#fair fun

You weren’t the kind of woman who needed someone hovering over you— hell, that was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you. You had this fire, this way of holding your own no matter the crowd. Still, Jax found himself glancing toward the food stand every minute or two, scanning for that familiar head of hair, that soft laugh he could always pick out of a crowd.

“Y’know,” Tig said, elbowing him lightly, “you let her outta your sight too long and some guy’s gonna realize she’s way outta your league.”

Jax shot him a flat look. “Appreciate the confidence boost, brother.”

Chibs chuckled, low and rough, his accent thick. “Aye, Tig’s no’ wrong though. Lass looks like a bloody dream in that sundress. Can’t fault a man for starin’.”

Juice, who was leaning against the fence beside them, grinned around a toothpick. “Nah, man. Not just starin’. Look.” He nodded subtly toward the food line. “She’s got company.”

Jax followed their gaze. There you were— standing at the funnel cake stand, the late afternoon sun catching in your hair. And beside you, some guy. Button-up shirt, clean shave, easy smile. He was leaning a little too close, saying something that made you laugh.

Jax’s jaw tightened.

“Looks like he’s got jokes,” Bobby muttered, biting into his corn dog. “And you’re losin’ ground, Teller.”

Jax forced a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “You girls done?”

But none of them stopped watching.

Tig let out a low whistle. “Man’s got balls, I’ll give him that. You can practically see him rehearsing his pickup line in his head.”

“Or maybe,” Chibs said with a faint grin, “he’s already tried one, an’ she laughed just to be polite. She’s a kind soul, that one.”

“Kind,” Tig echoed. “Too kind sometimes.”

Jax could feel the shift in his chest —that familiar burn that started low and crept up like wildfire. He wasn’t the jealous type. Protective? Definitely. Controlling? Not really. He trusted you. Always had. But that didn’t mean he trusted every idiot who saw your smile and mistook it for an invitation.

He took another step closer to the fence, watching as the guy handed you a plate of funnel cake —your funnel cake— and said something that made you tilt your head, half amused, half polite. You didn’t look uncomfortable, but you weren’t exactly brushing him off, either. You were too damn nice for that.

“You’re gonna let that slide, huh?” Tig asked, grinning. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jax said, voice even but sharp, “good thing it ain’t you.”

He tried to turn away, tried to tell himself it was fine. That you’d smile, thank the guy, and walk right back over. But then the man leaned in again —closer this time —and said something that made you laugh louder.

And that did it.

“Ah, there it is,” Chibs said, smirking around his cigarette. “That look. Jackie’s gonna blow.”

Jax didn’t even answer. He just handed his ice cream cone to Bobby, jaw clenched, and started walking.

“Five bucks says he breaks the guy’s nose before she even knows what’s happenin’,” Tig muttered.

“Ten says he keeps it verbal,” Chibs replied with a knowing grin. “He’s tryin’ to behave these days. Pussy whipped tha’ one.”

Jax heard none of it. All he could hear was that low pulse in his ears, the rush of blood, the echo of your laughter that wasn’t meant for anyone else.

He weaved through the crowd, white shoes heavy on the packed dirt, eyes locked on you like a heat-seeking missile. The guy still hadn’t noticed him coming— too busy leaning in, talking, trying his luck.

Jax’s hands flexed at his sides.

He wasn’t gonna make a scene. Not here. Not with you looking that happy, that radiant, belly tight with laughter and powdered sugar on your fingers.

But he also wasn’t about to stand by and watch someone else think they had a shot with what was his.

The shift in energy was instant.

He sidled up beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest like you belonged there—which you did. You blinked up at him, half startled, half smiling, as Jax caught the tail end of the guy's question.

“—and that’s why I was wondering if I could get your number?”

Jax reached for the piece of funnel cake between your fingers and popped it into his mouth. Sweet. Sticky. He licked a trace of powdered sugar from his thumb and finally turned his gaze on the guy.

“So,” he drawled, slow and smooth, “you were sayin’ somethin’ about a number?”

The man blinked, eyes darting between the two of you. “I, uh—”

Jax smiled—lazy, syrup-thick, and mean. “Which one, though? Her number, or the one you’re gonna need to call for dental work if you don’t walk away right now?”

You groaned under your breath, rolling your eyes. “Jax…”

He ignored you, because he could feel it—the tension rolling off the guy, the way he shifted his weight, trying to figure out if Jax was serious.

He was.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, hands up in surrender, “I didn’t mean anything. We were just talking.”

