook of her neck, his thick beard scratching her skin and her fingers tighten around the edge of the sink as she feels his mouth hot and wet against the sensitive patch of skin over the pulse point where her shoulder meets her neck.
A soft moan rises from her throat and she tilts her head backwards, her knuckles turning white as she grips the sink tighter. He presses his body harder against hers, trapping her between him and the counter and the hand still resting on her stomach begin ever so slowly pushing her tank top up, exposing more of her skin to his fingers.
This, right here, is what she has been wanting with him since the first time she saw him when she pulled up to the garage and he fixed her flat tire and rims for her. This is what she has been wanting since he confronted her dealer outside of Caracara Studios.
Even now, a part of her wonders if this is really happening or if this is just a very detailed and realistic fantasy.
She gasps again as he latches his lips onto that pulse point and sucks, the gasp turning into a moan and she presses back against him. Both of his arms bind tightly around her waist and he doesn’t let up, burying his face in the crook of her neck and Lyla bends one of her arms back, gripping the back of Opie’s head, her fingers curling in the black ski cap that he has yet to take off when she’s around. He grinds himself into her from behind and she hears herself saying “please” over and over again but even she isn’t entirely too sure as to what she wants him to do. A part of her really just wants him to bend her over the sink and fuck her right there.
But she knows he won’t. She may not know him well yet but she knows that Opie would never do something like that.
“Opie,” she whispers his name, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels the tip of his fingers running back and forth across the top of her jeans, as if he is deciding whether or not to pop the button open.
And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared behind her, he puts his hands on the counter and pushes himself back a few steps, separating himself from her. It happens so quickly – the sudden lack of his lips on her skin and his beard scratching her and his body giving her warmth – her mind almost goes into shock, trying to catch up.
The only sound in the kitchen for a passing minute is their heavy panting.
Lyla runs shaky fingers through her hair and slowly turns around, having to lean back against the counter for support since it feels as if her legs are actually shaking. He is standing in the doorway, probably as far from her as he can be without actually leaving the room. His arms are crossed over his chest and his head is bowed, his eyes fixed on the floor. His entire body is tense and though his facial expressions never seem to vary, Lyla almost gets the impression that he is pissed off over something.
That makes her frown. “What’s wrong?” She asks.
The question makes him lift his head to look at her. His eyes practically look black and a hot pool settles in her belly upon seeing those eyes now fixated on her. She runs the tip of her tongue over her swollen lips that suddenly feel too dry and Opie glances away.
“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
His words make her frown and she stares at him. “Why not?” She can’t stop herself from asking. It had felt amazing – to her anyway.
He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t look at her either.
“Did you not mean to do that with me or with anyone?” She presses. Again, he doesn’t answer and instead opts for silence. Lyla nods, gathering that to mean one thing. “Right, I’m good enough to watch your kids or sit on the couch with you and watch TV or go to Gemma’s for potluck dinners with the club but anything other than that, you think I’m just some fucking slut who fucks on camera.”
She doesn’t even want to look at him because she can feel his eyes staring at her and she doesn’t trust herself to look at him. All of her excitement and desire has worn off now, being replaced by a completely pissed off and frustrated woman.
He is blocking the only way out of the kitchen but Lyla can care less. Her anger is spurning her on but as she tries to storm out, making way for a dramatic exit, Opie grabs her again unexpectedly. This time, Lyla opens her mouth to protest but before she can, his mouth is covering hers and her back is pressed against the refrigerator. This time, his beard rubs against her face, instantly sending every nerve on her body on end and she sifts her fingers through it before her arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her at the same time she arches her body into his.
The kiss is hard and deep, his tongue running against her teeth and roof of her mouth before tangling with hers and making her moan. It is as if he is trying desperately to crawl into her mouth and Lyla is grateful that she has both his body and the refrigerator holding her up. Otherwise, she thinks her knees just might give out. She has never felt this way when a man kisses her and she has kissed more than enough men in her life – plenty of girls too since Luann used to insist on putting her in those girl on girl scenes.
But no one has ever gotten her to react this way from a simple kiss. This isn’t the acting she usually puts on for the camera when a man kisses her. These moans are all real. These knots in her stomach and growing wetness between her thighs… that is all because of Opie and how he tastes and feels and how he is kissing her right now as if kissing her is the only thing he wants to be doing in the world.
His hands this time slip under her tank top to feel the smooth expanse of her bare back, his rough fingertips inching up her spine, hesitating at her shoulder blades when he discovers that she isn’t wearing a bra though her hard nipples pressed to his chest should have been a big clue for him. He doesn’t take her tank top off like she thought he would and she can’t explain it but that makes her smile against his lips. He doesn’t want to see her naked yet. This whole kissing her thing isn’t just a way for him to see her naked. He really wants to be kissing her. No man has ever wanted to just kiss her before.
He pulls away suddenly though again – so suddenly, Lyla’s head follows his as he pulls his head back. She realizes that his cell phone is ringing and he pulls it from his pocket, not stepping away to take the call and instead, leaving his body to press against hers.
The conversation on his end is disjointed. Just a “yeah” every few breaths and then ends with an “okay” before he slaps the phone shut and looks at her.
“That was Jax. I have to go meet him somewhere,” he informs her and knowing not to expect any more information than that, she nods her head. “Do you think you can stick around for a little bit?”
“Sure,” she nods again. “I’ll stay with the kids until you get back.”
He stares at her for a silent minute. “I want to see you when I get back.”
He says it so casually, as if this happens between them every other night, and before Lyla can say anything, he goes to the chair where his cut is and slips it on over the black hooded sweatshirt he is wearing.
Watching him, Lyla finally manages to nod. “You won’t be gone long, will you?” She asks and he looks at her. “Sorry… am I not allowed to ask that?”
“You can ask,” he says and then shakes his head. “It’s just been a long time since someone has asked me that.”
Neither are sure what else to say after that but just as he is about to leave, Lyla pushes herself off of the refrigerator, stepping towards him.
“Opie,” she says, stopping him and he immediately turns back around to look at her.
She isn’t sure what to say. She doesn’t even know why she called him back. So she does the first thing that pops into her mind and it leaves them both momentarily surprised when she goes to him and standing on her toes, she slips her arms around his shoulders and hugs him. He always looks like he needs one and Lyla wants to be the one to give it to him, whether he wants it or not. He smells of oil and leather and soap and she presses her nose to his shoulder, closing her eyes.
She realizes that he isn’t hugging her in return like she hoped he would and suddenly embarrassed, she begins to pull away. Men like Opie and Jax and Clay… these aren’t men you hug and Lyla suddenly wishes that she had just let him walk out the door like he was on his way to doing.
But as she begins to pull away, just as she begins to apologize, he grabs her, tugging her back to him and she nearly falls into his solid chest. His strong arms wrap around her waist to steady her and then he is hugging her and she is hugging him and she wishes he didn’t have to leave because she is almost positive that this is the nicest thing she has ever done with someone in her entire life. To hug a person and just be hugged in return.
Already, she can’t wait for him to get back once he leaves so she can hug him again. It seems like they both really need this.