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topaz119 says: This one's co-written with
without_me says: So, a while back,
I responded with a ficlet of my own, my interpretation of Jensen's response to the situation. And then I started writing more of that story, and then
But here's the important thing: this story absolutely grows out of/is based on Brenda's original. It won't make sense without it. Our interpretation of what the original means isn't the same as Brenda's, though. Authorial intent is dead, long live authorial intent; her universe is hers, and we're not trying to change it or insult it. Two roads diverged in a wood, and we... went this way.
Enough
CWrpf
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, implied Mayhem/Jared
Rating: NC-17, mild D/s
Disclaimer: Hah. Like we know what's really going on...
Huge, huge thanks to
aproposofnothin and estrella30 for awesome betas.Jensen's not sure what Jared thinks, whether he thinks Jensen doesn't know what happens between him and Chad--Jared showers, after; wears extra layers for a while, but Jensen has eyes, knows when Jared won't quite meet his, knows what bite-marks look like even when they're faded, knows without even having to see when Jared's moving stiff and sore--or whether he thinks Jensen doesn't care or simply couldn't cope.
Jensen never thought much of Chad to begin with, seems like he's an especially stupid fuck in a town full of 'em, but Jensen always tries to give people the benefit of the doubt, and Chad and Jared have history, and.
There's history and there's now, though, and Jared can think what he likes about Jensen, but that doesn't make it true. Jared's not the first guy who's looked at Jensen's smile and made assumptions about what was--or wasn't--behind it, and he probably won't be the last. It may have taken Jensen a while to decide what to do about the situation; that's just being sensible, wanting to figure out the right way to go about this and not just roll in swinging. He's learned a lesson or two from Chris on that, on both sides of the equation, and Jensen always remembers his lessons.
Imagining Chad's face beaten inside out is a hell of a lot of fun, but what's even better is imagining his expression when he texts Jared one day (Jensen's seen one or two of those texts, filth and meanness and can't spell worth a damn; Jared deletes them as soon as they come in but Jensen's got good vision) and Jared doesn't answer, doesn't show up wherever, whenever Chad says, doesn't answer his calls and, the next time they run into each other, doesn't look at him with that combination of shame and lust anymore--yeah, that'll be worth more than the blood spurting from a hundred broken noses.
Jared thinks Jensen can't give him what he needs. For as smart as Jared is, sometimes he's awfully pretty.
*
He thinks a while on exactly how to do it. It's never completely risk-free, but he's pretty sure it'll be okay. He does wait until they wrap for the season, though. There's knowing they're both professionals, and then there's being stupid. Fortunately, shooting didn't run over, so the extra couple of days they built into their schedule just in case mean he's got time to work.
He opens his front door and lets Jared, loose and happy after a good steak and even better bourbon at Hamilton Street, precede him into the apartment. When Jared turns to him, grinning as he toes off his shoes, Jensen grins back. Everything's nice and easy and normal right up to the point where Jared turns toward the living room and Jensen kicks his feet out from under him, one of the moves they've practiced a thousand times together on set, but Jared wasn't expecting it now, and he goes down hard. The moment of surprise helps Jensen pin him quickly, before Jared can really gather himself to fight back, which is good, because Jensen's pretty sure he could take Jared in any case, but he'd rather not have both of them worn out and bleeding before they even get to the fun part.
"--the fuck, Jensen?" Jared would be yelling, but Jensen's got a knee hard on top of his back and his wrists twisted up behind him, and that's keeping the volume down some. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Let me up."
"I will," Jensen says. "But first, I'm gonna clarify a thing or two."
"About when you lost your mind?" Jared growls, and Jensen leans on his wrists a little harder; bends down closer, right by his ear, and lowers his voice.
"Someone's lost his mind here, yeah," he says. "But it isn't me." Jared's tense under him, all that muscle and need, all that confusion. It's sexy as hell, and Jensen grits his teeth against a wave of want. "As I was saying, I wanted to be sure we're both clear on what I can do. What I will do." Jared shifts, and Jensen leans on him a shade harder, "Be still," and then continues as if Jared hadn't interrupted. "What I will really fucking get off on doing if it's what you... want."
