A number of things brought me to this point… When I got the idea to write Happy, I wanted to challenge myself. This is the culmination of the idea that Happy is more than just a mad dark killer. He's capable of something more. So here goes nothing with all the clichéd romance and unrequited fluff. It's my hope that he's still in character, but pardon me if the feels got in the way.
The title comes from the song by Hozier that inspired this idea. The 'Pour House', my research tells me, is an actual bar and grill in Bakersfield. Anything else you recognize belongs to Kurt Sutter and the fiery OC is all me.
Until next year, my loves.
Taking a side-trip to Bakersfield every time Happy drove through Charming sometimes seemed as though it was the only thing keeping him sane. He smirked to himself, thinking of himself as sane. Far from it.
Happy Lowman had seen and done some horrible things in his lifetime. Knowing he was working to keep his mom afloat all these years made it seem bearable – necessary even.
He had lived his whole life seeing his single mom struggle to keep a shelter over his head, to keep food on the table. She had worked herself half to death. Her health failing her, Happy made it a point to put her in the best assisted living facility he could afford when his aunt could no longer manage on her own.
As she got sicker, her medicine became more and more expensive. Becoming Nomad wasn't only a more lucrative decision, allowing him to perform more runs and hits, but also gave him more time to spend with his ailing mother.
All of that aside, Happy would be lying to himself if he said that the only reason he was in Bakersfield that night was to see his mother. No, as he walked out of the nursing home to his bike, he felt a twinge of curiosity. The head of his motor vibrating between his taut thighs, he subconsciously steered the vehicle to the 'Pour House'.
He didn't mean to think of her, especially after what happened the last time he had passed through town, but like every visit with his mother ended, the old woman had to bring her up. She wasn't getting any younger, wanting to see her only son married to a good Catholic girl, to be able to bounce a grandchild on her knee before she left this earth. She was always spouting nonsense about him cleaning up his act. If she only knew...
None of those ideas appealed to Happy. He was never one to settle down. He had tried in earnest, but nothing ever stuck. He could never see himself with kids either. The idea seemed miserable at best, but he coddled his mother, promising her a 'someday' that would never exist.
He knew himself well enough to know that there was no changing for him. The club life ran too deep and he was the faithful soldier. The club was there for him when no one else was. He could never turn his back on his brothers for pussy.
Every time she brought up the subject, she mentioned the same name. She meant well, in the pushiest way possible, but Happy saw past her gentle prodding. Pulling up to the shady bar in an even shadier part of town. He hated this place, reminding him of his shitty childhood. He parked the Harley by the emergency door in the alleyway and didn't waste any time rounding the corner and busting through the front door.
It was dusk by now and getting darker by the second, making the establishment busy, teeming with life. None of that mattered. As soon as he walked in the joint, he spotted her without fail: Natalia.
She was all legs and tanned skin in her waitressing outfit that consisted of skintight pair of black leather shorts that barely covered her well rounded ass cheeks. Up top, all she had on was a white crop top that was sheer enough to show off her black push up bra underneath. Her hair was longer than he remembered, messy and wavy. It was dark chocolate colored silk, something he wasn't into anymore, not since her. Since he had moved on, he preferred blondes. Blondes that had long, lanky legs and a full set of tits.
She hadn't turned around to see him leaning there in the doorway, watching her with his sharp, dark eyes. He enjoyed the way she moved, graceful and seductive without even realizing it. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat when he noticed how the bar patrons touched her, how their eyes lingered too long on the curve of her ass, settling on her full chest.
If she noticed their glares, she didn't bring it up. Her tips depended on it. She needed those tips, living on her own since she was 16. Her old man was in prison for life on drug and murder charges and her mother was a junkie on the south part of town if she was even still alive.
They had more in common than their Spanish heritage. They grew up in the same neighborhood, though Nat was at least a decade younger than Happy. Their mothers worked at the same diner together for a few years to make ends meet.
She always had been a resourceful little thing. She was a master locksmith and could lie with a straight face. She figured out how to pick pocket at the age of fourteen and by seventeen she could shark the biggest, toughest guys at card games and pool without batting an eyelash.
Scratch that, she knew exactly how to work those eyelashes. Hell - every part of her anatomy. She knew how gorgeous she was, how she was the living embodiment of a Spanish goddess. She used that to her advantage.
When she followed him to Tacoma, though, she put it all behind her. She claimed there should be only one convict in the family at a time.
