Hey, everything's working today. :) Make sure if you missed it bc of the late update yesterday that you read ch5.

Thanks for everything, m'loves.

Oh, I almost forgot: I added a bunch of new links to my profile, info and links to some other fic I don't have published here, so you might wanna check it out. :)

pain it is a thing i can't explain
i only feel it when you go away
i'm waiting for you to return
Better Than Ezra, "It's Only Natural"

Olivia had been back in Charming a little over a week, and she'd decided early on it was best for everyone if she and Juice just stayed away from each other. She asked Gemma to work the schedule so that they weren't on together, and Gemma did so with a sigh and a frown and a look that clearly said What did I tell you?

Olivia ignored the look and did her best to concentrate on work. Work at TM, but also her own stuff. The change of scenery had helped, as had whatever was going on between her and Juice. Or wasn't going on. Whatever.

She worked the tension of it out through her sculpture, and the workshop was the first thing she'd gotten done. She and Opie had gotten the place cleared out, and Opie treated the wood with some fire retardant chemical stuff (it stank, and Olivia hadn't asked questions), and now she welded away, busy as a little bee.

When she wasn't at work either with her welding torch or at the garage, she spent most of her time with Opie. He was helping her with way more shit around the house than she'd ever expected, and she figured he was probably lonely. Jax had some weird co-dependent thing going on with his crow-eater-turned-wife, Wendy, and Opie wasn't all that into the crow eater scene as a whole.

They didn't talk much, which was fine with both of them, ad Olivia suspected he enjoyed the easy companionship as much as she did.

Opie was the reason she went to the clubhouse that day. He'd said something about maybe catching a movie after their shifts, but she'd decided she needed some quality time with her welding torch instead. The place was mostly deserted, but sometimes he crashed there when he had an early shift at the garage, or if he and Jax got a little too lit the night before.

She knocked on a few doors, but all the rooms were empty. Bobby was in the office balancing the books or whatever it was he did, and when she asked him he said he hadn't seen Opie all day. She was debating calling him when she nearly collided with Juice.

"Shit!" she said. He grabbed her arms to steady her as she stumbled. "Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"I can tell." Neither of them made a move to go around the other, and they just stood in the hall, staring.

"Juice—"

"What are—" he said at the same time.

Smiling, she flicked her fingers. "Go ahead," she said.

His jaw tensed, and for a second she thought she saw—but then he shook his head. "I was just gonna ask what you were doin' over here. Not your usual haunt."

"For someone who tries so hard to avoid me, you sure do seem to care a lot about how I spend my time."

"Easier to avoid you if I know where you're gonna be," he said with an insouciant shrug.

"Good point." She slid her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. "I was just looking for Ope. I need to cancel some plans."

"You goin' out with Opie now? Damn, Olivia, you work fast."

Her brows drew together. "We're not going out, Ortiz. Just—hanging out. He's helping me with my house, and, I mean—we used to be real close."

"Uh huh," he said. "I remember."

She made a brief noise of impatience. They'd dated for a little while in high school, before Juice moved to town, but they'd decided pretty quickly that they weren't right for each other. "Not that. I more meant before that, when we were friends. Neither of us are seeing anyone. His best friend is kind of distracted these days, and my best friend lives in Chicago." She lifted a hand. "It makes sense."

"It's fine," he said. "You don't owe me an explanation."

"Then why the fuck did you ask for one?" she said, her annoyance growing.

"Didn't," he said. "I just asked if you two were goin' out."

"For fuck's sake, Ortiz—" She cut herself off. "Never mind." The bathroom was just behind him. "I've gotta pee," she said and brushed past.

He grabbed her arm. "I thought we were talking."

"Were we? Kinda seemed to me like we were sniping at each other. Believe it or not, that isn't really my idea of a good time."

He glowered, but before he could say anything, she yanked her arm away and pushed into the bathroom. She hadn't had a chance to lock the door when it burst open, and her exclamation of surprise mingled with the sound of it slamming shut again. He twisted the thumb lock and did the hook and eye so she couldn't make another quick escape.

