"There's just one thing," Mandy says, and she looks away while her immaculate nails tap a staccato coda on the contract.
"What?" Jensen asks. They've been through the clauses three times over already.
Mandy's eyelashes are so heavily mascara'd Jensen thinks she must be able to feel the scratch of them on her perfect cheeks, but when his agent looks up he can see she's honestly concerned. They're not friends, but she's seen him through voice overs and bit parts and guest roles and three ensemble series and now, at twenty seven, his first lead role. They're good.
"How do you feel about working with a Not?"
It's a shock. The words rock Jensen back in his chair and clench his fists on his thighs, while Mandy says -
"Swear to God, Jensen, I didn't know - "
It's not as if he's never spoken to a Not. He prides himself on his liberal views. It's been years since the knee-jerk insults of his Texan school days. Jensen's never going to say, some of my best friends, but hell, he's met a few. Spoken to a few. But -
"Someone on the board wants to make a statement about - " Mandy says, "Tolerance? It's edgy, Jensen. I mean, we're not exactly talking civil rights here, but - "
He's already wondering how this is going to work. Will there be segregated catering? Separate trailers? How much time is he going to have to spend with the Not? What's it going to do to his reputation - is he going to be known as the guy that works with Nots for the rest of his career?
"He's a good guy, Jensen, he's done some interesting stuff - "
Fuck it. He wants Dean. He knows Dean. The contract's for a single season. He can suck it up.
"Yeah?" Mandy says. She should be happy. It's a good deal. But she's still frowning as Jensen signs on the dotted line.
Jared Padalecki. He's good looking, for a Not, broad-shouldered, with an unusual, pretty face, fox eyes and slanted cheekbones. Jensen's not got as far as downloading the trashy Not soap operas that make up the bulk of Jared's CV to date, but late night curiosity means he might have seen the few pictures there are on line.
So he has to admit to a frission of excitement when cast and crew crowd into the screening room for orientation. He gets there early, stakes out a wall, and scans faces as the crew arrive. This is his third show for the network and he nods to a few familiar faces, but it's not until the lights have gone down that he sees his co-star, and that only because he's standing up and catches movement in the corner of his eye. Hunched, visibly uncomfortable, Jared Padalecki slides around the edge of the screening room door and crunches himself up in the corner, eyes fixed straight ahead under his messy bangs. It's obvious he doesn't expect or want to be recognized. Every inch of him's saying, look away.
He's hardly competition. It's a shame, though, for Dean. Jensen resigns himself to a show that's going to get pulled half way through its first season and looks back at the stage, where Eric Kripke is tapping the microphone under a screenshot reading "Welcome to Supernatural."
Afterwards, Jensen tries to find Jared, but the Not's gone.
So the first time they shoot, the first scene, that's when Jensen meets Jared. The Not's talking to Eric, head bent, shoulders tight, hands bunched in his pockets, and Jensen takes a moment to reassess just how tall Jared is. Big. Taller and broader than Jensen himself, which sends an unexpected stab of fear through Jensen's stomach even though the last Not riots were ten years ago. Then Eric's saying, hey, and Jared's turning around, pretty face under that stupid hair, and Jensen's got his hand stuck out before he even thinks about the gesture. Awkwardly, uncertain, Jared looks down, at it like he's not quite sure what to do.
Jensen's going to be sharing a set with the Not for the next six months. He says, "Hey, man, I don't bite. Shake."
Stiffly, Jared reaches out his own hand. Shakes Jensen's awkwardly, like he's not used to this, and come to think of it, it's the first time Jensen's actually touched a Not too. But under his bangs Jared's got a tiny little grin going, uncertain, and Jensen suddenly gets that Jared is as uncomfortable about this whole thing as he. Jared's hands are cold and sweaty, unexpectedly big, but Jared himself is so damn young and unsure.
"Stick with me, kid," Jensen says. "I'll show you a good time."
Jensen's smiling, consciously charming, wanting Jared to like him, but Jared's eyelashes flick up and he drags his hand back and suddenly he's all tight again, shoulders, arms, cheekbones. Jensen doesn't know what he's done wrong. "Dude?"
"What do you - " Jared looks away, swallows, looks back. "What do you want?" His voice is quiet, dropped so that whatever they're saying, it's between the pair of them.