Natalia was making rounds in the bar room, handing out shots left and right from a tray balanced precariously on her arm. She walked around the pool table when the grubby looking man playing stripes slapped her on the ass, knocking her with enough force to throw the tray of shots to the floor, shattering glass and spilling the liquid contents on the filthy laminate floor. She glared at the offender, kneeling to pick up the tray.
"On her knees for me already, boys!" The man shouted, laughing with his friends.
Chris, the bar's owner, peered from behind the mahogany counter. "That'll come out of your tips, Nat."
The girl sighed, defeated, as she picked up the largest pieces of glass before she rose on shaky legs. Instead of letting her pass, the man at the pool table grabbed the girl again, pinning her against the side of the table and stroking along her arm with the back of his finger.
By this point, Happy had seen enough. He was across the room in a few moments, his arm wrenching the man off of Natalia and flipping him around until the brute was pinned to the table himself, Happy's fist clenching around the guy's throat. His face read pure murder.
Stunned at first, Nat assessed the situation. Her dainty hand wrapped around Happy's wrist, feeling the tension there. "Happy." She murmured, almost in disbelief that he was even here. "It's okay."
"I'll give you thirty seconds to let the man go or I'm calling the cops, killer." Chris said, calmly.
Happy's face softened. He was on parole. He didn't need another battery charge to send him back to prison. There were too many witnesses here for him to get out of this.
"Its okay, Chris. I've got it." Nat assured her boss. "Hap, let him go. He's learned his lesson."
"Maybe he has." Hap muttered, his voice gruff and fraught with anger. Slowly, he released his hold on the man who began sputtering and gasping in air. "Apologize." The simple word came out more threatening and perilous then it should have.
Natalia frowned. "He doesn't have to –"
"He will apologize to you." Happy snapped.
Behind the counter, Chris brandished the phone threateningly.
"Hap… He's gonna call the cops if you don't let it go."
"I'll leave as soon as he tells you he's a sorry sack of shit." He growled, unrelenting.
Nat looked between the two men, neither willing to be the first to back down. She had to admit the look on Happy's face could kill. He was the living embodiment of death sometimes. The danger itself, his outright declaration to defend her honor, sent of surge of wetness sopping between her thighs without warning.
A few seconds passed, feeling like hours and Happy's hand twitched, itching to make a move toward the offensive brute who, since being released, hadn't moved from the pool table.
When he saw Happy's hand twitch, the man flinched, turning his attention back to the barmaid. "I apologize, miss." He said, his jaw locked and demeanor more selfish than remorseful.
"There, Hap. He apologized." She took the Sons hand before looking to her boss. "I'm gonna walk him out, Chris. I'll be right back."
"Fifteen minutes, Nat. I mean it! Any later and you can start looking for a new job." The entrepreneur hollered back.
She nodded, struggling to pull Happy from the room and back out into the warm night air. Once the door slammed shut behind them, she spun to face him, releasing his arm angrily. "You're gonna get me fired, Hap! What the hell was that in there?"
The Tacoma killer kept walking, rounding the corner of the bar to enter the alley where he spotted his bike. The girl followed hot on his heels and he did a 360 to face her head on. "I don't like you working here. You're so much better than this."
"Yeah, well I can't afford not to work, Happy. I'm not qualified for anything else. You don't own me, anymore. You have no say in what I can and can't do anymore."
His predatory glare traced up and down her body before settling on her left hip. He reached out, daring to trace a rough finger over her soft, caramel skin. His index caught in her tight leather shorts and he tugged the material down with some difficulty, revealing the symbolic crow he had inked there himself a few years prior. Despite the rage and intoxication that initiated the idea, the lines and shading on the ugly bird were impeccable. "You didn't black it out." He said plainly, triumphant.
"That doesn't mean shit." She shrugged.
"It used to."
"Sure. Before you left, 'killer'." She mocked his nickname.
They stood in awkward silence, neither willing to make a move, both too stubborn to apologize. Finally, the woman stirred. "I have to go inside, now." She said it more like a question than a declaration.
"You don't have to do anything." He grunted.
"I have bills to pay, too Hap. Some people prefer to make an honest living." She protested. "Maria told me about how you've been paying for her treatments. She still has no idea what you do for that money, huh?"
He bristled at the mention of his mother, ignoring her implication. She was baiting him to snap on her, he realized. "You still visit her?" He asked, instead.
"Every Sunday." She nodded. "Is that why you came here? You visit your Madre and she asks you about me? You never call, you just waltz in like you own the joint and make trouble for me. Just like old times, huh?"
