Top Harry Drabble: Harry/Jax Teller
Chapter Summary: Harry gets acquainted with Charming's motorcycle club. (Sons of Anarchy, pre-season 1)
"Why would anyone pick this town for a pack den?" Harry muttered, glancing out at the street in front of him and holding the phone to his ear. The picnic table he had chosen in the park faced the main street of Charming, California, and it wasn't… particularly anything exciting to look at. There were no skyscrapers, no big box stores, nothing that seemed to be a town that would attract the notice of witches and wizards but…
"MACUSA seems to think it's safe," Hermione returned, her voice skeptical but with a hint of confidence. "I don't have too many dealings with the werewolves or creatures over there but the president said you'd be safe. You had better be, Harry."
"Yeah, Hermione." Harry eyed the cars driving through the street around him, part of his attention on the garage he could see out of the corner of his eyes. It sat at the edge of the town, the only garage in the town, and for that it was quite busy. Sweat dripped down his back, making his shirt cling to his skin annoyingly. He hadn't had to deal with this kind of heat in a while and he had half a mind to cast a cooling charm but… he was more than a little lazy. "I'll be fine. I have you as a best friend and you're the Minister of Magic. Who's gonna mess with a friend of yours?"
Hermione snorted through the phone. "Might I remind you of what you did when we were growing up?"
Harry waved a hand dismissively even though she wouldn't be able to see him. "Yeah. There was that whole business. Seriously, it's gotta be at least 90 degrees on the American scale and it's 4:30pm. Who the hell lives here and decides they're going to take over the world? It's too hot. You got MACUSA's cooperation for this, right? I'm not treading on anyone's heels?"
"Yeah, you're alright. Have you made contact?"
"Not yet. My guy said they'd talk in the morning," Harry said, watching as a group of bikers rode through town, their leather vests covering shirts and… "Ooooh."
Harry watched the bikers roll on past him, heading to the garage that had Teller-Morrow over it, and idly followed them. He kept to the sidewalk, his eye half on his surroundings and half on the guys as they parked their bikes in a line. The guy in the center drew most of his attention, golden blond hair and blue eyed, a big knife at his waist, leather vest on, jeans curling around his hips and… Harry snorted at the white sneakers the guy was wearing as opposed to the boots that every other biker was wearing.
"Harry."
"Hmm."
He watched as the bikers ventured into the garage, with the one he had his eye on taking off his vest and settling down to do some work on his own bike. The sun was starting to set, bringing with it dusk, and the other guys clearly went their separate ways after whatever they had done together.
"Harry."
"What exactly did MACUSA say about this town?" Harry asked, swerving around to lean against the wall of the building behind him. Standing here hid him from view of the group of bikers and the garage but he kept peeking out from around the corner, his eyes drawn to the blond biker. "Did it say anything about Charming having a motorcycle club? Sons of Anarchy ring a bell?"
"Harry. I know that voice."
He shrugged as he stared out at the garage, at the blond haired, blue eyed guy working his bike over. Even without a sense enhancing charm, he knew sweat would be dripping down the guy's back and he idly wondered how the guy was in bed, if he swung his way or not. If he did… Heat started to creep through his body, lighting his body on fire, at the thought of fucking the guy, at having him underneath him.
"The club's symbol is a Reaper, Hermione. A Reaper. That's kind of tailor made for me. Tailor made, Hermione. Don't judge me."
Hermione was silent for a minute, the suspicious sounds of laughter floating over the line. Harry rolled his eyes at the noise, knowing Ron's laughter when he heard it. "You just want to get into his pants."
"Hell yeah I do. Hot mechanic, Hermione. Besides nothing's going to happen tonight. And anyways, you're not exactly my boss. I'm just here to do some recon."
Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I know. Go on. Go have some fun. I'll send something your way that ought to give you a good head start."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, even as Hermione hung up the phone. "Does that mean what I think it means? Hermione!"
The loud crack of apparition made him turn around, his eyes going wide, before he smiled.
"Okay, it turns out my best friend is a good wingperson," Harry remarked, nodding to Hermione's secretary. The man in front of him was not familiar to him but it wasn't like that was a problem. Harry hadn't been to London in a while, going from place to place, traveling since the war had ended.
The bike though… was intimately familiar to him and he sucked in a strangled gasp, his heart falling into his stomach. He walked towards it almost in a trance and reached out towards the handlebars, gripping them tightly enough that his magic sparked and rumbled within him. The engine sputtered at the sudden power and then began to cough, almost like it was slowly dying.
