Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Brave Submission	By : SeasonofSons Category: S through Z > Sons of Anarchy Views: 3094 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy or any characters herein. I make no money from this writing.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
   Juice took a deep breath as he looked over the house he'd grown so familiar with. He never thought he'd be back to this terrible place. With a shake of his head, he stepped up and rang the doorbell. Juice pulled his hood up, taking a deep breath. A slender, busty blonde opened the door. "Pass?"

"Million Dollar Boy... Ray." He said softly, a slow smirk growing on his face. "Name?" His grin turned wide. "Juan Ortiz, baby... How's it going Penchance?" She looked up quickly and gasped, stumbling back. "Juan!" She screamed, dropping her clipboard and leaping into his arms. He laughed, hugging her back. She squealed and tugged him inside the house. "It's Juan Carlos!" She squealed. Juice glanced around, able to spot Jax sitting near Ray, and Clay and Tig sitting between a couple of girls, before he was surrounded by his old friends, hands tugging and pulling, hugging and kissing. Juice's face was pulled into a wide grin, helpless as his friends tugged him into various hugs, questions hitting him from all sides.

   The group slowly quieted when Mark Rabador emerged from the office. Like a tide, they separated, giving Juice a clear pathway. When Mark opened his arms, Juice walked to him, his head low, submissive. Mark pulled him into a hug. "And the prodigal son returns..." He whispered. Juice pushed back, out of the hug. "I'm not returning..." He whispered. "But of course you are... You're mine, Juan Carlos..." Juice pushed away, out of his touch. "You are..." He whispered. He grabbed Juice's hand, running his fingers over the scar across his palm. "Mine... You can leave but you will always have my mark." He pulled Juice close, attempting to kiss him. Juice struggled in his grip, trying to toss his head out of Mark's reach. Clay and the others approached quickly. Tig pulled Juice free. The younger man curled himself into Tig's embrace, shaking slightly. "We're here on business, Mr. Rabador." Clay said firmly. Mark grinned. "So you do belong to someone else..." Mark looked directly at Juice, who lowered his gaze. Tig ran a finger over his chin. "You're not his..." He whispered. Juice nodded. Clay shook his head. "Shall we visit in the office?" He suggested. Mark nodded, motioning to his open office door. "By all means."

   The group entered the office, and Juice shut the door, leaning on it. Mark sat behind his desk, spreading his hands over the smooth red wood. "So. Business." Clay pulled out a picture and set it on his desk. "Trevalore. You know him?" Mark pushed the picture back toward Clay. "Might I ask who's inquiring before I speak of any of my clients?" Clay flashed a frightening grin. "My name is Clay... President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club out of Charming, California. This is my boy Jax, and my best friend Tig. Our Prospect, Juice, you seem to know him well." Mark smirked. "One of my best boys." Clay tensed, looking back at Juice, who lowered his head, ashamed. Clay shook his head, letting it go for the time being. "Anyway... This guy is causing us some trouble, and we need to get it taken care of." Mark offered a snakelike grin. "Why of course. But, how am I to assist?"

"You're gonna get us a meeting with him."

"And why should I do that?" Juice stood straight. "Because if you don't, I have enough incriminating evidence on this place to shut it down and lock you up for the rest of your fucking life." Mark stood, his presence intimidating behind the desk. "Do you really think just because you belong to another man that you can disrespect me, Ortiz? Remember who you are speaking to." Juice stepped up to him, getting against the desk to go face to face with him. "I'm speaking to the man that's raped hundreds of boys and girls... Forced them into relationships with hundreds of men and women, before they even reached their fucking teens. I'm talking to the bastard that killed my mother, and tons of others." Mark's grin widened. "You're also talking to your father, Juan Carlos. Show some fucking respect." Juice's face went pale. "You're lying." He whispered. Mark laughed, a real, hearty laugh. He turned and dug through a filing cabinet for a moment before pulling out a Manila folder and tossing it across the desk to Juice. "Blood tests." Juice read over it. His knees grew weak and slumped against the table. "You knew... You know this when you..."

