#jax teller

You arrived late after your shift at the garage, exhausted and starving, only to discover there wasn’t a single empty seat left in the room.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Tig called immediately when he saw you scanning the room. “You snooze, you lose.”

“You’re in my seat,” you shot back.

“There are no assigned seats.”

“You say that every time somebody steals your chair.”

“That’s different.”

You rolled your eyes and moved farther into the room, trying to ignore how everyone suddenly looked entirely too interested in where you were going to sit.

The problem with SAMCRO was that once they noticed something, they became vultures about it.

“Sit on the floor,” Happy offered.

“You sit on the floor.”

“I am on the floor.”

You looked down.

He was.

Cross-legged.

Like some terrifying tattooed monk.

Before you could respond, Jax Teller looked up from where he sat in the armchair near the bar, beer bottle balanced against his thigh.

“C’mere.”

Simple as that.

You blinked. “Where?”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Use your context clues, sweetheart.”

Several heads immediately turned.

“Oh, shit,” Juice muttered under his breath.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Little bit.”

There really wasn’t anywhere else to sit.

And honestly, you and Jax had always existed in each other’s space naturally anyway. You’d known him for years. He stole your fries. You stole his hoodies. You patched up his knuckles when he got reckless. Somewhere along the line, affection had become second nature.

Still—

His lap?

In front of everyone?

Your hesitation must’ve shown because his expression softened slightly.

“Ain’t a big deal.”

That somehow made it worse.

Because suddenly you were very aware that it could become a big deal.

You tried to act casual as you crossed the room.

“You’re all assholes,” you muttered to the others.

“Correct,” Chibs answered cheerfully.

Jax shifted slightly, one hand bracing against the arm of the chair to give you space.

The second you lowered yourself carefully onto his thigh, the entire room went silent for one dramatic beat.

Then:

“OHHHHH, SHIT!”

You closed your eyes immediately.

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned.

Tig nearly fell off the couch laughing.

“Look at his FACE,” Juice wheezed.

“What?” Jax snapped automatically.

“That’s the softest expression I’ve ever seen on a human being,” Opie muttered into his beer.

Jax flipped him off without looking away from you.

And unfortunately?

They were right.

Because the moment you settled against him, instinct kicked in.

His arm slid automatically around your waist to steady you.

Firm.

Warm.

Protective.

Like it belonged there.

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

You were suddenly hyperaware of everything.

How broad he was beneath you.

The heat of him through denim.

The way his fingers rested against your hip absentmindedly.

“You good?” he murmured quietly near your ear.

“Yeah.”

Your voice came out embarrassingly soft.

He smiled slightly.

And somehow that made it easier.

Conversation resumed around you after that, though the occasional smirk still got thrown your way. But after ten minutes, the awkwardness started fading.

After twenty, you stopped sitting so rigidly.

After forty-five, you leaned back against his chest without thinking about it.

Jax’s fingers tapped lazily against your side while he talked business with Chibs.

At some point you stole his beer.

He didn’t complain.

At another point his chin briefly brushed your shoulder when he leaned closer to hear you over the music.

Neither of you moved away.

By the end of the night, you’d forgotten entirely that you were sitting on his lap.

Unfortunately, everyone else remembered.

“Jesus,” Tig said as you finally stood to leave. “They nested.”

“Like fucking lovebirds,” Juice agreed.

“More like a stray dog that followed Jax home,” Happy added.

Jax snorted.

You pointed at all of them accusingly. “You’re the reason women avoid bikers.”

“We’re charming.”

“You’re emotionally illiterate.”

“Also true.”

Jax watched you the whole time you argued with them, smiling into his beer like he couldn’t help it.

It happened again three days later.

Then the next week.

Then constantly.

At first it was always circumstantial.

No room at the bar.

No free chair during church prep.

Packed booth at the diner.

But eventually?

You stopped pretending.

Sometimes there were three empty seats available and you still walked straight toward Jax automatically.

And every single time, without fail, he spread his knees slightly to make room for you before you even reached him.

Like muscle memory.

Like instinct.

The club noticed.

God, did they notice.

“You know chairs exist, right?” Chibs asked one afternoon while you sat sideways across Jax’s lap eating fries off his plate.

“They do,” you answered.

“So why are ye sittin’ there?”

You shrugged. “Comfort.”

Jax’s hand rubbed slowly up and down your thigh absentmindedly while he read paperwork.

Nobody missed it.

Tig looked physically pained by how disgustingly domestic the two of you had become.

“You guys are revolting.”

“You cry during Disney movies,” you reminded him.

“That is unrelated.”

“You cried during Finding Nemo.”

“He LOST HIS SON.”

Jax laughed against your shoulder.

The sound vibrated through you warm and low.

And maybe that was part of the problem.

Because sitting with Jax became easy in a way nothing else was.

You fit together strangely well.

His hands always found you naturally.

Your body relaxed around him automatically.

There was never hesitation anymore.

You’d curl into him during long nights at the clubhouse while he talked business.

Sometimes his chin rested on your shoulder.

Sometimes your fingers played with the rings on his hand absentmindedly.

Sometimes he’d arrive late, exhausted from a run, and the first thing he’d do was sit down and tug you into his lap like he needed the contact.

