Pairings: Jax/Tara, Jax/Wendy

Warnings: Language, Mentions of explicit sex

Spoilers: Season 2 premiere

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing

Word count: 946

Summary: There's a quiet and a calm all around him that Jax doesn't feel and tonight he doesn't want to be gentle.

Pulling back the sheets on the bed that Tara neatly made that morning Jax is decidedly not tired. Yes, there's a physical exhaustion settling in, but a restlessness is equally thrumming inside. There's a quiet and a calm all around him that he doesn't feel and Jax isn't ready for the silence just yet.

Jax knows what he wants to do with all that energy. The problem is he can't with the brunette in the living room. Tonight Jax doesn't want to be gentle. He doesn't want to look in her eyes or whisper in her ear. He doesn't want to ask permission. Tonight he just wants to take.

Any other night it would be Tara's breathy sighs and whimpers and the way she locks her ankles behind his back, but on this one Jax wants to push her face first into the mattress and he wants to hear her beg. Maybe it's for the best that she's probably going home, because he almost doesn't trust himself enough not do it anyway.

This relationship with Tara is still too fresh and too new. What's okay and not isn't crystal clear to him yet. Jax knows that what he told her tonight definitely is not. Maybe after this experience with honesty Tara will know better than to ask next time. He can hope anyway. Jax won't lie to her, but he isn't going to offer up any truths he knows she can't handle.

Which leaves him where he is tonight, remembering another woman that filled up all the quiet and dark spaces, creating her own kind of chaos. Marriage to Wendy was easy and impossible all at the same time. He could do whatever he wanted with her and without her. It's a fraction of that freedom Jax is looking to feel tonight. He doesn't want to be the good guy, and really... Jax is not the good guy.

All the nights that he came home drunk to find her in an equally wasted state. The amount of damage they could cause as the minutes ticked away the hours. The sun high in the sky in the early afternoons when finally he would drag himself up off the couch or the floor just to take a piss and grab some water before falling into bed. Jax does feel some remorse that he usually left Wendy where she lay.

Jax couldn't keep going down that road with Wendy and mostly he's over nights like that. Jax won't raise Abel in that kind of home. Abel's never going to wake up one morning and find his mother half-naked on the living room floor cranked out of her mind. Finger-shaped bruises around her upper arms standing out against her pale skin. Jax would put a bullet in her head first and then turn the gun on himself.

Lying between the sheets, knowing that Tara's probably pacing the living room, all Jax can do is remember the way Wendy's thighs would just squeeze tighter around him when he wrapped her blonde hair around his fist and pulled.

Jax remembers the rough feel of the skin over her spine one afternoon when the carpet rubbed it away. The way she looked when he tightly held her wrists above her head while she squirmed and bucked beneath him because she hated being held down. Wendy didn't gently kiss her way anywhere on him. She licked and sucked and used her teeth to scrape and mark her path.

The bruises that he left on her body never came from his fists. The black, blue, and purple dotted across her hips came from his hands pulling her down, and down, and down trying to match her frenetic pace to his hard and fast. Wendy could never be controlled. Sometimes though, Jax managed to pin down all that energy to focus it only on him.

Jax doesn't want Wendy. He just wants that release. Tonight he just wants to fuck Tara up against the wall hard enough that tomorrow the crow will be flying amidst a sky of black and blue. Jax wants to bend her over a counter with one hand wrapped in brown hair while the sharp sound of skin against skin fills the silence. The urge runs deep enough that Jax almost says to hell with it. More than likely Tara will follow whatever lead he gives her and for tonight he's willing to take advantage of all that trust she seems to have in him.

It's her footsteps padding down the hallway, past his sleeping son's bedroom, and stopping at the doorway of his own that keeps him still. The other side of the bed… hers… dips and Jax is grounded back into this reality when her arm comes around him. They have years of history between them, even if she was gone for most of them, and he doesn't need to hear the words. Tara hasn't reached her limit yet, but Jax knows she has one.

Pressing his lips firmly against the smooth skin of her hand is the most he trusts himself and his shaky control with. It's a surgeon's hand that helped save his son. A hand that's gently brushed the hair out of his eyes, but he also knows the force behind her grip when she pleads with him to go that much deeper and just a little quicker.

Opie's not wrong. A gunshot to the head would be merciful once Jax finished with him if it were Tara… no.

His girlfriend is pressed up behind him and Jax can listen to her breathe, and it's a different kind of distraction. There's a quiet without all the dark.

AN: Thank you for reading! I know it's short, but I like the little punch I think it makes that way. I realize this fic could be taken a way I did not intend and I just would like to clarify that I am not trying to imply that Jax was physically abusive to Wendy during their marriage.