"Of course I did... That was the fun of it... Why do you think I didn't kill you?" Juice felt tears fill his eyes, his entire body quivering. Every sexual thing Mark had forced upon him came back, heavy and aching. Mark turned back to Clay. "Yes, I'll help you... Trevalore is a bit of a thorn in my foot as well... It would be nice to be rid of him." Clay nodded distractedly, his face searching Juice's. The Latino swallowed thickly and set the folder down. He wiped his mouth. "I need to go..." He breathed, looking to Clay. Clay nodded quickly, seeing the boy was going to be sick. Juice ran from the room, and Tig followed quickly behind him.

   Tig caught up to Juice behind the building, wincing as he watched the boy puke for what seemed like an hour. When Juice had emptied his stomach to dry retching, he approached him and wrapped his arms around him. "You didn't know..." He whispered. Juice slumped against him, shaking. He began to sob. "No! He... He..." His throat closed. "Shh... Sh." Tig rocked him gently, sitting them down on the concrete steps. "Just relax... I'm here baby..." Juice sobbed against his chest, unable to breathe.

   When he'd calmed down, Tig lit a cigarette and handed it over to Juice. "You're okay baby.."

"Clay knows... I won't be..." Tig shook his head. "If he tries shit I will stand up for you, and so will Jax. It isn't your fault... You had no other choice." Juice nodded slowly, taking a long drag off his cigarette. Tig pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Come on... Prove to Clay you can handle this... Go back in their and prove it won't affect you." Juice took a deep breath and nodded. "I love you... Thank you..." He said softly. Tig nodded. "Come on, kid."

   When Tig and Juice entered the room again, Clay was talking softly to Mark. Mark looked up and grinned. "Come, sit down, son." He said. Juice stuck his chin up. "Fuck off. I'm not your son." He sat next to Tig on the small love seat. Clay looked at him for a long moment before nodding and looking back to Mark. "How do we do this, Rabador."

"Trevalore stopped coming by frequently once Juan took off. He was really the only reason he came here... If I could perhaps tell him Juan was back... I could convince him to come." Clay nodded and looked at Juice. Juice nodded as well. "Tell him I'm back... Gonna take him up on his offer. We'll arrange a meet as soon as possible in his favorite room... So he can test the merchandise... Make sure I'm still worth forty grand." Clays eyes widened a little. Juice's cheeks were flushed with shame, but he didn't look away, keeping eye contact with Mark. The man nodded. "I'll need proof."

"Send him a picture."

"Strip." Juice's shoulders slumped. "Seriously?"

"You want him to believe it. Don't you? He'll know your tattoos." Juice squeezed his eyes shut. "Can we do this alone?" He whispered. "Of course not, pet... I never taught you modesty... If you have a new group to whore with, you can certainly strip in front of them." Juice squeezed his eyes shut but nodded, rising and going to the white painted corner of the room. This was commonplace in the home, so he know the deal. He stripped out of his clothes, piling them all near his feet. The cold air brought goosebumps to a flesh. "Ah... So you have been otherwise marked..." Mark touched his bandaged shoulder. "No. I fell off my bed last night... Drinking... Banged up my shoulder on the corner of the end table." He looked to Jax, who nodded. "Pretty fucking funny, actually." He said. Juice smiled despite his nudity and flipped him off. Jax chuckled. Mark shrugged, seeing through the lie. "Anyways, arms down, down. A look to the camera please, my Sweet." Juice looked at the cell phone in his hand, his expression blank. He took the photo and nodded. "Quite good." He flipped his wrist and Juice jumped, beginning to dress quickly. Tig grimaced. He easy it was for the young man to fall back into the routine of submission...

   Mark sat and began to tap out a message. He set the phone on the desk between he and Clay. "Now. How will we dispose of this man?"

