withimpunity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withimpunity) wrote2008-10-13 01:58 pm
withimpunity) wrote2008-10-13 01:58 pm
Entry tags:
fic: What's a Five Letter Word for Pouty, Overgrown Man-child? - Jared/Jensen -
Title: What's a Five Letter Word for Pouty, Overgrown Man-child?
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PRON, JEAH
Words: 3081
Summary: Sunday's are slow and boring. Jared's out to change that.
A/n: As always, the brilliance of this is totally inspired and mostly thought up by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bigfiction, who is my muse and my hor, and really very sexy in motorcycle boots.
The problem with Sunday is that everything goes so slow. Jared doesn’t like slow, isn’t used to slow. All week its gogogo, move here, cry there; he barely has a chance to breathe until the weekend. Then when he has it, he doesn’t want it. Story of his life.
Except Jensen’s sprawled out on Jared’s couch, lazing around in his socks and plaid pajama pants with a crossword puzzle in his lap. Jensen’s like a cat, Jared thinks. And no, he doesn’t always land on all fours, but he does purr when you rub him the right way and he loves this slowness, the surreal way the tempo seems to drop on Sunday’s, slowing the whole world down. He even looks like a cat, like he’s going to arch his back off the dark leather and open his mouth and stretch from his tip-toes to his eyelids. Jared silently prays for it, actually.
“You wanna play Rockband?” Jared plops down next to him on the couch. Jensen glares at him over the rim of his glasses, too damn lazy to even put his contacts in, as his ink pen rolls off the couch. “I’ll let you be the drummer this time.”
“Nah,” Jensen mumbles as he reaches for his pen. His eyes flicker and then he’s hurriedly scribbling across the thin paper. His fingertips are smudged with blue ink. It makes Jared think of one of the first episodes they did together, Dean twirling a pen around in his mouth like it was a goddamn candy cane. That was the first night he’d ever jerked off to a guy. “You go ahead.”
Jared sighs. He doesn’t want to play by himself. If he wanted to play alone, he wouldn’t have asked Jensen. He makes a fuss out of getting up off the couch and slouches into the kitchen. They have nothing to eat. Okay, whatever, the entire pantry is bursting with crap, but he doesn’t want any of it.
“We’re out of marshmallows.” He announces this travesty to Jensen, who doesn’t even peer at him over his glasses. Jared fumes. “AND marshmallow crème.”
This time Jensen looks up at least, one eyebrow raised at him in irritation. Jared sighs and shuts the pantry. He opens both doors to the refrigerator and stares. Closes them, then opens them again, as if by some miracle something he would actually want to put in his mouth might magically appear.
“Hey, Jay,” Jensen speaks and its so startling Jared steps on his own foot and nearly falls face first into the open box of leftover pizza.
“Yeah?”
“What’s a five letter word for pouty, overgrown, man-child?”
“Hah, fuck you.” Jared mutters, pushing Tupperware containers out of the way to get to the beer in the back of the fridge. He grabs the bottle opener magnet off the front of the fridge and pops it open. Its fucking cold inside Jared’s palm and even colder when he swallows it down, but it chills him out for a minute anyway. Maybe that’s all he needed.
Jensen makes a pleased sound when he figures out another word in the puzzle, catching Jared’s attention. He’s got the top to the blue Bic in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue, clacking it against his teeth.
Oh. Jared knows what he wants to put in his mouth now.
“Little early for drinking, isn’t it?” Jensen drawls without taking his eyes off the page as Jared stands behind the couch, looking down over his shoulder. Jensen’s handwriting is scratchy, barely legible, but Jared knows every crooked r, every fucked up f.
“It’s only one beer, dude.”
“Just sayin,” Jensen smirks and scribbles a t and a l to fill in fourteen across: _____ and Louise. “I’d hate to have to call your mama.”
“Man, don’t even kid.” Jared’s totally serious. He takes another drag from the bottle then leans down, leaning with his elbows on the back of the couch, peering over Jensen’s left shoulder.
“Queer.” Jared’s breath tickles the back of his ear.
“Excuse me?” He reaches back to scratch it. Jared reaches down with his gigantic arm and points to fifty-one down: strange or abnormal. The q and the e are already filled in. “Ahh. I knew that.”