“Talkin’.” Jax’s voice dipped low. “Yeah. Heard that one before.” He leaned forward slightly, a smirk cutting across his face. “Thing is, brother, she’s already got someone who talks to her. Someone who listens. Makes sure she’s taken care of.”

His hand squeezed your shoulder gently, almost possessive. “And it sure as hell ain’t you.”

The guy flushed red, muttered something that sounded like an apology, and turned on his heel.

Jax didn’t move until he disappeared into the crowd. Only then did he glance at you. You were glaring at him, powdered sugar still on your fingertips.

“Really?” you said. “You had to threaten to knock his teeth out? He wasn’t doing anything.”

“He was thinkin’ about it.”

“That’s not illegal.”

“Maybe it should be.”

You huffed a small laugh despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, but you love me that way.”

“Hmm. Love’s a strong word.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, that teasing glint in his voice. “Yeah, but it fits.”

You rolled your eyes but let him take your hand anyway. His fingers laced with yours as he tugged you toward the other end of the fair. Tossing the now empty funnel cake plate in the trash.

“Oi, Jackie boy!” Chibs’s voice bellowed through the crowd. “Where the hell you off to now?”

Juice yelled next, “Yo, we wanted funnel cake!”

Jax lifted his free hand, middle finger up, grin cutting sharp and wicked across his mouth as he walked faster, tugging you with him.

You stumbled once on the uneven dirt. “Jax—where are you taking me?”

He didn’t answer. Just threw a look over his shoulder, that boyish, smug smirk playing at his mouth.

“Jax!” you pressed again, half laughing, half suspicious.

He only chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm, like he was daring you to keep asking.

And when he finally spotted the photobooth up ahead, he slowed, a grin spreading wider across his face.

Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun.

He rushed to place a dollar in the slot as he practically shoved you through the curtain, the moment it was shut, he spun you around, chest pressing against yours, and kissed you with that slow, deliberate intensity that made your knees go weak.

He could feel the warmth of your body, soft and light in his arms, and he didn’t pull back. Not yet. His hands found your waist, sliding up just enough to hold you against him, thumb brushing along the small of your back.

You staggered slightly, and without thinking, he guided you onto his lap, one arm circling your shoulders to keep you steady. Your sundress rode easily under his grip, light and fluttering, and he used it to anchor you closer, letting his knee bump yours just enough to make you catch your breath.

“You’re killin’ me,” he murmured against your lips, teasing, his tone half frustration, half awe. “Been waitin' all damn day to get you alone like this,” he growled softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady on his lap as he shifted beneath you, the rigid line of his cock pressing insistently against your soaked panties. “And seein' that douchebag flirtin' with you? Fuck, it sent me into a spiral. Had to drag you here before I lost it.”

You shivered at his words, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a fresh wave of heat between your legs. “Don’t tell me you were jealous, Teller.”

The photobooth felt even smaller now, the red curtain the only barrier between the two of you and the distant laughter and chatter of fairgoers milling about outside. He captured your mouth again, but this time the kiss was faster, more desperate, his tongue stroking yours with deliberate pressure while his hand slipped between your thighs.

His fingers pushed your panties aside, two digits sliding along your slick folds before plunging inside your pussy, curling to hit that spot that made your breath hitch. You bit down on your lip to stifle a whimper, your walls clenching around him as he pumped slowly, stretching you with each thrust. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy—Just felt the need to make sure he knew exactly who you belong to.”

You felt breathless. All the air in the tiny booth was practically nonexistent. You let out a small whine, his fingers hitting the perfect spot. The sound was music to his ears, but the last thing Jax needed was someone to catch the two of you.

“Gotta be quiet, darlin',” he whispered against your ear, his free hand clamping over your mouth gently but firmly. “Don't want some rando pullin' back this curtain and catchin' me finger-fuckin' you.”

The risk only heightened everything—the way his thumb circled your clit in firm circles, the scrape of his calluses against your inner walls, the bulge of his cock twitching against your ass as you rocked into his hand. You nodded against his palm, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure built fast, your body tensing. He added a third finger, stretching you wider, his pace quickening just enough to push you toward the edge without making the booth shake too much.

Outside, footsteps shuffled past, a voice calling out for someone nearby, and Jax froze for a split second, his fingers buried deep inside you, holding still until the sounds faded. Then he resumed, harder now, his mouth latching onto your neck to suck a mark just below your jawline. “Come for me,” he urged quietly, his voice strained with his own need. “Quiet, though—squeeze my fingers and let go.”

