King of the Mountain 2: Back on Top
Oct. 4th, 2009 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raeschaeTitle: King of the Mountain 2: Back on Top
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raeschae
Rating: Hard R/NC-17 (Y'all know I don't know, so read with caution if you have sensitive . . . sensibilities?)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warning: top!Jensen and top!Jared (sort of)
Word Count: 2900
Disclaimer: I still don't own the boys, or know them. So we still haven't sat ourselves down for a conversation on who tops and bottoms in this holy union. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental, and pretty much impossible.
Summary: Jared's a top. So's Jensen. Except Jared's kind of become a bottom for the sake of their relationship, which Jensen fully appreciates. Maybe it's time he returned the favor?
(This is the sequel to King of the Mountain. You don't have to read it first, but you might want to.)
A/N: In all actuality, the ending of the first King of the Mountain was meant to be ambiguous, with the reader not really knowing which of the boys was actually bottoming. Turns out, everyone pretty much assumed it was Jared, and I can fully understand why. Therefore, the sequel comes in response to a whole lot of requests to see Jensen take his turn. Hope you like it!
Also, I have to say a ginormous, Jared-sized thanks toneutraldeviance for not only making sure that this shit makes sense outside my head, but for also keeping my boys boy-like. Being as I'm pretty much all girl, all the time, I need a masculine perspective to keep my boys in check - he never fails to come through. Thank you so much, baby!
To his credit, Jared's a fucking angel in the best possible way. Jensen's pretty sure he wants to say something about the fact that they've been sleeping together for the better part of three months, and Jensen has yet to take his turn on the bottom. If it bothers Jared at all, he's a far better actor than anybody gives him credit for, because he never says it. And for that, Jensen loves him.
A part of him actually wants to try it. To see if his aversion to the entire concept of getting fucked is just based on one terrible experience with a guy he hardly liked and barely remembers to this day. And on a side note? He hopes that the guys he's been with in the past remember him as more than just that guy who tired to rip me in half with his dick and set my ass on fire. Because that's all he thinks when he lets his mind stumble on that night eight years ago.
He was only twenty-three, and hadn't been out of the closet that long. He'd been dating the guy (and yeah, he remembers his name, but he doesn't let himself humanize the bastard by actually thinking it), for about a month and was tired of being called a 'pussy' and a 'little girl' for being too scared to try something new. So he caved.
And he's been bow-legged ever since.
Well, not really, but it sure as fuck felt like the guy broke his dick off and left it inside as a friendly reminder every time Jensen tried to sit down for the next week and a half. So he thinks he can't really be blamed for not bending over and grabbing his ankles while shivering with anticipation.
Except that sometimes, while he's pounding into Jared and the kid's babbling like there's a huge hole in the filter between his mouth and his brain? It's kind of so fucking hot Jensen has a hard time containing himself. Those are the times when he's curious to see if Jared can make him feel that, too. If maybe it was just a fluke that made him swear off ever taking it again.
“Hey,” a soft voice sounds low and dirty against his ear and Jensen's body tenses as Jared presses in behind him at the kitchen counter.
“Hey yourself,” he replies, one hand gripping tightly to the plastic water bottle in his hand and the other clenched in a fist against the granite counter top. Stupid as it sounds, he's afraid even the slightest lean in Jared's direction will hint at something he's just not ready for.
Bottom line is that he's curious, but that's as far as his desire goes. And it's not enough. Much as his conscience says it should be.
Growling a little, Jared's teeth close around Jensen's earlobe and he tugs lightly before releasing it. “Smell good,” he compliments and it makes Jensen's heart kind of flutter in a way that is not at all masculine and should probably be punctuated with little pink kissy lips or something.
“You don't,” he teases, but his tone says that he really doesn't give a fuck that Jared's fresh from the gym and has yet to shower.
There's a huff from the man at his back and Jared steps away, sweat-soaked hair flipped out of his eye as he rests his hands on his trim hips. Jensen turns to look at him and can't help smiling, more to himself than to the man standing here. This is his. This is what he wakes up to in the morning and goes to sleep with at night. His life really, really doesn't suck.