“I know you did.” No one misses the leer in Jared’s reply.
Jensen silently fills in forty-eight across: the triangular muscle covering the shoulder joint. Deltoids. Goosebumps pop up all up and down his arms when Jared’s fingers skim the neck of his t-shirt, tucking his tag back in.
“Kitchen table,” Jared murmurs; it’s so quiet and he’s so close, that Jensen thinks for a second that he heard it inside his own head.
“Where‘s that?” Jensen can’t find a place for it to fit in the puzzle.
“In the kitchen,” Jared replies, his voice deeper and husky sounding. Jensen had no idea crossword puzzles turned him on so much. “I want you to fuck me on top of it.”
* * *
“Jesus.” Jensen breathes as the book slips out of his hands. The ink pen rolls right off the couch and lands perfectly inside the neck of his beer bottle. Jared hops over the couch with the kind of ease that makes Jensen envious of those long, damn legs of his and holds his hand out to Jensen .
“C’mon,” he grins, touching the tip of his fingers to Jensen’s mouth. “I know you want to. Sometimes you talk in your sleep. Sometimes its about me.”
Jensen’s cheeks turn pink, masking the smattering of freckles on his skin, and fits his fingers into the groove of Jared’s hips, pressing the side of his face to Jared’s stomach. “The table,” he says, mouthing Jared’s naval through threadbare cotton. “The one we picked out together?”
“The very same.”
“The one we argued over for two months? The one you hate?”
Jensen’s mouth has dropped lower; now he’s mouthing Jared’s cock through the basketball shorts he keeps for wearing around the house and taking the dogs out. He can taste a patch of salty precome on the polyester/nylon/cotton blend and moans, scraping his teeth along the outline of Jared’s dick.
“Fuck yeah,” Jared says, palming the back of Jensen’s head. Just the feeling of Jared’s fingers, those long fucking fingers that have made Jensen forget what planet he’s from, much less his own name on more than one occasion, wrapping all the way around his head, makes Jensen’s body thrum with electricity. He thinks about getting Jared’s thick, hot cock all the way inside his mouth, Jared fucking his mouth like a slut, ‘cause that’s exactly what he is. Jensen Ackles is totally a slut for Jared’s cock. It’s true.
But not today.
Jensen pushes Jared back and stands up, pulling Jared’s t-shirt over his head in almost the same movement. His mouth crushes Jared and its so unexpected that Jared moans instinctively into Jensen’s mouth, reaching out, grasping for any inch of Jensen’s skin he can grab on to as Jensen fucks his mouth with lips and tongue and teeth.
“You can finish what you were doing, you know.” Jared grins as Jensen bites a chunk out of his shoulder. He doesn’t even wince. Jensen’s a biter, you get used to it.
“Nuh uh,” Jensen mutters, tasting every mole and freckle on Jared’s bare chest, fingers stroking up and down Jared’s sides. Its dangerously close to being ticklish, but it never quite makes it, just causes Jared’s entire body to break out in goosebumps and his dick to get hard enough to cut glass. “You asked for it. Get your ass over there.”
Jared giggles - he totally does - when Jensen smacks him on the ass and gives him a little nudge with his foot. “This is neat, you being in charge and all. Its like role-playing or something. Maybe next time you can be a vampire and I’ll be the helpless hot chick.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow as Jared leans his thighs back on the mahogany table top. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Jared shrugs and his teeth pull at his bottom lip. “What do you think I’m saying?”
“I think you’re implying I’m the fucking girl in this relationship. That’s what I think.”
Jared smiles coyly. “I don’t know why you’d think that, Jensen.” He palms his erection through his shorts and Jensen’s brain temporarily powers down. “Just because, you know, you’re always the bottom, that doesn’t mean anything. Just because you have my cock in your mouth so much its like one of the major food groups-”
“Shut up.”
Jared licks his lips.
“Shut up and turn around.”
Jared’s right eyebrow arches challengingly.
“That sound like a fucking suggestion to you?”
Finally, Jared smirks and obeys, turns his back to Jensen and plants his hands on the table. The table they bought together. The table they never eat at. The table Jared hates. There’s no tablecloth on it because Jared hates tablecloths.
