It was like their very first private meeting all over again two years ago. He was leaning against his bike in the bar parking lot, smoking and staring down at his boots until he heard the entrance door of the bar open and she stepped out. As if she needed reminding, he raised his hand and beckoned to her with his finger, smiling smugly at her. He always looked like nothing could move him, like nothing could knock him over whether on his bike or on his feet. Tig maybe wasn't as brawny as Butcher, but Tig was all over solid in ways that most men would never even understand. Jocelyn did though, felt the vibe coming off him the first time she'd seen him. On the outside he was aloof, cool, dangerous, sexy, mysterious and strange, but she saw in his amazing eyes some extraordinary power that lay deep inside him, gently coiled until called upon to strike. He was just what she'd been looking for, he was just what she needed, if he couldn't help her, no one could. But she'd nearly ruined what the night full of exchanged glances and flirting with him had won her by walking up to him in that parking lot like an idiot and asking, "So, are you a real biker, or just one of those guys who's like really a dentist and rides motorcycles on the weekend?"
Tig had just laughed a little without smiling, leaned back and lifted his leg over his bike. "Get on and find out." Was his suggestion, and then he revved the throttle. She was smart enough to be scared, and awed enough to do what he said.
It was nearly dark this time, the glow of his cigarette more prominent than she recalled the first time she met him in a bar parking lot. She still knew what he was though, and she still needed him, more than ever. Hopefully, he'd make it easy for her to ask, he had to know she needed him.
Tig looked up as she came closer to him, casually scratching his forehead with the thumb of the hand holding his cigarette. "What you tell him?"
She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her hoodie. "That I felt sick, was coming out here to puke." Tig rolled his eyes at her, clearly he thought that was the dumbest excuse he'd ever heard, and his judgmental attitude was only adding to her over all annoyance. "Look, it happens a lot more than you think, okay? He believed me!"
Clearly she was pissed off, but why with him? Tig drew back his stare and looked her over from head to toes again. "Not knocked up, are you?"
Jocelyn huffed. "No, you of all people should know that can't happen." Why she was feeling so much irritation towards him was becoming a little clearer. She'd been hoping and praying to find him somehow for months, and now here he was, and all she felt was bitterness…and betrayal. Things could have been different right now, if he'd let them be, if he'd taken her with him. "Butcher drugs me up every fucking day, Tig. You don't think that makes me sick? Each morning when I wake up, if I even wake up, he forces me to take a bunch of tranq—"
"Yeah," Tig nodded, no empathy in his voice as he exhaled smoke like a dragon, he wanted to hear that she regretted not listening to him when he told her to go stay with her aunt, go back to school, go be a checkout girl at Wal-Mart, go anywhere but where she was now. "Makes an old lady a lot easier to handle, don't it?"
She should have expected it but she couldn't believe he'd just said that. Now she was hurt and angry. "Oh, that's right," Jocelyn smiled sarcastically, but then raised her voice. "I forgot, you're Tig Trager, SAA for SAMCRO, and you know fucking everything!"
Tig jumped in response to her tone of voice, was up off his bike and looking down over her in a split second, one hand grabbed the front of her hoodie fiercely and yanked her against him, holding her there despite her shocked gasp and struggles. "I knew where your little ass would end up, and it has! I must be a little more psychic than you are, baby!"
"Now you're psychic?" She spat at him. Anyone else might have been scared, but Jocelyn was too angry, tried to pull out of his grasp but he was too strong.
"Maybe." Tig tightened his hold on her, had a handful of her hair and the sweatshirt.
She couldn't move away from him, and for as much as Jocelyn had longed to be close to him again, she wanted no part of that now. She didn't want him to be this way, she didn't want him to remind her that he'd tried to keep her out of this life, she didn't want him to be right about where she'd ended up. She wanted to be with him, that's all she wanted, but it wasn't what Tig had wanted, said it wasn't something he was capable of, he'd been honest, and even noble in trying to redirect her and getting the hell out of her life, and right now, she hated him for all of it. Without thinking she quickly raised her hand and swung, slapping him squarely in the face with a resounding 'crack' that stung the palm of her hand. "Did you know that was going to happen?"