Nobody said anything during those moments.

Not even the guys.

Because underneath all the teasing, everyone could see it.

You made Jax softer.

And Jax made you feel safe.

The girl appeared six months after the first lap incident.

Blonde.

Tiny shorts.

Too much perfume.

The type that walked into the clubhouse already looking for attention.

She spotted Jax almost immediately.

Which wasn’t unusual.

Women flirted with him constantly.

You normally ignored it.

But tonight was different.

Because she didn’t just flirt.

She touched.

Hands on his shoulders.

Fingers trailing down his arm.

Leaning into him while she laughed too loudly at things that weren’t funny.

You were sitting beside him on the couch at first.

Not on him.

Just close.

But suddenly you felt weirdly out of place.

Which was stupid.

You and Jax weren’t together.

Not officially.

Even if everyone treated you like you were.

Still—

Something ugly twisted in your chest watching her smile at him like that.

So before the feeling could get worse, you stood quietly.

Jax glanced up immediately.

“Where you goin’?”

“Nowhere,” you answered lightly. “Need another drink.”

But instead of coming back to him, you crossed the room and dropped into the empty seat beside Chibs.

The table went weirdly silent.

Because everybody noticed.

Especially Jax.

The blonde blinked at the sudden shift in his attention.

“You were saying?” she purred.

He barely looked at her.

His eyes stayed on you across the room.

You were laughing at something Chibs said now, but it sounded forced even to your own ears.

Jax frowned slightly.

Then the girl touched his chest.

“You wanna get outta here later?”

“No.”

She blinked. “No?”

“No,” he repeated distractedly.

Then he stood up entirely.

Actually stood up.

And walked away from her mid-conversation.

The entire clubhouse erupted instantly.

“OH MY GOD,” Juice screamed.

“She got dumped in real time!”

Tig was choking laughing.

The blonde looked furious.

Meanwhile Jax crossed the room directly toward you like he was being physically pulled there.

You looked up as he stopped beside your chair.

“What’re you doing over here?”

You blinked innocently. “Sitting.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Chibs immediately got up. “Actually, I need another drink.”

“You just got one.”

“Aye. Tragic.”

He disappeared before either of you could stop him.

Leaving only one chair.

Yours.

Jax looked at it.

Then at you.

Then finally said, quieter this time:

“C’mere.”

Your heart stumbled.

“You have a seat.”

“Don’t want it.”

The room had gone suspiciously attentive again.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Jax—”

“Baby,” he interrupted softly, “get over here.”

The endearment hit like a gunshot.

Dead silence filled the clubhouse.

Happy actually looked up from his knife.

Your face burned instantly.

Jax seemed to realize what he’d said about half a second too late.

But instead of taking it back—

His expression just softened.

You stood slowly.

Walked toward him slowly.

And the second you settled onto his lap again, his arms wrapped around your waist so tightly it almost felt desperate.

Like he’d been off-balance the entire three minutes you were gone.

The boys lost their minds.

“There they are!”

“Nature is healing!”

“Took Romeo long enough!”

“Somebody kiss somebody already,” Tig shouted.

You buried your burning face against Jax’s shoulder immediately while he laughed quietly into your hair.

But his grip on you never loosened.

Not once.

And later that night, long after the music died down and most of the clubhouse stumbled home drunk, you were still curled in Jax’s lap when he finally tilted your chin upward gently.

“You jealous?”

You opened your mouth immediately. “No.”

His grin widened.

“Liar.”

“She was hanging all over you.”

“She was,” he agreed.

Your stomach twisted again.

Then he brushed his thumb softly along your jaw.

“But I spent the whole time waitin’ for you to come back.”

The air disappeared from your lungs.

Jax’s eyes searched yours carefully.

“You know why?”

You shook your head slightly.

“Because every place else feels wrong now.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

And judging by the way he looked at you after saying it?

His might’ve too.

When he kissed you, finally, the entire world seemed to settle into place around it.

Soft at first.

Careful.

Like both of you were realizing this had been inevitable for a very long time.

Then your fingers slid into his hair and he made this low sound against your mouth that nearly melted you alive.

Somewhere across the clubhouse, Tig yelled:

“FUCKIN’ FINALLY!”

Neither of you even looked up.

You didn't mind being used, not by him, the way his ringed fingers felt on your skin and his lips left their mark on you made it anything but cheap, and you couldn't imagine ever denying him wanting you.

It was usually planned, meeting each other day or night at what usually felt like the snap of his fingers, but even if it was unexpected or last minute, you were always prepared.

Prepared, safe, and right now this was anything but.

He showed up unannounced, the roar of his bike vibrating the blood in your veins that instantly burned hot the moment you heard the familiar rumble, watching through your window as he stormed up to your door and busted right in as if it was his to do so.

Jax was feral, someone or something getting under his skin that was more than likely a result of club business that you had no business asking about, and now he was your problem.

“Fuck, darlin’, I need you,” he hissed against your neck, his teeth scraping over your thrumming pulse.

You cursed yourself for not having gone to the store when you intended to, knowing you and him had used the last condom you had only two days ago, and you swallowed hard as you readied yourself to break the news to him.

“I um, fuck– I don’t have anything,” you breathed, angling your head slightly to see his face.