There’s a cool breeze on his ass when Jensen strips his shorts off of him. “No foreplay or anything, Jen? Geeze, no wonder-”
“I said shut the fuck up, Jared.” Jensen says and knocks Jared’s thighs apart with his elbow. His fingers dig into each cheek and spreads them wide open, then Jared’s brain can barely form a coherent neurological response, much less some smart ass comment about his rimming technique, so he decides to go the easy route and just fucking enjoy this shit.
Jensen mouths the soft ring of muscles wetly and traces it with his tongue before spreading Jared wider and going for gold. Jared doubles over reflexively, leaning with his elbows on the table. His cock’s so hard its nearly flush with his belly, but when he reaches down to stroke it, give it just a little relief, Jensen slaps his hand away. Jared leans back down on the table, panting, sweat glistening around the edges of his hairline, dripping from the tip of his nose. When he licks his lips, they taste sweaty too. Jensen’s doing really, really, stupidly ridiculous things to him with his tongue; curling and twisting and every now and then stops to nibble Jared’s ass for a second before sliding back into him, fucking him with his tongue until Jared’s eyes are blurry and watery.
“Jensen,” he squeaks, pretty sure he just scratched up Jensen’s fine mahogany table that they never use. He’s going to be pissed about that later.
Jensen sits back on his knees and traces Jared’s hole, slick with his own spit, with his finger. “Yes, Jared?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Jared whimpers his name when Jensen presses lightly against his entrance. “Are you gonna fuckin’ fuck me sometime,” he gasps when that finger pushes inside of him, slowly but unrelenting. “sometime today?”
“Thinkin’ bout it,” Jensen drawls and Jared shudders. Fuck, he loves Texas.
Jensen stands up, mouthing one of Jared’s shoulder blades as he pushes his finger all the way inside; he can feel Jared’s spine go taut when he brushes across his prostate. “More?” Is all he asks and Jared nods silently, teeth digging into his bottom lip, already raw and bleeding.
Jared’s palm makes a sharp slapping sound on top of the table when Jensen pushes another finger inside with the first one. He can feel Jared stretching around his fingers, feel that hot, tight muscle contracting around them. It is, no doubt, the hottest thing he has ever felt before in his life. His cock is screaming at him. He wants to take his fingers out of Jared, bend him over and fuck him so hard and dirty that Jared will never even think about calling him the girl again. Not yet though.
Jensen rests one hand on the small of Jared’s back as he watches his fingers twist and disappear inside of him. The entire span of Jared’s back is shiny with a thick layer of sweat, forehead digging into the table as he presses back against Jensen’s fingers.
Jared‘s making these sounds that make Jensen‘s cock weep, high pitched whines and grunts, moaning and whimpering with his jaw clenched shut. Jensen twists his fingers and curls them slightly and for a second, Jensen thinks Jared’s crying, his long arms stretched across the diameter of the table, fingers curled so tight around the edge his knuckles are bright white.
“You are so pretty like this, baby.” Jensen murmurs, letting his hand slide down the slickness coating Jared’s back and curls his fingers around his hip. The adorations only come out at times like this, when Jared’s helpless and feeble, at the mercy of his fingers or cock; basically, when he can’t do anything about it.
“God, please.”
Jensen barely hears Jared ask, face smashed into the table, whispering like he’s humiliated to have to ask for it, and that’s it, all it takes; that’s all he wanted to hear.
“Turn over.” Jensen’s growl is husky, impatient, as his fingers slip out of Jared, making him whine a little.
“What? Why?” Jared blinks a few time, everything taking a little bit longer than normal to be processed. His cock is pressed between his belly and the top of the table and his chest is soaking wet and all he can think about is eating the fucking wood grain as Jensen fucks the taste out of his mouth.
“’Cause I wanna watch you touch yourself while I fuck you.” He sounds hoarse, exasperated. Jared would stand on his fucking head and jerk off singing Yankee Doodle Dandy if Jensen asked him to in that voice.
“Well, all right then.” He croaks and slides back on top of the table while Jensen quickly sheds his pajama pants. Jared’s dry mouth salivates as he stares at the curve of Jensen cock beneath tight, boxer briefs, a round, dark patch where the head’s been leaking precome.
