raeschae

Title: Just Keep Comin' Around (A Creative Control OneShot)
Author:

raeschae
Pairing: J2
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3200ish

Summary: Jared's going out of town for a few days, and Jensen's determined to make sure that he doesn't forget what he has back home in LA.
A Creative Control time stamp.

A/N: In her comment for the original story, nicefeet mentioned that she was listening to What Do You Want From Me? by Adam Lambert while reading. I heard the song the other day, and realized that she was absolutely right - it's a perfect song for these two characters. I listened to that song a lot while working on this, so I have to say thanks for the inspiration! The title of this fic comes from that song.

“Ya know, this is a good body to have,” Jensen muses aloud, hands running carefully over Jared's chiseled abs while his eyes caress the dip of his collar bone. Nothing but long lines, hard planes, and soft skin. There are worse places in the world he could be than straddling Jared Padalecki.

Jared laughs low in his throat and the muscles in his thighs jump under Jensen's ass. “You ever plan on doin' anything with it? Or you just gonna sit there and look at it all night?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and his hips in perfect sync with one another, watching the way Jared catches his lip between his teeth when his cocks runs along the crack of Jensen's ass. “Oh, I'll do somethin' with it,” Jensen promises, though he makes no move closer to having Jared inside of him. “Somethin' you won't stop thinkin' about for days.”

In twelve hours, Jared's heading to New York to meet with a producer interested in financing Jared's directorial debut. It's a script that Chad wrote, and it won't be big budget by any stretch of the imagination, but Jensen knows it will be good. The dialogue is fast, and witty, and Jared's already got a thousand ideas and a really clear vision. All they need is the backing to get it made, and Jensen knows that it's an important meeting.

He also knows that Jared will be gone for three days. It's not a lot, and being as they both work in the film industry, he knew time apart was a part of the package when they started this. It's actually kind of strange that it hasn't happened before now, six months into their relationship. Jensen knew it would eventually, of course he knew. He just didn't expect to care.

It's not like he's going to be gone for months. It's only a few days. Still, Jensen is determined to give Jared a night he won't forget while he's away.

“Never stop thinkin' 'bout you,” Jared hisses as Jensen reaches back to run a hand slowly up and down his throbbing cock. “Jesus, Jensen,” he sighs, hips bucking forward into the channel of Jensen's fist.

“Yeah? You like that?” Jensen leans forward, his own cock hot and wet against Jared's stomach. When Jared throws his head back, Jensen takes the opportunity to scrape his teeth over the column of that long, elegant throat. “Fuck, Jay,” he gasps when the full force of the moment washes over him.

He's been tense for days at the thought of Jared being gone. Thought it was because he didn't trust himself not to get in trouble, not to miss a step and end up with a broken nose or something that would equally piss Jared off. But right now, he knows that's not it at all.

The tension is because of this. Right here. This guy, with his muscles and tanned flesh and glimmering hazel eyes. With his strength and his power and his control. This guy is his. This guy who gives one hundred percent of who he is to the films that he works on during the day, and then comes home and gives one hundred percent of who he is to Jensen. He doesn't have to say a word to draw Jensen out of his own space and into his own.

Throwing his head back as Jensen guides him in painfully slow, Jared grips at Jensen's hips and growls, “Fuck,” between clenched teeth. “Christ, Jensen,” he pants, eyes opening when he realizes Jensen isn't moving.

“Wanna feel you,” Jensen breathes through his nose. He's had a lot of sex in his life, but that doesn't make getting used to Jared's size any easier. Stretching and burning and so fucking good. Filling him up.

When he finally starts to move, it's a slow circling of his hips, holding Jared deep like he's unwilling to give even an inch of the pleasure. He can feel Jared trying to move, to quicken the pace, and Jensen would love to give in to that. He's blindingly hard, and to have Jared's massive hand around his cock would be awesome, but this would end far too soon, and he's not ready to give it up yet.

“Feel that, Jay?” he asks, voice ragged already, and they've only been in bed for a little while. Jared does this to him, though. Every time. “Inside me. Part of me. Fuckin' feel that,” he gasps when a subtle shift of his hips drags Jared's cock again his prostate. “Jesus Christ,” hisses through his teeth and he feels his thighs tremble at the pleasure that races up his spine and practically sets his hair on fire.

Jared's fingers grip his thighs, but he makes no move to touch Jensen's cock. It's a mind game he plays when they're like this, making Jensen ask for it when he wants to be touched or sucked. Somewhere along the way, Jared got it into his head that Jensen needs to ask for the things he wants in bed, and it's still a foreign concept to Jensen, but he's getting better about it. It's not as difficult as it used to be, anyway.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding Jared nearly still inside him, Jensen raises slow and Jared's eyes nearly double in size, fixed solely on Jensen's face as he stops and lets the head of Jared's cock stretch him before sinking down just as slowly as he came up. “Fuckin' hell, Jensen.” His head falls back against the pillows and his back arches, his hands gripping tighter at the corded muscles of Jensen's thighs. “Killin' me.”