Sirius' bike had lain dormant in Grimmauld Place since Sirius himself had died and now… there was dust all over it. Dust and what he thought might have been fossilized hippogriff poop. Harry sighed and swept the hippogriff droppings off, before giving the bike a more thorough look over. Buckbeak now lived in the Forbidden Forest, cared for by Hagrid, but Sirius… His godfather was still gone. Hedwig was gone. The sidecar was gone but the memories were still there and he shuddered.
The bike was ripped up all to hell, having crashed in the lane by the Burrow on the way from the Dursleys. The tires were poked full of holes, the seat was just barely hanging in there and the handlebars were twisted pieces of metal. The buttons that produced traps and took the bike up into the air were in just barely together. There were burn marks all over the bike and Harry's heart rose into his throat at the sight.
"Thanks," Harry finally said, standing up and looking at the wizard who worked in Hermione's office.
The guy nodded, his eyes a little wide as he looked Harry over, and disapparated.
Harry looked over the bike again, narrowing his eyes at the couple of buttons by the handlebars. He traced his fingers over them, over the handlebars, and then pushed the kickstand up and walked it over to the garage, his eyes flicking to the club flag attached to the wall of the building opposite it. The Reaper seemed to be staring at him mockingly before he shrugged it off, knowing far more things about actual reapers than was normal. Than anyone he knew.
He glanced at the garage, spotting the guy who had caught his eyes. The man had changed into a white t-shirt and beige work vest, with the garage's name stitched into it. Much more low key than what he had driven in.
"Hey, you guys still open?"
Jax peered up at the guy in the entrance of the garage, standing up right next to his bike, and grabbed a rag. The guy stood there calmly, his bright green eyes watching Jax almost like a hawk would prey. His messy black hair was everywhere, untamed by a brush, and occasionally hiding the scar that sat on the guy's forehead.
The scar ran down his forehead like a lightning bolt, stretching to branch out in ripples. It was faint and old and definitely not made by a knife or a gunshot wound. Jax raised an eyebrow and the guy grinned back, rocking back on the heels of his feet. He looked to be about Jax's age, sturdy too.
The bike that the guy was holding onto was… Jax flinched at the sight, his heart thumping in his chest. "Yeah, we're open. How'd you let your bike get into that kind of condition, man? That shit's not gonna fly here."
The guy's lips twitched in bemusement at Jax's words. "I forgot about it."
"You forgot about it?" Jax echoed, taking a step towards the guy and the bike, gesturing with his rag in question.
The guy gestured in invitation and Jax closed the distance between the bike, running his fingers over the dusty handlebars, over the dusty everything. Even the kickstand was dusty.
"How do you just forget about it?" Jax retorted, staring at the man in confusion. "It's a bike."
"Yeah, well, not all of us are in a motorcycle club. And…" the guy trailed off, swallowed, and continued, quieter. "It was my dogfather's."
"Don't ya mean godfather?" Jax asked, kneeling to examine the engine of the bike, already noting what needed to be fixed and what just had to go. The buttons on the handlebars were something he hadn't seen before but the man's casual nudging of his fingers away from them sparked something like heat. It slithered into him at the touch and he met those green eyes, something like desire in them, and Jax grinned.
"No. I mean dogfather," the man corrected idly, his eyes tracing Jax's movements. "It was his and he left it to me after he died."
Jax blinked at the words. "I'm sorry."
The guy nodded. "It's fine. More or less. His murderer was… you know… killed. And by the unlikeliest of people too. Now… about the bike…"
"Murderer?"
"It's a long story," the guy said, his eyes darkening at a memory, his fingers curling over the handlebars. "Long, classified and boring."
"You one of those law enforcement types from Britain?" Jax questioned, his fingers itching to clean up the bike between them. The disrespect…
"Nope. And for your information, it's MI-6 but they don't have any interests here," the man muttered. "They better not anyway."
Jax stared at the guy and the guy stared back, his lips curling up into a grin.
"You good for it?" Jax said, gesturing to the bike.
"Yeah. How much?"
"For what? This bike needs some proper TLC," Jax argued, pointing at the machine. "From the engine to the handlebars to… everything, man. It's just…"
"For everything. And it doesn't even need to be urgent. How about I give you my information and you guys work your magic?"
Jax frowned and the guy continued to watch him, his eyes occasionally flicking to the club flag behind them.