“After this I’m going to suck your goddamn brains out, Jen.” Jared’s eyes are dark as he leans up on his elbows and sucks on his bottom lip.
“Jesus, Jared.” Jensen swears, stroking himself twice through black cotton. “You’re not wanting this to take long, are you?”
“Just want you in me,” Jared mutters, eyes fixed on Jensen’s fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock. “You’ll need to take those off, you know.”
“Oh, I do.” The corner of Jensen’s mouth twists into a smirk. “I might enjoy teasing you, just a little.”
“What, ‘cause sucking on twizzlers and dum-dums and popsicles and fucking any other phallic piece of candy you can get your hands on all day on set isn’t enough?”
“Jared,” Jensen says, boxers puddled on the floor by his feet as he grabs Jared’s hips and wraps his legs around his waist. Jared’s elbows slip and his head falls back onto the table when Jensen’s cock nudges his hole. “Breathe.”
“Fuck,” Jared’s ankle bone digs into the knobs on Jensen’s spine as Jensen pushes inside of him. He stares at the swell of Jensen’ adam’s apple as it slides up his throat, neck thrown back and exposed as he sinks all the way inside of Jared, fingers crawling up Jared’s thigh with every inch inside of him.
“Christ, Jesus.” Jensen hisses through his teeth as Jared’s heels pull him closer, the tight ring of muscles in Jared’s ass clenching around his cock, forcing all the air out of his lungs. “Your ass is so tight, Jay. Fuck.”
Jared’s shoulders lift off the table as he leans up, jaw snapped into a tight line. “Jensen, I swear to God if you don’t move right fucking now I’m going to go out and find someone who will fuck me like I need to be fucked. I am so not kidding.”
“Like hell,” Jensen growls and snaps his hips; Jared slides back on the table an inch or two from the force of it. He grabs Jared’s hips, fingers bruising down to the bone, and yanks him forward until their bodies are pressed flush together again, sliding his fist down around Jared’s cock. “Don’t you ever fucking let anyone else touch this.”
“Jesus,” Jared hisses through his teeth, bucking up into Jensen’s touch, back arching off the table until only the tips of his shoulder blades are touching. “Yes.”
“Mm, love it when you sound like that, baby.” Jensen groans, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Jared’s hot, rapid breathing and strangled moans. “Like you want this so bad you can’t breathe, can’t fucking think straight.”
“I can’t, god - fuck, I do.” Jared gasps, reaching up to cover Jensen’s hand with his, both of them fisting his cock until Jensen’s hand slides away and wraps around Jared’s thigh, lifting it higher, pounding into him harder.
“Wanna see you come,” He pants, mouthing the inside of Jared’s calf. “Wanna watch you bite your lip and spill all over your hand, gonna lick the come off your fingers, Jared. So fucking hot, Jay.”
“Jen,” Jared whimpers and Jensen knows exactly what comes next: Jared digs his teeth into his bottom lip until its bloody, then Jensen can feel it, those velvet muscles quivering and spasming around his cock, forcing him in deeper until he can feel himself hitting Jared’s prostate once, twice, and then he’s coming, white and orange spots flashing behind his eyes as he spills inside of Jared, elbows shaking weakly, and collapses on Jared’s sweat-slick chest.
“Mother-”
“Fucker,” Jensen finishes, his voice ragged and hoarse, threatening to give out. His tongue flicks out, teasing one of Jared’s pebble hard nipples.
“Oh God, don’t even.” Jared groans, pushing at Jensen’s forehead.
“What, can’t handle it after all?” Jensen teases half-heartedly.
“Hey man, when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong.”
“Say it.” Jensen grins across his chest.
Jared rolls his eyes. “You’re not the girl, Jensen.”
Jensen plants his hands on either side of Jared’s ribs and uses what’s left of his energy to push himself up and look Jared in the eyes. “Say it,” he says, softer.
Jared palms the back of his head and pulls him forward, catching Jensen’s mouth in a languid, wet kiss. “You’re stupid if you think I want anybody ‘cept you.”
