“Hey Bartender”
Tig Trager x Reader (GIFs are not mine) . . . It was party time at the SAMCRO clubhouse and several other charters had arrived to celebrate the clubs anniversary. Since you had experience bartending when you were in college, Jax had asked you when you arrived to help behind the bar, and honestly you didn’t mind. Being Tig’s old lady for the last five years meant you had seen your fair share of club parties and knew that keeping the alcohol flowing was essential to maintaining the fun.
These were bikers, after all.
There was a drunk pool tournament going on, but you weren’t concerned with that when you heard what Tig was up to. He was outside in the boxing ring, defending his title against the SAMTAZ Sgt. Half-sack had taken a spot at the door, shouting to you how he was doing since you couldn’t be out there to cheer him on yourself. Of course, Tig ended up winning by knockout and carried himself inside to show off his cuts and bruises as if they were his prize for maintaining his title.
“Geez, babe,” you studied his face from behind the bar as he leaned on the bar from the other side, “you could’ve just said no to the fight…” you trailed off as Tig furrowed his brows at you as he hopped up on the bar and threw his legs over.
“If I said no, it would count as a loss,” he hopped down to your side of the bar and pointed a finger at his own chest, “Tig does not lose,” he referred to himself in third person as he grabbed an 1800 bottle and lifted it to his lips, taking a large gulp before placing it back down and wiping his sweaty face off on your shoulder, which was clothed in a simple sleeveless black dress.
“Ugh,” you leaned away, “Tig! Gross!”
He chuckled and slapped you on the butt before leaning in and giving you a peck on the lips that tasted metallic from the blood that stained his teeth.
“I’m gonna go change, doll. I’ll be back,” he winked at you and stalked off down the hall.
It seemed like it had been hours since you last saw your old man, and although it had probably only been 45 minutes max, you found yourself searching the clubhouse to see if he had emerged from the back room.
As if on cue, two strong arms wrapped around you from behind and damp lips against your neck coupled with the scent of his cologne told you Tig was behind you.
“You missed the hint, doll,” he mumbled against your ear, his warm breath causing a chill to shake through your body, “I was hoping you’d come help me change.” You chuckled a little, realizing now that he had wanted a back room quickie. “Maybe I saw the hint you dropped and didn’t feel like picking it up, Tigger,” you quipped, turning around to face the man you loved who let out an amused scoff, “Is that so?” he smiled, squeezing your hips as you stared up at him, “Maybe…” you grinned back, planting a kiss on his lips. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips, pushing your back against the bar top, his hands dipping beneath the bottom of your dress to grip your ass. “Tig!” you gasped, pulling away from his kiss. You grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. “What, doll?” he smirked, “Nobody can see anything. The bar is in the way.” His devilish smile lit up his crystal blue eyes and you huffed, feigning annoyance, but internally you were squealing at his boldness. “Here,” he spoke putting his hands back on your hips and turning you around to face the bar, looking out towards the pool table where Juice and a Rogue River member were playing. He leaned into you, causing you to lean down against the bar top on your elbows, “Don’t move,” he whispered in your ear as he stepped back away from you for a moment. You didn’t need to look to know he was admiring your ass which was slightly poked out in this position, “Good girl,” he chuckled as he stepped to your left side, his right hand at your lower back. You turned your head to look at him, but he was looking straight ahead, “Don’t,” he spoke low and you turned your head to face forward again as his hand slid down the soft, black material of your dress, until his hand reached your bare thigh. You held your breath as he moved his hand back up, keeping in contact with your skin and trailing across your panties until he reached the top of them. You felt yourself suck your lip in between your teeth but you immediately released it, trying to focus on appearing nonchalant as Tig’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties until he reached the very front. You swallowed hard as he dipped his hand inside and you saw him turn his head to look at your face out of your periphery.
“What,” you breathed as his fingers inched closer to your center. He didn’t answer, but you saw him smirk before looking to his left as he plunged his hand deep between your legs, his middle finger dipping into your slit and running from your entrance back up to your clit as you failed an attempt to stifle a moan. His head snapped back in your direction as his hand froze and you knew he had heard you.
He leaned into your ear and nibbled it, “Shh,” he breathed as he began circling your clit with his index and middle fingers close together. Your knuckles were white, gripping the edge of the bar as he watched you, “Tiggy,” you groaned quietly, “I can’t--” “--Yes you can,” he snapped, his voice still barely a whisper.
He pulled his face away from you again, looking ahead towards the pool table as his fingers worked on you and you bit your tongue to keep from making noise, your eyes stoic as you tried to focus on the party ahead of you. All you could see were stars as he maneuvered across your sex.
He moved his fingers lower, rubbing around your entrance before dipping both fingers inside your hot dripping core, his palm held firmly against your clit as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. It didn’t take long before the tightening in your lower abdomen told you that you were close to an orgasm. Your body shook as you leaned against the bar a little further, allowing it to support your weight. Your knees went weak, “C-can I…” you whispered, both of you staring ahead as Tig fingered you with an expertise only he possessed. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head as he continued with the pace he set. He hooked his fingers inside you, putting pressure on your G-spot as he pushed his palm firmly against your slit, putting pressure on your clit as he did, and you looked over at him pleadingly as he continued his assault on your center.
“Tig….” you breathed, trying to hold yourself together as your release begged to be let out. “Wait,” he ordered, still fucking you with his fingers, looking at you as you closed your eyes tight to focus on anything but cumming.
He leaned into you again and pressed his lips against your cheek, “Ok,” he smiled, watching your face as you gasped, allowing your release to hit you as his hand worked you through it, your body convulsing around him as you tried to keep your ‘Oh’s quiet.
Tig pulled his hand away from you, looking down and straightening your dress for you as he laughed and you looked over at him, eyes heavy from exhaustion and the effort it took to hold yourself together while your old man finger-fucked you in the middle of the clubhouse.
“How about we--” “--Yep,” you finished, cutting Tig off. You took his hand and dragged him across the floor and down the hall while he grinned widely.
Jax be damned, you thought, he can find another bartender.