a/n: Check out my new story Haircut under my profile. Just something I wanted to do to change up the pace a little bit. Dedicated to all my regulars, and the lovely people over at fanforum.
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The Significance of a Mark: Part 3
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They were shitfaced. It didn't happen too often with Jax, and almost never with Tara, although the last few years were a little more uninhibited. She had eased him up with a firm back massage, working out the kinks and trying to make him comfortable. She could actually feel the tension in his body.
Jax would never tell her the truth if she brought it up. Every time she tried to confront him about the club, he brushed her off, telling her that it was inside business. They talked about so many things, and had shared so many experiences, but it was almost like he was still afraid to let her all the way in. Maybe he thought she couldn't handle it. She was over-analyzing again, as she always did, and this time there were too many factors for her to come up with a specific solution. So she did the one thing she hated to do: she let go.
She let go of her controlled, inhibited mindset and just acted-the same thing she did when she was a kid. Up until she was nine, she was wild and rambunctious, getting into fights and acting on impulse. Everything changed that year; she had shut her feelings inside, determined not to let things fall out of her grasp. She couldn't control anything, but maybe she could try controlling herself. But this situation was too dire, and she couldn't think up a solution. She told him she wanted beer, and although he was confused, he complied. About three bottles in Jax started to get suspicious, and Tara picked up on the way he kept staring at his watch.
"Look Babe, I've gotta go," he started, and that's when she pushed him back on the bed. "It's club stu—oh," he moaned, as Tara caressed the bulge between his legs. She undid his pants, watching him as she lowered her head. They had touched around before, but she was too shy to initiate sex, and Jax was determined not to pressure her. So when she wrapped her lips around his penis, they were both very surprised.
She was inexperienced, and the sensation was different. Not unpleasant, but very foreign. She knew from her anatomy class where he would be the most sensitive, and lapped her tongue up and down his shaft. He was silent, his gaze unflinching and full of wonder.
And when she took him in her mouth, his whole body convulsed, his spine suddenly tingling with pleasure, and he knew he was close. Alcohol had always helped make quick work of things, but he was determined to last. Tara looked up at him, her eyes sparkling and a vivid shade of green, and her tongue sort of rolled. The sensation was too much and he needed release. Jax's brain was hot fire as the ecstasy spread from his pelvis to his head, and then back down through his toes. Tara swallowed like a good girl and sort of sat there, looking quite pleased with herself. He was too numb to come up with a sarcastic remark and simply pulled her close as he rode out his high. He started to drift, letting his heavy lids fold closed, taking in the intoxicating scent of his girl, and then he realized that he was drunk…and LATE. …
Jax rubbed his eyes in the slow, achy grog of his encumbered hangover. He was in a holding cell, and he could hear the swash of papers and the lazy movements of the officers on duty.
Slowly, as his surroundings became more and more focused, he started to remember what happened. Tara had been arrested! With him. He could remember stumbling out of his house with a drunk and bubbly Tara hanging on his arm, trying to weigh him down and bring him back inside. He was sluggish from the intensity of his orgasm, but didn't have the time to savor the moment he'd just shared with his girl. He frantically tried to race to his bike, thinking that he could still make the drop.
Tara was feisty and combative, and somehow in his drunken haze, he suspected she knew, and that tore him up inside. Somehow their bickering had landed them in a very public street on the way to the clubhouse. Tara eyeballed a cop in the corner and started shouting very loudly. He remembered the cop saying some mumbo jumbo about disturbing the peace and Tara doing saying something very inappropriate. She had been acting more and more wild lately, a fact that did not bother him in the least. He liked it when she let the beast out every once in a while. Then all of the sudden the cop had his hands around her wrist and Jax was too strung up and drunk to control himself. When he saw the cop grab Tara, he flipped and shoved the cop. He didn't remember much after that, but the knot on the side of his head was a pretty clear indicator.
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Tara was sitting in a closed office, talking to the officer, and giving her report. They couldn't get a hold of her father, and they were making plans to drive her home. This wasn't the ending she'd anticipated, but somehow she felt that bad mark on her record was small payment for keeping blood off of Jax's hands. Her father would be furious, but she wouldn't care. There was only one thing she cared about.
The officer looked out the blinds and nodded his head, making a wordless exit. Tara just sat there trying to massage her temples when the last person she wanted to see. Gemma was visibly pissed, face red with audible heavy breathing. She threw off her sunglasses and sat on the desk and just glared. Tara set her mouth in a grim line and met her eyes with a fierce stare of her own.