"Don't go setting fires when there's nothing to burn."
A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
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Tig Trager x Fem!OC...
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Warnings: this whole chapter is basically just sex <3
"Tig, get off of her." Gemma told him as she folded both arms over one another, watching the duo. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.
Isla was still frozen in place, though her left leg had resumed its position beside her right and Tig had moved from in front of her. He still kept a hold on her, however. His arm was wound around Isla's waist to keep her calm, he supposed.
"Were you two about to have sex in here?"
"I guess." Unthinking, Isla responded. She felt him tense up beside her, digging his fingers into her skin. "But I'm guessing you have other ideas—"
"Of course I have other ideas." Gem snapped, shooting her that disappointed glare that she was renowned for. Eyes wide, lips narrowed. "You just watched your oldest friend bury his wife, Isla, and you're trying to get laid at the wake?!"
"Woah, maybe don't yell at her here, yeah?" Reasonably, though a bit defensive, Tig stepped in. He held a hand out, watching Gemma seethe. "We don't need to make a scene today."
"I'm sorry." Isla upheld, loathing the look of dissatisfaction she was receiving from the woman she admired the most. "We just ended up getting a little too drunk, and I guess we got lost in the moment."
Tig nodded his agreement, though he knew just as well as the blonde that the alcohol didn't really have anything to do with that. It just spurred them on, perhaps.
But Gemma wasn't particularly having any of it. She was mad, regardless.
"Go home, Isla. Sack is behind the bar again—y'know, 'cuz you told him to take a break and then abandoned your post?"
"Yeah...I'm sorry about that one."
"What the fuck ever." She snorted, pointing to Tig. "How drunk are you?"
"Pretty."
Her hum held more likeness to a groan, though her face didn't twist into a grimace. "Too drunk to take her home?"
"I'm not getting on that bike tonight, Gem, I think I'm gonna throw up." Isla held a hand up, wobbling a bit when she strived to hold herself straighter. "I just wanna go to sleep."
"Okay, baby." Considerably softer, Gemma muttered to her.
Tig was right about the older woman's inability to remain mad at Isla for too long.
"If I tell you to take her back to the dorm, can I trust you to keep your dick in your pants, Tiggy?"
He just looked at her.
"Get outta here—both of you. And don't let Chibs see you two together."
"I can handle my father." Uncharacteristically bitchy, Isla responded. She took Tig's hand when he offered it to her, letting him lead the way as Gemma still glared at the two with the most irked expression she could muster.