The disappointment and hint of annoyance couldn’t be disguised on his features, a huff blowing out of his pink lips that were glistening from yours.

“Do you?” you hoped, your fingers gently sliding down the soft leather that covered his heaving chest.

The lift of his eyebrows creased his forehead as he gave you a look that said ‘you’re kidding’ more than speaking the words could, and when he smirked and shook his head slightly, you ached even more for him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hating that you were letting him down and denying him the one thing he clearly needed.

You could feel his energy coiled up so tightly, practically buzzing through the layers of clothes he wore beneath his kutte, his body heat radiating onto your palms, and his eyes flashed with a hunger and primal need that ran deeper than just letting off some steam.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” he assured, his tone lighter than you expected. “We can just hang out.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, his thumb reaching up to press against your lower one before leaning in for more, his moan pouring into your mouth that made your knees go weak.

You should've known it was bullshit the second he said it, because the next thing you knew you were naked, sprawled out on your bed where he hovered over you still fully clothed, his fingers hooked inside you where he worked you with expertise.

“Remember my rule, sweetheart,” he drawled, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard, your effect on him undisguisable.

When you didn't answer, Jax retreated from you, standing upright where he peered down at you with a cockiness that you loved seeing, and peeled his kutte off his large frame.

You whined, the loss of him touching you turning you pathetic, and he reveled in it.

“What's my rule?” he demanded, his words holding more bite.

“Not to come until you let me,” you breathed, smiling as you warmed at the thought.

“Good girl.”

You watched as he continued to undress, his simple nod at you giving you the go ahead to touch yourself while he did, your promise to listen to his instructions about to be ignored when the sight of his cock bouncing out of his pristinely white boxers had you wrecked already.

Wearing nothing but his rings and the branded black ink that made him who he was as much as blood and breath did, he crawled over you, his eyes holding a softness you mistook as a promise.

“I just wanna feel you against me,” he whispered, his hand smoothing over your head before capturing your lips.

The truth in that remark was severely understated, the desperation both of you showed in being as close as possible to each other without fucking unlike ever before, and you knew part of the thrill of it all was in holding back.

You’d rarely seen him like this, obsessive and indulgent, completely undone as he laid on top of you, his hair hanging in his face as he made what seemed like every part of you from your lips to your chest raw from his beard.

His cock rested against you, tempting to push through, the threat of him being bare inside your cunt an allurement like no other.

You moved your hips, taunting and teasing, making his cock glide through your wetness so much that he almost slipped inside.

He growled something that resembled a curse against the hollow of your neck, pulling himself back just enough to look down at you, his eyes reflecting the torment that plagued him.

“You’re making this fuckin’ impossible, darlin’,” he warned, flopping himself down on the mattress with a huff.

You smiled, amused by his misery brought on by you, and moved to straddle him, your hands planted on his thick chest.

You had never felt more powerful, watching as you dissolved him down to a groping, deprived mess, the satisfaction in denying him what he wanted from you giving you radiance.

Your King, brought down by the sins of your body, bent around your will so effortlessly he turned into nothing but a man under your touch. But lingering just beneath the surface you knew better than to trust this confidence.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked playfully, grinding yourself on his throbbing length until he hissed and dug his head down into the pillow.

“Fuck…” he moaned, grabbing your hips so hard there would be bruises and bucking up against you. “You’re killin’ me.”

You leaned forward, your hands cupping his cheeks as you kissed him, rolling your tongue with his as you rode on his shaft.

His hands moved to your ass, gripping your flesh and spreading your cheeks apart as you continued to use him, the feel of him rubbing through you but not pushing inside almost as good as if he was.

With a slight shift of his hips, his leaking head pressed into you, making you gasp and jolt away like you were burned, his amusement clear on his face.

He bit his bottom lip, looking at you with warning before he spoke.

“You better be careful or you’re gonna get fucked.”

His threat made you shiver, heat crawling down your spine where it coiled deep in your core, and unable to think of a way to respond, you kissed him again, hard and needy while you continued to tease yourself on him.

The thought of him filling you with nothing but himself had you aching more than ever, nothing separating you from him, the intimacy in that danger turning it into something you suddenly wanted more than anything in the world.

You’d let him have it all if he wanted, feeling like you were dangling yourself right in front of him like a sacrifice, but Jax seemed to be loving the game just as much.

He moved his hips at the same time you rolled yours back, his hands locking on you to force you still the second his tip breached your entrance, the cruelness in his laugh reverberating through you as he kept your mouths pressed together.

You fought to lift yourself off, your cunt aching and dripping from that small stretch, wanting to fully sink down onto him and never remove yourself.

Your hands clawed at the side of his face, moaning into him as you deepened your kiss, still rocking along him where every so often he would slip inside, his body instinctively finding where it belonged in yours.

“Jax…” you whined, completely stupid from lust and desperation, your inhibitions shattering the longer this went on.

Again, and only the tip, Jax pressed inside your hole, a low groan coming out of him while a smug smile played on his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said like a joke, letting you pull off of him before he drove in, further this time.

You closed your eyes and sat upright, lifting off of him again, grinding on the golden smattering of pubes that trailed from his navel to where he had been made sticky from you, pretending like you were trying to rescue that last bit of resolve even though you both knew it was futile.

