spn rps: kiss you all starry eyed
Mar. 30th, 2008 12:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withimpunityTitle: kiss you all starry eyed
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG-13
Words: 754
Disclaimer: I do not own Jensen and Jared. This is a complete work of fiction. No harm intended.
“Dude. How did you even find a couch long enough for your lank ass legs?” Jensen asks, smacking Jared’s bare feet out of the way as he sits down next to him after putting the dvd in the player.
“I know a guy,” Jared grins, reaching into the bowl in his lap, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn. His shirt catches what doesn’t make it into his mouth. “Wan’ uhm?” He offers Jensen the bowl, cheeks stuffed with food. Jensen laughs and reaches across Jared’s chest, plucking six or seven pieces of popcorn that never made it into Jared’s mouth.
“Waste not,” he adds with a wink and presses play on the remote.
…
Jared’s feet start out on the coffee table, long legs crossed, almost hanging over the edge. Sometime in the middle of Pulp Fiction, he starts shifting uncomfortably and decides to pull his legs underneath him; his toes wiggle and brush Jensen’s thigh whenever he squirms or reaches for more popcorn. Jared‘s mouthing along to Uma, ‘Now I wanna win, so dance good,’ when Jensen realizes Jared’s feet have somehow ended up in his lap. Ten minutes later Jensen’s rubbing barely there circles around Jared’s ankle and commenting on how badass Samuel L. Jackson will always be.
…
The room darkens dramatically when the movie goes off, the tv screen emitting a soft glow from the credits rolling across the screen, soundtrack playing in the background. Jared slides his feet out of Jensen’s lap and puts the bowl full of popcorn kernels on the coffee table.
He smashes Jensen’s face between his hands, kissing him slow and deep, licking inside his mouth like Jensen’s his favorite kind of candy. Jared tastes like butter and salt, twizzlers, coke, and something else Jensen can taste all the way down to his bones. Kissing Jared makes him feel like he’s drowning; he loses himself in Jared’s mouth, Jared’s huge hands dwarfing his face, Jared’s body crushing him against the couch. Between the rushing of blood and the lack of oxygen to his lungs, Jensen thinks he might be dying. He doesn’t see what the big deal’s about if this is what it feels like.
…
Jared’s hands pulls at Jensen’s black t-shirt, slipping his fingers beneath the poly-cotton blend, skimming across the dip of his naval and the slightly rippled muscles from where they’ve been working out together. Jensen shivers and his hands scramble for Jared’s shirt, pulling and tugging at the fabric covering Jared’s shoulders until its gathered under his arms. Jared sits back on his knees and pulls it the rest of the way off, barely giving Jensen a chance to catch his break before fusing their lips together again. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when Jensen’s fingers curl around his hip, the little space where his jeans have slipped low, his thumb pressing inside the dip of his hipbone.
“God, want you,” Jared murmurs against his lips so fast Jensen almost doesn’t catch it, then Jared’s fucking into his mouth with his tongue, so hard and deep he almost chokes on it. Instead, he almost comes in his fucking pants.
…
“Jared,” He sighs as Jared tugs his jeans down his legs, kneeling on the carpet in front of him. Jensen’s voice is scratchy raw, lips cherry red, kiss-swollen and perfect. “I want you.”
Jared smiles lasciviously as he dips forward, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of Jensen’s thigh. “I think you got me.”
Jensen shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth and slides his fingers through Jared’s hair. “No, Jay. I want you.”
Realization dawns on Jared‘s face and he raises up on his knees, taking Jensen‘s face between his hands as he presses their foreheads together. “Not going anywhere, baby.”
“’Kay, good,” Jensen smiles, letting out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for eight months and fourteen days.
…
Jensen hears Jared’s phone buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans that got left somewhere on the floor last night. Jared’s got one leg thrown over him, one hanging off the side of the bed, arm draped over his chest and there’s a puddle of drool on his pillow.
“Jared,” he elbows Jared lightly in the ribs. “C’mon, wake up.”
“Mnnaguh,” Jared says, wiping his face with the back of his head. “Shu’up. What?”
“Phone’s ringing. Probably-”
“Let it,” Jared grumbles and tightens his arm around Jensen’s ribs. “N’go back t’sleep.”