"What I--"
"I said, be still." Jared can't be breathing very well, not with all Jensen's weight squarely on his back and ribs. Jensen tightens his grip on Jared's wrists. "People think I'm real pretty," he says quietly. "And they're not wrong. But if they think how I look is all that's inside, they don't know me very well. You know me better than that, don't you?"
Jared doesn't say anything, and Jensen nods. "This isn't a game," he continues. "I don't do this with just anyone." He pauses and lets his thumb rub over the pulse that's pounding hard just under the skin on Jared's wrist. "You're not just anyone."
Jared can't move much at all, but even with Jensen kneeling on him he manages to put a surprising amount of eye-roll into a huff of breath, and something in the set of his shoulders changes, unspoken dismissal. Jensen yanks on his wrists to get his focus back. "You're not just anyone, Jared. But valuing you doesn't mean I can't give you what you need."
"I don't know what you're talking about." It's almost a sneer, and Jensen's lips flatten.
"No," he says. "You think I don't know what I'm talking about."
It's not Jared's fault. Jensen doesn't advertise his kinks any more than Jared does, after all.
"Here's the thing," Jensen says. He eases up, just a little. Jared's still pretty solidly pinned, but if he wanted to fight back, he probably could. "If you don't want to do this, say so. No hard feelings; you can walk away right now. We'll still be friends, we'll still fuck like we always have, no harm, no foul. If that's what you want, you can have that." He pauses for the space of a breath. "Or you can have this, from me. Everything you need. Everything." He bends his head, slides his teeth over the nape of Jared's neck, a warning and a promise. "It's your choice," he says.
"What makes you think you can give me what I need?" The words are still belligerent, but Jared's not struggling.
"What makes you think there's anything I can't do better than that abusive little punk?" Jensen keeps his voice even, but just thinking about Chad makes him want to growl and spit. "Especially for you."
"You don't understand," Jared whispers.
"You'd be surprised what I understand," Jensen hisses back. "What you need to understand is that I wouldn't let him near a dog I cared about. But the fact that your buddy’s a sadistic moron doesn't mean only a sadistic moron can take care of you."
"I don't want--"
Jensen shoves his knee down again, hard enough that Jared grunts involuntarily. "I know what you want. And if you'd stop tying this up in knots in your head, you could be getting it already."
Jared's breath sounds painful, and really, if he hasn't gotten the message yet, he's not going to. Slowly, reluctantly, Jensen lets go. He's done everything he can; now it's Jared's turn.
Jared grunts in pain when he moves his arms, then gets them under him and pushes up to hands and knees, silent, just breathing. Jensen waits, and Jared stands up, turning his head only slightly, not quite looking at him. "So... now what?" he asks.
"Bedroom," Jensen says. Jared hesitates only a second before starting down the hall, and Jensen follows silently.
In the bedroom, Jensen says, "Okay. Here's the deal. You walked in here on your own. Your choice." He pauses, but Jared doesn't disagree. "Now it's my turn," Jensen says. "No holds barred. You know me; you know you can trust me. But I won't be asking for permission slips. Got that?"
"Yeah," Jared says. He doesn't sound totally convinced. He still doesn't get it; of course he doesn't, not if what he's used to is a... Jensen forces himself away from that line of thought. Chad's not here, lucky for all concerned, and Jared's what's important right now. Jared, who--no matter what he agrees to right now--could leave anytime. Now, ten minutes from now, when this is over later; he could walk out and not come back.
Not if Jensen does his job right. "Get undressed," he says, nodding toward his bed. They've been here dozens of times before, and this is going to be like none of those times.
Jared starts unbuttoning his shirt. "What about you?"
Jensen raises an eyebrow. He takes a seat on the easy chair in the corner by the bed, putting one hand on the leather of the arm, the other on his inseam. "What about me?"
Jared makes a ridiculous face that somehow manages to be half-laugh, half-frown at the same time, and if Jensen weren't still on edge from getting Jared this far, he'd probably be working hard not to smile. As it is, he waits quietly, and after a few seconds' hesitation, Jared shrugs his shirt off and unbuttons his fly. Jensen nods. "Keep going."
