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Black as night.
The deepness of the black paint on his bike. The ghosted insignia on the gas tank.
Black as pen ink.
Or the ink littering his skin. The reaper on his forearm and the words scattered across his torso. The whorls on his scalp.
Black as the leather of his kut. Black as his biker boots.
His fingers linger on your ink, black and white roses around your forearm.
He's thinking of a crow. Where he would put it. How it would look on you. What it means for him. How it would make him feel.
You've already made up your mind about the subject, he just doesn't know it yet.
His fingers tickle the top of your waistband fingers light as feathers across your skin.
"Juan Carlos." You turn to face him, lips pressed together. "I can hear your brain churning from over here." Your fingers brush over his temples, before traveling up to trace his scalp ink, your nails scratching lightly just how he likes it.
God I hope not… you don't need my thoughts… I can't be worried about you, worrying about me.
His eyes are glazed, distanced and his shoulders are dropped from their typical stance. Your arms are possibly the only reason he's still standing.
"Hey," your lips press to his, unresponsive.
The sting of your nails digging into his nape startles him to attention. "Yeah." You can see the twitch in his left eyebrow and the clench in his jaw and you know he can't tell you.
It better not be the same thing I'm thinking of… or… oh God, I hope it is.
You press your lips to his again, his breath ghosting over yours as he pulls you closer.
"Bed? Or a shower?" Your hands smooth down the collar of his kut, and over the reaper on his arm before linking with his fingers.
"Shower." His eyes barely meet yours, "A cup of tea?"
"Of course…" You step back and he watches you go, hoping what the club is in does not touch you. It can't. He would kill himself if it did.
Before he lets you go he pulls you back and buries his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. The shaking of his shoulders that you'll never say anything about, to him or to anyone, used to scare you. After he composed himself, he pulls up straight and wipes his red rimmed eyes. "I'll be right back. Okay baby?" You nod at the kitchen and he nods back jerkily.
After the whistle of the kettle, and the hiss of him burning his tongue. Your legs curled up underneath you, and your body is balanced on his lap.
He sets the cup aside and presses a kiss to your lips before throwing his head back on the couch. "Oh, no, you don't." You kiss him again.
"Killing me babe." He wraps your legs around his waist and walks toward the bathroom. The swish of your falling clothes against the tile floor.
"I love you." His fingers trace out the words on your back with light movements as he says it against your lips.
"I want my crow on you." Your head snaps back to meet his eyes.
He pauses to take in your startled state and begins to explain. "You know I love you, right." At your nod, he continues to speak.
"You already wear my ring and have a SAMCRO kut." His hands never cease their movement over your skin as the water sluices over you both.
"If I get one, you get one too." You smirk, knowing he won't get one for you.
"Ok. We aren't conventional anyways." His lips meet the skin of your shoulder.
"Are you serious?" Your skin breaks out in goosebumps under his ministrations.
"Very." He reaches around you to turn the water off before it runs cold over you.
"So if I get your crow, you'll get one for me?" Your fingers worry with the chain around his neck. It's carrying your class ring from high school, joined by a dog tag marking him as SAMCRO.
"Yes." He pulls you towards the bed, wanting to be done with this conversation.
"Where?" You tumble onto the sheets, your hair wet and sticking to the covers.
"Me? Or on you?" You point your finger at yourself.
"Right. Here" He punctuates the sentences with a suckle of the skin over your heart.
"And the dates that are important to us… here." His lips dance over your skin, lighting up your nerves with sparks of tension. The final press is just above your right hip.
"The dates will have to match. So here on you." Your nails lightly scratch the matching spot on his skin, dance over the side of his stomach, drawing a groan from his throat.
"And your crow will go here." You pull his arm out to kiss the upper part of his arm, above his reaper. "And you'll have to wear sleeveless shirts until everyone knows it's my crow." Your nails dig into his arm, before pulling back as he groans again.
"Anything else you want on me…" You can feel the flex and pull of his lips against your midsection as he smirks against you. The teasing is a fun game for both of you as much as you may not like it right now.
"A barbed wire garland with black roses. Here." Your hands fall into his iliac furrows. You can feel the heat rising to your face as you so rarely are this blunt with your feelings.
"Beautiful." He pulls back to stare at you, skin darkening with the shape of his mouth and the pale pinkness spreading across it at the same time.
"I love you." You pull his head down to meet yours. "Soon?"
"Soon." His lips open against yours and his hands travel down your as of now unblemished skin.
Soon. Soon , I promise baby.
As black as the freshly placed ink on your skin. Dates on your hips, crow over your heart.
Dates over his hips, crow on his bicep, roses around his belt line.
As black as the night you whisper promises to each other in. But your love still stands strong in the light of day, despite the darkness lurking.