pairing: jax teller x fem!oc (emery hatch)
summary: jax and emery have been on the run for a long time, but after everything that happened, they can't hide their feelings anymore. A forgotten motel, one room and a single bed is all it takes for their restraint to snap.
warnings: MDNI, nsfw, fingering, p in v, use of pet names (baby), praise kink (good girl), emotional sex, nipple play, oc is needy, orgasms, first person pov, jax is kinda dom
time and place: somewhere in Texas
to read jax and em's full story, check out my wattpad
author's note: if you see spelling errors or something, no you didn't
When the light flicks on, I take in the setup.
A bathroom with a bathtub.
Jax rubs the back of his neck as he stares at the rough sheets, tired from the long drive.
His steps are heavy and slow as he crosses the room to set the key down on the nightstand.
And yet, when he turns to me, there's no sign of exhaustion on his face.
Only the spark of a restless body.
Our eyes meet in the dim light, the air between us thick like honey, but neither of us moves.
I feel the warmth turning into scorching fire, and it excites me and scares me in equal measure.
The awareness of him hits me all of a sudden.
The dust from the road still on his shirt, the faint smell of leather and smoke clinging to him.
The unmistakable promise in his eyes.
My pulse stutters, sending spikes of electricity down my spine.
"I need some air," I say quickly.
Before he can answer, I turn and step back out into the night.
My hands find the railing as I inhale a deep breath and try to regain control of myself.
The motel parking lot down below is quiet.
The cool air fills my lungs as I turn and rest my lower back against the railing, letting the cold metal seep into my skin.
My heart is beating too fast.
I rub a hand at the center of my chest and turn again, giving my back to the room as I try to calm down.
When the door creaks open, I don't turn around.
I simply listen to Jax's steps scrape softly against the concrete as he steps out.
His voice is quieter now.
I close my eyes for a brief second and turn to face him, nodding too insistently.
"Yeah," I say, not meeting his stare.
"Just thinking," I brush it off.
He doesn't say anything back, doesn't push...and it's almost worse.
If only he wasn't so perceptive.
Maybe then I wouldn't have to act unaffected all the time.
Finally I glance back at him.
He's leaning his side against the railing, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes fixed on me like he's trying to read a language he doesn't quite understand.
"You look like you're about to bolt," he acknowledges.
I chuckle, but it comes out wrong.
I can't help but let the corners of my mouth lift faintly.
"You chasing me if I do?" I joke.
Something flickers across his face, but it's not humor.
I go still under his scrutiny as the determination in his voice seeps through my cracks like water.
I break eye contact before I can drown in it.
Running a hand through my hair, I turn away from him once again, staring at the rows of rooms and tiny windows.
The lights coming from the highway move like fireflies in the distance.
I straighten my back and look over my shoulder, meeting Jax's eyes.
The Jax I know wouldn't hesitate so much.
He wouldn't care about a girl's feelings to the point of doubting himself.
Of all the times he could have been a dick, he chose the worst situation possible to be chivalrous.
"Emery—" he murmurs gently, and my name on his lips cuts the last string pulling me together.
Out of anger and want and need, I reach out and grab the front of his T-shirt before he can finish.
Arms winding around his neck, my lips meet with his in pure urgency.
He grunts, surprised for a second, but when his hands shoot around my waist, pulling me impossibly close, he's in this with me.
The world narrows down to the press of our bodies, the rapid thrum of my heart, and the harsh buzz of the motel light overhead.
The kiss is violent in the best way.
Hungry. Reckless. Desperate.
"Em—" he groans against my lips, his voice rough and ragged.
The fire between us, all the frustration, all the nights of tension—every moment we've tried to pretend this could fade—crashes into one explosion.
His fingers dig into my hips, tilting me slightly as I press myself harder against him.
My hands fumble up to his hair, tangling, holding, never letting go.
His touch is feverish, eager in a way I didn't know could be possible.
He returns the kiss just as hungrily, his rough hands moving frantically up and down my body, traveling from my hips to my chest then up into my hair.
Everything in me hums alive, and the overwhelming wave of desire hitting me crackles through the air like static.
All those times I've watched him from afar.
And all those times in the last few weeks when I've wanted to surrender.
Even if it might damn the both of us.
When we finally break apart, gasping, our foreheads pressed together, there's no calm in our breathing—just the echo of our kiss.
He swallows hard, voice low and hoarse when he asks me, "are you sur-" but I don't let him finish.