There was no use in denying yourselves any longer, throwing caution out the window as you finally let yourself sit fully on it, his size always a shock, but the feel of him raw inside you was what had you gasping.

Your nails dug into his chest, the half-moon indents carved into his porcelain skin to be seen for days, and you hoped the memory of being buried bare inside you would stay imprinted in his mind for longer.

Jax immediately started thrusting up into you, his pleasured sounds unashamed as he grunted and moaned loudly, his praise something you would wear as proudly as a crown.

“Jesus Christ, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he huffed, propping himself up off the bed enough to watch you move up and down on his naked cock, already knowing from the second he had you like this that he was fucked.

You basked in his worship, his gaze and his words enhancing the feeling of every detail of him being imprinted in you, his veins throbbing against your walls, his velvety skin encased in your warmth.

“Lay down,” he ordered, despite already making quick work of doing it for you, and the second you were splayed out in the sheets, he grabbed your body and flipped you onto your stomach.

Immediately sensing your loss of control in the situation, you turned your face and spoke, your words sounding more panicked than you wanted.

“Make sure you pull out, Jax.”

A wicked smile tugged at his lips, his head giving a cockier than usual nod as he shuffled in behind you on his knees, getting close enough that his cock was wedged between your cheeks.

“Don't worry, darlin’. I will,” he spoke after a huff of a laugh blew past his lips, the malice in his voice dripping off his tongue.

His hand that held the two rings that spelled out SONS spread your ass apart as he lined up, driving his cock in slowly, watching your body accept every inch of his girth and length.

Gritting his teeth together tightly, he bottomed out, loving the way your face screwed up almost in pain and your hands clawed at the bedding, your body shifting away from him as if you could escape.

He let out a cruel laugh, pulling your hips back down on him, his hands staying there to keep you on his dick.

Jax’s pace was deliberate and harsh, thrusting into you like a man possessed, everything that was pent up finally being released as he fucked you with everything he had.

He loved watching you take him on any other occasion, but seeing his unsheathed cock pumping in and out of you brought on a level of insanity he couldn’t compare to anything else. The sight of your cream coating him made his mouth water, and he knew for sure this was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on, watching your pussy stretch to fit him while your other hole gleamed with your arousal.

Jax licked his thumb and brought it down to press against your ass, rimming it in tantalizing circles as he continued to fuck you ruthlessly, a satisfied laugh ringing out as you whined to this additional pleasure.

“Fuck, Jax,” you cried, squirming more in the sheets. “I’m getting close.”

He relished in knowing what he was doing to you, his head tipping back so his blushed face titled toward the ceiling, his hips continuing to pound against you as his thumb pressed in further.

“Fuck, baby,” he chuckled, “this pussy is the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

You heard the truth in his words, his praise making you soar and reminding you once again of your reign over him, the King, your rightful place at the throne beside him despite being at his total mercy.

You were teetering the line, feeling closer to the edge than ever and you knew if he kept up what he was doing or your thoughts worked to aid your body in getting what it needed, you would be done.

The absence of the smell of latex was making the intoxicating scent of sex more heightened to the point your mouth watered, and remembering once again that he was fucking you raw, you came hard, clenching like a vice around his dick that continued to slam into you fast and brutally.

Your spit stained the sheets, feeling it smear from your open mouth as you struggled for air, your orgasm extended as long as possible by him not letting up even for a second.

Everything was soaked under you, the sound of his hips slapping against you wetter and more obscene than before, his grunting making a shiver crawl down your spine.

“This cunt is mine,” he barked, the words greedy and vicious through his bared teeth.

His hand pushed down between your shoulder blades, pressing you into the bed more, your face smushed into your mess as his other collected both of your wrists and planted them at the small of your back, his rough grip making you wince.

There was no escaping his barrage now even if you wanted to, lifting your hips up as much as you could to give him more which allowed him to fuck you deeper, and he happily took the opportunity.

You knew he wouldn’t be far off from his climax, the thought of him waiting to the last second to pull out and wondering where he was going to aim his load making you shudder, and when he removed his hand from the center of your back and wrapped it around to your clit, you lost all control again.

You would've blacked out had you not wanted to feel every single second of it, crying out a broken scream ripped from you out of pure pleasure, the sound of Jax hammering into you to find his own release distant in your ears.

There was no way he was pulling out. Not with you like this, completely powerless to him and what he could give you. Part of him knew it was wrong but he didn’t fucking care, the grasp that greed had on him too strong to fight anymore.

He looked at you through blurred vision, hazy in his ecstasy, adoring how soft and accepting your body looked even as he treated you so disrespectfully, his heart aching in his chest as all of him succumbed to what it sought.

A slew of broken curses and guttural sounds spilled from his mouth, his hair hanging in his face as sweat dripped off his nose and landed on your back, his cock pulsing as he shot his big load deep inside your cunt.

Jax stayed there as long as he could as you both came down, loving the feel of being buried inside your full pussy, a smirk tugging at his lips as he waited for you to notice.

You whined as you shifted slightly, feeling the unmistakable warmth and thickness leaking out of you, realizing in a mix of fear and something else you couldn't place what he had done.

“Jesus, Jax,” you blurted, but even you were unsure whether you were upset or satisfied, your stomach doing a flip out of both anxiety and excitement.