"Eh?" Jensen says, disconcerted. "To meet you? It's just odd, you know, you're my baby brother, dude, and we've not even said hello."
Jared says nothing, head on one side, chin upthrust like he's expecting someone to hit him. It's going to be a good look for Sam and Jensen suddenly sees why Jared got the part. But Jensen is flailing for words, and Jared's not helping, his mouth firm and his shoulders set. It's a pretty mouth.
Oh Jesus. Stomach lurching, Jensen remembers in a ghastly rush all the rumors he's heard and discounted. He's an average guy. He's always thought sex with a Not was gross and messy and not something he was ever going near, porn or no porn. But Jensen's done his share of casting couch blow jobs and he's straight. Jared, Jared has probably had to blow half of Hollywood to get where he is now. No one would ever want him to take his clothes off, but that mouth - yeah Jensen can see that. And, Christ, that is so not what he's asking his co-star for.
"Texas," Jensen says, grasping.
"Huh?" Jared asks.
"You're from Texas. Accent, man. Where?"
They could have grown up in the same neighborhood and never met. Jared's a Not. But actually it turns out he's from San Antone, close enough for Jensen to drop a few anecdotes until he remembers that Jared's never going to have seen a ball game live or gone to that Mexican cantina, and grinds to a halt, helpless and lost for words.
But Jared's smiling. A little smile, still guarded, but he says, "It's okay. I get it. Awkward." Then he looks away. "Thanks," he says hesitantly, and Jensen relaxes with a sigh of relief because the last thing he needs is his Not co-star thinking Jensen wants to crawl into the same bed. No. Just no.
But as it turns out, Jared is pretty awesome. The moment the cameras start rolling, he's Dean's Sam. On film, he loses the nervous tension that disguises his height, comes across broad- shouldered and confident, a little goofy. And the way he looks at Dean like Dean is everything - Jensen loves that. Dean, too. Together, they're hot, and Jensen knows it. He's got that slow curl of excitement in his belly about this one. It's really working, Supernatural.
Off set, Jensen tries. He does his best to drag Jared into the crew, tries to get him to eat his lunch in catering, not in his trailer, although when he sees Jared sit down for the first time and half the group at the table get up and leave, he gets the picture. Jensen's unreasonably furious at that one - what do they think, Jared 's gonna start leaking all over them, flash his cock? He abandons his tray and manages to grab his co-star at the door.
"I'm over here. Sit with me."
Jared doesn't move, looks down with dark eyes at - oh yeah, Jensen is holding on to Jared's arm with both hands and the canteen's gone real quiet.
"Burritos," Jensen says. "They've got these amazing burritos. Rosie!" He yells across the room. "Rosie, make it two, will you?" And to Jared, "Come on. Seriously." He doesn't let go until he gets a slow nod.
The first time is the worst. He's honestly surprised when Jared turns up the next day, but the kid's got guts. After a week, people stop looking up when he comes in, and Rosie starts feeding him extra cookies. There's no doubt the kid can pack it away, but there's a lot of Jared to feed and he eats like he's been hungry for years.
Getting his co-star to come out for drinks is a military operation. It involves a deliberate overshoot, a disabled car, a bribed driver and a rainstorm and no, Jensen didn't arrange that one ("Just one, eh? Then Clif'll take you home) before Jensen can drag Jared out to a bar. Not just any bar, either, it's a fully mixed bar and on the wrong side of town like all these places are. Jensen owes some serious favors, but there are more people than he expects from the crew out and - and Jared? Jensen gets to see him smile.
Fact is, after the first month, most of the crew seemed to forget Jared's a Not. It's half the tight set, but half of it's Jared's smile, his modesty, and once he loses the hunted, haunted look, his dry humor and good-natured, hard-working professionalism. Fact is, Jensen's proud of Jared. The kid's good.
It's a couple of months, though, before Jensen manages to get his co-star thoroughly trashed. They've been playing pool, at which Jared has an unfair advantage given the length of his limbs, and throwing around ideas - not that the writers will listen - and Jared's smile has got easier and broader the longer the evening wears on. By closing time, he's a tall, sloppy, happy drunk Jensen has to manhandle -
"Jensen. Lemme go."
"I do that, you'll hit the ground. Feet up."