Tig had never taken well to being slapped by a woman, it was second nature that made him give her a violent shake and yank a big handful of her hair and skin at the back of her head, dipping her backwards, dropping the cigarette from the other hand as it balled into a fist, his eyes lit with savageness, but when he looked down and saw Jocelyn there, watching him, too startled to breathe but ready to accept what she knew she'd provoked, all harmful intent left him; he'd never hit her before, and he wasn't about to start. But so much was now unleashed inside him, he had to inflict himself on her somehow, and so he turned, kept hold of her by the scruff of her neck, and dragged her with him to the shadow darkened side wall of the building. She fought him, dragged her feet, made noises of futile protest, until he had her where he wanted her, up against the wall, his hands pinning the backs of hers against the cinderblocks, and he kissed her, rough and brutishly, taking what she had before she could offer it to him, his teeth scraping hers as his tongue drove into her mouth against her own.
By now Jocelyn had kissed her share of men, but none of them were like kissing Tig; she could think of plenty of other things while kissing other men, she could go through the motions but not truly be in the moment, she could break the kiss at her leisure, and sometimes did when her thoughts took her elsewhere. But not so with Tig, his mere stare had an unbreakable hold on her and touching him only amplified that. The taste of his mouth rushed through her, every memory of him exploding in her brain and making her entire body tingle and push away from the wall closer to the heat of his form. She couldn't keep up with the way he kissed her, his lips claiming hers, then the corners of her mouth, her chin, her neck, and back to her mouth again, stealing away the meager breath she'd managed to draw and leaving her dizzily drunk on his desire for her. And he didn't stop, demanding more, his goatee scraping her skin raw as he forced them closer and the kiss deeper, her mouth and lips conquered by his own now, and the rest of her not so very far behind them. But still some paranoid part of her would not relax into this, knew this couldn't be, not anymore.
"Stop it," she'd intended to say it loudly, loudly enough to get his attention, but instead her throat constricted, her body refusing to be as one with her mind as Tig sucked at her neck and lips in passionate abandon. But she had to stop him; this wasn't like it used to be anymore, Butcher would kill her, and then kill Tig.
"You know me, baby, once I start, I don't stop." Tig paused long enough to hoarsely say, but didn't even look at her, just let go of one of her hands and grabbed a healthy portion of her ass with a sharp growl, pulling her closer upon the hardening lump growing at his groin and kissed her again.
He'd heard her, but he wasn't listening, the same way he wouldn't listen when she'd begged him to take her with him, said she'd die without him; he never listened! Anger surged in Jocelyn again and she drew the hand he'd let go of between them and shoved him hard in the shoulder, surprising him enough to make him look up. "I belong to Butcher!" She reminded him through clenched teeth, and tears in her eyes.
He of course knew that, and yet, he'd forgotten all about it. He hated the sound of it, she belonged to Butcher? Like hell she did! Didn't that little mark low on her left hip mean anything to her? He'd never marked a woman as his before, but the last time he saw Jocelyn he held his belt buckle over a candle flame until it glowed, then as she slept, slapped the raised relief of the monogrammed A and T against her skin. How had she explained that little brand to Butcher? He'd put that mark there to keep her away from guys like Butcher. Damn her for not going back to her little genius beauty queen life of Harvard and horse shows, but most of all, damn Butcher! He wasn't losing anything to that asshole, particularly not Jocelyn! "Call him!" Tig roared, stepping back from her a bit, his rage nearly splitting him in two, daring her to do so, no matter how disastrous the outcome would be. "Call him out here! He can kick my ass right now!"
They were staring at each other, breathing heavily for what seemed like forever, Jocelyn so overcome by Tig's insane fortitude, so spellbound by how he never seemed to have any fear of anything; the things so horrible, so base, so frightening, that no one else could bring themselves to do, Tig was born to do. Everyone said he was crazy, but Jocelyn knew that wasn't entirely it; he was just a little stronger than everyone else. She loved him for it; she loved him.
She began to notice his blue eyes were searching hers, shifting a bit as though trying to read an answer in her face, what was her decision? Him? Or Butcher? How could there be anyone but Tig? With a strength that surprised her, she threw herself against him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him as hard and frantically as he'd been kissing her, holding tightly, her breasts flat against his heaving chest, trying to wrap her body around his, and hold onto him, forever.
"I thought so," Tig growled against her lips, then gasped, taking his mouth from hers long enough to pull the zipper of her hoodie all the way down and bend his head to kiss her chest, letting his body crash against hers, they both hit the wall with a thud as he jammed the hard shape of his cock into the softness of her belly with a needful groan.