When Jared's standing naked in front of the bed, Jensen stands; walks up close to Jared, not quite touching, but close enough to feel body heat. He raises a hand to thumb Jared's nipple, scrapes blunt fingernails down his ribs to his hip, squeezes. Leans up to fit their mouths together, and Jared opens for his kiss like he always does. Jensen kisses him hard and deep, not brutal, but he's the one doing the kissing, and he's the one who decides when he's done. "Okay," he says, looking into Jared's eyes. "I'm not him. I have no desire whatsoever to be anything like him." He presses his fingers harder into Jared's skin, not painful but firm. "I'm here because I want to be here. And so are you. Right?"
Jared nods, and Jensen steps back. "Good. Sit on the bed." He moves back to the chair, settles himself again, legs splayed, comfortable. Jared looks for a second like he's going to say something, but then he blinks and sits down.
"I want to see you," Jensen says. Jared isn't hard; he's still thinking too much, feeling too little. "Touch yourself."
"That's not--" He stops at Jensen's look.
"I hope you're not going to say that's not what you do with him."
Jared doesn't say anything.
"I want to see you touch yourself," Jensen says. "That's where we're starting. If you can't handle that, the door's over there." He thinks he might tackle Jared if he tries to leave, but he makes himself stay still, relaxed, easy.
Jared clears his throat. Shifts on the bed. Closes his eyes, and wraps his hand around his dick.
"Eyes open."
Jared's head flies up; he blinks at Jensen, who looks calmly back at him. Jensen waits, watches Jared want to say something, watches him swallow it back down. He still doesn't move, though, and finally Jensen says, "I'm waiting."
Jared's lips flatten, but then his hand slides down his cock, slow and light, eyes still fixed on Jensen's. Jensen nods fractionally, and drops his focus to where Jared's squeezing himself, pulling, fingers working over himself. It takes a minute, but he starts to respond, his cock filling, the firming head peeking out from the circle of his fingers. Jensen watches as his skin flushes, as the tip of Jared's tongue wets his drying lips. Jensen loves Jared's cock, knows its heat and weight, knows how his hands and mouth feel on it, and he shifts as he watches, the display drawing answering heat in his own body.
"Touch your nipples," he says, his voice low, and Jared swallows and obeys, one hand still working his cock, the other sliding up to tease his chest. "Harder," Jensen says. "Nails. Don't make me come over and show you." Jared's eyes widen, but he curls his fingers, scratching hard over sensitive skin, white tracks rapidly shading to dark pink, and Jensen licks his own lips. "Good," he says. "Keep going."
Jared's hard now, sliding his fingers over the tip and slicking pre-come down the shaft, stroking himself in a rhythm Jensen can feel in his balls. It's beautiful, he's beautiful, and as Jared's breathing speeds up Jensen lets his hand rest over his cock, gentle pressure; he's going to be waiting a while yet but God, it feels good.
Jared's posture changes, and when Jensen looks up to meet his eyes again, Jared's half-smiling. "Like what you see?" he asks, and Jensen's moving before Jared even finishes saying the words, pressing him flat on the bed, knocking his hand away from his cock, ignoring his pained gasp.
"You still playing games?" he growls. "I thought I'd made myself clear." He circles Jared's cock with his fingers, squeezing tight, feeling Jared twitch in his hand, feeling the tension jolting unreleased through his body--through both their bodies, okay, but this, right now, this is about Jared. "Tonight I come when I want to," he says, his hand a vise. "And you come when I want you to." Jared half-laughs, but he's still rock-hard, and when Jensen drags his nails in a rough, twisting curve from the base of Jared's cock to the tip, the rest of Jared's breath comes out in a yell as his body spasms, his cock jerking, jetting white across his belly and chest.
"Yeah," Jensen breathes, gentling his touch, stroking Jared firm and steady until he's panting, whimpering, his cock slippery-soft in Jensen's hand. "Yeah. That's one," he says, hand still moving. "Now let's see about two."
"Jens--" Jared says, pulling away, and Jensen stops him, one hand hard around his upper arm, the other not giving up its hold on his cock.
"When I want you to," Jensen repeats, holding Jared's eyes, willing him not to argue, not to run.