Jensen smiles and falls back against Jared, face buried in the crook of Jared’s neck. He wonders how much falling asleep, right here, right now would suck later, and smiles against one of Jared’s moles.
“I love you too.”
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PRON, JEAH
Words: 3081
Summary: Sunday's are slow and boring. Jared's out to change that.
A/n: As always, the brilliance of this is totally inspired and mostly thought up by
bigfiction, who is my muse and my hor, and really very sexy in motorcycle boots.The problem with Sunday is that everything goes so slow. Jared doesn’t like slow, isn’t used to slow. All week its gogogo, move here, cry there; he barely has a chance to breathe until the weekend. Then when he has it, he doesn’t want it. Story of his life.
Except Jensen’s sprawled out on Jared’s couch, lazing around in his socks and plaid pajama pants with a crossword puzzle in his lap. Jensen’s like a cat, Jared thinks. And no, he doesn’t always land on all fours, but he does purr when you rub him the right way and he loves this slowness, the surreal way the tempo seems to drop on Sunday’s, slowing the whole world down. He even looks like a cat, like he’s going to arch his back off the dark leather and open his mouth and stretch from his tip-toes to his eyelids. Jared silently prays for it, actually.
“You wanna play Rockband?” Jared plops down next to him on the couch. Jensen glares at him over the rim of his glasses, too damn lazy to even put his contacts in, as his ink pen rolls off the couch. “I’ll let you be the drummer this time.”
“Nah,” Jensen mumbles as he reaches for his pen. His eyes flicker and then he’s hurriedly scribbling across the thin paper. His fingertips are smudged with blue ink. It makes Jared think of one of the first episodes they did together, Dean twirling a pen around in his mouth like it was a goddamn candy cane. That was the first night he’d ever jerked off to a guy. “You go ahead.”
Jared sighs. He doesn’t want to play by himself. If he wanted to play alone, he wouldn’t have asked Jensen. He makes a fuss out of getting up off the couch and slouches into the kitchen. They have nothing to eat. Okay, whatever, the entire pantry is bursting with crap, but he doesn’t want any of it.
“We’re out of marshmallows.” He announces this travesty to Jensen, who doesn’t even peer at him over his glasses. Jared fumes. “AND marshmallow crème.”
This time Jensen looks up at least, one eyebrow raised at him in irritation. Jared sighs and shuts the pantry. He opens both doors to the refrigerator and stares. Closes them, then opens them again, as if by some miracle something he would actually want to put in his mouth might magically appear.
“Hey, Jay,” Jensen speaks and its so startling Jared steps on his own foot and nearly falls face first into the open box of leftover pizza.
“Yeah?”
“What’s a five letter word for pouty, overgrown, man-child?”
“Hah, fuck you.” Jared mutters, pushing Tupperware containers out of the way to get to the beer in the back of the fridge. He grabs the bottle opener magnet off the front of the fridge and pops it open. Its fucking cold inside Jared’s palm and even colder when he swallows it down, but it chills him out for a minute anyway. Maybe that’s all he needed.
Jensen makes a pleased sound when he figures out another word in the puzzle, catching Jared’s attention. He’s got the top to the blue Bic in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue, clacking it against his teeth.
Oh. Jared knows what he wants to put in his mouth now.
“Little early for drinking, isn’t it?” Jensen drawls without taking his eyes off the page as Jared stands behind the couch, looking down over his shoulder. Jensen’s handwriting is scratchy, barely legible, but Jared knows every crooked r, every fucked up f.
“It’s only one beer, dude.”
“Just sayin,” Jensen smirks and scribbles a t and a l to fill in fourteen across: _____ and Louise. “I’d hate to have to call your mama.”
“Man, don’t even kid.” Jared’s totally serious. He takes another drag from the bottle then leans down, leaning with his elbows on the back of the couch, peering over Jensen’s left shoulder.
“Queer.” Jared’s breath tickles the back of his ear.
“Excuse me?” He reaches back to scratch it. Jared reaches down with his gigantic arm and points to fifty-one down: strange or abnormal. The q and the e are already filled in. “Ahh. I knew that.”
“I know you did.” No one misses the leer in Jared’s reply.