Jocelyn's body was already making accommodations for what she felt bulging against her stomach, the crotch of her panties damp with the lubrications Tig coaxed from her swelling pink folds and elongating sheath. It had been so long since she'd had him inside her, she wanted him so much. She felt herself shuddering against him as his hand slipped between them in a rush to undo his belt and fly. His heart was pounding as hard and fast as hers was, this would happen fast, and she wanted it fast, fast and rough, but she longed to run her hands up the length of his cock again, from the nest of black curls at its base to the large, blunt, egg shaped head of it and feel all eight tautly curved inches of him throb against her fingers. She loved to feel his cock in her grasp, loved the noises he made when she stroked it, loved what it did to her own body to wrap her hands around an instrument of such immeasurable pleasure. He was the most formidably made lover her body had ever known, the only man she actually enjoyed touching, the only man that sex had actually felt good with, and she lavished her attentions upon his body at every carnal turn their time together took, eager to explore him, and Tig pleased to be discovered.
Only here and now, with so much energy stirred between them and mixed to explode there would be no time for that. Tig was impatient, crazed with the need for this latest fix, his fingers ground against the cotton of her panties as his tongue invaded her mouth, his other hand kneading her breast and pinching her nipple through the lace of her bra. His entire body was stiff with his want, every muscle tight as their mouths twisted against each others, biting kisses between grunts and groans, until finally he crooked a finger between her legs and yanked the crotch of her panties to one side. Jocelyn barely had time to gasp and thrust herself forward, hoping for some contact with his digit, when she felt the rounded head of his cock slide up through her wet slit, over her engorged clitoris, her body jolted as the sparks flew inside her, Tig pulling her skirt up and pushing her legs as wide apart as he could get them.
Jocelyn squirmed between his body and the wall, unable to keep still, her body begging his to make her whole. Had there not been such heat and rush between them, he'd have dropped to one knee and taken her leg over his shoulder, giving her sweet, lush creases a good combing over with his beard, then soothed the prickliness with his tongue, drinking in all her honeys and letting her taste fuel the fire that burned in every one of his veins. Just the thought of how she tasted and felt under his tongue made the head of his cock weep with pre-cum and he felt his balls getting tight. He couldn't wait any longer, took his cock in his hand and moved it down towards her slick opening, pausing abruptly and taking her under the chin with his other hand, lifting her head and making her open her desire clouded eyes and look at him.
"Tell me you love me," he was so out of breath it was a whisper, every nerve ending in his being crying out for gratification and cursing him for delaying it to demand such a stupid thing.
He often asked her that at the height of his passion, and there was no other time he wished to hear her say so. She trembled so with her need; the night air cool around her exposed hips and wet inner pink folds that just barely kissed the head of his big cock. She wanted him, more than she ever had before, with her body, and her heart. She looked at him as levelly as her urgency would allow her to, "I love you, Tig."
His mouth crashed over hers again in answer, kissing her fiercely as he plunged the head of his cock into her with a sudden and vicious thrust he knew she was amply wet enough to take. He used to be too big for her, but he'd made her fit him, and her body remembered his shape and size so well it was like she was custom made for him and only him. She shook and her hips bucked at his in eager welcome to his forceful invasion, drawing him deeper, moaning into his hungry mouth. Jocelyn always moaned and shuddered so when each inch of his length slid inside her for the first time, it all unraveled something in him that Tig couldn't name, but he lived for it. Her legs wrapped around his waist tightly, her arms around his neck, the liquid heat of her core squeezing his shaft and cock head wildly with all the strength she had. She was velvet locked around steel, sending a rush of spasms up his cock that rattled clear up to his brain. Tig growled deep in his chest, and let himself go, fucking her as hard and as fast as he could in this standing position.
Her body was astounding in both sight and feel, but Tig fought to think of her only within physical limits. She was like being enrobed in silk, hot, fluid silk, her body giving all to his and taking all from his, moving with every jar and jab and drive he meted out, as ravenous for release as he was, but there was more happening between them than just that. He'd been with countless women, too many to remember, but Jocelyn stood apart from them, distinguished by the connection of emotion and carnal pleasure that Tig would never admit he felt, but experienced only with her. She was sixteen the first time he fucked her, it should have been nothing then, but it wasn't, and the feelings only intensified each time he took her. What it was in him that wouldn't let him walk away from her forever he'd never understand, he wasn't the type to take a steady lover, had divorced one wife within two years of his tour in Somalia because he was too fucked up to go back to family life, he wanted no part of any meaningful relationship, and yet, here he was, fucking Jocelyn and feeling so much more than just her luscious, slick pussy.
Jocelyn could feel Tig becoming more frenetic against her, his drives jerkier and deeper, like he was trying to find some place inside her that wouldn't let him in. He always fucked her like he meant to open her up wide to him and plunder whatever was inside her, leaving her filled with all that he was in his wake. It was a feeling she'd never gotten with any other man, and never understood she wanted until the first time Tig fucked her.