Pulling out of you, he watched with pride as his milky white cum spilled out of your perfect pussy, your hole stretched and lips swollen from his cock and everything he had done to you.

The distinct smell of his cum hit you as you inhaled deeply, and you closed your eyes and took a second to savour the moment, basking in his act of possession, his selfishness quietly excused.

You rolled over, glaring at him with as much conviction as you could manage, though the way he was looking at you forced you to bite your lip to stop from smiling, and it took everything in you to disguise how much you really loved this.

“Well, what did I say?” he quipped, his expression as smug as his words, his head tilting to the side with amusement.

You sighed, about to retort when you were cut off, your witty words stolen as Jax’s two fingers swiped up his wasted load and pushed it back inside you.

You moaned and grabbed at the sheets beside you, closing your eyes as you relished in the feel of him fingering his seed in deeper, his blatant want for it to stay in you leaving no doubt of his claim over you.

“Good girl,” he drawled roughly, his cock already hard again from how accepting you were of this, the need he felt to keep you full of his cum at all times almost unbearable.

He positioned himself between your spread legs, forcing his cock back in your pussy with a hard push, watching a deranged smile dress your gorgeous lips.

“You’re dreamin’ if you think this is the last time I’m filling you up.”

---

Taglist:

@dailydragon08 @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @maggotzombie

@rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02

@daryldixonpls @puffins-muffins @primadonnasdream @glxsyy-itza396 @appalachiancowboy99

@mani-pedro @cindsvibes @aria725 @wittyogredemon

The circulation desk sat in the center of the second floor, and every row of bookshelves looked as if they were placed intentionally to herd patrons towards the circular counter that probably hadn’t changed much since the seventies. Raising the mug to your lips, you took a sip as you stepped around the opening and made your way behind the large desk. A long, slow morning stretched ahead of you now, and you’d certainly need the caffeine to help you survive until noon when things briefly picked up.

Lowering yourself into your chair with a contented sigh, you placed your mug onto the desk before leaning forward, reaching a hand down beneath the counter where you stored a few of your personal items during the day. You grabbed the thick paperback book you’d brought with you from its place beside your purple water bottle before sitting back more comfortably in your chair.

There was always a lull on weekday mornings on the second floor of the library. Most of Charming’s citizens were at work right now, and usually the elderly patrons who trickled in either for your company or to find something to read came closer to lunch time. It was the main floor of the library that stayed busy in the mornings because that was where the children's section was located. On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, the aging Mrs. Walters hosted a storytime for toddlers, which you could hear just about to begin on the floor below. The muted noise of Charming’s stay at home mothers trying to wrangle their young kids onto the rug to sit steadily became background noise as you focused your attention on the book in your hands.

Charming Public Library wasn’t a very big library since the city itself didn’t boast a large population. Only the two floors made up the building, which meant there was only so much work to accomplish on a normal weekday. Because of that, you often were left with periods of time throughout your shifts in which you had nothing to do but read. Not that you minded because you were getting paid to enjoy your hobby.

Opening your book to where you'd left off, you plucked the bookmark out from between the pages before setting it down on the counter beside your coffee cup. Resting your elbows along the worn armrest of your chair, you held the book eagerly in front of yourself as your eyes quickly found the place where you’d left off in the series you’d been reading. Which just so happened to be right in the middle of a very steamy sequence of smut that you'd been wanting to get back to. 

It wasn't long before you were engrossed within the story. With the book held up between your hands, you'd grown so unaware of your surroundings that you hadn’t caught the sound of heavy footsteps as they'd ascended the stairs to the second floor of the library. Too focused on the intimate scene unfolding in your hands, you hadn’t realized that someone else had joined you at the circulation desk. It wasn’t until they spoke and scared the absolute hell out of you that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Voyager?” a deep voice drawled out curiously.

You startled in your chair at the title of your book being read aloud, your heart giving a sharp jolt against your ribcage as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Still clutching the book in front of yourself, you couldn’t see who was there, but you’d heard the soft, amused chuckle that followed at your reaction.

“So is this what librarians actually do all day? Sit around readin’ smut?” he asked, intrigued. “‘Cause I think my mom must've missed her calling. She should've worked here instead.”

Taken entirely off guard by the patron and his comment, you abruptly lowered the book from in front of your face and down towards your lap. If you hadn’t already felt heat creeping up your neck at being so brazenly called out like that, you were certainly feeling your face flame at the sight of one of the most unlikely library patrons standing on the opposite side of your desk.

Jax Teller was leaning casually against the circulation desk with his shaggy blonde hair hanging messily above his shoulders and a black baseball cap sitting on his head. He had a lazy grin drawn across his face, but his eyes were curiously scanning you over in return now that your face wasn't hidden by your book.  You doubted he recognized you, or that you'd ever catch the notorious playboy's eye for longer than a second. But that didn’t matter to you because you much preferred the idea of a man like James Fraser from the book you'd been reading–gallant, loyal, and gentlemanly. None of those things exactly described the man standing across from you, at least not when it came to how he interacted with women from everything you’d heard.

“It isn't smut,” you countered, trying to sound firm but not quite succeeding. You’d always been rather soft spoken, and that wasn’t about to change with a Son standing in front of you. “It's historical fiction with a romantic plot.”