Jensen silently fills in forty-eight across: the triangular muscle covering the shoulder joint. Deltoids. Goosebumps pop up all up and down his arms when Jared’s fingers skim the neck of his t-shirt, tucking his tag back in.
“Kitchen table,” Jared murmurs; it’s so quiet and he’s so close, that Jensen thinks for a second that he heard it inside his own head.
“Where‘s that?” Jensen can’t find a place for it to fit in the puzzle.
“In the kitchen,” Jared replies, his voice deeper and husky sounding. Jensen had no idea crossword puzzles turned him on so much. “I want you to fuck me on top of it.”
* * *
“Jesus.” Jensen breathes as the book slips out of his hands. The ink pen rolls right off the couch and lands perfectly inside the neck of his beer bottle. Jared hops over the couch with the kind of ease that makes Jensen envious of those long, damn legs of his and holds his hand out to Jensen .
“C’mon,” he grins, touching the tip of his fingers to Jensen’s mouth. “I know you want to. Sometimes you talk in your sleep. Sometimes its about me.”
Jensen’s cheeks turn pink, masking the smattering of freckles on his skin, and fits his fingers into the groove of Jared’s hips, pressing the side of his face to Jared’s stomach. “The table,” he says, mouthing Jared’s naval through threadbare cotton. “The one we picked out together?”
“The very same.”
“The one we argued over for two months? The one you hate?”
Jensen’s mouth has dropped lower; now he’s mouthing Jared’s cock through the basketball shorts he keeps for wearing around the house and taking the dogs out. He can taste a patch of salty precome on the polyester/nylon/cotton blend and moans, scraping his teeth along the outline of Jared’s dick.
“Fuck yeah,” Jared says, palming the back of Jensen’s head. Just the feeling of Jared’s fingers, those long fucking fingers that have made Jensen forget what planet he’s from, much less his own name on more than one occasion, wrapping all the way around his head, makes Jensen’s body thrum with electricity. He thinks about getting Jared’s thick, hot cock all the way inside his mouth, Jared fucking his mouth like a slut, ‘cause that’s exactly what he is. Jensen Ackles is totally a slut for Jared’s cock. It’s true.
But not today.
Jensen pushes Jared back and stands up, pulling Jared’s t-shirt over his head in almost the same movement. His mouth crushes Jared and its so unexpected that Jared moans instinctively into Jensen’s mouth, reaching out, grasping for any inch of Jensen’s skin he can grab on to as Jensen fucks his mouth with lips and tongue and teeth.
“You can finish what you were doing, you know.” Jared grins as Jensen bites a chunk out of his shoulder. He doesn’t even wince. Jensen’s a biter, you get used to it.
“Nuh uh,” Jensen mutters, tasting every mole and freckle on Jared’s bare chest, fingers stroking up and down Jared’s sides. Its dangerously close to being ticklish, but it never quite makes it, just causes Jared’s entire body to break out in goosebumps and his dick to get hard enough to cut glass. “You asked for it. Get your ass over there.”
Jared giggles - he totally does - when Jensen smacks him on the ass and gives him a little nudge with his foot. “This is neat, you being in charge and all. Its like role-playing or something. Maybe next time you can be a vampire and I’ll be the helpless hot chick.”
Jensen raises an eyebrow as Jared leans his thighs back on the mahogany table top. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Jared shrugs and his teeth pull at his bottom lip. “What do you think I’m saying?”
“I think you’re implying I’m the fucking girl in this relationship. That’s what I think.”
Jared smiles coyly. “I don’t know why you’d think that, Jensen.” He palms his erection through his shorts and Jensen’s brain temporarily powers down. “Just because, you know, you’re always the bottom, that doesn’t mean anything. Just because you have my cock in your mouth so much its like one of the major food groups-”
“Shut up.”
Jared licks his lips.
“Shut up and turn around.”
Jared’s right eyebrow arches challengingly.
“That sound like a fucking suggestion to you?”
Finally, Jared smirks and obeys, turns his back to Jensen and plants his hands on the table. The table they bought together. The table they never eat at. The table Jared hates. There’s no tablecloth on it because Jared hates tablecloths.