"We aren't disposing of him. We're simply having a professional conversation with him... I can assure you we can keep him away from here though, if that's the payment you want." Clay said. Rabador nodded. "Please." Clay nodded. "And I'd like all the files on Juice." Mark raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me." Clay motioned to Juice. "Everything you have on him. If he's truly your property, consider this buying him off. I don't want those files in anyone's hands but his." Mark nodded. "As you wish." He rose and pulled a large black binder from the filing cabinet. On top if it he laid the Manila folder. "All yours." Juice stood and took it from Clay, his expression grateful. Clay locked gazes with him, and Juice could see from his expression that he wasn't happy. He sat down, hugging the binder to his chest. The phone buzzed between them and Mark snatched it up. He opened it and read it, then nodded and looked to Clay. "He says he wants to be up on Wednesday." Clay shook his head. "Nothing sooner? That's three fucking days from now."

" gotta please the clients, right, Juan?" Juice grimaced. "It'll seem suspicious if we don't do it on his time... We have no choice." Clay sighed but nodded. "Fine. What time?"

"Juan knows how it works with our special clients. Be here all day. He'll come whenever he's ready." Juice nodded. "I'll be waiting. Is the room still the same set up?"

"Of course." Juice nodded. "We're gonna need some hidden cameras... Can you manage that?"

"You think so little of me." Mark said, putting his hand over his heart. "Why hidden cameras?" Tig questioned. Clay grinned. "Because this kid is a fucking genius. If we catch him in some gay brothel and have proof of it. We can blackmail him into leaving the California shipping docks alone... And if he's caught on camera in this brothel... He won't be back to it." Juice smiled proudly. "No... Who the fuck is gonna... He's expecting Juice, do you really tank he's gonna let another kid fuck him?" Tig defended, starting to feel nauseous. Juice looked at him, a tormented expression on his face. "Taking one for the club, right?"

"No, absolutely not." Tig said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "This is ridiculous, Clay." Clay shook his head, shrugging. "He's right, Tig. It'll be the most efficient way to get him off our ass... He goes away, the boys in Belfast like us again." Tig shook his head. "You're talking about whoring him out. He's not a fucking prostitute."

"But I used to be. And like you said, I'm the only one he wants..."

"Clay... The by-laws..." Tig said softly. Clay shrugged. "I don't see a faggot sitting there. I see a Prospect who's willing to do anything to earn his cut. I see dedication." Juice looked at him, a soft, grateful expression painting his features. Clay nodded. "We'll be here at six on Wednesday. I want to take a look at the camera set up you have... Or rather, would you do that, Juice? You are the tech guru." Juice grinned. "Of course."

"And how long shall we let this façade continue?" Rabador asked. Juice looked at Clay. "I can hook up one of the cameras to a live feed... You guys can keep an eye on it... I'll leave it up to you to know when you have enough footage for a blackmail." Clay nodded. "Are you sure about this?"
   Juice sat down at the picnic table when they arrived at the hotel, lighting a cigarette. The binder sat in front of him. Clay took a seat across from him, placing his hands on the table. "I want answers. None of this dodging fucking submissive shit you've been giving me. Real answers." Juice hung his head, taking a deep breath. Tig sat next to him and Juice sat on Clay's right side. "It's okay, Juicy..." Jax whispered, reaching across and squeezing his wrist. Clay looked to Jax. "Did you know about this... House?" Jax shrugged. "Tig and I both knew a little... Enough. The prostitution, the stuff about Rabador... Yeah."

"Why didn't you say shit?"

"Because it didn't matter. Still doesn't." Clay looked Jax dead in the eye, his expression sour. "How does it not matter?"

"Because we've all done shit we're not proud of, Clay." Tig interjected, his hand on Juice's knee below the table where Clay couldn't see. "We all have moments of weakness, and shame. Even you. Even your son. Even your wife. Listen to his side of the story before you throw the blame and cut him from this life... Please." Clay's lips tightened into a line. He looked to Jax and back to Tig before finally settling his gaze on Juice. "Your side." Juice took another shaky breath. He looked Clay square in the face. Tig held his breath a moment, knowing how hard it was for Juice to accomplish even that small feat. When he didn't look away, Tig smiled softly.