They banter back and forth about what they're going to do with a night off and somehow, of course, they end up back in Jared's bed, watching a movie. “This never works,” Jensen reminds him as Jared presses play and leans back against the headboard, freshly showered and looking like he's about to pass out.
“Too tired,” Jared responds, head falling onto Jensen's shoulder as the movie starts.
It only takes a few minutes for Jared's breathing to fall steady, rise and fall of his chest brushing against Jensen's arm as he sleeps. And Jensen tries to focus on the movie – really, he does – but it's difficult with all that hard, tight flesh rubbing up against him.
As is usually the case when you're trying not to think about something, all Jensen's brain can focus on is the one thing that Jared wouldn't be asking him for, even if he was awake right now. For some reason, he remembers a conversation that he and Jared had back before they were together, back when they still viewed television on the couch downstairs, watching a game and getting buzzed on Canadian beer.
”So, Chad thinks I'm not really all that gay,” Jared stated with four minutes left in the third quarter of the Cowboys/Giants playoff game.
Jensen just raised an eyebrow and turned his head, beer bottle still loose between his lips. “Huh?”
“I don't know,” Jared shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. “We were talkin' 'bout fuckin', ya know?” he went on, slow, lazy drawl in full effect thanks to the beer he'd already consumed. “And he was talkin' 'bout how good it feels to slide inside some chick or whatever, and I agreed, right? And he gave me this weird look like I couldn't possibly know 'cause I ain't never been with a girl or whatever. And I told him just 'cause I'm gay, don't mean I don't know what it's like to fuck somebody. Ain't like I'm the one takin' it, ya know? Then he says it ain't like I'm really gay if I ain't lettin' some dude stuff it in my ass, right?”
Jensen's was fairly sure Jared's mother would smack him in the head if she heard the grammar he used when he was drunk.
Shaking his head, he settled back in his chair and raised a finger. “First of all, Chad's knowledge of gay sex is probably limited to whatever his tiny brain has pieced together from some fucked up porn and a few indie films,” he theorized. “Second of all, what does that have to do with Romo's fuckin' choke job?” he nodded back to the television. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable discussing this stuff with Jared – wasn't really uncomfortable talking about anything with Jared – but it was the fucking playoffs!
“I'm not scared of it,” Jared answered easily, flopping back on the couch and raking a hand through his hair. “Of takin' it – I'm not scared of it. I just,” he looked at Jensen and sighed again. “I just don't get how it can mean as much, ya know?”
He didn't know. Jensen was totally and thoroughly confused. “How what can mean as much?”
And Jared rolled his eyes as though Jensen was the slow one here. “Takin' it. Bottomin'. I mean, I guess it maybe feels good or whatever. Prostate stimulation bein' what it is. But, I mean, really?” Jensen didn't answer. Didn't think it was the right time to tell Jared that prostate stimulation was grossly over-sold, as far as he was concerned. One tap on one bundle of nerves in your ass was not enough to make you forget that said ass was being split open by a goddamn baseball bat. At least, not in his own experience.
“What do you want me to say, Jay?” he asked when Jared didn't make a move to further explain himself.
Jared shrugged those massive shoulders and blew his hair out of eyes. “Chad says I make too bigga deal outta the whole fuckin' thing,” he answered, and Jensen wasn't sure if he meant 'fuckin' as an adjective or a noun. Figured it didn't much matter. “Just 'cause I don't sleep with anybody who bats their damn eyes at me, ya know? Cause it means more to me than that.”
Jensen knew for a fact that Jared wasn't virginal. In the year that he'd known the guy, he'd had more sex than he probably wanted to admit. But he also knew, from another drunken conversation at a bar with Tom and Mike, that Jared didn't outright fuck everybody he was with. Saved that, he said, for the people he actually cared about.
“Nothin' wrong with bein' selective, Jay,” Jensen assured him. Hell, most of the time, he wished he had been a little more choosey when it came to the guys he slept with.
“It's just,” Jared went on as though Jensen hadn't said a word, “I mean, yeah, I talk a lot, ya know?” And wasn't that just the understatement of the fucking year? “But that's with pretty much ever'body, man. Do other stuff with guys, too. All I got left for the ones I'm really into is this,” he cupped his crotch and Jensen rolled his eyes on instinct. It was such Jared logic. “Son of a bitch!” he pointed to the television as Romo threw yet another interception.