- into the battered minicab. Turns out Jared lives -
"Watch out for -"
- in a rundown house stuck out by itself, east end of town. With -
"Yeah, who's my baby? Who's my baby girl?"
- two dogs called Harley and Sadie. Jensen gets to know them pretty well after the first time, as Jared has to walk them out of town and Jensen is taking up running, so it only seems logical to do stuff together. And Jared's house? Jared's house is awesome. It's got a huge back yard with a built-in barbecue, and a basketball hoop, and a fuck off big screen because Jared's never gonna get in a sports bar which sucks. Jensen's downtown condo with all its designer fittings and yeah, it's no-Not policy, just doesn't compare.
"It's really big. He's got four bedrooms and this really cool basement, with its own door. He's got a pool table down there."
"Stop with the Not, Jensen," Tony says, pulling a face."It's not like you're friends, man - "
Jensen stands up. He's cold. Cold anger, stomach knotted, furious. Because they are friends, him and Jared. Somewhere over the burritos, sometime past Jensen turning down separate make-up trailers, between the beer and the pool and the practical jokes, they're friends.
"You got something to say?"
"Whoa!" Tony says. "Back off. I'm not saying you're fucking the Not, dude. Just that - "
"You're spending a lot of time together," Chris says, from over the table. His voice is neutral, but Jensen knows - now - Chris has signed a few petitions.
"So?" Jensen says. "So what? I like the guy."
"Yeah, well," Tony says. "You still have to put up with the smell of him every day, don't you? Ugh, Not drool, all over the place, gross. You seen his dick? How fucking ugly is that, man - "
"Fuck you," Jensen says.
"Or maybe you've got a hard-on for Not sex, eh? I hear they put out real good when you get them - "
"You know what?" Jensen says. "It's none of your business if I fucking have." He's got his hand clenched around the neck of the beer bottle. He's never been so close to glassing someone in his life, watching Tony's mouth move, ugly words.
It's Chris who hustles Tony away. Jensen sits down, tense and unhappy, rolls the bottle in his hands, draws spirals in the spilled beer on the table. When Chris comes back, he says, "Is that how you read it, dude?"
Chris looks at him steady. They've been friends for a very long time. "None of my business if it is," he says, and knocks his beer bottle against Jensen's.
Fact is though, it's not as if he hasn't thought about Jared. Jared's built, hard muscle and soft skin, blinding smile when Jensen can coax it out, big hands, big feet -
He's a Not.
Laying in his bed, Jensen runs his hand down the smooth line of his own dick. He toys with the base of it, trying to imagine what it would be like if his flesh was not smooth and symmetrical, but swollen at the base. Knobbly. Ugly. Drooling. So dysfunctional Nots are only allowed to breed with each other, so gross no straight would ever consider laying a finger on them. How does it even work? Jensen strokes his own dick gently, imagining a knot under his fingers. Wonders if the thing would be as sensitive as his own skin. Wonders if Jared finds his own body disgusting, if Jared tugs and rolls his own Not dick the way Jensen is now. Wonders what it's like to pump come for hours, messy, sticky, wet, unstoppable. Wonders if Jared is coming now, right now, dick in his hand, come over his belly, his chest, face screwed up panting, fingers in his own ass, thighs spread -
The trouble is that once he started to think about Not dick, Jensen can't stop. It's at the back of his mind every time he looks at Jared. Dog dick. Massive, veined, swollen wet dick. Hard. He wants to know what it feels like. How different it is.
Jensen's always thought of himself as a breast man, when he's not cruising for straight dick. (And how fucked up is that, when dick isn't, by default, straight any more in his head?) He likes things simple: big rack, big cock, yeah baby. But these days he's searching the murky depths of the internet for blurred, amateur porn images disguised under euphemisms and acronyms, hungry to actually see what he's imagining. Jensen gets off most nights at the thought of Not dick and comes harder and harsher than he's ever come in his life before.
is, once he's found the right sites, he finds the personals. It turns
out he's not the only straight with a fetish for Not. By long way. Too
often he's tempted to reply, itching to find out for real, hungry to
know what that dick looks like, feels like. It doesn't help that Jared's
in his face all day. Jared with his floppy hair, with his narrowed eyes
that shine when he laughs, with his fucking pink mouth and his hands
- Jesus, Jared could probably cover all of Jensen's own dick with one
hand, and what that means for the size of Jared's dick Jensen -
So if Jensen's gonna do this - and he is, he really is - he's going to do it right. Find a safe space and find a guy he trusts.