He was getting close, dissolving into the same sweet torture that was pulling all the strings within her tight enough to snap. He needed more from her, she could sense that, and she wanted to give it to him, to let him have everything and feel him do whatever he liked with it. She angled her hips more open, untangled one of her legs from around his narrow waist, meaning to put her foot down on the knocked over five gallon drum beside them and push off of it so that Tig didn't have to support her so much and could just tear into her like she knew he loved to. Instead, Tig's hand closed around her calf, unbending her elegant leg and pushing it almost straight up between them, taking full advantage of her flexibility, the heel of her foot on his shoulder. Her spine immediately arched into him, giving him more access, his cock shoving its way deeper, all the way in, as far he could go, the head of it flush against her cervix, making Jocelyn flinch with the intrusive pleasure of being touched to her deepest center. Every muscle in Tig's body jolted, and he found a new gear, thrashing at her with unrestrained fervor.
All she could do was hook her arms around him and hold on, move where he needed her to and let him have what he wanted. Her body thrummed with a rolling tension that was quickly consuming her, each thrust of Tig's cock bringing her closer, feeding her need, turning her into a slave to something primal. The vibrations of his mad thrusts took hold of her excited clitoris, and she ground herself against him mercilessly.
Tig's lips were at her neck, kissing, sucking, biting, murmuring something unintelligible, lost to everything in the world but the feeling of his cock bulging to the bursting point deep inside Jocelyn's body. The sensations of orgasm were tearing him apart, cock and balls bristling with pleasure so intense he sometimes confused it with pain. Fire and ice blasted simultaneously threw his veins, Jocelyn gave a cry and dug her nails into the leather of his cut, he slammed into her deep and his body froze, stealing away his breath, and all went black for a second. An ocean of erotic relief washed over him, the only moment of purity Tig had come to truly know in the last fifteen years, but it wasn't just the build of a satiating release with her, it was exploding into Jocelyn that felt the most satisfying, feeling Jocelyn take him into her body and hold him, caressing him in return with her own fury.
They were both still now, slumped against the wall and each other, trying to catch their breath in the stillness of the night. This was when Tig would usually roll off of whatever girl he was with, turn his back to her and forget she existed; if she was smart, she'd know to just get out of bed and leave him the hell alone, he was done with her, she'd served her purpose. He'd tried to be that way with Jocelyn too, and she'd been good about vacating whatever bed they shared at the appropriate time, until one night when she fell asleep next to him accidentally, and he awoke to find her there in the middle of the night, curled perfectly against him. Feeling that he didn't mind had been much more unsettling than discovering her there. He was still recovering, waiting for blood to return to his extremities, but that memory made him rebellious of the close contact they currently shared and Tig straightened, took his weight on his feet. Jocelyn instantly wrapped her limp arms and legs around him, halting him though.
"No," she gasped as though he were about to step back into fire. She wasn't ready to let go of him, just wanted him close, had to tell him she wanted to be with him, that she needed him, that she had no one else. But of course, she couldn't say that, not that way, not to Tig. Her body was weak still, but she contracted the muscles around his softening cock as tightly as she could, kissing his neck softly as she did. "Don't take it out, not yet."
He stilled, a tinge of desire rising in him again at her words, but he'd very little left in him with which to act upon it, but he leaned into her more, tipping her head up and kissing her to alleviate the minor flash of wanton fancy. Her lips were supple and sweet against his and she sucked at his tongue, tracing it with hers, making Tig wish they had more time and a better place that he could put her on her knees and fuck her mouth; he'd had to basically teach her how, but no one sucked cock like Jocelyn now, she new exactly what he liked. But he was regrettably tired, his spent organ slipping from Jocelyn's body despite her efforts to keep him inside her.
"Tig," she whispered, feeling how relaxed he was, surprised by the softness of his kiss. Tig wouldn't be this way for very long, she had to ask him now. She needed him more than ever now, after what they'd done here against the wall.
His eyes opened slowly and connected with hers, his hand cupping her cheek tenderly, fingers smoothing through her dark hair as he stared at her through the spell of after glow, knowing that she loved him, almost wanting to acknowledge it, but no, he never would. Still, he should say something, something she'd understand in some vague way. "I could cum by just kissing you." He whispered, and kissed her softly again before she had the chance to think about what he might mean.