With his companion engrossed in the game once again, Jensen's brain was left to spin with the random fragments of thought Jared had just laid on him. “So, wait,” he groaned to himself as he realized he was now the one interrupting a playoff game to talk about gay sex with his co-star. Jesus, Jared was going to make a girl out of him yet. “You're sayin' that topping, for you, is like, what? Self-expression?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Jared looked a little embarrassed at Jensen's blunt assessment of his words. “I mean, don't get me wrong, dude. God bless the fuckin' bottoms of the world, right? 'Cause, without 'em? I mean, where's that leave guys like you and me, ya know?” With another easy shrug, he reached for his beer bottle and tipped it, long throat working around the swallow before he went on. “Guess I'm just not . . . I don't know. Wired that way? Whatever. I just know that I almost get off more on the other guy's reaction than the feeling of bein' inside, ya know? Knowin' that he's feelin' it because of me or whatever.”
Jensen couldn't really argue with that logic, actually. He knew for a fact that his one horrific bottoming experience had taught him more than just the fact that he never wanted to do it again. He was a lot more careful with the guys he fucked these days, more aware of their comfort and pleasure. “I get that,” he finally said.
Jared tore his eyes from the television to shoot a smile in Jensen's direction that kind of went straight to his dick. Not that he was ever going to tell Jared that. “'s why you're my boy, Ackles,” he winked and turned his attention back to the game, like they'd been discussing I-formations all along.
“Jared,” Jensen nudges the man resting against his shoulder. “Wake up,” he insisted.
“Silly,” Jared mumbles and Jensen just jostles him again. “Cock's not a strawberry,” he slurs.
“The fuck?” Jensen laughs at the statement.
Jared just blinks his eyes in confusion and looks up at Jensen. “Huh?”
He's about to tease the younger man about whatever dream brought that declaration about, but when Jared's hazel eyes meet his, there's only one thought in Jensen's head. “I wanna try it.”
“Frisbee?” Jared answers, brow furrowed in distant concentration.
Shaking his head, Jensen just laughs and pushes Jared back toward his own side of the bed. “Shut the fuck up,” he chuckles, reaching for the bedside table before he loses his nerve.
Jared watches, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as he gathers his bearings. Those kaleidoscope eyes roam the bedroom before settling back on Jensen, who's pressing a half-empty bottle of lube into his hand.. “Dude, I just woke up,” he protests. “Too tired,” he adds.
“Too tired to fuck me?” Jensen asks, eyebrow quirking in perfect time to the smirk on his lips.
His eyes are bright and wide most of the time, but they practically double in size at Jensen's question. “You want me to,” he snaps his mouth shut and breathes slowly through his nose. “You wanna try it,” he repeats Jensen's earlier assertion and then quirks his head to the side. Looks not at all unlike Harley when Jensen tells him that no, he cannot eat the stale, dirty crumbs out of the dustpan.
“I wanna try it,” he repeats himself.
“Why?” Jared's chin is set in defiance, like he doesn't really believe that Jensen means it or something. Like he would tease with this kind of thing.
Turning his body toward the younger man, Jensen shrugs. “Because I love you?”
Snorting and rolling his eyes, Jared tosses the lube back onto the bed between them. “Whatever, dude.” He shimmies his hips and works his warm-up pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. With a wide grin, he looks back at his boyfriend. “C'mon,” he nods toward Jensen's still-clothed lap. “I'll let ya watch me prep myself.”
But Jensen just grabs Jared's wrist and shakes his head. “I'm serious, Jay,” he assures. “I want you to fuck me.”
Between them, a thousand words pass unspoken.
Because I really do love you, you ginormous idiot.
Because I trust you.
Because I want to give you this.
Because you're different.
Because it means something to you.
Because it means something to me.
“Well hell,” Jared's smile only grows wider, his eyes brighter, as he brings the bottle back into view and motions wide with his arm. “Don't have to ask me twice, man,” he winks. As Jensen rolls his eyes and climbs back on the bed, Jared shoves his warm up pants down to his ankles. “Dude, I fuckin' knew you'd break eventually.”