Jensen starts replying.
He's not stupid. He turns down one guy on the basis of spelling alone, and another because he's just got a bad feeling. (Yeah. All those myths about Not rape, about being left torn and bleeding and covered in come: he's not exactly buying, but he's cautious.) Another because he's too short. It's never mattered before. Before Jared.
But, eventually, he hooks up online with this guy Tim. Tim's a cool dude, laid-back, not bothered about Jensen's caginess, not looking for an instant fuck. They e-mail back and forth for a couple of weeks, half tantalizing, half... yeah, reluctant. That's Jensen. He's not even sure why he's hesitating. Tim is fine. Tim's willing, unattached, and once he sees Jensen's photograph flatteringly interested. Everything Jensen could hope for, if he's really going to go for it.
Then Tim e-mails to say, he'll be up in Vancouver next week. Visiting friends. Does Jensen...
Yeah, Jensen does, e-mailing back with cramping hands and his teeth sat in his bottom lip. He's nervous, excited, turned on, feels like there's a flashing neon sign over his head all week. He kind of thinks he's off on set, but the only one giving him funny looks is Jared. It's Jared who's covered a couple of times when Jensen was late back to set, cheeks flushed, or had to leave in a hurry.
Yeah, Jared notices. He's not saying, but his nostrils flare every time Jensen gets close, and he's carrying all his tension in his shoulders again. So Jensen's not exactly comfortable with saying -
- over the third round. Just the two of them, tonight, in what has turned into their home bar. Jared's feet kicked back under the table and Jensen slouching over his beer.
Jared looks up. Oddly intent, waiting. Oddly still. Jared's a physical guy, waves his hands around, falls over things: once Jensen got him warmed up he's easy to touch. And, yeah, Jensen does kind of like the heavy weight of Jared's arm over his shoulders and the occasional rib cracking hug. But right now nothing of Jared's moving but his fingers on the beer bottle, a steady and conscious stroke.
"I was wondering..."
Jared's face is so guarded Jensen has to look away. He's drawn a blank on hotels, they're all straight only. There's that stupid no-Not policy at his condo, and if they're renewed - signs are good - Jensen's moving somewhere he can have Jared over. Fuck it, he'll move in: the lease is the network's and the house is big enough Jared won't notice.
It's the only place he can think of.
He knows he's blushing.
"So, there's this guy. And I kind of wanted..."
Suck it up, Ackles.
"I need somewhere to hook up with a Not."
If he'd thought Jared was still before, the man's frozen now.
"And I thought... Can I..."
"Straights don't fuck Nots," Jared says. His voice is odd, with a note to it Jensen's never heard before.
"Yeah. Well," Jensen says.
And Jared laughs. Not like Jensen's ever heard him laugh before, openmouthed and happy. This one's a face down, cracked out bitter thing that makes Jensen think fuck, wonder if he's lost a friend over, Jesus, over some fucking little Not he hasn't even met. He feels sick.
"Doesn't matter. Forget it. I'll - "
"I can do that," Jared says. "You've not got much of a choice, have you?"
He looks up. Looks Jensen in the eye. And man, that's a guilt trip in itself, because Jensen's thinking now of all the choices he's had - hotels, bars, beds - Jared will never know. Kind of ironic. Kind of wrong.
"Any night you're..." He's not going to fuck some stranger in Jared's house with Jared there. He's not.
"Friday," Jared says, and downs his beer. "I'll even change the sheets for you."
"Gotta go," he says.
Next day, though, he gives Jensen the spare keys.
On Friday, the house is quiet and silent when Jensen left himself in. The dogs are gone and the lights out. The coffee machine is empty. It feels odd without Jared's presence - Jensen hasn't realized how much space his co-star takes up until the guy's not around, and he finds himself squeezing onto one end of the sofa with three empty cushions in front of him, reaching for the game controller when there's no one to play with. It makes him so uneasy he nearly jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings. At the chime, he should be excited, turned on - it's his fantasy moment, he's been jerking off to this for months - but the whole thing feels wrong. He's not turned on. He's a little wary, a little resigned. But he's not backing out now.