"Whatever it needs?"
"Whatever it needs, yeah."
Jax snorted. "You're not even gonna ask if I'm ripping you off?"
"I'm a good judge of character and you look the type to not rip people off," the guy said, giving him a slow appraising look, meeting his eyes easily. "By the way, I'm Harry."
"Jax."
"Nice to meet you."
"Bring your bike in here," Jax said, gesturing to the garage behind them. "I'll have to let Gemma know what parts to order, get a list going. You in a hurry?"
"No. I have somewhere I need to be in the morning but otherwise… I'm staying at a motel down the street."
"Good. I'll throw in some tricks of the trade too," Jax added, watching as Harry pulled the bike in, brushing against his side as he did.
"You will, hmm?" Harry asked, nudging the kickstand down and coming to stand next to him. "Generous of you."
Jax winked at him, smirking a little. They were of the same height and Jax looked Harry over, noting the guy's build was more on the runner side. Built to run, his shoulders curling a little bit. Harry wore a thin green t-shirt and jeans that ended in sturdy but comfortable looking boots. Jax could see muscles underneath that shirt, muscles that weren't built by going to the gym on the regular. "There anything I need to know about the bike?"
"Just don't touch the buttons near the handlebars," Harry remarked, turning to look at him.
"Why?"
"Well… if I tell you that, I might just have to kill you," Harry offered, his lips curling into a grin that was just this side of dinner table presentable.
"That true now?"
Harry nodded idly before tracing his fingers over the handlebars. Jax's heart skipped a beat and then began to gallop at the look in those green eyes before he pulled off his shirt, flexing his muscles intentionally to see what kind of reaction he'd get. He heard a sharp inhale from Harry, probably at the ink on his back, saw Harry's fingers curl and uncurl out of the corner of his eyes, flexing as if he wanted to touch. He smirked at the guy and Harry flipped him off, amusement in his eyes. Jax knelt down and ran his fingers over the bike, from top to bottom, side to side, sliding one or two fingers between parts- seeing something blue that didn't belong- and… coming away with a feather.
A long, blue feather, one that Jax didn't recognize at all. It was blue checkered with bits of black and not at all familiar. Long enough to be from a bird of prey but there was nothing… Not that he knew much about birds to begin with but Jax was pretty certain that this feather… wasn't from any kind of bird he knew about. "The fuck is this?"
Harry knelt down and met his eyes, reaching out to curl his fingers around Jax's. Heat slithered between fingertips, doubling as Harry's thumb rubbed circles into Jax's palm. Jax swallowed and then grinned at the look in Harry's eyes, more heated than he had seen yet. His heart kickstarted and sped up, heat coiling through his body. "That… that is a secret."
Harry winked at him and drew the feather out of his fingers, slow and careful-almost teasing- before sticking it in a back pocket. And twisting his own fingers into Jax's hair then pulling. Jax groaned as heat shot through him, as a sharp hiss left him, his cock stirring with interest. Harry pressed his lips to his, a light brush of lips in a question. Jax stiffened but didn't push him away, his eyes widening.
Harry began to pull back only to stop when Jax reached out and dug his fingers into Harry's waist, yanking him back. He swept his magic outward, checking to see if there was anyone else around the garage-coming up with nothing- and took in the sight before him, of Jax leaning against the bike. Harry's bike now. Jax's eyes had blown wide with arousal and a hint of hesitation.
Harry stood up and looked around at the garage, at the clubhouse behind them and then back down to Jax, meeting his eyes easily. "I'll be at the motel around the block, room number 12, if you want more. If not… I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Jax stared at the closed door in front of him a half an hour later, his heart beating like he had just run a mile or escaped a narrow run in with the Mayans. His breath hitched as he raised a hand to knock on the door, unsure what lay on the other side of it. His parked motorcycle stood right on the curb, the reaper stenciled into the metal of it.
The door opened after a minute, revealing Harry on the other side, shirtless, revealing pale skin and muscles. A few scars littered Harry's skin, one on his shoulder that looked like an old knife wound and one on the top of his right hand, smudged with old blood and bruise. His green eyes brightened and then sparked with heat, a slightly feral grin on his face. Jax returned the grin and stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him, The motel room was a stereotypical one, one king size bed, two side tables, a desk that had a trunk on it.