Jensen wants to protest, to threaten to end the whole thing here and now, but really? Was there ever any doubt he would? Of course, he's giving Jared his ass, so he doesn't figure he needs to let the kid gloat, too. Wryly, he rolls his eyes and fixes Jared with that I only humor you because I feel sorry for you stare. “Right. It's all because you make it look like so much fucking fun.”
“I know, right?” Jared asks, leaping forward and pressing Jensen back against the mattress.
From there, Jensen can't protest, even if he wanted to. Not with every sense filled and surrounded by aggressive, insistent Jared. Hands roaming and lips sucking and tongue licking at every pulse point and hot spot Jensen has, and some he didn't even know about.
He doesn't hear the click of the bottle, but he sure as fuck feels the lubed finger gently circling his hole. “Jesus fuck, Jared!” he cries out, body instinctively shying away from the touch. “Warm that shit up! Warn a guy. Fuckin',” he trails off, eyes harsh as they settle on the young man struggling to hold back laughter above him. “Asshole,” he bites off the word.
And the chill is back as Jared's strong, insistent finger circles once again. “Don't worry, man. We'll get there,” he promises with a smirk and Jensen smacks his forearm with a little more force than is absolutely necessary. “Goddamn, you're a pushy bottom.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but then Jared pushes the tip of his finger in as he dips his head to fucking swallow more than half of Jensen's dick in one fell swoop. And it's all Jensen can do not to buck up into that long, beautiful throat. Jared's never, never, taken that much of him at one time. Jesus, it's like he's been practicing or something.
He's so distracted by the warm suction and the new feeling of Jared working him back into his throat that he doesn't so much notice that the younger man has worked the rest of his finger into Jensen's tight, virtually untouched ass. “Guh,” he grunts when Jared works his way back up the shaft, licking and sucking at the most obscene volume possible.
From there, things in Jensen's brain kind of dissolve into an incoherent hodge-podge of “Yeah, fuck . . . God, fuck!” and “Shit, wait a minute!” and “You fuckin' move and I will kill you!” and “Jesus, fuckin' . . . again . . . do that again, Jay!”
And so what if it's not the best fucking feeling he's ever had? It's sure as hell better than the first time. Jared's fucking glowing, filthy vows and encouragement gritting out of his fuck-raw throat. His eyes are brighter than Jensen has ever seen them, and that maybe makes all of this fucking worth it. He's not saying that he wants it like this all the time, or that he fucking loves taking it.
But when Jared's the one giving it? Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world.
Author:
raeschaeRating: Hard R/NC-17 (Y'all know I don't know, so read with caution if you have sensitive . . . sensibilities?)
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warning: top!Jensen and top!Jared (sort of)
Word Count: 2900
Disclaimer: I still don't own the boys, or know them. So we still haven't sat ourselves down for a conversation on who tops and bottoms in this holy union. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental, and pretty much impossible.
Summary: Jared's a top. So's Jensen. Except Jared's kind of become a bottom for the sake of their relationship, which Jensen fully appreciates. Maybe it's time he returned the favor?
(This is the sequel to King of the Mountain. You don't have to read it first, but you might want to.)
A/N: In all actuality, the ending of the first King of the Mountain was meant to be ambiguous, with the reader not really knowing which of the boys was actually bottoming. Turns out, everyone pretty much assumed it was Jared, and I can fully understand why. Therefore, the sequel comes in response to a whole lot of requests to see Jensen take his turn. Hope you like it!
Also, I have to say a ginormous, Jared-sized thanks to
neutraldeviance for not only making sure that this shit makes sense outside my head, but for also keeping my boys boy-like. Being as I'm pretty much all girl, all the time, I need a masculine perspective to keep my boys in check - he never fails to come through. Thank you so much, baby!To his credit, Jared's a fucking angel in the best possible way. Jensen's pretty sure he wants to say something about the fact that they've been sleeping together for the better part of three months, and Jensen has yet to take his turn on the bottom. If it bothers Jared at all, he's a far better actor than anybody gives him credit for, because he never says it. And for that, Jensen loves him.