"You got a lot of nerve, Olivia. It's been seven years. Not a single goddamn word from you that entire time. Then you just come waltzing in here—"

"I hardly waltzed, Juice."

"And think everyone can just pick up where they left off!"

"Well considering we left off in a huge screaming match, it seems like I was right." She surged closer. "You think I owed you something? You told me to never come back. You told me—why the fuck would I try to call or write or any of that shit? What would've been the point?"

"Damn straight you owed me somethin', and a hell of a lot more than a goddamn phone call," he growled.

"Juice! Are you fucking kidding me? You practically said you never wanted to speak to me again."

He gritted his teeth. "What did you expect me to say, Olivia? I woke up after one of the craziest, most amazing nights of my life to find you running for the door. You told me you were engaged. You told me it was goodbye sex."

"I remember what I told you," she said, unable to meet his eyes.

"You shouldn't have come back here. Really."

"Maybe I shouldn't!" she said. "But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere, so it's probably time you quit pouting like a pissy little bitch and start acting like an adult."

"I'm a pissy little bitch?"

"You're doing a damn fine impression of one! And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I know you aren't calling me a pissy little bitch, because up until you started acting like such an asshole I was being perfectly nice to you."

"I don't want you to be nice to me!" he cried. "Why the fuck would I want you to be nice? Goddammit, Olivia. If I wanted nice I'd go find a crow eater. I'd go pick up some cute piece of ass in a bar. You and me were never nice. Why would I want that now, when every time I see you I just want—" He broke off and jerked away, but she grabbed a handful of his kutte to drag him back.

"You want what? To strangle me? To slap me? To fuck me?"

"Yes!" He pushed her against the sink, his hands urgent and careless on her arms. "Yes, goddammit, and maybe all three at the same time."

"Get your hands off of me, Juan Carlos. Now."

He sneered at her but pushed away. "I don't know why the fuck I even bother. You got this idea in your head, Olivia. This fucked up idea of what love should or shouldn't be, and if somethin' doesn't match with that it flips you the fuck out."

"I don't even know what that means," she said, but her voice shook and he thought maybe she did.

"You ended things between us because you said we were too young. We didn't know how we really felt, and we couldn't because what did we know about love and relationships?"

"I know—" She bit her lip around a sigh. "At the time I believed that. I didn't know anything about being in love. You were the first—"

"The first?" he said when she didn't continue. "Or the only?"

"Fuck you, Ortiz," she said, low and hot.

"Seems like that hit a nerve. What did you think, Olivia? That you'd put on that white dress and walk down the aisle and then one morning you'd wake up and magically be in love with Ben fucking Collins?"

He erupted toward her again, crowding her against the sink, and though he didn't touch her, the look in his eyes was like a rough caress. "Love don't work that way, baby. You and me? We were something. We fucking burned. We set each other on fire. That's love. That's the kinda heat and blood and fury that makes you alive."

Her breath left in a hard rush, and she pressed a hand to his chest to ward him off. "When did you get to be such a poet?"

"I've had a long time to think about it," he said through a clenched jaw.

"That really doesn't sound like a lot of fun, Juice."

"I don't know, Olivia." He rubbed the heel of his hand over the heat between her thighs in an angry, almost violent stroke that took her breath away. "You always seemed to enjoy it."

He didn't move his hand, just held it against her, his eyes snapping fire. Her mouth fell open on a hungry grasp as he ground his palm into her. She had both hands braced on the sink behind her and her face was flushed almost crimson. He flashed a smug grin and pulled back.

"Pretty sure you just proved my point," he said.

She snapped back into focus and glared at him. "You fucking well wish. I haven't gotten laid in a while. That's it."

He dropped his palms onto the sink and used his body to shove her against it. She had to crane her neck to see his face, and the hands she brought up to drive him away somehow ended up gripping him close instead. He dropped his chin to brush his nose along the side of her face.

"That's what it is, baby?" he said in a rasping whisper. "That's all? Just a dry spell? That's what's got you shakin' in my arms, practically ready to rip my clothes off?"

"You need to move, Ortiz."