Jax's smirk widened as he leaned further over the desk, moving close enough that you couldn’t help but become hyper-aware of his proximity. His fingers drummed lazily against the countertop as he stood there like this wasn't the first time he'd ever stepped foot in this library. He seemed rather unconvinced at your correction, though.

"Historical fiction, huh?" he repeated. He hummed a noise in the back of his throat as he gave a single, slow nod. “That’s cute, darlin'. I might not read much, but I can still see that that–" he pointed a finger at the book in your hands, “–is smut.”

His eyes flicked down pointedly to the cover of your book and your fingers curled along the pages. When you didn’t try to argue with him again, Jax’s gaze dragged painfully slowly back up to meet yours. The deliberateness in which he was cornering you with just his stare alone unsettled you in more ways than one. But you attempted to appear unbothered by him, trying to hide the way your hand trembled as you reached out and grabbed your bookmark from beside your coffee.

"So what’s this historical guy doin’ for you?” Jax asked, his tone mocking. “Readin' poetry by candlelight? Fightin' duels for some girl's honor? Ridin’ shirtless and sweaty on a horse?" 

Swallowing thickly as he continued to tease you, you attempted to maintain an air of composure where you sat behind the desk. But that was hard to do with your cheeks growing warm from embarrassment as you slipped the bookmark back into place inside of your book. You closed it carefully, taking a deep breath before you set it down on the counter. When you looked back up at him, wanting to try to figure out why Jax was even here, you caught the lopsided, amused grin still spread across his handsome face.

You knew far better than to melt under Jax Teller's charm. But you were currently and unfortunately finding out that you weren’t entirely immune to it, either. At least his teasing was helping to keep any attraction you felt for him in check.

“Is there something I can do for you?” you asked politely, trying to change the topic.

Amusement flickered behind his blue eyes as he stared down at where you sat behind the desk, his tongue gradually slipping out and running along the length of his lower lip. One corner of his mouth twitched higher when you shifted in your chair, as if he could tell that you were affected by him, but then he pushed himself back a bit so that he was no longer invading your personal space. His ringed hands rested on the counter beside your coffee mug and the book you'd been reading as he straightened up, the grin on his face fading marginally. 

Trying to avoid holding his gaze for too long, you glanced down at his hand beside your book, catching sight of the two rings that spelled out the word “Sons” on his fingers. Black grease stained his blunt nails, no doubt something he'd acquired from his time working at Teller-Morrow Automotive. The thought of Jax sweating out in the California heat in a garage, his shirtless form bent over the hood of a car, flashed through your mind before you could figure out why it’d even appeared. But you abruptly shoved it aside because that wasn't a thought you needed to have.

“Just need some information on a property lien, darlin’,” he answered. 

When he spoke, your attention snapped back to his face, but your lips pressed firmly together at the way his smile had grown back into something a bit smug. He'd clearly caught you checking out his hands from that simple, lingering look you’d given them. That only added to the way you'd begun to heat beneath your blouse, your chest feeling a bit tight from his attention.

“Gotta few minutes to help me with that?” he asked, quirking a blonde brow. “Or am I interrupting somethin’ with you and the redhead?”

He tipped his chin at the book beside his hand, and your own gaze followed to the cover of it. You'd intentionally bought the television show tie-in books because you enjoyed the view of the actor who played Jamie printed on all of the books, but Jax’s outright teasing was making you feel as if he'd just transported you back to being the awkward teenager you'd been in high school.

“I can look that up for you if have the information–”

Before you could finish your sentence, Jax had slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and fished something out of it. His fingers slid a slip of folded paper across the circulation desk towards you, and your eyes narrowed warily at it. You knew the Sons had a reputation in Charming–you'd lived here your whole life knowing they really weren't just a group of motorcycle enthusiasts. The last thing you wanted to do was be involved with something that wasn’t legal.

Extending a cautious hand, you reached over and took the paper he'd set down and carefully began unfolding it. Scanning the information written in black ink, you thought it seemed an innocent enough request. It was a basic search of information that existed within public records, and you figured there was no possibility that you were about to be caught up in something illegal yourself just by searching for it.

“It'll take me a few minutes to look this up,” you informed him.

He shifted his body against the opposite side of the desk so that he was facing you more fully, his forearms draped over the counter as if he belonged there. In response, you abruptly turned your chair away from him and towards your computer, beginning to pull up the database you'd need to search for the lien information. But you could feel his eyes lingering distractedly along your profile.

“Take all the time you need,” he replied easily. “I ain’t in a rush, sweetheart.”

A frown settled onto your face as you began keying in the information that Jax had provided you with. While you typed, Jax continued openly observing you, not being the slightest bit subtle in his staring. You felt self-conscious and a bit on edge to the point that you found yourself backspacing a few errors you'd accidentally typed in. It was difficult to concentrate with his mere presence distracting you just feet away, and it didn't help that you swore you could feel his eyes roaming over you and lingering in very distinct places.

A heavy silence had fallen between you both while you worked, one filled with a tension that felt like the ghost of his fingers trailing over your skin. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if this was just how women felt when they found themselves in Jax Teller’s orbit. As you continued to search the database, the only noise in the library came from the soft click of your fingers typing on your keyboard, and Mrs. Walters' animated voice coming muffled from downstairs as she read aloud to the group of toddlers that came every Tuesday morning. 