A part of him actually wants to try it. To see if his aversion to the entire concept of getting fucked is just based on one terrible experience with a guy he hardly liked and barely remembers to this day. And on a side note? He hopes that the guys he's been with in the past remember him as more than just that guy who tired to rip me in half with his dick and set my ass on fire. Because that's all he thinks when he lets his mind stumble on that night eight years ago.
He was only twenty-three, and hadn't been out of the closet that long. He'd been dating the guy (and yeah, he remembers his name, but he doesn't let himself humanize the bastard by actually thinking it), for about a month and was tired of being called a 'pussy' and a 'little girl' for being too scared to try something new. So he caved.
And he's been bow-legged ever since.
Well, not really, but it sure as fuck felt like the guy broke his dick off and left it inside as a friendly reminder every time Jensen tried to sit down for the next week and a half. So he thinks he can't really be blamed for not bending over and grabbing his ankles while shivering with anticipation.
Except that sometimes, while he's pounding into Jared and the kid's babbling like there's a huge hole in the filter between his mouth and his brain? It's kind of so fucking hot Jensen has a hard time containing himself. Those are the times when he's curious to see if Jared can make him feel that, too. If maybe it was just a fluke that made him swear off ever taking it again.
“Hey,” a soft voice sounds low and dirty against his ear and Jensen's body tenses as Jared presses in behind him at the kitchen counter.
“Hey yourself,” he replies, one hand gripping tightly to the plastic water bottle in his hand and the other clenched in a fist against the granite counter top. Stupid as it sounds, he's afraid even the slightest lean in Jared's direction will hint at something he's just not ready for.
Bottom line is that he's curious, but that's as far as his desire goes. And it's not enough. Much as his conscience says it should be.
Growling a little, Jared's teeth close around Jensen's earlobe and he tugs lightly before releasing it. “Smell good,” he compliments and it makes Jensen's heart kind of flutter in a way that is not at all masculine and should probably be punctuated with little pink kissy lips or something.
“You don't,” he teases, but his tone says that he really doesn't give a fuck that Jared's fresh from the gym and has yet to shower.
There's a huff from the man at his back and Jared steps away, sweat-soaked hair flipped out of his eye as he rests his hands on his trim hips. Jensen turns to look at him and can't help smiling, more to himself than to the man standing here. This is his. This is what he wakes up to in the morning and goes to sleep with at night. His life really, really doesn't suck.
They banter back and forth about what they're going to do with a night off and somehow, of course, they end up back in Jared's bed, watching a movie. “This never works,” Jensen reminds him as Jared presses play and leans back against the headboard, freshly showered and looking like he's about to pass out.
“Too tired,” Jared responds, head falling onto Jensen's shoulder as the movie starts.
It only takes a few minutes for Jared's breathing to fall steady, rise and fall of his chest brushing against Jensen's arm as he sleeps. And Jensen tries to focus on the movie – really, he does – but it's difficult with all that hard, tight flesh rubbing up against him.
As is usually the case when you're trying not to think about something, all Jensen's brain can focus on is the one thing that Jared wouldn't be asking him for, even if he was awake right now. For some reason, he remembers a conversation that he and Jared had back before they were together, back when they still viewed television on the couch downstairs, watching a game and getting buzzed on Canadian beer.
”So, Chad thinks I'm not really all that gay,” Jared stated with four minutes left in the third quarter of the Cowboys/Giants playoff game.
Jensen just raised an eyebrow and turned his head, beer bottle still loose between his lips. “Huh?”
“I don't know,” Jared shrugged his shoulders and leaned forward on the couch, elbows on his knees. “We were talkin' 'bout fuckin', ya know?” he went on, slow, lazy drawl in full effect thanks to the beer he'd already consumed. “And he was talkin' 'bout how good it feels to slide inside some chick or whatever, and I agreed, right? And he gave me this weird look like I couldn't possibly know 'cause I ain't never been with a girl or whatever. And I told him just 'cause I'm gay, don't mean I don't know what it's like to fuck somebody. Ain't like I'm the one takin' it, ya know? Then he says it ain't like I'm really gay if I ain't lettin' some dude stuff it in my ass, right?”