You couldn't hold back, your orgasm crashed over you in silent waves, pussy pulsing around his invading fingers as you muffled your cries into his hand. He worked you through it, drawing out every tremor until you slumped against him, panting softly. But he wasn't done—his hand left your mouth to unzip his jeans, freeing his thick cock, the head already leaking pre-cum as he lined it up with your entrance.

“You're gonna ride me now,” he instructed, guiding your hips down so you sank onto him inch by inch, your wetness easing the way. He filled you completely, stretching your pussy around his length, and you had to clench your teeth to stay silent as he bottomed out. He resisted letting out a groan in pleasure himself. The booth creaked faintly under your combined weight, but he held you still, letting you adjust before his hands gripped your ass, lifting you slightly and pulling you back down in a controlled rhythm.

You moved together like that—slow at first, your hips rolling in languid circles to feel every inch of him drag against your sensitive walls. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and unyielding, as you lifted up and sank back down, savoring the way he stretched you open with each descent. The air in the booth grew thicker, heavy with the scent of your arousal and the faint metallic tang of his rings catching the dim light. Jax's eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide with lust, as he watched your breasts bounce gently beneath the thin fabric of your sundress.

“That's it, baby,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. “Ride me slow... make it last.” You obeyed, grinding down harder on the next drop, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone in a way that sent sparks up your spine. The fair's sounds filtered in—children's laughter, the sizzle of food trucks, footsteps crunching on gravel—but they felt miles away, drowned out by the wet slide of his cock in your pussy and your shared, ragged breaths.

His free hand moved to your neck, fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to make your pulse race under his palm. He squeezed lightly at first, testing, his thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat as you rose and fell on him. The choke was firm but controlled, restricting your air just enough to make your head swim, heightening every sensation. Your pussy clenched tighter around his length in response, drawing a low hiss from his lips. “Fuck, yeah... feel that? You're squeezin' me so good,” he murmured, his grip tightening incrementally with each of your downward thrusts, making your movements deliberate, unhurried.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders for leverage, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you picked up a subtle rhythm—up slow, down even slower, twisting your hips to take him deeper. The pressure on your neck made stars burst behind your eyelids, your body arching into the sensation, chasing the edge of breathlessness that amplified the fullness of him inside you. Jax's other hand roamed to your breast, pushing the sundress strap down to expose one nipple, his mouth descending to latch on and suck hard, teeth grazing the peak while his fingers kept their hold on your throat.

Time stretched in the confined space, each roll of your hips drawing out the pleasure, building it layer by layer. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his chest heaving as he fought to keep quiet, but a soft groan escaped when you clenched deliberately around him. Outside, a group of people walked by, their voices carrying snippets of conversation, and Jax's hand on your neck paused the squeeze, holding you still impaled on his cock until they passed. The anticipation made you throb around him, your juices dripping down to coat his balls.

When the coast cleared, he released your throat just enough for you to gasp in air, then tightened again, guiding your pace with subtle bucks of his hips. “Suck on these,” he commanded softly, lifting his other hand from your breast to press two fingers—adorned with those silver rings, chilled from the evening air—against your parted lips. You opened for him without hesitation, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting the salt of his skin mixed with the faint residue of your own slick from earlier. The metal bands were icy against your warm tongue, a stark contrast that made you shiver, sucking harder as you bobbed your head in time with your riding.

He pushed them deeper, fucking your mouth shallowly while his cock filled your pussy, the dual invasion making you moan around his fingers. The cold rings clinked softly against your teeth, sending chills down your spine that pooled as heat in your core. You hollowed your cheeks, licking and sucking with fervor, the metallic tang blending with his flavor as drool escaped the corner of your mouth. Jax's eyes darkened further, his hand on your neck resuming its choke, syncing the pressure with the thrusts you set—slow, deep, relentless.

Your thighs burned from the effort, but you didn't stop, drawing it out as he wanted, feeling him swell thicker inside you with every grind. His fingers in your mouth muffled any sounds, the cold metal warming now from your heat, sliding over your tongue as you nursed on them like a promise of more. The booth's mirror reflected fragments of you both—your flushed face, his strained expression, the way your ass flexed with each lift and drop. Pleasure coiled tighter in your belly, not rushing but simmering, fed by the risk, the restraint, the intimacy of it all.