"It's not like that."
"Then tell me what it's like, Hap. Explain to me what the fuck you think this is!"
His hand twitched when she screamed at him, but he resisted the urge to slap her. He had hit women for less, but the idea of busting her perfect, plush lips before she had to finish her shift made him cringe. He chastised himself mentally for being soft, but he had vowed to his mother to never hit her again. "Now isn't the time." It was never a good time.
"You're right. I have to go." She sighed, still trembling with rage. He always showed up at the most inopportune time. Always when she thought she had gotten over it. "Are you staying the night?"
Happy shook his head. "Gotta be back in Charming by morning."
"Is that where you stay now?" She wanted to sound disinterested.
He looked at the patch on his chest declaring he was a Nomad. "I don't stay anywhere."
"I guess this is goodbye, then. I'll see you next time you feel like showing up to make me feel like shit." She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry and turned to leave.
"Natalia." He whispered her name like a prayer. He was stunned she had heard it, stopping in her tracks to turn and look at him, her dark doe eyes begging him to make the next move. So he did.
She gasped as he pinned her to the brick wall, hands over her head, his lips on hers insistently. He pried her mouth open with little resistance and his tongue invaded her mouth. Her whole body trembled with anticipation, her form keening, seeking his touch like a wanton whore.
Happy was eager to please, holding her wrists still in one hand, he used the other to trace the outer most curves of her body, beginning by cupping her breast through her clothes before he skimmed her waist and ended at the roundest part of her hip. His thumb traced over the hem of her slutty uniform shorts. They were tight and practically glued to her.
This was the peak of their relationship. When it was good, it was good. Everything was on fire and Happy was an animal, possessing her body in every way, making her feel like no man had ever made her feel before. He would take her any way he saw fit and she would comply willing because he was Happy. In his own sick way, he loved her. He was the boy who possessed her heart at a young age when all she ever knew was rage and violence.
When it was bad, it was really bad. Happy spent a lot of time in jail and, as a result, Nat spent a lot of time alone. After she followed him to Tacoma, shortly after he marked her, things got worse. Every time she fought him, she'd wind up with hands around her throat turning her face purple. Bloodied lips and battered eyes that makeup couldn't mask. She had grown up in the abuse. She didn't deserve any better out of life.
She closed her eyes, fighting the tears and breathed his name, a breathy moan in his ear. She could still feel his facial scruff abrading her chin. She was shamelessly desperate for him, rubbing her thighs together seeking friction. She had been with Happy enough times to know that he was selfish this way, fending off her needs for his own twisted desires. If she played it right, he would fulfill all of her desires, but only when he thought it was his own idea. So she whimpered, playing to his ego.
He growled, deep in his throat. Her desperation appealed to him and by now he could smell her arousal practically dripping down her thighs. His lips found her jaw nipping her with torturous bites and quelling the sting with hungry kisses. His hand ran over her hip, lingering over her marking longer than he cared to admit, before tracing the inside of her thigh.
He barely applied pressure and her legs were falling open for him. He skimmed the inside of her leather shorts, trying to work his thick fingers under the restraining fabric with little success. One digit made it under the fabric, enough to brush her engorged clit, to feel her slick juices that were leaking just for him. He groaned in frustration, pulling his hand from Natalia's wrists. "Don't move." He warned, his voice thick with arousal and its usual snarl.
Her eyes widened when she saw his hand go for the knife on his hip, unsheathing it and bringing it closer to her flesh. She trusted Happy with her life, but the thrill of the metal brushing her skin did something to her she couldn't explain. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a moan as the Son pulled the fabric from her skin and sliced the polyurethane at the hem, turning her tight shorts into a slightly looser skirt.
He didn't notice the small cut until the girl winced, doing her best to stay still as a small crimson river trickled down the inside of her thigh. Happy kneeled in front of her, sheathing the knife before he licked the blood off of her soft skin. He continued licking his way inward until he was inches away from her mound, her arousal surrounding him, invading his senses.
When he stood to attention, his entire body was against her, fusing them together and reminding her of where they were, how she was pinned against a cool brick wall and the busy Southern California street a few yards away was bustling with activity. On the other side of this wall was her boss, her job - if she still had it. The mundane life she led day to day only served as a painful reminder of the chaos she had left behind - all because Happy left her behind first. It was overwhelming all of her senses.