Jensen's was fairly sure Jared's mother would smack him in the head if she heard the grammar he used when he was drunk.
Shaking his head, he settled back in his chair and raised a finger. “First of all, Chad's knowledge of gay sex is probably limited to whatever his tiny brain has pieced together from some fucked up porn and a few indie films,” he theorized. “Second of all, what does that have to do with Romo's fuckin' choke job?” he nodded back to the television. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable discussing this stuff with Jared – wasn't really uncomfortable talking about anything with Jared – but it was the fucking playoffs!
“I'm not scared of it,” Jared answered easily, flopping back on the couch and raking a hand through his hair. “Of takin' it – I'm not scared of it. I just,” he looked at Jensen and sighed again. “I just don't get how it can mean as much, ya know?”
He didn't know. Jensen was totally and thoroughly confused. “How what can mean as much?”
And Jared rolled his eyes as though Jensen was the slow one here. “Takin' it. Bottomin'. I mean, I guess it maybe feels good or whatever. Prostate stimulation bein' what it is. But, I mean, really?” Jensen didn't answer. Didn't think it was the right time to tell Jared that prostate stimulation was grossly over-sold, as far as he was concerned. One tap on one bundle of nerves in your ass was not enough to make you forget that said ass was being split open by a goddamn baseball bat. At least, not in his own experience.
“What do you want me to say, Jay?” he asked when Jared didn't make a move to further explain himself.
Jared shrugged those massive shoulders and blew his hair out of eyes. “Chad says I make too bigga deal outta the whole fuckin' thing,” he answered, and Jensen wasn't sure if he meant 'fuckin' as an adjective or a noun. Figured it didn't much matter. “Just 'cause I don't sleep with anybody who bats their damn eyes at me, ya know? Cause it means more to me than that.”
Jensen knew for a fact that Jared wasn't virginal. In the year that he'd known the guy, he'd had more sex than he probably wanted to admit. But he also knew, from another drunken conversation at a bar with Tom and Mike, that Jared didn't outright fuck everybody he was with. Saved that, he said, for the people he actually cared about.
“Nothin' wrong with bein' selective, Jay,” Jensen assured him. Hell, most of the time, he wished he had been a little more choosey when it came to the guys he slept with.
“It's just,” Jared went on as though Jensen hadn't said a word, “I mean, yeah, I talk a lot, ya know?” And wasn't that just the understatement of the fucking year? “But that's with pretty much ever'body, man. Do other stuff with guys, too. All I got left for the ones I'm really into is this,” he cupped his crotch and Jensen rolled his eyes on instinct. It was such Jared logic. “Son of a bitch!” he pointed to the television as Romo threw yet another interception.
With his companion engrossed in the game once again, Jensen's brain was left to spin with the random fragments of thought Jared had just laid on him. “So, wait,” he groaned to himself as he realized he was now the one interrupting a playoff game to talk about gay sex with his co-star. Jesus, Jared was going to make a girl out of him yet. “You're sayin' that topping, for you, is like, what? Self-expression?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Jared looked a little embarrassed at Jensen's blunt assessment of his words. “I mean, don't get me wrong, dude. God bless the fuckin' bottoms of the world, right? 'Cause, without 'em? I mean, where's that leave guys like you and me, ya know?” With another easy shrug, he reached for his beer bottle and tipped it, long throat working around the swallow before he went on. “Guess I'm just not . . . I don't know. Wired that way? Whatever. I just know that I almost get off more on the other guy's reaction than the feeling of bein' inside, ya know? Knowin' that he's feelin' it because of me or whatever.”
Jensen couldn't really argue with that logic, actually. He knew for a fact that his one horrific bottoming experience had taught him more than just the fact that he never wanted to do it again. He was a lot more careful with the guys he fucked these days, more aware of their comfort and pleasure. “I get that,” he finally said.
Jared tore his eyes from the television to shoot a smile in Jensen's direction that kind of went straight to his dick. Not that he was ever going to tell Jared that. “'s why you're my boy, Ackles,” he winked and turned his attention back to the game, like they'd been discussing I-formations all along.
“Jared,” Jensen nudges the man resting against his shoulder. “Wake up,” he insisted.
