Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and am making no profit (monetary or otherwise) though the writing and posting of it. The characters belong to Kurt Sutter et al.

A/N: Tag to episode 4.1, "Out," aired September 6, 2011. Something Clay said to Gemma stuck with me and finally insisted upon being written about late, late at night on my cellphone.

"Damn, that was fast," Clay.

"Yeah, that's because you're used to speed banging Juice in hallways," Gemma.

"Hey, don't turn what Juice and I had into something cheap and tawdry," Clay.

"I'm sure it was sweet Puerto Rican magic," Gemma.

Warnings: Somewhat graphically depicted dubious consent, prison sex, male/male, voyeurism, for mature audiences only.

The first time it happens, they're in prison, Clay tells him that it's for his protection. Juice has seen the way that some of the other prisoners look at him, knows that, at least in part, it's true, Clay is protecting him from the prison-yard predators, but he's not stupid either. He knows that Clay has needs and Gemma's not allowed to visit him in 'that way'.

He tries to relax as best he can, knowing, instinctively, and from the time when one of his mother's 'friends 'took a shine to him, that it won't hurt as much if he relaxes and allows things to take their natural course.

Men wouldn't do this if it wasn't pleasurable on some level, he thinks, biting his lower lip clean through to keep from crying out. He's unable to remain completely quiet, whimpers and grunted pants escape him in spite of his best efforts as Clay thickens inside him and then moves.

The in-out rhythm of the thrusts starts out slow, but then the speed increases, he's being torn apart, ridden to death, as Clay picks up the pace. He's a man in need, bent over Juice's back mouth pressed against his ear, breath hot and moist, whispered, grunted half-words panted against Juice's ear. Dick slicked with nothing bit pre-cum and a bit of spit, penetrating so deeply that Juice fears it'll get lost inside of him, but then Clay's hardened cock is brushing, pushing, pulsing against something inside of him that makes him explode on the inside.

All he can see are bright, colored lights. It feels like his body's on fire, electric impulses coming at odd intervals timed to Clay's erratic thrusts. His hips, naked and sweat-soaked, gripped so tight they bruise, buck beneath Clay, he's instinctively pushing up as Clay jerks his hips forward, his body welcoming his ad-hoc father's dick up his ass like they've always been this way, like it's right.

Juice barley notices the watchful guard, doesn't hear the overweight man's bated breath, his guttural grunts as he fondles himself while he watches Clay fuck him. Free show for perverts.

Juice isn't prepared for the way that Clay stiffens inside of him, the fingers gripping his hips digging in harder, and the convulsive shudders that accompany Clay's orgasm as the older man climaxes and cums inside of him. His seed spilling into Juice's ass and down the inside of his sweaty thighs.

Juice's orgasm follows soon after, and then the guard's. He stiffens when Clay kisses the back of his neck as the older man pulls out of him and they collapse in a post coital heap on the floor.

Clay's voice is low and breathy when he rolls off of him, saying, "I love you, son."

Words that Juice has heard him say too many times to count, but never like this. Juice doesn't understand why he feels like crying when the man slides off of him and helps him with his pants, they scratch and chaff against his sensitive skin. It isn't until later, after their watchful guard has escorted them to back to their respective cells, via the shower room, and lights are out that Juice cries.

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