Happy kissed a rough trail down her chest, tugging her tight top down along with the cup of her bra, unveiling one of her breasts to him. He wasted no time, suckling her pebbled nipple into his mouth, nibbling with his teeth and lavishing it with his tongue. He'd forgotten how responsive she was.
Her hands fell from above her head at the attention to her breasts, gripping Happy's cleanly shaven head with both hands, holding him to her.
"What did I tell you about them hands?" He growled, his hand now on her throat. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes grew wide, pupils dilated in fear. He gave her a moment to let the fear and desire sink in before letting her go. "Go get on the bike, girl."
She looked stunned at first, letting his command sink in. She wasn't going to argue, she was just unsure of what he had planned.
"Don't make me ask you again." He pulled away from her, watching her expectantly before eyeing his Harley.
She stepped towards the bike, her legs still weak from impeding pleasure.
"You remember how to ride bitch, don't you?" He said, snarky.
She glared back at him over her shoulder. "There are something's you never forget." She purred.
"That right?" He raised his eyebrows. "Then show me."
She made a show kicking her leg over the bike before seating herself on the leather. She placed her high-heeled feet on the foot rests and leaned forward a bit to be able to reach the handlebars. "Is this what you wanted to see, killer?"
She was stunned to find that he was already behind her, his legs straddling the bike's back tire and his hands tangled in her hair. "Lean forward." He pushed her head down.
She followed instruction, squealing a bit when she realized he was angling her hips and reaching for her ankles.
"Relax." His tone was far from soothing. He seemed more annoyed that he had to quell her fears, hurt that she didn't trust him better. "Don't let go of the handlebars."
He lifted her ankles up until Natalia was lying flat on her stomach on the bike. Her hands white knuckled the handlebars as Happy's hands trailed from her ankles back up her long, lean legs. He settled on her hips, reaching his thumb over her full ass to hook his appendage in the string of her silky thong, moving it to the side.
There was no ceremony or romance. As soon as Happy uncovered her pussy, saw it quiver with need and glisten in anticipation, he wasted no time lifting her hips and before slamming his cock inside of her. They both moaned, stilling their movements.
He had forgotten how dangerously tight she was and was wondering if she hadn't let anyone else fuck her since the last time he stopped by. Most people in the area knew who he was, knew their past. Not many people were stupid enough to tangle with the Tacoma Killer and his possessions.
In the same instant, Natalia was engulfed with pleasure. She felt every muscle expand as his thick, pulsing cock sank into her. When he worked up the self-control to finally move, she tried to focus on how perfectly he filled her and tried to quiet her instinct to run. Every time he seemed to find her, no matter how much he hurt her, they always ended up doing this tumultuous dance all over again.
Volatile. That's how she would describe it.
At this angle, Happy could watch his cock drive in and out of the girl's tight cunt. He loved the view, watching his hips smack against her ass cheeks, watching them jiggle as his engorged length pulled out of her.
He felt her kegeling around him, clenching her cunt muscles with every plunging jerk of his hips. It was something even some of the finest sweetbutts couldn't master, but something Nat instinctively did since the first time they fucked. Hap wouldn't say it out loud, but she was the best fuck he'd ever had, the one girl he never tired of. He actually cared if she got off. That was a first for Happy.
Nat felt strong hands wrap around her middle, almost lifting her up until those thick, calloused fingers pried her pussy lips apart, stroking eagerly at her swollen, aching clit. She could tell by his urgency that he was close to coming. He may be a demanding fucker, but she imagined he got a control trip from bringing his partners to climax. The idea of coming for Happy made her desire flare and became a little more insistent, pushing her ass back onto him, impaling herself on his dick.
"Beg for it, little girl." He grunted between thrusts. "I need to hear it."
He circled her clit furiously, alternating that with fervent tugging on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled in her folds. She quivered, every thrust timed perfectly with his skilled hands, the one he's no doubt used to kill countless men.
She knew he was desperate. He hated talking during sex. He needed something from her. The idea made her head spin. Suddenly light headed, she decided to give in. "Happy." She moaned. "Please." She whimpered. "I need it, baby. Make me come on that cock, killer."
He groaned at her words, feeling himself begin to peak himself. He angled his thrusts to stroke her inner walls just so and timed it along with his hand working her pussy. She squeezed her muscles around him. She was in the throes of a blinding, ripping orgasm. It was the kind that steals the breath from you lungs leaving you to scream into nothingness, leaving you to hope that you can find your way back to sanity.