Tim's a nice enough guy. He's wearing a white hoodie and jeans. He has brown hair. He's an inch or two shorter than Jensen, which is okay. And he sticks his hand at the moment the door opens and Jensen shakes it with a wry grin tugging at his mouth, because he can't help remembering Jared's cold hands, and then he catches the look in Tim's eyes and the grin's gone. It's not at all like Jared. Tim's grin is sexual, confident, almost predatory. The guy's a player, and although that's what Jensen wanted, now Tim's standing in front of him...
"Yeah," Jensen says. He chose this. "You're Tim? Come on in."
"Nice place," Tim says, turning around in the hall. "Yours?"
"A friend's," Jensen says. He's not prepared to talk about Jared. "You want a coffee? Beer?"
"Beer would be good," Tim says, and follows Jensen into the kitchen. Turning around with two bottles in his hands, Jensen can't help but catch Tim ogling his ass. He throws a lifted eyebrow and a half smirk that works for Dean too, and sees Tim's eyes brighten. "Yeah," Tim says. "You wanna...?"
Jensen is beyond bruising his knees on the kitchen floor and suddenly, he doesn't want to take this guy upstairs. "Couch is through here," he says, and takes them both into the living room. When he sits down, Tim follows him easy and smiling, gets a hand on Jensen's shoulder and another on his arm, and then they're kissing.
It's just like kissing anyone else. Tim's lips are a little chapped, not unpleasantly so, and his mouth is warm and wet. His tongue is gently pointed as it teases. He tastes of not much - a little beer, a little mint, as if he's been chewing gum. It's pleasant, not earth shattering. Good enough, Jensen thinks, and let his hands stroke over Tim's shoulders - he works out, but nothing like Jared - and his ribs, the skin warm under Jensen's fingers. Just like a straight. Just like any other bar hookup.
When he lets his fingers play with the top of Tim's jeans Jensen starts to feel anticipation curling in his stomach. He lets Tim pull him in closer, Tim's hands under Jensen's shirt, on Jensen's back, digging in. Tim's turned on, panting into Jensen's mouth - "So good, fuck, yeah" - but Jensen feels oddly detached, like he's getting off on the image in his head, not the man in his arms. It feels rude. Discourteous.
He lets his hand slide down over the bulge in Tim's jeans, pressing down enough -
" - Oh, fuck..." Tim whines, his hips bucking up -
- to feel Tim's dick, hard, smaller than Jensen had been hoping. Not as good as he'd imagined, but still, Not dick, and Jensen shuffles his fingers down slowly, starting to feel the first twinges of his own arousal warm his gut and harden his own dick. Under his palm the denim of Tim's jeans is not damp but wet, sticky, clinging to his skin. Come is soaking through the fabric already, and Jensen wants to feel the pulse of it for real, so very strange but not... not disgusting. Hot.
Jensen looks up to catch Tim's eyes. And Jared's standing in the doorway.
It's like a bolt to the heart. He backs off so fast Tim falls flailing against the back of the couch.
"I'm sorry," Jared says, his hands spreading wide in front of his body. Jared fills the whole damn door frame. "I'm so fucking sorry, I just meant - "
"What the fuck?" Jensen says, as Tim scrambles off the couch and grabs a cushion to hold in front of his wet crotch.
" - wanted to know you're okay, man, I'm - " Jared's turning away, and his shoulders are hunched up around his ears just like when he first came on to set and he was so fucking scared and so brave.
"Wait," Jensen says, but Jared's out the door. It's all wrong, it's Jared's home, it shouldn't be like this, and Jensen finds himself running down the hall. He catches Jared at the door and slams him around against the wall. They're so close he can see the flare of Jared's nostrils and the narrow pissed-off glare of his eyes. Can smell him, dog and coffee and something that's just Jared, something Jensen knows from too many late nights playing games, evenings when they leaned against each other in the back of the car ("Hey. Get Clif to pick both of us up. It'd be cheaper, right?") too tired to speak.
"What?" Jared says.