Jensen lays forward, lips against Jared's neck, and groans at the friction of those steel abs against his cock. “Jay?” his tone is questioning, but he knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to ask for it. Not anymore. “Fuck me,” he whispers against the shell of Jared's ear, and the “Please” that follows is swallowed up in a grunt because Jared never wastes time in giving Jensen what he wants.

They rock together, a rhythm perfected over the last six months. It's the only thing resembling a real relationship that Jensen's ever had and it's nothing like he thought it would be. For years, he ran from this, from ties and boundaries and monogamy, because he was pretty sure he would get bored with it eventually.

But if there's anything that this thing with Jared is not, it's boring. Jesus Christ, the things he does to Jensen are indescribable. The way he knows him. The way he handles him.

Jensen's always kind of loved the line from Good Will Hunting: “You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you're perfect for each other.” That's Jared: Fucking perfect for Jensen.

His sitting up, gripping Jared's pecs with flexing fingers before he realizes he's moved. The word growls out of him possessively, and he doesn't know where it comes from or why he says it. It's not the way they play this game, and it's really not his call to make. But when he says it - “Mine” - Jared nods and licks his lips, doesn't disagree, so Jensen figures he didn't overstep his boundaries too far. At least, Jared doesn't pull out and leave him to get himself off, so it's something.

It still throws Jensen's rhythm a little, though, when Jared digs his powerful fingers into Jensen's ass and throws his head back. Answers with, “So fucking yours, Jensen.” Because, Christ, the man can talk dirty with the best of 'em, but those words are hotter than anything he's ever said. Than Jensen's ever heard. From anyone.

“Shit,” he breathes, pulling up to sit straight, back bowed and thighs straining to ride Jared harder, faster. “Jay, fuckin',” he stutters and bites off the end of his thought, brain obliterated at the overwhelming sensation that washes over him.

“Tell me, Jen. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuckin' . . . can't . . . ugh . . . shit,” he roars his frustration, instead surrendering to the moment, to the feeling, to Jared. Even if he wanted to tell Jared what to do, or how to do it, or what he fucking wants, he can't right now. The words aren't even forming in his brain.

And when Jared grips Jensen's cock firmly in his fist, it only takes a couple of fast strokes for Jensen to come hard and sloppy against his own stomach and Jared's chest with a roar he's not sure he's ever heard from his own throat.

By the time Jared follows him over the edge, Jensen's body is shaking and spent and his breathing is ragged. He whimpers when Jared pulls out to grab the towel from the nightstand, and doesn't even protest when he gently cleans both of them instead of letting Jensen do it, like he usually does. Jensen's not sure he could hold a towel right now, let alone move it.

Flopping back against the pillows, Jared fights to get his own breathing back under control. He rolls his head and Jensen can feel him staring at the side of his face, but he can't look back. He's afraid of what he'll see there, of what Jared will see in return.

Instead, he just says, “What?” and he can't stop the knowing smirk that tweaks the corners of his lips.

“Nothing,” Jared smiles. Jensen can't see it, but he can hear it, loud and clear in the silence of the room. “I think that was maybe the best sex I've ever had, Jensen,” he says, voice low and sure as his fingers ghost over Jensen's thigh.

He thinks about the words - best sex I've ever had - and Jensen finds it hard to believe. Jared doesn't say things just to say them, he's learned that much during their time together. But, seriously? They've talked about some of the things Jared used to do, before Jensen, and compared to some of that, this was soft core.

“Stop it. Stop over-thinking and analyzing it. I mean it.” The words are amused as Jared rolls to his side and pulls himself up on one elbow, staring down at Jensen with a look that says he's kind of in awe of this guy laying next to him. “I've never seen you let go like that before.”

Because Jensen doesn't let go like that. Even with Jared, he's always held on to a fraction of his control. Maybe he doesn't need to, but years of sleeping with people who liked to hurt him, who got off on it, taught him to maintain a little bit of composure at all times.

Never know when you might have to use a safe word, or fumble for the key behind the bed. Never know when you might forget your place and say something out of line. Never know when you might confuse your own pleasure for the other person's and fuck everything, end it before it's supposed to be over.

“Jensen?”

He knows he's slipped too far inside his own head again when Jared's gentle voice drags him back to the here-and-now. He feels the finger under his chin, and he forces himself to keep his eyes open when Jared turns his face. Fuckin' hell, he's a beautiful man. More than Jensen has ever let himself believe he could have.

“I don't want you to,” he stops himself, tongue running over his bottom lip as he shakes his head. It's stupid. So fucking childish and stupid.

“Don't want me to what?”

Struggling to sit, Jensen throws his legs over the side of the bed before he realizes that they're still limp like wet noodles and he's not going to be able to stand. Instead, he rests his elbows on his knees and drops his face into his hands. “Dammit,” he grits through clenched teeth and prays that Jared just lets this one go.

Because Jared's so fucking good at letting shit go. “Jensen, you don't want me to what?”

He's getting frustrated. He tries so hard not to, sometimes Jensen can see him physically restraining himself from letting it out, but there are things that Jensen can't say. Not things he doesn't want to say, but that he just doesn't know how to say. Things he doesn't know if he should say.