Jensen thinks that’s a pretty damn good idea.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: PG-13
Words: 754
Disclaimer: I do not own Jensen and Jared. This is a complete work of fiction. No harm intended.
“Dude. How did you even find a couch long enough for your lank ass legs?” Jensen asks, smacking Jared’s bare feet out of the way as he sits down next to him after putting the dvd in the player.
“I know a guy,” Jared grins, reaching into the bowl in his lap, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn. His shirt catches what doesn’t make it into his mouth. “Wan’ uhm?” He offers Jensen the bowl, cheeks stuffed with food. Jensen laughs and reaches across Jared’s chest, plucking six or seven pieces of popcorn that never made it into Jared’s mouth.
“Waste not,” he adds with a wink and presses play on the remote.
Jared’s feet start out on the coffee table, long legs crossed, almost hanging over the edge. Sometime in the middle of Pulp Fiction, he starts shifting uncomfortably and decides to pull his legs underneath him; his toes wiggle and brush Jensen’s thigh whenever he squirms or reaches for more popcorn. Jared‘s mouthing along to Uma, ‘Now I wanna win, so dance good,’ when Jensen realizes Jared’s feet have somehow ended up in his lap. Ten minutes later Jensen’s rubbing barely there circles around Jared’s ankle and commenting on how badass Samuel L. Jackson will always be.
The room darkens dramatically when the movie goes off, the tv screen emitting a soft glow from the credits rolling across the screen, soundtrack playing in the background. Jared slides his feet out of Jensen’s lap and puts the bowl full of popcorn kernels on the coffee table.
He smashes Jensen’s face between his hands, kissing him slow and deep, licking inside his mouth like Jensen’s his favorite kind of candy. Jared tastes like butter and salt, twizzlers, coke, and something else Jensen can taste all the way down to his bones. Kissing Jared makes him feel like he’s drowning; he loses himself in Jared’s mouth, Jared’s huge hands dwarfing his face, Jared’s body crushing him against the couch. Between the rushing of blood and the lack of oxygen to his lungs, Jensen thinks he might be dying. He doesn’t see what the big deal’s about if this is what it feels like.
Jared’s hands pulls at Jensen’s black t-shirt, slipping his fingers beneath the poly-cotton blend, skimming across the dip of his naval and the slightly rippled muscles from where they’ve been working out together. Jensen shivers and his hands scramble for Jared’s shirt, pulling and tugging at the fabric covering Jared’s shoulders until its gathered under his arms. Jared sits back on his knees and pulls it the rest of the way off, barely giving Jensen a chance to catch his break before fusing their lips together again. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when Jensen’s fingers curl around his hip, the little space where his jeans have slipped low, his thumb pressing inside the dip of his hipbone.
“God, want you,” Jared murmurs against his lips so fast Jensen almost doesn’t catch it, then Jared’s fucking into his mouth with his tongue, so hard and deep he almost chokes on it. Instead, he almost comes in his fucking pants.
“Jared,” He sighs as Jared tugs his jeans down his legs, kneeling on the carpet in front of him. Jensen’s voice is scratchy raw, lips cherry red, kiss-swollen and perfect. “I want you.”
Jared smiles lasciviously as he dips forward, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of Jensen’s thigh. “I think you got me.”
Jensen shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth and slides his fingers through Jared’s hair. “No, Jay. I want you.”
Realization dawns on Jared‘s face and he raises up on his knees, taking Jensen‘s face between his hands as he presses their foreheads together. “Not going anywhere, baby.”
“’Kay, good,” Jensen smiles, letting out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for eight months and fourteen days.
Jensen hears Jared’s phone buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans that got left somewhere on the floor last night. Jared’s got one leg thrown over him, one hanging off the side of the bed, arm draped over his chest and there’s a puddle of drool on his pillow.
“Jared,” he elbows Jared lightly in the ribs. “C’mon, wake up.”
“Mnnaguh,” Jared says, wiping his face with the back of his head. “Shu’up. What?”
“Phone’s ringing. Probably-”
“Let it,” Jared grumbles and tightens his arm around Jensen’s ribs. “N’go back t’sleep.”
Jensen thinks that’s a pretty damn good idea.
