Epilogue- Gator
Four Years Later…
The clubhouse carries the soft scent of fresh ink and the sharp tang of rubbing alcohol, a mix almost as familiar as the leather and tobacco in the air. Old rock tunes drift from the speakers, their melodies threading through bursts of laughter and the steady murmur of voices gathered at the bar.
It's not just another afternoon; it's a moment weighted with everything we've endured, both good and bad. I prep the tattoo machine methodically, my hands moving with practiced confidence even as my mind reels with memories. This isn’t just a tattoo—it's a mark, a testament, and a way to honor the journey we've survived together.
Rock steps up, lowering himself into the battered old tattoo chair like he’s done it a hundred times, though his nerves show in the subtle clench of his jaw.
I pretend not to notice. His shirt is tossed aside, revealing the landscape of his chest—scars, muscle, and the story of survival etched deep into his skin.
A faded scar traces his rib cage, a ghost of old wounds and battles fought, both physical and emotional.
His Heathen brand stands out on his forearm, burned in years ago as a declaration of loyalty, brotherhood, and the life we chose.
Our eyes meet for a second, and in that silent exchange, I feel the trust and history between us.
He nods, a gesture heavy with meaning. I dip the needle into the dark ink, steady myself, and begin to outline the new tattoo just beneath his collarbone, right over his heart.
Each stroke feels more than technical; it’s a promise, a prayer for the future.
The needle's buzz fills the room, humming through the air and drowning out everything else.
Rock barely reacts, stoic as ever, his focus locked inward on memories and the meaning behind the ink.
I work slowly and carefully, making sure every detail is perfect, not just for the art itself but for what it represents.
Around us, brothers drift in and out, some respecting our space, others pausing to observe, sharing quiet moments and nods that speak louder than words.
I break the silence first, my voice steady yet laced with nostalgia.
"You know, the only other ink you have is the club tattoo I gave you on your back a year after you patched in." My words echo through the space.
Rock nods again, letting the words hang between us. "She has given me everything the club can't," he says, his voice low and firm, an acknowledgment of all he endured to build a life with her. I nod in return, understanding without needing to ask more.
Emma is the glue, the softness that fills the cracks left by the rough edges of club life, the warmth we cling to when things get hard.
Even after all these years, she’s the part of me the club can’t reach, the piece that makes me whole when the rest wears me down.
The tattoo isn’t just for him; it’s for both of them, a testament to love, survival, and the life that keeps pushing us forward, no matter what scars we carry.
“I’m honored you let me put your wife's name on your skin, brother.” We are both at a point in life where we are truly happy, and I couldn't ask for more. It’s funny looking back and seeing that both the little delinquents who were running amuck around the clubhouse are now going to be watching our kids do the same.
I think back to last night, when Emma told me she was having baby number three, and I start smiling like a loon.
***
I’m back at my favorite pastime. Face first in my bitch’s pussy.
She has been insatiable lately. We have been going at it multiple times a day.
Not that I’m complaining. The last time she got like this was right after I knocked her up with baby number two.
I feel her fingers dig into my scalp as she threads them through my hair.
“Yes, yes, yes. Right there!” She chants as I double down on my efforts, my mouth latched on her clit, flicking my tongue back and forth as I tap that magic spot inside her that will no doubt cause her to squirt all over my face.
She will be pissed when she has to change the sheets for the second time today, but the look of nirvana on her face as she explodes will be worth it to me.
There is rapid banging on the bedroom door, alerting me that I need to make this quick before the little cock blockers break down the door.
“Yo, Bro!” Cole shouts through the wooden door.
“There’s only so much I can take of being climbed on like a jungle gym.
These kids give the Energizer Bunny a run for his money.
Hurry the hell up. You promised to take me fishing if I bought you fifteen minutes away from the kids.
That was three minutes ago.” He whines, his voice cracking at the end.
At thirteen, he can put two and two together about what we’re doing in here, but he isn’t old enough to have experienced it, so he doesn’t really get it.
“Can’t I just smother my man in peace?” she grumbles under her breath. I reach up and tweak one of her pierced nipples, rolling the bar. She drops her head back with a groan. “Be right out!” she manages to shout. “With this new baby coming, we will never get a moment of peace again,” she whines.
I immediately stop what I'm doing and look up at her, my beard covered in her juices. I start tapping her g-spot more relentlessly. “You pregnant again, baby?” I ask.
Her knees snap shut as she detonates and cries out. “Yes!” I smile wide, jerking up to slam myself home in her perfect pussy, and it only takes a few strokes before I follow her into my own release. I look down into her eyes as I brush a strand of hair from her face.
“You happy about baby number three, pet?” I inquire. I know I am.
She beams up at me, stroking her hands down my arms. The love pouring out of her tells me I am the luckiest son of a bitch on this planet. “I really am.” A crash from down the hall makes us both jerk our eyes toward the door.
“Bro! Hurry the fuck up! Nix has glitter!” Cole screams from the living room.
Next up, Rock's book.