"Make me, Olivia." Their eyes met, and he grinned big enough to crinkle them at the corners. "All you gotta do is push, sweetheart. One little shove and I'm gone. You know I'd never really hurt you." He ground his pelvis into hers and his face turned hard. "Unless you begged me."

The green disappeared from her eyes as her pupils went huge. "Juice—"

He skimmed his lips up the line of her throat and over her mouth, not quite touching, and hovered there. "Say it, Olivia. I wanna hear you say it."

"I won't," she breathed. "I can't. You know I can't."

Smirking, he drove his thigh between hers; he had her nearly bent backwards over the sink, and now she had nowhere else to go. "Bet that dry spell's just a memory now, huh?" He bit her throat and sucked until she moaned. "Ain't nothin' dry about you, baby."

He licked the spot he'd bitten and blew a cool stream of air over it. "Say it, goddammit. Tell me how much you want me."

Her palms flattened against his chest, and she shoved him backwards as she straightened. "I want you, Ortiz! Okay? Is that what you want to hear? My nipples are hard—"

"I can see that."

"And I'm surprised there's not a wet spot on my jeans and I fucking well want you." She drove him back into the door nearly hard enough to take his breath. "But I am not letting you fuck me in a goddamn bathroom. I'm not having a quickie perched on a sink. You hear me? If you want to fuck, then we're doing it right."

"Oh?" he said, squirming and breathless. He grabbed her wrists and used them to herd her against the sink again. "You mean like last time? Get a nice hotel room and fuck all night?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "Seems to me we have pretty shit luck with hotels."

Her eyes widened and color flooded her face. "How dare you! You have no right to—"

He kissed her then, capturing her mouth with his and forcing his tongue between her lips. "Maybe let's try a bathroom instead," he mumbled against her skin.

"Fuck you, Ortiz," she gasped.

"Uh huh." He yanked her shirt over her head, tugged down the cups of her bra, and wrapped his lips around a nipple. "That's the general idea."

Her body arched on a soft cry and her nails dug into his scalp. He swirled his tongue over the sensitive nub; tugged the barbell with his teeth; sucked it so hard she knew he'd leave a mark.

She shoved at his shoulders until he looked up at her with a scowl, but when she went to push his kutte off he shook his head. "Leave it," he said.

"Juice—"

"Fucking leave it, Olivia." Then his mouth was working her other nipple and she forgot to protest. He fumbled with the button on her jeans, and the grate of the zipper seemed loud over her harsh, panting breaths.

He lifted her onto the sink and hooked a finger in the waistband of her panties. "Hope you aren't too attached to these," he said.

"Don't—"

Too late. The cotton tore with a satisfying rip, and he tossed the scraps away. He spread her knees and dropped down to kiss up the inside of her thigh.

"God you're so fuckin' pretty, Olivia. So sweet. Mean as fuck and taste so good."

"I'm not mean, Ortiz," she said between gasps.

He trailed his tongue up her slit and her head fell back on a groan. His brow furrowed in a question and he spread her lips. Stared a moment before his face lit up in a blinding grin.

"Well, well. You got a secret, baby." She'd gotten a new piercing since the last time he'd had occasion to play with her pussy: this one through her clitoral hood, a curved little rod with silver balls on either end.

She smirked down at him and skated a hand along his mohawk. "You gonna stare at it or play with it, Juan Carlos?"

"Mmmm," he said, a lusty groan, and flicked the tip of his tongue across the top ball, which caused the one nestled against her clit to wiggle.

"That's good," she said. Then, "Fuck, like that!" when he pressed his tongue to it and made it dance and bounce on her clit.

He bit the inside of her thigh and stood up. Hauled her closer by the hips and bared his teeth in a grin. "I like you like this, baby. Your jeans around your ankles. Your face all red and your skin all hot and your pussy all wet." He bit her shoulder. "Reminds us both who you really belong to."

She hissed. "I'm not yours, Ortiz. Pretty sure you gave up that claim when you told me to go away and never come back."

His smile turned thoughtful. He leaned over a little to rummage through the cabinet above the toilet, and when he got back he had a familiar package between his fingers. He undid his belt; pushed his pants and shorts down just enough to free his erection; and rolled the condom down its length.