And Jensen's got no words. He's barely aware of Tim slipping past them in and out of the door. He's looking at Jared's eyes, so dark they look almost black, and he can see the way Jared's breathing, harsh and fast. The muscles of Jared's shoulders are so drawn tight, and although they're not touching he can feel the heat of his co-star's skin against his and it's so wrong and so terrifyingly good.
"Straights don't fuck Nots," Jared growls, like it's a mantra he's been saying to himself for years, but the way he's looking at Jensen is so very far from no Jensen practically jolts forward. He's got one hand pressed against Jared's heart, the strong beat of it under his fingers, and the other - Jesus Christ - oh fuck -
Jared's dick. So fucking hot. Round as a beer bottle, straining at the
zip, fucking soaking, so wet Jensen can smell it. Musk, come, hot like
burning. "Oh God," Jensen says, and reaches up and drags Jared's
head down. They meet open-mouthed, wet and messy and clashing, tongues
twisting together, both of them wanting. Clumsy, awkward, hungry: so
"What?" Jared says, and bites at Jensen's neck, running his tongue down the line of it hot and wet and strong.
"You want this?"
"Christ. You need to ask?" Jared says.
"But I'm - " and Jensen is honestly confused because he had no idea, none.
"Wanted to fuck you from day one. Let you fuck me. Don't fucking care. Just want your hands on my dick, your mouth, umph - "
Jensen's gone. Down on his knees on Jared's carpet, tearing frantically at Jared's jeans because he wants, fuck, he wants that dick so badly he's drooling for it. And then, Jesus - Not dick - is this what's supposed to be so ugly?
Jared's fucking gorgeous. Massive. He's going to be so heavy on Jensen's tongue, the shaft of him heavily veined, fascinating, flesh forming puzzles Jensen wants to solve, suck, lick, tease, choke on. He's not twisted at all, just a little curved to his belly and so hard he's twitching. And, yeah, Jared's leaking, so wet his dick gleams with pre-come and even as Jensen watches more oozes from his slit in small globular gasps. Fascinating.
At the base, Jared 's dick is so broad Jensen is fairly sure his fingers aren't going to meet around it, but the skin of it is soft. It's ridged where Jared's knot will be, swelling even as Jensen leans closer, his mouth open. Jensen wants - God, he wants it all, now. Oh God, does he -
"You don't want to - " Jared's hands pushing him back, pulling at his hair.
"Fucking do - "
"Can't - "
"Jesus man, let me - " but Jared's got a grip now and Jensen can't move. He's six inches away. Looks up to see Jared looking down, eyes all pupil, flushed cheeks, sweat gleaming on his forehead, absolutely gorgeous.
" - don't - "
"Can I fuck you?" Jensen asks quickly, before Jared can say no to anything else, and Jared closes his eyes and his mouth opens. Jensen says, "Please." He's never wanted anything so badly.
The growl Jared gives him back is as much pain as pleasure, a low growl that shivers down Jensen's spine and centers in his gut. The force of it jerks Jared's dick against his belly, between them.
" - stand up - "
" - let go."
"I don't even - ," but Jared does let go, slowly, lets Jensen stumble to his feet and push Jared to the stairs. They're doing this for real, in a bed. Except that Jared's shoulders are tightening as he moves. He's pulling in on himself, moving stiffly, and when Jensen gets a hand in the small of his back Jared twitches like he's been stung by a blowfly. It's all going wrong.
Jared drops his shirt. He just shrugs it off his shoulders and lets it fall, and Jensen nearly swallows his own tongue. He's stunned by the flex of muscles in Jared's back, strong, clean, beautiful curves of strength. He wants to run his tongue over every inch. When Jared bends to take off his boots Jensen is still stuck in the bedroom doorway, his heart pounding and his dick so hard it's choking in his jeans, awestruck.
But Jared. Jared folds his jeans up when they're off. Crawls naked onto his bed, his back to Jensen's face, on all fours with his ass in the air. It should be, it is, so damned hot, but Jared's back slumps and his face is hidden under his bent elbow. It's not - fuck, Jared said -
Jensen sits down, very carefully, on the bed. "Hey," he says softly. "Hey. Can I see you?" He doesn't touch.