Jax's hips jerked up once, involuntarily, burying himself to the hilt, and you felt him pulse, close but holding back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, trailing saliva down your chin before returning to your breast, but his other hand choked firmer now to urge you on. “Keep goin'... don't stop till I say,” he rasped, his voice edged with desperation. You rode him through the building tension, your pussy fluttering around his cock, the choke making every breath a victory, every slide a torment of bliss.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of drawn-out ecstasy, Jax could feel his control fray. His hand slipped from your throat to grip your hip, helping you slam down one last time as he thrust up, spilling hot cum deep inside you in thick ropes. The sensation tipped you over, your own release milking him dry, walls spasming as you bit your lip bloody to stay silent. He held you there, choking lightly through the aftershocks, drunk on lust and the way you looked taking his load.

Only when the waves subsided did he ease his hold, pulling you down against his chest, both of you slick with sweat and spent. The fair's noises returned gradually, a reminder of the world outside, but for now, you lingered, his cock softening inside you, his arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

“Mine.”

The word slipped from Jax’s lips before he could stop it, low and rough against your forehead. He pressed a kiss there, lingering a beat longer than he should’ve, breathing you in —sugar, sweat, and summer heat. The tiny booth still felt electric, the air charged from what had just happened, his pulse still pounding hard beneath your palms.

He drew back with a lazy grin, brushing a thumb along your cheekbone as he checked the curtain to make sure no one had seen a damn thing. His voice was light when he finally spoke, though his eyes were anything but.

“Gotta make sure the whole fair didn’t get a show.”

You huffed, still breathless, trying to fix your hair and dignity at the same time. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He did anyway —that slow, unhurried once-over that always made you roll your eyes. Jax’s grin deepened, boyish and cocky. “Can’t help it, darlin’,” he murmured. “You look like sin and summer mixed together.”

You muttered something under your breath as you straightened your sundress, trying to ignore him. Jax adjusted his jeans, redoing his belt buckle, still watching you from the corner of his eye —not with lust anymore, but with that quiet, protective affection.

When you were both put back together enough to face daylight, Jax pushed open the curtain and stepped out first, one hand reaching back to guide you out. The warm air hit instantly, thick and sweet with the smell of popcorn and dust. He kept his palm at the small of your back as if it belonged there —maybe because it did.

The photo booth whirred, spitting out a glossy strip of pictures that fluttered into the slot. You were faster, snatching it before he could grab it.

“Uh-uh,” you warned, holding it out of reach as your cheeks went pink.

Jax tilted his head, amused, trying to peek around your hand. “What? Let me see, babe.”

“Not a chance,” you said, clutching it closer. He could see the hint of a smile threatening your lips. “You don’t deserve it.”

He laughed —a real one this time, easy and warm, the sound cutting through the noise of the fair. “Don’t deserve it, huh?” he echoed, slipping an arm around your waist again. “That’s funny. Pretty sure I just earned somethin’ in there.”

You gave him a mock glare, swatting his chest and he only grinned wider, pulling you closer as you both wove through the crowd, his hand resting possessively on your hip, when you gave a little hum -smug, satisfied. He glanced down at you, brow raised.

“What?” he asked, suspicion laced through that low drawl.

You tilted your head, looking way too pleased with yourself. “Nothing,” you said, that teasing lilt in your voice giving you away instantly.

Jax narrowed his eyes. “That tone,” he said. “What’d you do?”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile, but you couldn’t hold it in. “I knew this was gonna happen.”

He stopped walking. Just—stopped. Shoes scuffing against the packed dirt, the noise of the fair fading behind you. “You what?”

You turned to face him fully now, grinning like you’d just confessed to a crime you were proud of. “I knew you’d get all jealous and broody,” you said simply, shrugging one shoulder. “Kinda counted on it, actually.”

Jax blinked at you, mouth parting slightly. “You’re tellin’ me—”

You kept going, relentless. “I may’ve… asked that guy to play along a little.”

His jaw dropped. “You what?”

You laughed, stepping closer, completely unapologetic. “Oh, relax. I just told him to say hi, maybe flirt a little. Nothing serious.”

Jax stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You set that up?”

“Mhmm.” You smirked, hands slipping into your dress pockets, rocking on your heels. “And I laughed extra loud so you’d hear. Wore your favorite sundress too—figured that’d really sell it.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, running a hand through his hair, half disbelieving, half impressed, all the while fighting the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“You baited me,” he said finally, voice low, rough with a mix of exasperation and awe.

“Worked, didn’t it?” you said, raising a brow.

That made him laugh —sharp and disbelieving—before he reached out, grabbing you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. “You’re outta your damn mind,” he muttered, shaking his head but smiling anyway.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes glinting up at him. “But you love that about me.”

Jax’s grin turned slow and dangerous. “Maybe I do,” he said, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear. “But next time you wanna get my attention, darlin’…”

He leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear.

“...you don’t gotta bring in a decoy.”