He grabbed her again, his fingers rough on her soft skin. "Nah," he said, and thrust hard into her eager cunt.

She cried out and tightened her knees around his hips. He adjusted the angle until she moaned, then set a rough, driving rhythm.

"That's it!" she said. "Right there, please, just like that!" Every time he plunged into her his cock hit her clit and the piercing rubbed just the right way, in just the right spot.

"You like that, baby?" he breathed, dropping artless, sucking kisses up and down her throat. "You love the way I fuck you, don't you? Can't get enough, even after all this time."

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yeah, Juicy, yes, it's so good!"

"Gonna make you come so hard, Livvie, so goddamn hard. Gonna make sure you never forget me again." His voice was a drunken rasp, and she felt the heat building through her thighs and belly. He reached between them to flick the piercing with the tip of his finger, over and over so that the bottom ball moved in counter-rhythm to his thrusts.

"Oh God!" She buried her face in the curve of his shoulder. The scent of him filled her: sandalwood and cigarettes and the warm leather of his kutte. A tinge of metal from the shop and a man's clean sweat. "Don't stop," she breathed. "Don't stop, don't stop, so good, need you so bad—!"

"I know you do. Fuck, baby, fuck, you feel so good!" When she lifted her head again he kissed her, his free hand tangling in her hair and tugging just a little. They swallowed each other's moans and their breath mingled until they were both dizzy and giddy.

She tried to hold on. She didn't want to come yet; it felt so fucking good and she had a feeling her orgasm would lead shortly to his and then it would be over; but she couldn't. It swelled and crested like a wave, and finally she gave in to it. "Juicy, Juice, oh God like that please please please!"

"Yeah, fuck yeah, that's right, that's it, come all over my big cock, come for me, baby, come for me!"

She muffled her cries in his shoulder and he drove into her with hard, uneven jerks as she clenched around him again and again. His finger against the piercing made her shudder helplessly, and the last bit of his control snapped.

"Fuck!" he groaned, breathlessly and almost silent, and filled the condom in a scalding rush that left his knees weak and his head spinning. "Fuck, Livvie, Jesus Christ, goddamn."

They fell against each other, panting and gasping, and shuddered through the trail ends of it together. He kissed her temple. Licked at a trickle of sweat there. Finally she dragged in a long breath and lifted her head.

"You called me Livvie," she said.

His face scrunched in confusion. "What?" He pulled away and tugged the condom off; tied up the end and tossed it in the trash. He fixed his pants with his back to her, and she bit her lip over a frown.

"It's the first time you've called my anything but Olivia or, maybe when you're pissed, baby or sweetheart since I got back."

"Oh," he said. He turned toward her, his mouth curved in a smile she didn't recognize—and she thought she knew them all. "Just bedroom talk, Olivia. You know how it is."

She blinked. "Um. What?"

He leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, and for a moment she couldn't really process what was happening. Then he was undoing the locks and she shook herself awake.

"You're leaving?"

He cast her a look over his shoulder, that same weird smile transforming his expression, and shrugged. "Sorry, baby," he said. "Just needed to get it out of my system." He pushed the door open and stepped out, and just before it closed he peeked around it.

"Might wanna lock up behind me. At least until you get yourself put back together again." His eyes raked her up and down. "As it is you look like you just got well and thoroughly fucked." With that parting shot he shut the door and was gone.

Her mouth fell open and she stared at it like she'd never seen a goddamn door before. What had just happened? She slid off the sink and wet a paper towel to clean herself up a little. Fuck, she was going to be sore later. She tugged her jeans back into place. Fixed her bra and grabbed her shirt from the corner. Her panties were a shredded mess, and she just shoved them into her pocket.

Her legs were still shaky, so she closed the toilet lid and sat down. She tried to even her breathing, but it was no use: instead she gulped in great gusts of air and though she knew she was in danger of hyperventilating, she couldn't help it. She bent double to dangle her head between her knees, and slowly the panicked, dizzy feeling ebbed.

"Well," she whispered to her shoes. "I guess maybe I deserved that."

*sigh* These two.

I honestly have no idea what's going to happen next. :) I mean, I know the story's general direction, but details? Nahhh.