Jared uncurls really, really slowly. Reluctantly. He's so hesitant rolling over that Jensen is miserably glad he's still got his jeans on, because if Jared really doesn't want this he's out the door so fast. Eyes closed, hands balled, Jared lies with his thighs spread. He's still hard, still wet, but it's Jared's face and not his dick Jensen needs to see.
"Jared," he says, gentle as he can manage. "What?"
"Thought - " Jared swallows. "Second thoughts?" He taunts, an edge to his voice harsher than Jensen has ever heard before. "Don't want to screw the Not, get your fingers dirty - " It's fear, anger, and this time Jensen does get why Jared's so scared.
"Shut up," Jensen says. He's reached out, hadn't realized he was going to, he's got his hand splayed out over Jared's heart.
"Fucking want you so badly I can't breathe with it," Jensen says. It's true. His hands are shaking. "You. Not just your dick. I need you with me, we're gonna to do this." He pauses. Tries to imagine what it's like for Jared, and fails. "I'm not going to die of blue balls if you say no to me, Jay."
But Jensen's holding his breath when Jared opens his eyes. Doesn't say anything. Looks, like he can see right through Jensen, every truth and every lie and every stupid, dirty, kinky thought Jensen's ever had. Like Jared can see just how badly Jensen wants him.
"Sam to my Dean," Jensen says to him softly. "'Cept this is us."
Jared curls one hand over Jensen's, over his own heart, presses down. He nods.
"Oh thank fuck," Jensen says and, breathing out, "Can I?"
It's a very small smile, but it's there. Jensen crawls up the bed, ducks down, and runs his mouth up Jared's dick. It's still hard, blood-hot and wet, and it jerks under Jensen's touch. He gets a hand on the base - yeah, that's Jared's knot, filling and hardening under his fingers, amazing - and Jared gets a hand in his hair, petting softly. Almost without sound, Jared's whining, and his hips hitch and roll in frustrated tiny shivers. Jared's trying not to move. Jensen pulls his mouth off long enough to say, "C'mon. Fuck me."
Then he closes his eyes and sucks down Jared's dick hard and fast as he can. It's easier than he thought it would be. Jared's big, bigger than Jensen's ever done before, but wet he slips into Jensen's mouth like he's meant to be there and he tastes - oh God - he tastes of the sea, salty and musky and wild. Jensen screws his mouth down, tries to get Jared's dick down his throat, and comes up against the hard bulge of flesh that has to be Jared's knot.
There's no physical way Jensen can suck that up, although he tries. Squeezes and pats it with his fingers, wants to, can't, while the knot pulses and shudders like it's alive. Jared is groaning in time with each pulse, still not thrusting. The muscles in his thighs are jumping with stress and his stomach muscles jerk under Jensen's hand: he's going to come. Jensen knows it moments before Jared tries to drag him off and no, not happening. Jensen wants everything. When the first real shot of come bursts out against his tongue, Jensen opens his eyes and looks up. It's amazing. Jared's got his head thrown back, his mouth open, and he's panting with every spurt. His eyes are slitted, scrunched up, and he keeps trying to open them and blink at Jensen's face before the next wave of sensation forces them closed again. He comes for minutes, shuddering, and Jensen takes every drop, swallowing down until all he can taste is Jared's come. After a while, the pulses slow, deepen, and although they don't stop then Jensen does let Jared pull him off.
"Fuck me," Jared says. "Jensen. Please."
Jensen is so up for that he nearly comes. He'd actually forgotten his own dick, but it's still there, still hard, and when Jared spreads his thighs and tilts his hips, wordlessly begging, Jensen has to jam his own palm hard against his balls not to come in his jeans. Undressing is torture. He hops on one leg, forgets his boots, and puts a thumbnail through his left sock dragging it off, but by the time he's skin bare Jared's produced a condom and Jensen slicks it on with fumbling fingers. Jared moves to roll over again, heavy and slow. He's still coming, still flushed, come oozing onto his belly in slow weak pulses.
"I want to see you," Jensen says, grates out, his hands on Jared's hips and his eyes searching for his co-star's. "Need you to - "
He can see the astonished, almost anguished need in Jared's face. It's stunning. No one has ever wanted Jensen that badly. The want of it goes straight to his dick: the touch of his own hands as he lines up with Jared's wet, pretty-pink hole nearly makes him come. He's biting his lip so hard he surprised he can't taste blood.