“I know you, don't I?” Jax asked, eventually shattering the silence on the second floor. “You look familiar, darlin’.”

Your fingers hesitated over your keyboard before you shot Jax a sidelong look. His expression had temporarily grown serious instead of playful, his eyes narrowing a fraction as he studied you even closer. Ignoring the flutter of your stomach at the intensity on his face, you returned your attention to the computer screen.

“We were in the same graduating class,” you answered quietly. “Before you, well…”

You trailed off as you continued to work, clearing your throat awkwardly. Jax and Opie had dropped out of school before their senior year, and neither of them had graduated in the end with your class. They'd become prospects for the Sons of Anarchy instead, focusing on their future within the club and not on an education. You'd always seen it as wasted potential, but you knew that wasn’t your business.

“Shit, that's right,” he said slowly, nodding his head as if it had just dawned on him. “I remember you. Always sat with those two other girls at lunch. Never talkin’, always reading, right?”

Your answer came in the form of a soft hum of acknowledgement as you kept your eyes on the computer screen. High school hadn't been the same experience for you as it had been for Jax. You'd focused on your studies and made sure never to break your curfew, and Jax was known to skip class, go to parties, and wind up with more in school suspension than you'd thought was humanly possible for one person to achieve without expulsion. 

“Guess that hasn't changed, huh?” he asked, the teasing tone returning.

With your attention fixed on the screen, you hadn’t noticed that Jax had grabbed the third installment from the Outlander series off of the circulation desk beside your coffee that was steadily growing cold. He'd flipped it open to the place where your bookmark sat, his eyes scanning over the page as a smirk gradually began to draw itself over his lips again.

"Now this is historical fiction, huh?" he questioned, his blonde brows rising onto his forehead. "Cause damn, darlin’. I had no idea you were into such scholarly pursuits." 

His tone was coated with teasing sarcasm as he kept scanning over the page, but his voice had broken through your concentration. Turning to look over your shoulder, you saw him standing there with your copy of Voyager in his hands, his eyes running over where you'd left off–the reunion sex scene at the brothel. Your mouth fell open as your eyes widened in absolute mortification.

You must have made some startled noise because Jax's smirk only grew before his eyes drifted over the top of the book with an agonizing casualness. His blue eyes were alight with mischief as he stood there shamelessly reading your book.

"Thought you said this wasn't smut,” Jax teased. “Cause I gotta say, sweetheart, this looks pretty naughty to me.”

Jax looked back down at the book in his hands as you sat in utter horror, embarrassment flooding you the more he kept reading. You couldn't even find your voice to tell him to stop being an asshole and put your book down, your mouth suddenly dry and your tongue as heavy as lead.

"You learnin’ anything useful from all this shit?” he asked. 

His brows furrowed as he continued reading over a particular passage in front of him, and you had a feeling you knew which one. Sitting there in silent embarrassment, you'd temporarily forgotten all about the lien you'd been researching on the database for him. Your mouth opened and closed a few times while you struggled to find the words to tell him off, and your face felt like it’d been set on fire.

When his eyes caught yours again, he seemed to notice your growing discomfort. Snapping the book shut with a loud thwack in his hands, he leaned forward and tossed it back onto the desk in front of you with ease. 

"Aww, I see," he said. He rested both of his hands on the countertop and leaned forward so that his face was level with yours. "Did I ruin your little fantasy session by stopping in here, darlin'? ‘Cause I didn’t mean to interrupt." 

His tone was filled with playful condescension as his eyes flicked pointedly at where your book had landed between you both on the counter. Your gaze followed his back down to the paperback as your fingers curled around the armrests of your chair. You were half tempted to pick up the heavy paperback and slap him across the face with it, but knowing better than to do that to someone–especially the Son's vice president–kept you still.

"Are you really out here gettin' worked up over an Irish guy who’s not even real?” Jax asked curiously.  

"He's Scottish, not Irish.” 

The second the correction was out of your mouth, your lips snapped shut. Why had you even just made that minor clarification to him? It didn't matter what nationality Jamie was, certainly not in the grand scheme of this entire conversation. The words had just slipped out of you as if you’d needed something to say to him.

Jax’s teasing just had you feeling so embarrassed in a way that you hadn't felt in years. You felt judged and exposed in front of a stranger, because that's what Jax was. You knew him less now than when you'd gone to school with him, and here he was teasing you because he'd interrupted a rather spicy part of the book you'd been reading.

“Look, I ain't judging ‘bout what you're into,” Jax continued as if he could hear your thoughts. He was still leaning over the circulation desk and looking far too comfortable there. “Not like the Sons don't co-own a porn studio. But I don't see the appeal in–” He tapped two fingers against the worn cover of your paperback next to him and made a face. “I mean it's just words on a page, how is that doin’ it for you? Or do you really like the redhead that much?”

“Don't think that's a question I am required to answer as part of my job description,” you replied, finding your voice and managing to add a little bite to your words. “If you want that information on the property lien, I'd appreciate it if you let me work.”