“Look at me.”

No mistaking that tone, Jared's issuing an order. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Jensen turns just far enough to comply without actually seeing anything other than the window over Jared's shoulder. “Can we not fight about this? You're leaving in eleven hours.”

Just saying it makes him want to throw up. Because that's what he doesn't want. He doesn't want Jared to go. Knows he has to. Knows he'll behave himself while Jared is gone. Knows it's only for a few days. But he doesn't want him to go, and it's stupid.

“Is that what this was all about?” Jared asks, hand flat between Jensen's shoulder blades. “Because you'll miss me? Because you're afraid I won't come back? Because you think I'll forget you in the three days that I'm gone?”

He's fumbling around in the dark. Jensen knows what he's doing, has seen him do it before. He'll throw out ridiculous assumptions and suggestions because he knows that, eventually, Jensen will tell him what's really bothering him just to shut him up. The bitch of it is that it will work this time, just like it does every other time.

“It's because I don't want you to want anyone else!”

Oh, fuckin' hell. If ever Jensen has worried about sounding like an insecure little girl. . . Shit.

“What?”

He won't repeat himself. Jensen won't say it again. It sounded idiotic enough the first time. He's not the possessive one. He's never been the guy who cares what the guys he's fucking around with do when they're not together. He doesn't get jealous. He's good at what he does, can turn a guy out and spin his head around, and he knows that. If they don't appreciate it, if they need more than that, they're welcome to find someone else. He doesn't pine.

But Jared has interests that he won't let Jensen explore with him. He's done things that he won't let Jensen try, because he keeps saying that Jensen won't enjoy it, and therefore, he won't be able to enjoy it. And Jensen gets it – he's not itching to be chained or flogged or collared or whatever – but Jared's kinky side isn't something that just went away when he started fucking Jensen. No matter what he says, Jensen knows that there are things they're never going to have together, ways he's never going to be able to satisfy Jared.

“Jensen, how can you even think that I want anyone else? You're it for me. I thought you knew that.” In a tone that belies his enormous size, Jared sounds like a wounded child. Like Jensen's words, his assumptions, actually hurt.

It takes him a second to compose himself, but when he's sure he can look at Jared without being pathetic, Jensen turns on the bed. “Look, man, I get it, okay? I mean, I get that you wanna be with me. But I get that there's other stuff you want, too. Just,” he shakes his head because the words are hard enough to say without looking into those big, kicked-puppy eyes of Jared's, “forget it. Never mind.”

Jared's fingers around around his wrist, his thumb trailing lazily over Jensen's pulse and he wishes that Jared didn't know how well that little trick of his works. “Jensen, listen to me. You know that I'm going to New York to meet with producers for this movie. You know that I'm taking Chad with me. You know that I'm not going away from some weekend fuck fest with some random twink, right?” Jensen tries to pull away, but Jared's eyes darken and he can't so much move under the gaze. “You don't know.”

Fuck it all to fucking hell. This is so fucking ridiculous. Why are they even having this conversation? Why couldn't Jensen just keep his big mouth shut. Jared's right – he has no self-control. He really should work on that. “I know,” he insists defiantly, even though it's a blatant lie.

“You don't.”

“I'm not fucking retarded, Jared. I get it, okay?” He doesn't mean to blow, but Jesus Christ, the man pushes him so hard sometimes. Pushes him into feeling things, and thinking things, and wanting things he's never felt, or thought, or wanted before. Goddammit. “Just, come on,” he aims for a seductive smile and pulls his hand back from Jared's grasp, fingers fumbling for Jared's soft cock. “We don't have a lot of time left.”

“What, for you to mark me? Claim me? Brand me?” Jensen huffs and rolls his eyes when Jared pulls his hand away. “Jensen, I love that you're jealous. I mean, it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen. Be possessive. Get pissed at the thought of anyone else touching what's yours. Fuck knows I do,” he smiles and runs a thumb over Jensen's bottom lip. “But know that it is yours, okay? That I am yours.”

He means it. Jared really fucking means what he's saying, and the weight of it kind of blows Jensen away. Knocks him back, literally and physically. He sways and then catches himself, unsure of what he's supposed to say now.

Jared is his. Not because Jensen marked him, or claimed him, or branded him. Not because he has to be. In the exact same way that Jensen is Jared's, has been for awhile now, Jared is his. Because he wants to be. Because they could walk out the door at any moment, they both know that the other isn't going anywhere.

“Alright, fine,” Jensen finally says when the uninterrupted minutes of staring into each others eyes gets to be a little too romance novel for his taste. “You're mine. I'm yours. I get it,” he rests a hand in the center of Jared's chest and pushes. “Why don't you lay back and let me spend some quality time with this cock of mine before you drag it across the country.”

The booming laughter that echoes off the walls turns Jensen on almost as much as thought of getting Jared into his mouth again. And when he says, “Better take care of this ass of mine while I'm gone” while running a finger in hypnotic circles over Jensen's hole? He doesn't doubt they're both exactly where they want to be.