Before his eyes even landed on the door to the bathroom, Harry reached for him and pushed him back against the door, closed the distance and pressed his lips to his. Jax smirked into the kiss, heat sparking, blood racing, as Harry slipped his tongue into his mouth, brushing against his. Harry was everywhere, surrounding him, holding him, fucking everywhere, smelling of how the road smelled right after a storm, cool and wet, maybe a hint of some kind of wood filtered in. He could feel Harry's hard cock against his, hot and thick through both their jeans, as the other man curled his fingers into his cut and helped him take it off. Jax easily shuffled out of his cut and his flannel shirt, throwing them both onto the desk next to the door, seeing Harry watching him, eying his chest and body.
"You lot have something for the reaper then?" Harry asked idly, his breath hitching just as much as Jax's was.
"We're the Sons of Anarchy," Jax offered, shrugging. "It's what the club is."
"Something scary?" Harry tried, tilting his head and taking a step back, away from the heat and Jax for a moment.
"Everyone's scared of reapers."
Harry's eyes flashed with something dark, something haunted, and then he smirked. "I'm not. Wanted you the moment I saw you."
Jax grinned, reached out to dig his fingers into Harry's hips to yank the man closer, and Harry smiled, pressing his lips to his again, deeper and harder. Jax groaned as one of Harry's hands curled around his hip, warm fingers curling into his skin, mouthing down his neck, sucking a bruising kiss into his pulse point. Jax threw his head back up against the door as all his blood raced south full tilt, shuddering as Harry closed the last remaining inch between them, shoving down his jeans with one hand.
"All hot confidence and swagger," Harry muttered into his skin, slotting a thigh between Jax's legs and… rocking his hips against his, making his breathing stutter. "On that bike of yours."
"Yeah? You think it's hot?"
Harry snorted and thrust against him, sliding their still covered cocks against each other, hot and messy and wet and- Jax breathed out sharply, the punch of hot arousal hitting him with it sudden and burning, need filling him as he reached out for the man in front of him, kissing him hard, no need to adjust for the height difference. Not when Harry was as tall as him, maybe even an inch or two taller.
One of Harry's hands trailed down his chest, followed by his mouth, nipping and licking one nipple and then the next, sucking a bruise into his skin when Jax bucked up into his fingers. He could feel sweat dripping down his back before fingers curled around his neck, squeezing a little, pulling, and Jax froze, his nerves alight as Harry winked at him, half smirk, half wicked smile-ooh, you like this- on his face as Jax's knees all but buckled at the touch.
"Fuck," Jax croaked out, his cock hardening to an almost painful degree as Harry pulled him over to the bed. "Fuck me."
"We're getting to that," Harry teased, the man's own cock hard through his jeans, pre-come visibly wetting them and Jax licked his lips.
Harry groaned and swerved around him, pushing Jax down to the bed with a nudge. "You ever fucked or been fucked by a guy before?"
"No, but fucking move already," Jax retorted, reaching into curl his fingers into the mattress underneath him. Harry nodded, taking a spare minute to look Jax over, letting his eyes take in the sight of the man before him, naked and…
"You're gorgeous," Harry muttered, crawling onto the bed and sliding his way between Jax's legs, letting his fingers dance over light skin. Drawing goosebumps as well as heat with him, Jax shivered, eying him apprehensively, eying his cock.
Harry saw where his eyes were and reached out, curling his fingers over the beginnings of a beard, tipping his chin up, blue meeting green eyes. "I'll take care of you, don't worry."
"Going off...fuck… going off how much… you took care of that bike of yours," Jax breathed out on a moan as Harry reached up and curled around his cock, stroking nice and slow, thumbing over the tip. "I'd say… not much."
"Asshole. I had other things on my mind," Harry retorted, leaning down and nipping marks into the warm skin beneath him. Jax's eyes closed shut, a strangled sound leaving his throat as he bucked up. "Like murder and other things that growing boys think about."
Jax blinked and peered up at him, looking at him like he had grown a second head. "The fuck?"
"I'm joking," Harry muttered, shrugging and letting his fingers trail up those pretty thighs, dragging his tongue along, tasting sweat and heat. Jax shuddered, little tremors moving up his body, goosebumps following. "Fuck, you're hot right now. Besides it's not my main mode of transportation, unlike your bike."
He trailed a finger over Jax's cock again, groaning at the sight of Jax arching up into his finger, and then slipped further down, groaned again when Jax's legs spread further apart unconsciously.