You snatched your book from off the counter and away from his reach, not wanting him to pick it up and start skimming through it some more. His hands shot up in the air in a placating gesture, but that smug smile remained spread over his lips between the scruffy blonde facial hair. You tossed the thick book back under the counter before turning and focusing on retrieving the information he'd come here for on your computer, a frustrated huff falling out of you.

“I assume you'd like a printed copy of that information?” you asked, not looking back at him.

"I can take the hint, sweetheart," he said, the smile slowly falling from his lips. "I'll back off your fictional man. But yeah, gimme a printed copy of that." 

He folded his arms over his chest, still lingering near the desk as he watched you push a few more keys on your computer. But just as you pushed the button to print, scooting your chair back so that you could get up and head to the room with the printers and copy machines nearby, Jax spoke again.

"You know, if you're lookin’ for something a little more hands on,” Jax began, his tone lowering to something that made goosebumps ripple across your forearms, “you could come by the clubhouse.”

A slow, flirtatious grin curled the corner of Jax's mouth as you stood there dumbfounded, hesitating beneath the weight of his stare. He took a moment to run his eyes over you again, this time appraising you from head to toe now that you'd finally stood up from your chair. His teeth caught his bottom lip as if he was fighting back saying something more before that dangerous and sultry gaze met yours again.

"Come out tonight," he practically demanded. “I promise I could show a girl like you more fun than you'd find in a book.”

Your pulse pounded like a drum in your throat, but you refused to let Jax Teller work his charm on you, especially not with how he'd just been relentlessly teasing you. Besides, you knew more than well enough to know that he did this with girls on a daily basis. By lunchtime he’d have probably moved on to someone else. 

“I'll go get your documents,” you said, side-stepping the offer.

Without another glance in his direction, you walked around the circulation desk and headed straight for the small room nearby. You could already hear the printer inside slowly churning out the few pages you'd sent to it, the outdated machine noisy and loud as it worked 

You were grateful that Jax didn't follow after you, giving you a minute to collect yourself without him staring at you and making more comments. As the printer chugged along, you grabbed the collar of your blouse and gave it a few sharp tugs in the hopes of cooling yourself down. There was the faintest bit of sweat beading along the back of your neck from Jax’s odd way of oscillating between teasing and flirting.

You hated to admit it, but Jax had an effect on you. He'd never once acknowledged you growing up or in the years since you'd returned to Charming after you'd graduated from college, but now that you'd really seen him up close all these years later, you couldn't deny that his offer wasn't tempting. Jax was incredibly attractive–hotter than the guys you generally went on awkward dates with–but you refused to be some story he told the guys in his club. So as attracted to him as you were, you weren't about to step a single toe into one of their clubhouse parties.

When his documents had finished printing, you picked them up and stacked them neatly together before leaving the small room. Heading back towards the main desk, you found Jax still standing there casually leaning against it with one arm, waiting for you like he really wasn't in a rush to leave. A large smile returned to his face when you reappeared, and there was something almost knowing in those blue eyes when they found yours, as if he knew you wanted to take him up on that offer.

“Here,” you said, extending the papers to him when you neared him. “Everything we have on record in the database for what you wanted.”

There was a brief moment where Jax just stood there staring at you, taking you in. You shifted awkwardly on your feet before he finally straightened up and reached his hand out, accepting the few pages from your own. He took a few seconds to flip through them, nodding to himself about something.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Have a good day, Mr. Teller,” you replied, a finality to your words.

Turning around, you made your way back behind the circulation desk and over to your chair. You had just begun to settle back down into your seat when Jax reappeared in your peripheral. He rested the newly printed stack of papers along the counter and leaned over it again, catching your eye. 

“You sure you don't wanna come out tonight?” he asked, tilting his head curiously to the side. “I'd personally make sure you had a good time.”

It was obvious what Jax was implying, and your tongue nervously darted out to wet your lips at the thought. But there was absolutely no way you would ever find yourself at a Sons’ party. Ever.

“I don't think I'm the type you'd find there,” you diplomatically declined.

Jax pushed back from the counter slowly, his grin faltering briefly. His eyes dipped down towards where your book sat beneath the counter next to your water bottle, the slightest scowl flashing across his face before it disappeared.

“Then I guess I'll just be seein’ you around Charming,” he said.

The words sounded like a promise, one that simultaneously sent a wave of confusion and heat through you. His left eye closed in a flirtatious wink before he lightly tapped the desk with a few fingers. He turned around and began swaggering his way through the second floor of Charming Public Library looking exceptionally out of place in his leather kutte. You hadn't realized you'd been staring at him until he stopped just at the top of the stairs and looked over his shoulder back at you, one hand resting on the railing. 

“Enjoy your book, darlin’,” he called out to you. “But I guarantee it's not that satisfying.”

Jax disappeared down the steps without another word, presumably headed back out into Charming to most likely get involved with things you certainly wanted no part in. Shaking your head in an attempt to shake that whole unexpected encounter from your mind, you tried to snap yourself out of the oddity of that conversation. 

You leaned over and retrieved your book again from beneath the counter and tried to settle in for the boring morning lull. But as the morning continued to drag on, you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a hard time focusing on the story now. Your mind kept picturing blonde hair instead of red, and leather kuttes instead of tartan kilts.