Jared sucks in air, but he doesn't say anything more, and Jensen smiles, traces patterns on Jared's balls, over and around, teasing and playing and he's not quite gentle, not quite easy. He slides the tip of one finger up and over Jared's cock, feeling the soft flesh start to fill again, feeling Jared's breath speed up, go shallow. His eyes fall half-shut, and Jensen lets it go this time, for a minute or two, before starting to talk. "You're not looking at me," he murmurs, stroking, "but I can still see you, can still see how you like it, everywhere I touch you. Not just your cock, but your chest, your face," light touches along with his words, and Jared's eyes are open now, pupils big and dark, his mouth open just a little, and Jensen keeps talking.
"They say the first one's the hardest and maybe, yeah, but let's find out. How many times can you come for me tonight, huh? How many times can you come if I keep doing this, don't let you rest, don't let you catch your breath, keep rubbing you and touching you, slicking you up with your own come, slick your cock, slick your ass--don't close your eyes, you're gonna watch me do this, just like I'm watching you, see the way you bite your lip, the way your muscles tense, you can make noise if you want to, that's okay, go ahead..."
Jared's whining softly, twisting and shaking at every touch. Jensen keeps that rhythm, keeps Jared right there, right on edge, until he sees it in Jared's eyes, sees that he knows Jensen can go either way: let him come, make him beg. He keeps Jared there just a second longer before he tightens his grip, moves his hand faster, and when he starts scraping his nails over the skin of Jared's hip, Jared comes with a shudder and a long, low moan.
"That's good," Jensen says, pulling the last shocks of pleasure out of Jared's body. His own voice is going hoarse, dry with talking and need, but he keeps his focus on Jared. "Now we're getting somewhere," he says. "I could watch you come all night long."
Jared makes a wordless sound, and Jensen smiles, because, yes, that was a promise. He smears his hand through the mess on Jared's stomach, and slides his fingers down between Jared's legs. Jared sighs, shifting his knees further apart, and Jensen watches his face as he strokes two fingers against Jared's entrance, teasing for a few seconds before pressing in. Jared groans, his head tilting back, and a current of need runs through Jensen's body. He pushes his fingers deeper, finding a good rhythm, not rough, not yet, and wraps his other hand around Jared's cock.
"Jen," Jared says, wincing. "Not yet."
Jensen keeps his hand where it is, ghosts his thumb over the head, almost not there, and smiles when Jared's breath hisses in. "Yeah," he breathes, eyes steady on Jared's. "Again. One more time. While I get you ready to be fucked."
Jared squeaks a laugh, muscles flexing around Jensen's fingers. "I'm ready. It's--I'm ready. Go for it."
Jensen smiles and shakes his head. "When I want," he says. He twists his fingers inside Jared, curving them, and watches Jared arch up off the bed.
"Fuck," Jared moans, hands clawing at the sheets. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Jensen flicks his wrist, jacks Jared once, firmly, and Jared's almost screaming but he's getting hard again, and he's staying, not struggling, so Jensen keeps going, keeps pushing.
Three fingers inside and he doesn't have to do much, Jared's fucking himself on his hand; he can concentrate on Jared's cock, and fuck, he wants to taste Jared right now, feel him warm and wet on his tongue, but he needs to keep this going, not give Jared any time to think. "Fuck, Jared," he says. "You should see yourself, man. Spread out and begging."
He doubts Jared can hear him; his eyes are blown, nothing but pupil, and his voice is hoarse and shaking, words tumbling out in no real order, just, "God, fuck, please, Jensen, please."
He can push harder now, slow steady strokes giving way to rougher, faster, every one ending with a nasty twist of his wrist and the slide of his palm across the head.
"God," Jared's babbling, "I can't--Jensen, I can't--"
"You can," Jensen says, locking his eyes on Jared's. There's no room for a mistake when Jared's this strung out, slick with sweat and fever-hot. Jensen feels every breath Jared drags into his lungs, muscles and tendons taut, but Jared's still there, still with him, hasn't checked out.
"Come on," Jensen coaxes, flexing his fingers, his other hand skating slick and wet on Jared's cock, and Jensen's been there, knows how it's like being flayed, how the pleasure's shot through with pain. "C'mon, Jare, you're right there, you can do this, gonna feel so good, come for me so I can fuck you, God, want it so bad, want to feel you on my dick, yeah, you're gonna feel so good." He's not paying attention to what he's saying, because he knows Jared isn't either; he's just running his mouth, adding the pitch and cadence of his voice to all the other sensations bombarding Jared, until finally he bucks up, bowstring-tight, and convulses under Jensen's hands, pulsing and nearly sobbing with release.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Jared's whispering, and finally, finally it's time. Jensen turns him over, not ungently, and Jesus, as out of it as Jared is, he's doing his best to move, and seeing how hard he's trying, watching him struggle up to his hands and knees, seeing how much he wants to be fucked, almost puts Jensen over the edge right there.
