#sin starter

@etherealxsinfulxmuses:

“You think you’re in control? Aw. How cute!” (Reversed for Jax)

Jax’s grin curved, lazy and dangerous, cutting through the space between them like a spark looking for kindling. “You think you’re in control?” he murmured, his words low enough to vibrate against the air. “Aw. How cute.” 

He didn’t move at first; he just watched. The kind of watching that weighed heavy. Deliberate, assessing, the predator’s patience before the pounce. Then, slow as a drawl and twice as sharp, he stepped closer. One boot scuffed the floor; one hand lifted, hovering near the wall beside her but never touching.

It wasn’t closeness, it was challenge. A question with teeth.

His breath ghosted the space between them, laced with smoke and something sweet- whiskey maybe, or danger dressed up like charm. “Go on then,” he said, voice roughened by the scrape of a smirk. “Show me how that works out for you.” 

He tilted his head slightly, eyes catching the light in a way that made them near-feral. No promises in his tone, no demands either- just the kind of dare that made the air hum. The room seemed to shrink around them. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, its hum just loud enough to underline the silence that followed his words.

Jax didn’t touch her. Didn’t have to. Every breath he took made the air a little heavier. He stood there, close enough that the smell of leather and gasoline threaded through the air like a promise. His gaze flicked down for half a second, deliberate, calculated, before finding its way back to her eyes, daring her to flinch. 

A ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth, rough-edged and knowing. “What’s the matter?” he asked quietly, voice sandpaper-soft. “Cat got your confidence?” He shifted his weight, the chain on his belt clinking against denim, the faintest brush of sound that carried through the tension like a match being struck.

“Don’t worry,” he went on, lower now, almost kind. “You’ll learn. Control ain’t about talkin’. It’s about what happens when everything stops listenin’.” 

Still, he didn’t reach for her. He left that thread stretched tight between them, the kind that could either snap or pull them both in if she chose to move first. The world outside seemed to drop away until there was nothing left but breath and distance. The faint hum of neon from outside leaked through the blinds, striping Jax’s face in gold and shadow. He didn’t break eye contact. Didn’t need to. The silence did more than words ever could.

He shifted just enough to change the air between them. The movement was lazy, deliberate- like he was testing gravity, like he wanted to see how long the thread would hold before one of them snapped. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Funny thing about control,” he murmured, tone low and husky now, less taunt and more confession. “Everybody thinks they got it… right up until it’s gone.” 

The grin that followed wasn’t sweet; it was a storm rolling over the horizon, dangerous in how calm it looked. He leaned in, just enough for his breath to touch the space by her ear, not quite a whisper, not quite a warning. “Now,” he said, his voice dropping rough as gravel, “show me who’s really steering this.” 

And then he stilled again, the air thick with tension, with possibility, leaving the decision hanging right there between them.

The clock on the wall ticked once. Then again. Each second landed like the swing of a pendulum between them.

Jax didn’t move closer this time, but the stillness had weight. It filled the room, pressed against the ribs. Every inhale seemed to pull the air tighter, draw the edges of the moment thinner. 

The sound of leather flexing under his grip as his hand curled into a fist was soft, almost lost under the hum of the fan. His voice wasn’t. “Gotta say,” he muttered, eyes fixed, “you hold your ground better than most.”

There was no smirk now, just something rawer hiding behind the glint, curiosity, maybe even admiration, though he’d never admit it out loud. The light caught on the faint scar that ran along his jaw, a reminder of how close he always lived to the line.

He let his hand fall open again, the tension bleeding out, his knuckles grazing the wall as he exhaled. Absolutely certain that whatever happened next would change the air between them for good. 

And then…silence.  Only heartbeat and heat. 

Jax’s heart raced as he held Charlotte’s gaze, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. He could feel the heat radiating between them, a charged current that pulled him closer, even as he maintained that careful distance. Every shift of his body was deliberate, a dance of dominance that he relished. He reveled in the control he wielded, the way her breath hitched in the silence that stretched between them. 

Her challenge only fueled his desire; he was a moth drawn to the flame of her defiance. That grin of his, lazy and dangerous, was a weapon, a promise of the thrill that lay just beneath the surface. Jax leaned in a fraction more, relishing the way the tension coiled around them like a predator’s embrace. His breath whispered against her ear, a teasing caress that lingered, inviting her into his world of chaos. 

He could practically taste the electricity in the air, the thrill of the unknown hanging between them. With each heartbeat, he felt the boundaries blur, the anticipation thickening as he gauged her reaction. The temptation to reach out and pull her closer was tantalizing, but he held back, allowing the moment to teeter on the edge of breaking. It was a game, and he was more than willing to play. 

When he murmured about control, his tone dripped with a husky allure, laced with the promise of what could be. He was fully aware of the rawness in his expression, that flicker of curiosity igniting something deeper within him. The scar along his jaw was a reminder of the dangers he embraced, and he savored the thrill of drawing her into that world. A world where rules were mere suggestions, and the line between safety and recklessness blurred. 

“Your move,” he said, his voice low and rough, knowing full well the power of those words. He was confident that whatever happened next would cement an unbreakable bond between them. The weight of silence wrapped around them, heavy and electric, and he could feel the promise of heat and heartbeat as they hovered on the brink of discovery. 

@mxrvelouscreations liked for a starter from Joel -> Leigh

Joel's chest heaved, his breath ragged as he stared at her, his pulse throbbing in his throat. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, a mixture of anticipation and tension electrifying the air between them. The rain pounded against the window, a relentless backdrop to the tempest of emotions brewing inside him. But it was nothing compared to the sound of her breath. 

Steady, inviting, like a siren calling him closer. 

He felt that primal urge clawing at his insides, a desperate need demanding to be let out.

Fuck, he thought. You’re gonna ruin her, Miller.

The thought was distant, quickly drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. He wasn’t made for gentle; he was built for something raw and urgent. And goddamn it, he craved it. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, shaking with the effort of holding back the storm raging within him.

Something inside him snapped. A quiet surrender. A loud crack. His boots scraped the floor as he stalked toward her, each step slow and deliberate, a promise of what was to come. The air around her was thick, heavy with anticipation, as if the world had narrowed down to this single moment in time.

He reached up, not gently but with a kind of primal purpose, his calloused fingers wrapping around her wrists and guiding them above her head. He pinned them there with one hand, his grip firm but not brutal, waiting for any sign of resistance.

None came. Instead, he felt her body responding to him, an unspoken invitation in her eyes. His other hand trailed down her side, rough and demanding. He felt every curve, every inch of her smooth skin, igniting a fire inside him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, a promise and a challenge all at once. “You like being at my mercy.”

He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck, and he could feel her pulse quicken beneath his lips as he murmured, “Good girl.” The words hung in the air, charged with a sense of ownership and desire.

His free hand found her throat, wrapping around it lightly but firmly, squeezing just enough to send a thrill of exhilaration through them both. He began to grind against her body in a rhythm that matched his heartbeat, a slow build meant to tease, to prepare her for what was to come. 

"Oh, my sincere apologies. I just really need a rest. I've been walking around in these for a long time now, after spending most of my free time away from work with friends. You don't mind if I prop my legs up, do you?"