"I'm done waiting," I rush out, my fingers moving to his collar and gripping the fabric of his t-shirt, his scent clouding my senses.
I try to look up at him, show him that I've never meant anything more in my life, but he nuzzles his nose into the side of my neck, hiding from me.
The flutter of his eyelashes closing caresses my skin when he dips his head lower, burrowing into my collarbone as he releases a shattered breath.
For a moment, the pressure of his thumbs on my hips becomes almost painful.
He holds me so tight his rings dig in my skin where my top rides up, leaving marks.
"I'm done," I repeat breathlessly when he goes still against me.
It takes him only a second to pull away from my neck and find my gaze.
Resolve darkens his eyes as he nods vehemently, as if he'd spoken those words himself.
His hands find the small of my back as he presses me flush against him, and in one swift motion he hooks his arm around my waist and lifts me up from the floor, my converse hovering above the concrete as he walks with me.
My fingers meet behind his head as we stumble back toward the motel room.
Our lips meet with fervor again, and when he bites my lower lip before deepening the kiss it sends shots of pure bliss through my entire body.
I hear him push the door open with his back and kick it shut with his foot.
The sharp thud is followed by another one when he pins me against the doorframe.
He swallows the entire room with his presence.
Finally, the restraint is gone.
With my lips glistening, burning against his, I break the kiss to catch my breath and press my forehead against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath his t-shirt.
It drums against his ribs like the wings of a hummingbird, and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
Whatever this is, it clawed its way inside him too.
Except this time, it isn't about fear or want.
He tilts his head down, and he lets his lips brush mine again when I look up at him in the dark room—slower this time, almost tasting, almost memorizing.
"God," he mutters, voice low and ragged in the quiet.
I feel him through his jeans when he moves closer to kiss me again, and the peaks of my nipples harden against his chest, a moan leaving my lips before I can stop it.
That single sound is enough to send him over the edge.
Before I can realize it, he grabs one of my thighs and hooks it on his hip, pushing himself harder against my arousal.
His blue eyes pour hot desire into me as his other hand circles around me and rests on my stomach.
Slowly, fingers barely grazing me, his hand travels down.
When it stops just above the center of my pleasure, he cups it and applies the faintest pressure against my shorts.
A satisfied smile blooms on his face when I arch my back into his palm, searching for more.
He doesn't look down at my shorts—his eyes stay on me, watching every reaction.
I rest my head against the door, trying to see through the fog.
A rush of eagerness ripples through my body and my hands leave his shoulders and fly straight to his jeans.
I try to unbuckle his belt, but he catches my wrists and pins both of them above my head, holding them in one firm grip.
"Slow down," he says, voice low as he presses his thumb harder over the denim, exactly where my clit is.
When he sees my jaw clenching in protest, he leaves my wrists to hold the side of my neck, gently stroking the hot skin with his fingers.
"I want to enjoy you," he murmurs before kissing me again.
I lose myself in that moment, unable to put up a fight, and when I feel him slowly unbuttoning my shorts, I release a sharp breath of anticipation.
"Lift your arms for me," he tells me, and I do so in a daze, my heartbeat drumming in my throat as he slowly peels the cami top off me.
It falls on the floor a second before my shorts do.
Left in only my bra and panties, I stand with my back against the door, standing completely still under his scrutiny, eyes wide with desire.
"So beautiful," he whispers, planting a kiss on my neck as he fists my hair so hard it hurts.
The mix of tenderness and roughness is intoxicating, and I instinctively wrap my arms around him as he paints a trail of hot kisses on the sensitive skin, his tongue occasionally sweeping over the delicate parts.
My legs instinctively curl around his waist, and with his mouth still on my neck, he rolls his hips into me, stealing a gasp from me.
His hardness is evident, pressing against his jeans, and he groans when he pulls back from my neck and sees me looking at it with wide eyes.
I lick my lips, my mind filling with sinful thoughts as he grinds again, the friction between my panties and the coarse denim coaxing a wave of pleasure out of me.
He tortures the side of my neck with his tongue, his head dipping low to tease the skin just above my bra as he brushes a thumb over one nipple, enjoying the firm tip under his fingertip.
I imagine it in his mouth, and the thought soaks my folds, already desperate for him.
Reading my reactions, he squeezes my thighs in a choking grip and lifts me up again, carrying me with him toward the bed.
The light covers us both for a moment as we move through a slash of warmth slipping in through the curtain, and it disappears when he stops at the edge of the bed.
Jax doesn't let me go, carelessly dropping me on the mattress.