Her muscles fluttered around his cock, drawing hot spurts of come as Happy growled his own demise. He kept pumping through the waves of pleasure as they crested and rolled over them both until his cock was flaccid.
Both hands on her ass, he spread her pussy apart to watch in fascination as her tight channel kept pulsing, expelling his come until it coated her folds. It dripped onto the frame of his bike as they both fought to catch their breath.
He staggered backwards off the bike, holding onto Natalia's hips. With little effort, he lifted her up so she could plant her legs on the ground and rest her shaky arms.
This is where things usually got awkward. On the occasion that he went to the bar and she wasn't there, he would find her at home. It was a lot easier to walk out on her when she was asleep in bed.
This time, she was on his bike and they were outside of her job. There were too many variables that could go wrong. He stuffed himself back into his jeans before zipping them. He stood in front of her, at a loss of what to say.
Instead, she spoke up first. "So, we'll do this again next month?"
"That smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble one day, Nat."
"You don't say." She muttered sardonically. History has proven that to her time and time again. "I think I lost my job. I can't go back in there like this." She motioned to her severed shorts. She didn't even know how her hair looked, not to mention how her lips were swollen and her thighs were glistening. To top it all off, she had a bright red hand print circling her throat.
Happy almost felt bad. "I'll talk to Chris if you want."
"I don't think you should go in there." She scoffed. "I may be able to sweet talk him out of it tomorrow." She sighed. "He's a little more lenient with me since I came back from Tacoma and he found out about the domestic charges."
"I didn't do time for that." Happy grunted.
"Because I dropped the charges." She snapped back. Her hand grazed his kutte, underneath to lift his plain white tee shirt to reveal the smiley face tattoos on his side. She was relieved to see that there weren't any more than the last time he was here. It didn't mean much, but it eased her fears for a moment.
He smacked her hand away with a grunt. "Don't tempt me."
She saw his hand twitch again and decided to smooth things over for once. She didn't want to press her luck. "Since you may have gotten me fired, do you think you could give me a lift?"
"What's wrong with your car?"
"Scrapped it after the last time it broke down." She shrugged. "The head gaskets blew. I couldn't afford to fix it."
He nodded once in understanding. "You've been walking to work in those?" He glared at the heels on her feet. He loved the way they made her legs look, how they held up her ass perfectly in those shorts. He shook the thought of her walking the streets dressed like this, of other men seeing her parading herself in front of them.
"I manage." She shrugged, eyeing him suspiciously. "Turns out, most of the riffraff moved out of town."
He smirked at her, but nodded at her request, deciding that giving her a ride home was a safer bet then thinking about her walking the streets at night the way she was. She was already going to plague his thoughts the whole ride home. "Scoot back."
She made room for him in front of her on his Harley, relishing the feeling of him between her legs. He didn't have to warn her to hold on. Her thighs clutched around his, her hands wound in his kutte. She let her feelings run away with her, the familiarity of the situation appealing to her emotions.
Happy hated bitches on his bike. He like to cut sharp turns, liked the danger of speeding. He didn't like feeling responsible for someone else on his bike. Whenever he let Nat ride, however, he had a change of heart. She didn't fight the motions, her body just bent and swayed into the turns. She leveled her weight when the bike was stopped. It was like she was born to ride bitch.
The ride ended all too quickly and soon Happy parked in front of Natalia's apartment building, keeping the bike idling. He shouldn't give her the wrong impression by staying the night again.
He remembered the place well. Before the Sons, he had spent a lot of time here. He remembered being drug from the building in handcuffs for breaking and entering one night when Nat found drugs and used condoms in his jeans. She pressed charges and he was sentenced to three months but got off after two weeks for good behavior and overcrowding.
He was brought back to the present when Nat braced her hands on his shoulders and swung her leg over the bike. She had regained the feeling in her legs by now but when she stood, her thighs felt slippery. She tried not to stand awkwardly with her ripped clothing and her sticky thighs. "Thanks for the ride, Hap." She smiled when he smirked, scoffing at the double entendre.
"Don't mention it."
"Don't worry. I won't. It might ruin your street cred." She teased. "I won't even mention it to Maria when I see her."
Silence loomed over them in the urban area. "Good luck with Chris tomorrow."
"Thanks. Have a safe ride, Happy." She turned towards the walkway, stopping halfway. She heard him rev the engine before he peeled from the sidewalk without a second thought. "I guess I'll see you around." She whispered to herself.