Jocelyn's arms tangled around him again, happy to be kissed by him like this, a violent man who was so gentle with her. She hated to end this, but had to, and took her mouth from his, pulling him close instead. "Tig, I need you," she whispered pleadingly, feeling tears in her eyes again when she thought of facing Butcher. Tig didn't notice she cried though as he kissed her neck and made her shudder all over again. "I should have listened to you. I can't take it anymore, and I don't know how to get out of this. If he doesn't kill me, I think I might…" she shuddered now for a different reason. "Please, Tig, I'll do anything you say—"
Tig sighed even before he raised his head; he'd known this was coming. Hadn't this been the reason she'd ever talked to him in the first place two years ago? He'd been thinking it himself as soon as he'd seen her with Butcher, but he was still so angry that she'd put herself in this situation to begin with, and if she thought he'd go and kill Butcher for her, then she'd never learn to stay out of this life. "You want him dead?"
He had a way of cutting to the chase that always left her startled. Jocelyn balked, couldn't make herself answer in the affirmative. "What are my other choices?"
Tig reached for another cigarette. He'd already made up his mind about Butcher, but she didn't have to know that. It was more important to him that she realized he was right, that it was drilled into her head that he was right, not so he could ride some rush of righteousness, but because the next time he put her back where she belonged, she'd stay there. He sighed, feigned reluctance. "I can't keep doing this for you, you know." He lit the cigarette and looked away from her casually and shrugged his shoulders. "Your father, Butcher…" he looked back at her, curious to see her expression. "You fuck me and I make your problems go away?"
Jocelyn drew a shallow breath. Did he really feel used? Tig? SAMCRO's infamous Sergeant at Arms? Was she using him? No, of course not. Okay, she had when it came to her father, but then that had worked out differently in the end anyway. And Butcher, well, she never would have been with Butcher if she weren't out desperately trying to find the man she loved. How did she make Tig understand that? "You know," she closed the distance between them slowly, making sure his eyes were on hers. "I've learned a few things since I last saw you. I know now it's not the life I can't hack, it's the life with Butcher." She knew by the way Tig squinted at her that he was listening. "And I've learned that for a woman, survival around here means fucking a bigger bad ass than the last one you fucked previously…" the ghost of a smile played at her mouth as she laid her hand on his chest, her eyelashes fluttering as she turned her gaze adoringly up at him. "I just did that."
He smiled, laughed dryly, but ultimately removed her hand from his chest and balled it up within his own. He knew what she was doing, what she was getting at, and he wouldn't have this argument with her again. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then dropped it like a rock. "Don't look at me like that, kid. You want your old man dead, kill him yourself."
"Damn it, Tig!" Anger rose in her with no warning and began to mix with panic, making her more desperate than she'd been in months. "I can't do this anymore! I'm asking you for help! Please!" But Tig seemed unmoved, standing there smoking and giving her a look that only spoke of how she should have listened to him, how he'd tried to keep her from being in this much danger. He had the right to hold that over her head, Jocelyn accepted that, but now she was in serious danger. Someone was likely inside right now talking about how long ago Tig had disappeared, followed by Butcher's old lady, and how that could only mean one thing. If Butcher found out…more tears streamed down Jocelyn's face, her fate was sealed. "He's going to kill me, Tig!"
Good, she was scared, and she should have been. Maybe after he took care of Butcher, she'd stay away for good this time. For good, he ignored the coldness the thought of never seeing her again brought with it. He couldn't afford to look or sound the least bit soft, and he hardened his stare. "Go back inside," he told her, steeling himself against her tears, being as cold and apathetic as he could be. "When I come in, don't notice me."
Jocelyn felt her heart sink into her stomach. Was this truly it? He wasn't going to do anything? He knew better than she did what being with him just now would end up costing her. "Tig?"
He exhaled sharply, snorting smoke like an evil beast, and this time pointed at the door of the bar, eyes hard and angry. "Go!"
Her fear turned more to anger, she'd never understand him, no matter how much she wanted to or tried to. Just when she thought that maybe there was something human inside him, he proved her wrong. She wiped at her tears, scared, frustrated, feeling betrayed again. "Fine!" It was all she could think of to say, but then, if Tig didn't care, there was nothing else to say to him. She shoved her hands back into the front pockets of her hoodie and started for the door, shoulders stooped, head down, wondering how many days, how many hours, she had left to live, but that mattered less to her than Tig's disregard. She loved him.
He hated to see her looking like that; it was like being punched in the gut to see her look like that. Fuck! Why couldn't he get control of himself around her? "Joss," what the hell was he doing? Why did he bother? He was only asking for trouble, and it had had nothing to do with Butcher. Tig sighed, trying to remember when he could or couldn't feel things depending on whether he wanted to or not. "I won't let him kill you."