   Juice explained his childhood in shaky, broken segments, backtracking to further explain areas or jumping ahead to explain a connection. Most of this Jax and Tig had heard, and were more curious about Clay's reaction to it. When Juice began to go into detail about Rabador's brothel, however, all three men listened raptly.
   "The first time he took me to that house I was sixteen. It was right after my mom had been killed... I was an awkward kid... Goofy looking and couldn't fucking get laid for the life of me..." He took a long drag, shutting his eyes. "He raped me the first night. Tied me to his bed and had his way with me... Afterwards he took photos... I'm sure they're in here, if you want to search." He patted the binder. "The next night he had two of his friends come over... Both big, fucking awful men... They took turns with me... Training me, as they fucking called it... They were teaching me to submit... Teaching me that I wasn't worth shit except a fuck..." There was a long pause. Jax could see Juice's Adam's apple bobbing up and down rapidly, and he knew the boy was trying not to cry. "It went like that for about two months." He finally choked out. "Men, and finally he graduated into women... Guess I proved myself after a while... I won't go into the gory details... I'm sure you don't want to hear it." He blinked quickly, snuffing out one cigarette only to light another immediately. One week before I turned seventeen... He put me in one of the client rooms... Told me to shut up and listen to whatever the nice people told me to do... Just like I'd learned." A gruff laugh. "I remember every one of them... Six men and four women... All using me as a fucking sex slave. I'd never been more humiliated... But my training... It made me proud... I could make that many people cum... After that... Mark used me every night. The night of my seventeenth birthday... I met Trevalore. He fell for me instantly... I turned into his favorite, I guess." He laughed again. "When I didn't please him, he'd hurt me... I have cigarette burns and scars from him everywhere, except my face..." He shook his head. "Broke my leg once even, cause I didn't go down to my knees fast enough when he fucking snapped..." He put his face in his hands, rubbing hard. "This kept going for years... Finally, Mark got sick of me... I was becoming... Too arrogant, I guess, if you can call a whore arrogant... He put me in a closet for three days with nothing. It was because I'd helped some guys hack into a really big mainframe... Fucking homeland security shit..." He shook his head. "Mark was pissed. When I got out... I ran... Ended up in Charming." He snuffed out the butt of his cigarette and looked back to Clay, his eyes small and wet. Clay remained silent, his expression giving nothing away.

   Juice looked down at the binder. He opened it slowly, as if something inside was going to jump out and bite him. The front was a photo of him at sixteen, nude and without tattoos, standing against the same wall he'd stood against this very morning. Juan Carlos Ortiz. The text underneath read. It gave his date of birth, as well as state and city. He flipped the page to find a copy of his birth certificate and social security card. Then came the real files. Pictures of Juice in various positions, locations, and with various men and women, pictures he didn't even remember being taken. Each had a small caption, and most of the photo sets were followed by at least a one page synopsis of who he was with, what he was made to do, and how much he was paid for the aforementioned services.

   Juice flipped through nearly forty pages of the files before snapping the binder shut, his face pale. Clay still hadn't spoken. "May I go upstairs to get Serotah?" He asked in a soft voice, his head lowered. Clay grunted. Jax nodded. "Go ahead, Juicy." He whispered. Juice rose and walked away, trying to hide the shivers racing through his body. He thought whoring was terrifying... This was worse.



   When Juice was out of earshot, Clay looked up again. He looked first to Tig, then to Jax. "My two best men... Knew about this... And neither of you fucking told me?" He spoke slow and measured, a sure sign he was furious. Jax shrugged. "I didn't think it mattered."

"Of course it matters." He snarled. "What would the rest of the fucking club say if they knew about this?"

"You don't need to tell them." Tig said softly. "Lie to the fucking club? Your fucking family?!" Tig sighed softly, knowing Clay was right. Jax stood and sat on the table. "Look, I just don't think it's that big of a fucking deal. We've all had to do some shit to survive that we aren't proud of. It's not Juice's fault. He got handed a fucking shitty hand. A good looking kid, with no parents, in fucking New York, and someone like that was after him. What else was he gonna do? He was fucking sixteen, do you think he really wanted to fucking die? You know Rabador would have fucking killed him if he had refused." Clay shook his head. "That's beside the fucking point!"