The moment that a wet finger slipped into him, Jax trembled and stiffened at the intrusion, his eyes widening as his nerves flared. Harry's other hand went to his cock, jerking him once, twice, making him pant with it, pleasure rocking through him, building like a motorcycle going 0 to 60 slowly. "Fucking get on… with it, man."
Harry snorted and slipped another finger into him, curling and twisting and hitting that one- Jax groaned as Harry hit that spot inside him, swearing as Harry slid into him, easy as he pleased, like he owned the place already, like… Heat coiled through his body at the thought, letting out a strangled moan as Harry played with him a little bit more, slipping deeper into him, opening him up.
He was too focused on the pleasure to realize Harry had pulled his fingers out, had laid a pillow underneath his hips. Had in fact already gotten a condom on his thick cock, lined himself up, and struck home, and the moan that he slipped through his mouth this time was loud.
"Fucking…" Jax moaned out, swearing and arching into the feeling, sinking further onto Harry's cock, trying to get more, to feel more. His thoughts dwindling to the cock inside him, the guy's fingers digging into his hips and his own fingers curling into Harry's palms, scratching lines of red into the skin. "Holy fucking shit."
"Yeah," Harry muttered, leaning down and swallowing up another loud groan, smirking into the sloppy kiss. "I'm your first, huh?"
Jax swore again and yanked him into a deeper kiss, biting Harry's lip, holding him there. "Motherfucker."
Harry laughed, still frozen inside him, his green eyes flashing with heated amusement, his pupils blown with lust. "I'm… fuck, Jax, can I move?"
"What? You… waiting for somethin'?"
"Permission," Harry retorted through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into Jax's sides. "You feel so good. Hot and… tight. Fuck..."
In answer, Jax sank down further onto the pillow, feeling Harry slide even deeper into him, his muscles clenching around the thick cock inside him. And then Harry thrust, rolling his hips into him, pulling out and then snapping back in, heat coiling, pressure building. The sounds leaving his throat were almost unfamiliar to him, whining moans as pre-come dripped from his cock.
The bed moved and creaked underneath them, the shitty motel mattress and springs groaning as Harry began to fuck him in earnest, sweat dripping down from Harry's neck to Jax's chest. Skin hitting skin, grunts and groans filled the room and Jax swore again as Harry pushed his legs apart even wider, slipping closer to him, like he was trying to invade his personal space more.
"Fuck," Jax whined, holding on, curling his fingers into Harry's, meeting those green eyes, nothing in his head except Harry, nothing in him except that cock of his. Hot pleasure swerved and rocked through him, building and growing, his balls tightening up, almost to that line, to that edge. It felt like a plane almost off the ground, roaring, his blood racing, his heart pounding as Harry shoved in even deeper, hotter, faster, hitting that spot inside right as he tugged at his cock.
And he was flying off that edge, pleasure shooting through him, his toes curling, muscles clenching around Harry and bringing him over too. His vision greyed out as Harry continued to stroke him through his release, gentling him through aftershocks.
The gentle tug to his hair pulled him up, seeing Harry's fingers curl around a blond strand. "Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hey, fuck off."
Harry snorted and flicked him in the forehead, his eyes searching Jax for something. "That feel good?"
Jax glared at him and breathed out on a sigh, throwing out an arm to curl around Harry's waist. Fingers danced over his stomach and chest and Harry laid his head against Jax's shoulder, yawning, pressing a light kiss to his overheated, sensitive skin. "You staying?"
"Need to leave first thing in the morning," Jax finally spoke, melting further into the mattress. "Club business."
"Hmmm. There time for those tips you talked about?"
"Yeah. Probably."
"I'll take it."
Harry blinked awake to the sun streaming in through the window, shining a light onto the man sleeping soundly beside him. Jax had curled further into him throughout the night, an arm thrown around Harry's waist, holding on. His hair fell over and about his head, shining golden in the light, and Harry's heart skipped a beat at the sight, turning to look at Jax's leather vest. Or he supposed… Jax had called it a cut last night. The reaper looked at him, the scythe glinting in the sunlight.
His phone rang and Harry slowly picked up Jax's arm, quiet and careful, and slid out from under him. His stomach growled and Harry threw on some clothes, spotting Buckbeak's feather on the lid of his trunk. He smiled faintly and picked it up, brushing his fingers over the fine downy feather before walking over to curl it into strands of Jax's hair.
Jax didn't wake up at all as Harry stepped outside, breathing deeply and evenly.
AN: Yeah, I started watching SoA before I got done with the F&F chapters. My bad. But... really... I couldn't resist this.