There’s a cool breeze on his ass when Jensen strips his shorts off of him. “No foreplay or anything, Jen? Geeze, no wonder-”
“I said shut the fuck up, Jared.” Jensen says and knocks Jared’s thighs apart with his elbow. His fingers dig into each cheek and spreads them wide open, then Jared’s brain can barely form a coherent neurological response, much less some smart ass comment about his rimming technique, so he decides to go the easy route and just fucking enjoy this shit.
Jensen mouths the soft ring of muscles wetly and traces it with his tongue before spreading Jared wider and going for gold. Jared doubles over reflexively, leaning with his elbows on the table. His cock’s so hard its nearly flush with his belly, but when he reaches down to stroke it, give it just a little relief, Jensen slaps his hand away. Jared leans back down on the table, panting, sweat glistening around the edges of his hairline, dripping from the tip of his nose. When he licks his lips, they taste sweaty too. Jensen’s doing really, really, stupidly ridiculous things to him with his tongue; curling and twisting and every now and then stops to nibble Jared’s ass for a second before sliding back into him, fucking him with his tongue until Jared’s eyes are blurry and watery.
“Jensen,” he squeaks, pretty sure he just scratched up Jensen’s fine mahogany table that they never use. He’s going to be pissed about that later.
Jensen sits back on his knees and traces Jared’s hole, slick with his own spit, with his finger. “Yes, Jared?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Jared whimpers his name when Jensen presses lightly against his entrance. “Are you gonna fuckin’ fuck me sometime,” he gasps when that finger pushes inside of him, slowly but unrelenting. “sometime today?”
“Thinkin’ bout it,” Jensen drawls and Jared shudders. Fuck, he loves Texas.
Jensen stands up, mouthing one of Jared’s shoulder blades as he pushes his finger all the way inside; he can feel Jared’s spine go taut when he brushes across his prostate. “More?” Is all he asks and Jared nods silently, teeth digging into his bottom lip, already raw and bleeding.
Jared’s palm makes a sharp slapping sound on top of the table when Jensen pushes another finger inside with the first one. He can feel Jared stretching around his fingers, feel that hot, tight muscle contracting around them. It is, no doubt, the hottest thing he has ever felt before in his life. His cock is screaming at him. He wants to take his fingers out of Jared, bend him over and fuck him so hard and dirty that Jared will never even think about calling him the girl again. Not yet though.
Jensen rests one hand on the small of Jared’s back as he watches his fingers twist and disappear inside of him. The entire span of Jared’s back is shiny with a thick layer of sweat, forehead digging into the table as he presses back against Jensen’s fingers.
Jared‘s making these sounds that make Jensen‘s cock weep, high pitched whines and grunts, moaning and whimpering with his jaw clenched shut. Jensen twists his fingers and curls them slightly and for a second, Jensen thinks Jared’s crying, his long arms stretched across the diameter of the table, fingers curled so tight around the edge his knuckles are bright white.
“You are so pretty like this, baby.” Jensen murmurs, letting his hand slide down the slickness coating Jared’s back and curls his fingers around his hip. The adorations only come out at times like this, when Jared’s helpless and feeble, at the mercy of his fingers or cock; basically, when he can’t do anything about it.
“God, please.”
Jensen barely hears Jared ask, face smashed into the table, whispering like he’s humiliated to have to ask for it, and that’s it, all it takes; that’s all he wanted to hear.
“Turn over.” Jensen’s growl is husky, impatient, as his fingers slip out of Jared, making him whine a little.
“What? Why?” Jared blinks a few time, everything taking a little bit longer than normal to be processed. His cock is pressed between his belly and the top of the table and his chest is soaking wet and all he can think about is eating the fucking wood grain as Jensen fucks the taste out of his mouth.
“’Cause I wanna watch you touch yourself while I fuck you.” He sounds hoarse, exasperated. Jared would stand on his fucking head and jerk off singing Yankee Doodle Dandy if Jensen asked him to in that voice.
“Well, all right then.” He croaks and slides back on top of the table while Jensen quickly sheds his pajama pants. Jared’s dry mouth salivates as he stares at the curve of Jensen cock beneath tight, boxer briefs, a round, dark patch where the head’s been leaking precome.