   "No, it isn't." Tig snapped, making Clay look at him in shock. "That's exactly the point. Look at what this kid has fucking done for us. He has already risked his fucking life, and now he's willing to fucking let this asshole rape him so we can fucking blackmail him! For what? A couple of fucking close calls! The Irish would still sell us goddamn guns even if Trevalore kept fucking pushing. We'd just find a new port. Sure it'd be a risk for a while but we could do it. This kid is sacrificing everything just to make our lives a little fucking simpler, and you're here fucking saying he shouldn't get in?" Tig shook his head and slammed his hands down on the table. "I'd fucking patch him in this fucking second if I had the power, Clay. You need to know that." Jax said softly.

   Tig looked up as Clay opened his mouth to reply. His eyes widened a little. Juice was standing back a ways, but well within earshot, Serotah on a leash. He could see from here that Juice was crying, silent, but there. The Latino wiped his eyes and stepped up to the table. "Clay..." He whispered. Clay turned, giving him a droll look. "What?" Juice gritted his teeth, the words fighting in his brain. Finally he closed his eyes, hanging his head. "I'm turning in my cut... I'll do this for you guys... Help you guys get right with the Irish... Then I'll stay here. I know you don't want someone like me even near your club, let alone in it... And the by-laws are really strict on... I guess I'm a fag after all... So fags..." Clay nodded. "Probably a good idea..." He shrugged a little. "I'm sorry I lied." He leaned over a bit, grabbing his cigarettes and the binder from the table near Tig. When he did, he set the small box discreetly in Jax's coat. The blonde shut his eyes, feeling it, and knowing exactly what it was. "I'm gonna... Just go take a nap for a while... I'll go to the house tonight... Get ready... There doesn't need to be a person watching the camera... I'll keep track... I'll text Jax when he's napping... I'm sure he'll have me all day... You guys can come and talk with him then." He took a shaky breath. "I'm really sorry I let you down." He said, locking gazes with Tig. The older man was shaking his head, mouthing the word no, but Juice ignored it. He hung his head a little and turned his back on the group, whistling to Serotah and heading back to the room.

   "I can't fucking believe you let him do that." Tig whispered through gritted teeth. The group had been silent for at least fifteen minutes before he'd gathered enough strength to speak. He had his eyes on the table, as they were slowly glossing with tears. "He made the choice to turn it in."

"You forced him into it, you fucking--"

"Shut the fuck up." Clay snapped, silencing Tig. "I didn't force him into a goddamn thing. Had he not done it, I would have taken this to the fucking table and he would have been stripped of it anyways. At least this way he can stay with his own kind." Tig shook his head, gritting his teeth. He smacked the table again and rose, heading towards the hotel room he and Juice shared. When he entered, he looked around, surprised to find a lack of his lover. Serotah was stretched out on the bed. Going around to Juice's corner, Tig's scowl deepened. His bag was missing. On the pillow lay an envelope. Tig grabbed it, ripping it open. Inside was Juice's smooth cursive.
   'Tig... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry this happened. Please find it in your heart to forgive me. You won't need to blackmail Trevalore... I'll be all the convincing you need... He wanted me for money... He can have me for your port. Fair trade, I think. Tell Clay this... I promise it will get done. Go back to Charming and be happy with SAMCRO... You know where my cut is... Give it back to Clay. I can't take Serotah with me where he'll take me... I need someone to take care of her. Please love her... Please forget me.

           -JCO'
   Underneath the note was a picture. Tig knew it'd been taken from the binder, as Juice looked at least two years younger. It was he and Ray, both shirtless, but looking happy, wide grins for the camera. Tig sat down on the bed and began to cry, helpless to his emotions. Serotah belly crawled over to him, resting her head on his lap.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Brave Submission