He has to stand up to get his jeans off, which is a test of will power and coordination, but he does it, gets the condom on and slicked, trying not to howl at his own touch. Thank Christ there's no need for any more prep, because he thinks he might die if he had to wait any longer, and then he's pushing into Jared so fast he thinks he can still feel Jared's muscles shaking with aftershocks. "Oh," Jared gasps, barely staying on his knees, and Jensen pulls him up tight, draping himself over Jared's back for a moment, drinking in the feel, the heat of him.
"You ready, baby?" he mutters against the nape of Jared's neck, and doesn't wait for an answer.
Jared's pliant, giving, every breath a moan as Jensen thrusts into him. "That's right," Jensen's saying, "so good, so beautiful, feel so good around me, so fucking perfect," feeling Jared shiver and shudder with every stroke. Jensen can feel his own orgasm building, can't last much longer, but he bites his lip, forces himself not to give in just yet, because they're not done, he's got to stay on top of things, just a few minutes more.
He leans in close and puts as much weight as he can into his voice. "Get yourself off," he says, and it's as near to an order as he can make it. Jared tenses under him, around him, shaking his head, no, no.
Jensen tightens his grip on Jared's hips, hard enough that he knows he'll see bruises in the morning, and growls, "You walked through that door, you're here because you want to be here, you want this, you fucking get off on it. You don't get to tell me no, you do what I tell you, and I'm telling you to jerk yourself off."
It's touch and go for a second; he's walking the razor's edge, he knows that, but Chris has always told him to trust his gut, and he's putting that together with everything he knows about Jared and praying he hasn't just fucked everything to hell and back.
Jared shudders, a long slow contraction that ripples along his spine, and then he's twisting, shifting, right shoulder going down to the mattress as he reaches under himself. Jensen knows without seeing the second Jared touches his cock, would have known even without the choked-back cry.
Jensen stays still, lets himself feel Jared's rhythm, drinks in the tension and the strain as Jared struggles with himself. His hands are still tight on Jared's hips, fingers almost cramping, until he needs to move, needs to fuck, hard and fast and desperate. He forces Jared's thighs wider apart, lifting his hips to find the perfect angle. "Good," he pants, bucking forward once, again, again, fuck, so good. "Like that, just like that, like you were doing for me earlier, I know what it looks like, so hot, your hand on your cock, the way you tease yourself, how rough you like it, keep going, don't stop." Jared presses his face into the mattress, but Jensen can still hear him panting, raw and helpless.
Jared sobs when he comes, a broken, exhausted cry, and the sound's enough to melt Jensen's brain. He bares his teeth, Mine, mine, mine, thrumming through him. "That's right," he breathes. "So good, so perfect, you're amazing, Jared, so beautiful, so strong..."
He's been pushing everything down so long he actually has to consciously think Okay, you can come now, before his own body responds and all the need he's been holding back slams fast and hot through his veins. He comes with one arm around Jared's chest, his mouth pressed between Jared's shoulderblades, salt sharp on his tongue and nothing but blazing white behind his eyelids. He holds them both there a long moment, finding his control again, before pulling carefully out and easing Jared over on his side.
Jared's eyes are closed, his lashes wet, and Jensen sucks in a steadying breath. "Hey," he says softly, feathering a kiss on the fragile skin of an eyelid--quick taste of salt--another in the damp tangle of hair, a final brush across Jared's swollen mouth.
"Hey," Jared croaks, and Jensen smiles, kisses him again.
"Can you stand up?" he asks. He could clean Jared up right here, but he wants the lazy intimacy of warm water around them, and if it won't entirely keep Jared from being sore tomorrow, at least it'll help some. "C'mon, let's see if you can get up, huh?" He gets a shoulder under Jared's arm and levers him up, and Jared's actually pretty steady on his feet. He stands on his own as Jensen starts the bath filling, and gets in without difficulty.