He slowly lowers himself with me until my back meets the cool sheets.
I sneak my hands under his t-shirt, my palms finding scars and hard, warm muscles, and the fabric disappears in a swift motion.
I enjoy the sight of him in quiet admiration, and something in my expression must betray me, because he gives me one of his grins and tilts his head, coasting his gaze from the lace of my bra to the hem of my black panties with a glint of mischief shining in his eyes.
There's something devilish about him in this moment that makes me want to bend at his will.
To do as he says the instant he demands it.
When he licks his lips, my imagination recalls the feeling of his tongue on my neck, and a pulsating need makes me clench my thighs together, searching for friction.
He grabs my leg and shoves it aside, a storm brewing behind his eyes as he shakes his head in reprimand.
In response, I open my legs even wider, inviting him to take whatever he wants to take.
He lowers himself, one elbow next to my head as his knuckles graze the line of my belly.
"Good girl," he praises as the hand moves down my stomach and slows when it finds my panties.
I follow it with my eyes and stare at the cuts on his knuckles.
The same knuckles that drove into a man's guts, that broke ribs and dislocated jaws just days ago, now glide over my soft skin with the gentlest touch.
He doesn't kiss me, but his lips hover above mine when his fingers push the lace to the side and meet my tender flesh.
I gasp at the contact and he grins in satisfaction.
When he pulls back and his gaze finds me again, it feels delicate and ferocious at the same time as he spreads me open with his fingers.
I try to meet his fingertips with my hips, to chase the sensation, and that's when two of his fingers slowly dip inside of me.
A gasp tears from my lips at the sudden heat and stretch.
I buck against him on instinct, my nails digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders as he starts moving, slow and deliberate, his fingers slick and warm as they explore me.
The drag of each movement makes my breath catch.
The rhythm is agonizing—deep, unhurried, like he's mapping me out piece by piece.
When his thumb finds my aching clit again, pressing, circling, the pressure just right, I lose all sense of control.
I moan against his lips, and his grin widens slightly as he feels me unravel beneath him.
"Look at you, Em," he murmurs, voice low, rough, almost disbelieving.
I wish I could try to understand what he means by that, but I'm too deep in the pleasure to reason.
His fingers curl inside me, and I cry out, the sensation sharp and overwhelming as my hips chase him, desperate, needy.
The motel air feels thick, heavy against my skin as heat coils tighter and tighter in my core.
Just when I think this couldn't feel any better, he changes speed, and the blissful high of those slow caresses becomes unrelenting.
He pumps his fingers inside of my wet folds with furious determination, and I can't help but cry out in pleasure at the contrast.
If the lazy, sensual rhythm had made me ache with need, now the brutal pace has all of the hair on my body standing up and my mind reach the clouds.
I muffle a choked moan as a shiver shakes through my body, making me reach the peak of my pleasure.
White hot light melts my insides, stars shining on the motel ceiling as I chase every single jolt of bliss with shameless hunger.
He meets every single thrust with deep, merciless pumps.
I blink through that dark pleasure.
When he comes into focus again, he's watching me with a heat that could burn down a forest.
As I come down from my high, he slows his movements until his fingers stop moving, still buried in me.
"Are you okay?" he asks as I feel the slickness pour out of me.
I'd never had a man take care of my needs the way he just did without demanding to be the priority of the act.
I guess okay doesn't even begin to cover it.
My past boyfriends were selfish, and the few hookups I tried to have in the past never ended up being satisfying or rewarding but always short-lived and disappointing.
This is what it should always feel like.
"Yeah," I try to say, swallowing through the lingering pleasure.
"Are you sure?" he taunts, his fingers moving just enough to make me gasp, my skin still sensitive.
"Mmhm," I breathe out, barely nodding.
He replies with a smirk as he leaves the warmth of my slit, making me wince and immediately miss him.
And yet, while the ecstatic feeling still ripples through me in golden shocks, the need between my thighs still throbs.
This time when I reach for his belt, he doesn't stop me.
His jeans fall on the floor before he reaches around and unclips my bra.
When he gets up to get rid of his clothes, he leans down and slides my soaked panties down my legs, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.
He crawls over me again and grabs me by the hips to slide me up until my head finds the pillow.
I like the way he handles me, the way he maneuvers my body like it's an extension of his own.
A part of me always wanted that.
To let go, have someone else take the reins for once.
And Jax...he's so eager for the job.
Exposed skin encounters calloused hands as I peek down at his naked body.
My pulse quickens at the sight of him, mind foggy with desire as my gaze finds his face again.