He shudders inside, knowing that this is going to be brutally quick. He manages three, four stuttering desperate strokes before he comes, yeah, fireworks, and around his dick Jared's flesh contracts hot and wet and Jesus, so tight. Almost like Jared is coming again although - what must that even feel like? Jared's never stopped coming.
Jensen is done. He hangs his head, panting, Jared 's thighs heavy over his own, sweat glistening on his skin. Jared is still coming, slow reluctant dribbles leaking from his dick, but his knot is soft and intriguingly wrinkled. His chest rises and falls as he breathes gustily, but he's got his arm flung over his face, fingers lax, and Jensen can't see his eyes.
"Can do better than that," Jensen says, eventually.
It's the tiniest snort of amusement Jared gives him, but Jensen feels the relief of it flush through his nerves. "So. Not bad? For an old guy?"
"Jesus," Jared says. He pulls his arm away from his face and looks down wide-eyed, the pretty pink blush still coloring his cheeks. Then, visibly, he pulls himself together, his face hardening. Shifts his hips uncomfortably. Jensen takes the hint and lets his dick slip free, already regretting the distance.
Jared says, "if anyone ever finds out about this - "
"I don't care," Jensen says. Curious, he rolls his fingers through the viscous come on Jared's belly, and licks again. It still tastes of the sea. Jensen likes oysters. It's thick and white, Jared's come, like the very best lube, and Jared's still hard.
"Then I'll care for you," Jared says. "This never happened, you hear?"
"Whatever," Jensen says, distracted.
"Seriously. You don't know. Jensen, this can't - what are you doing?" Jared says, his voice rising.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
Jensen grins up, a Dean special, cocky, confident, and swings himself up to kneel over Jared's hips. His dick's hardening again, his stomach rolling with nerves and want. He's fingered himself open with Jared's come. Badly, he wants to ride Jared's dick.
"No," Jared says, as Jensen closes one hand over the uneven veined shaft. "Jensen. No. You do this, you're marked, you're knotted, no straight will ever touch you again - "
Gloriously thick, the burn of it just the right side of good, Jensen slides himself down on Jared's dick. Jared is trying to push him off, but there's no power behind his hands, an ingrained reluctance.
Christ," Jensen says, full, so hot and wet, amazing. He rocks a
little, feels Jared's knot pulse, and clenches himself around it encouragingly.
"Feels so fucking good," Jensen says. He can feel the ball of the knot now, filling him up, pressing against his prostate.
"Jensen," Jared says desperately.
Jensen pushes himself up a couple of inches and tests the pull at his ass hole. It hurts. It's too late. He's knotted, stuck on Jared's dick for as long as it takes. The thought is so hot he shivers. It's an awesome feeling, amazing, and Jensen lets his hips rock on Jared's, loving the feel of Jared's knot inside his body. The knot's still swelling, and Jensen has to suck in his breath, has to move, and the feel of it is so very good his head goes back and his hands fly out, grasping. Blind, it's Jared's own hands he finds, supporting, their grip strong.
"You - " Jared says, and clears his throat. Tentative. "You really like this."
"No shit," Jensen says, and under him Jared rolls his hips experimentally and that's so good. "You?"
Jared snorts. "It's all new to me. Jesus."
He's holding Jensen's hips now, starting to manhandle Jensen's weight just where he wants it. It's the faintest trace of a sexual confidence Jensen wants for Jared very badly indeed. "You're serious?"
"Not," Jared says, self explanatory, but Jared's gorgeous and Jensen can't believe he's the first person to have this, the first person ever to get Jared off, ever to get off on Jared's dick, the first time Jared's ever knotted inside someone else.
"'s good?" It's so good for Jensen his fingers are tingling, his dick hard as steel and leaking.
"Can't even - " but as Jensen peers down, worried, Jared starts to grin, carnal and happy. He rolls his hips again, just right, and makes Jensen gasp.
"Awesome," Jensen says, panting.
"Good to know," Jared says. "You're gonna be there a while."
much later, no longer joined but sprawled across Jared's bed half asleep,
Jensen says, "This knot thing. Does that make you mine then? 'Cause
I could go for that."
that," Jensen says. Looks up and grins. "If you'll have me,
I'm moving in. You wanna make statements with me, baby?"