“After this I’m going to suck your goddamn brains out, Jen.” Jared’s eyes are dark as he leans up on his elbows and sucks on his bottom lip.
“Jesus, Jared.” Jensen swears, stroking himself twice through black cotton. “You’re not wanting this to take long, are you?”
“Just want you in me,” Jared mutters, eyes fixed on Jensen’s fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock. “You’ll need to take those off, you know.”
“Oh, I do.” The corner of Jensen’s mouth twists into a smirk. “I might enjoy teasing you, just a little.”
“What, ‘cause sucking on twizzlers and dum-dums and popsicles and fucking any other phallic piece of candy you can get your hands on all day on set isn’t enough?”
“Jared,” Jensen says, boxers puddled on the floor by his feet as he grabs Jared’s hips and wraps his legs around his waist. Jared’s elbows slip and his head falls back onto the table when Jensen’s cock nudges his hole. “Breathe.”
“Fuck,” Jared’s ankle bone digs into the knobs on Jensen’s spine as Jensen pushes inside of him. He stares at the swell of Jensen’ adam’s apple as it slides up his throat, neck thrown back and exposed as he sinks all the way inside of Jared, fingers crawling up Jared’s thigh with every inch inside of him.
“Christ, Jesus.” Jensen hisses through his teeth as Jared’s heels pull him closer, the tight ring of muscles in Jared’s ass clenching around his cock, forcing all the air out of his lungs. “Your ass is so tight, Jay. Fuck.”
Jared’s shoulders lift off the table as he leans up, jaw snapped into a tight line. “Jensen, I swear to God if you don’t move right fucking now I’m going to go out and find someone who will fuck me like I need to be fucked. I am so not kidding.”
“Like hell,” Jensen growls and snaps his hips; Jared slides back on the table an inch or two from the force of it. He grabs Jared’s hips, fingers bruising down to the bone, and yanks him forward until their bodies are pressed flush together again, sliding his fist down around Jared’s cock. “Don’t you ever fucking let anyone else touch this.”
“Jesus,” Jared hisses through his teeth, bucking up into Jensen’s touch, back arching off the table until only the tips of his shoulder blades are touching. “Yes.”
“Mm, love it when you sound like that, baby.” Jensen groans, closing his eyes, listening to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Jared’s hot, rapid breathing and strangled moans. “Like you want this so bad you can’t breathe, can’t fucking think straight.”
“I can’t, god - fuck, I do.” Jared gasps, reaching up to cover Jensen’s hand with his, both of them fisting his cock until Jensen’s hand slides away and wraps around Jared’s thigh, lifting it higher, pounding into him harder.
“Wanna see you come,” He pants, mouthing the inside of Jared’s calf. “Wanna watch you bite your lip and spill all over your hand, gonna lick the come off your fingers, Jared. So fucking hot, Jay.”
“Jen,” Jared whimpers and Jensen knows exactly what comes next: Jared digs his teeth into his bottom lip until its bloody, then Jensen can feel it, those velvet muscles quivering and spasming around his cock, forcing him in deeper until he can feel himself hitting Jared’s prostate once, twice, and then he’s coming, white and orange spots flashing behind his eyes as he spills inside of Jared, elbows shaking weakly, and collapses on Jared’s sweat-slick chest.
“Mother-”
“Fucker,” Jensen finishes, his voice ragged and hoarse, threatening to give out. His tongue flicks out, teasing one of Jared’s pebble hard nipples.
“Oh God, don’t even.” Jared groans, pushing at Jensen’s forehead.
“What, can’t handle it after all?” Jensen teases half-heartedly.
“Hey man, when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong.”
“Say it.” Jensen grins across his chest.
Jared rolls his eyes. “You’re not the girl, Jensen.”
Jensen plants his hands on either side of Jared’s ribs and uses what’s left of his energy to push himself up and look Jared in the eyes. “Say it,” he says, softer.
Jared palms the back of his head and pulls him forward, catching Jensen’s mouth in a languid, wet kiss. “You’re stupid if you think I want anybody ‘cept you.”
Jensen smiles and falls back against Jared, face buried in the crook of Jared’s neck. He wonders how much falling asleep, right here, right now would suck later, and smiles against one of Jared’s moles.
“I love you too.”