Jensen slides in behind him. The oversized tub is big enough that they could fit side by side, but he wants his arms around Jared, wants Jared leaning back on him. "Yeah," he says, "Relax, baby, let it go, you did great, amazing..." The water's warm, but Jared's starting to shiver, and Jensen holds him, easing water up over his shoulders, bathing his face, smoothing sweat-soaked hair up off his forehead. "You're so beautiful," Jensen whispers. "I'm so lucky," and fuck, he so is, so amazingly lucky. "So strong, so beautiful." He repeats himself, over and over, knowing Jared's not really listening, or not hearing anyway, but some of the words will sink in, and if nothing else the feeling behind them will.
He keeps them there until the water starts to cool, until Jared lies quietly, heavy and boneless in his arms. Jared moves obediently when Jensen tells him it's time to go; hauls himself out of the tub and holds tight to the counter while Jensen dries him off. Then Jensen shoves him gently back toward the bedroom while he gets himself dry and makes sure the bathroom floor isn't a death trap if one or the other of them stumbles in later in the dark.
He catches sight of himself in the mirror and wants to laugh at how totally fucked out he looks. He's bone-deep happy, though; relaxed and pretty damn mellow. He takes a second as he flips off the lights to really feel the good stuff, lets it flow through him right up to when he walks into the bedroom and finds Jared, in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting on the wreck of the bed fumbling with his socks, trying to turn them right-side-in.
"What the fuck, Jared?" The words come out louder than he intended, and Jared jumps.
"Yeah, man, sorry, I'm almost--" he says, standing up and taking a shaky step toward the hall door, shoving his socks half into his pockets.
"Jared," Jensen says, carefully. "What are you doing?"
"I--you said I should go, I'm just moving a little slow right now..." He edges toward the door, eyes on the ground, and Jensen clamps down hard on the anger building inside him.
"No, dude," he says, forcing his voice to stay calm and even, and he's an idiot; he should have been watching more closely, paying better attention to whatever space Jared's slipped into. "I just meant we needed to get out of the water before we fell asleep and drowned."
"Oh." Jared looks up and something--relief, shame, confusion--flashes in his eyes. "I, uh, it's okay, I mean, I probably should get--"
"You should get in bed," Jensen says, and it's maybe too loud again, but goddamn. He swallows hard. "You can go if you want, but… I want you to stay. Please?"
Jared looks at him for a long second and Jensen stays as loose and relaxed as he can, until Jared nods, turning back toward the bed and dragging the comforter down.
"Dump that on the floor," Jensen says, his heart beating again. "It's thrashed; just pull it all the way off and I'll get another."
Going to the guest room gives him about forty-five seconds to get himself under control, make sure none of his fury with Chad--with himself, for letting it get this bad--will spill over onto Jared. When he gets back, Jared's sitting on the stripped bed, head down, staring at where his hands are resting between his knees.
"Hey," Jensen says quietly, dumping the clean comforter on the mattress. "Let's get you undressed." He puts careful hands to Jared's waist, thumbing his fly open and urging Jared up long enough to tug his jeans back down. No underwear, and Jensen touches Jared's hip gently. "Do you want to sleep in the shirt, or take it off?"
Jared shrugs and reaches one hand behind his neck to pull the shirt off. Jensen helps, whispering his hands up Jared's chest, making sure the collar doesn't catch on his chin. "Beautiful," he says, brushing a kiss over Jared's mouth, and Jared's mouth twists up in a half-smile, one Jensen knows as well as his own face. "Yeah, whatever, I'm a dork. Deal with it."
Jared's smile widens, and Jensen takes his first comfortable breath since he came out of the bathroom.
"C'mon," he says, easing Jared back on the bed. "Sleep."
A few more seconds to drag the comforter over them, and then Jared's spooned in front of him, clean bedding cocooning them both. Jensen presses soft kisses into Jared's damp hair, whispering more nonsense, until the residual tension in Jared's body eases and he's fast asleep, not moving even when Jensen shifts to un-kink his shoulder.
Jensen stays wrapped around Jared, listening to his deep, even breaths. The first one's the hardest, and they're past it, and Jared's still here, still with him. Between that, and cataloguing precisely how he's going to take Chad apart, he falls asleep smiling.
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