I kiss him, lips swollen, and our tongues meet in a filthy dance as he bites, sucks, and savors.
An aching need pulses inside of me, and I let my legs fall open, pushing his back down with the heel of my foot.
He drops his weight on me, and the moment his cock finds the heat of my folds a shattered breath caresses my lips.
There's no hesitation left. No space between wanting and doing.
Just heat. Movement. Need.
"Fuck," he moans, his forehead resting against mine as I guide him up and down my wetness with my hips, coating him in me.
I press myself against him, my nipples flushed to his chest.
I can't help but smile in satisfaction when he closes his eyes, losing his composure.
He thrusts, meeting my movements, and when I find his gaze, all patience has drained from his face, replaced by the most sinful of looks.
Darkness flashes in his eyes, and in a snap of a second, my wrists are pinned above my head again, one hand holding both of them as the other pinches one of my nipples hard.
Pain and pleasure mix, making me whimper, my back arching into it.
When he moves down and takes my other nipple in his mouth, his cock still grinding against me, I moan, overwhelmed by every single lap at my flushed skin and every single roll of his hips.
"Jax," I sob, my patience pushed beyond any limits.
His tongue slows on my nipple and his head lifts.
"Yes, baby?" he asks, voice husky, thicker than honey.
"Please," I whisper, my cheeks burning when he doesn't stop moving, but instead watches me as his blunt head teases my entrance.
I turn my head, the sight of him studying me as I beg too much to bear, but he grabs my chin a moment later, forcing me to look at him.
"You want my cock?" he asks, not teasingly or mockingly, but possessively.
Pain spreads across my jaw where he holds it and my neck bobs as I swallow hard.
"Yes," I breathe out, closing my eyes as the pressure around my entrance grows.
I hear the faint rip of foil as that pressure disappears for a moment, and when I open my eyes, the heat of his body envelopes me again.
I can't even process those words because his head slowly starts pushing inside my entrance, stretching my walls and molding me to him.
"That's it, Em. Nice and slow," he murmurs.
I choke in surprise at the fullness, my body wrapping around his shaft in a painfully blissful grip.
Wild with need, I forget to wait and give myself time to adjust to his size, and I arch into him.
He groans in pleasure, surprised by the sudden movement.
He watches me as he slowly starts moving, and when I close my eyes, the pleasure and the fullness becoming too much, he grabs my chin hard again.
"Eyes on me," he says softly, but he pairs that soft command with a vicious thrust that slams into me and leaves me breathless.
Pleasure bursts into me like thousands of fireworks as he chooses the most tortured rhythm.
His pace starts out deep and brutally merciless, and before I can even process the change it becomes deliciously punishing.
My nails dig into his back, scratching the skin raw.
The headboard slams against the wall, mixing with my moans and his groans.
My eyes fill with tears as Jax coaxes every single breath out of me with every thrust.
I never knew sex could feel like this.
So rough and painful and yet so heavenly.
And through it all, he keeps his eyes on me.
Afraid to miss the littlest thing.
All the self-control is gone, replaced by a red desire that transcends my body and his.
It has nothing to do with this bed and this mattress and this motel and everything to do with everything that brought us here.
There's meaning in those eyes.
"Em..." he breathes, like it slips out before he can stop it.
That does something to me I can't explain.
His grip tightens at my hips, guiding me as he moves with me.
My breath catches when his groin brushes against my clit, and I cling to him instantly, overwhelmed by the feeling of him everywhere at once.
It builds fast—too fast—and I feel it pulling me under again, stronger than before.
My nails dig into his back, in the ink of his tattoo, holding on as my body convulses.
His pace tightens, the mattress squeaking under us as my tremors become too much.
I feel him shudder just as my walls spasm around him, and he twitches inside of me with a groan as I moan, following every wave of his pleasure with one of my own.
We drown together, high on the same drug.
The euphoria is so intense time seems to slow down, lingering on this moment for longer.
Disheveled and flushed, he stays inside of me as I go boneless under him.
I don't know how much time passes before we move. I just know that when I open my eyes again, he has rolled us over, and I'm lying on top of him, weak and full of him.
My head rests on his chest, eyelids heavy.
Spent, he runs a hand through my hair, tingles spreading from the contact.
When he's forced to pull out, he doesn't turn away.
He pulls me in with him, covers us with the sheets and continues playing with my hair.
I'm half asleep when I hear him say something to me just before I drift off.
But I can't make it out because I'm already dreaming.