“Silly,” Jared mumbles and Jensen just jostles him again. “Cock's not a strawberry,” he slurs.
“The fuck?” Jensen laughs at the statement.
Jared just blinks his eyes in confusion and looks up at Jensen. “Huh?”
He's about to tease the younger man about whatever dream brought that declaration about, but when Jared's hazel eyes meet his, there's only one thought in Jensen's head. “I wanna try it.”
“Frisbee?” Jared answers, brow furrowed in distant concentration.
Shaking his head, Jensen just laughs and pushes Jared back toward his own side of the bed. “Shut the fuck up,” he chuckles, reaching for the bedside table before he loses his nerve.
Jared watches, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as he gathers his bearings. Those kaleidoscope eyes roam the bedroom before settling back on Jensen, who's pressing a half-empty bottle of lube into his hand.. “Dude, I just woke up,” he protests. “Too tired,” he adds.
“Too tired to fuck me?” Jensen asks, eyebrow quirking in perfect time to the smirk on his lips.
His eyes are bright and wide most of the time, but they practically double in size at Jensen's question. “You want me to,” he snaps his mouth shut and breathes slowly through his nose. “You wanna try it,” he repeats Jensen's earlier assertion and then quirks his head to the side. Looks not at all unlike Harley when Jensen tells him that no, he cannot eat the stale, dirty crumbs out of the dustpan.
“I wanna try it,” he repeats himself.
“Why?” Jared's chin is set in defiance, like he doesn't really believe that Jensen means it or something. Like he would tease with this kind of thing.
Turning his body toward the younger man, Jensen shrugs. “Because I love you?”
Snorting and rolling his eyes, Jared tosses the lube back onto the bed between them. “Whatever, dude.” He shimmies his hips and works his warm-up pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. With a wide grin, he looks back at his boyfriend. “C'mon,” he nods toward Jensen's still-clothed lap. “I'll let ya watch me prep myself.”
But Jensen just grabs Jared's wrist and shakes his head. “I'm serious, Jay,” he assures. “I want you to fuck me.”
Between them, a thousand words pass unspoken.
Because I really do love you, you ginormous idiot.
Because I trust you.
Because I want to give you this.
Because you're different.
Because it means something to you.
Because it means something to me.
“Well hell,” Jared's smile only grows wider, his eyes brighter, as he brings the bottle back into view and motions wide with his arm. “Don't have to ask me twice, man,” he winks. As Jensen rolls his eyes and climbs back on the bed, Jared shoves his warm up pants down to his ankles. “Dude, I fuckin' knew you'd break eventually.”
Jensen wants to protest, to threaten to end the whole thing here and now, but really? Was there ever any doubt he would? Of course, he's giving Jared his ass, so he doesn't figure he needs to let the kid gloat, too. Wryly, he rolls his eyes and fixes Jared with that I only humor you because I feel sorry for you stare. “Right. It's all because you make it look like so much fucking fun.”
“I know, right?” Jared asks, leaping forward and pressing Jensen back against the mattress.
From there, Jensen can't protest, even if he wanted to. Not with every sense filled and surrounded by aggressive, insistent Jared. Hands roaming and lips sucking and tongue licking at every pulse point and hot spot Jensen has, and some he didn't even know about.
He doesn't hear the click of the bottle, but he sure as fuck feels the lubed finger gently circling his hole. “Jesus fuck, Jared!” he cries out, body instinctively shying away from the touch. “Warm that shit up! Warn a guy. Fuckin',” he trails off, eyes harsh as they settle on the young man struggling to hold back laughter above him. “Asshole,” he bites off the word.
And the chill is back as Jared's strong, insistent finger circles once again. “Don't worry, man. We'll get there,” he promises with a smirk and Jensen smacks his forearm with a little more force than is absolutely necessary. “Goddamn, you're a pushy bottom.”
Jensen rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but then Jared pushes the tip of his finger in as he dips his head to fucking swallow more than half of Jensen's dick in one fell swoop. And it's all Jensen can do not to buck up into that long, beautiful throat. Jared's never, never, taken that much of him at one time. Jesus, it's like he's been practicing or something.
He's so distracted by the warm suction and the new feeling of Jared working him back into his throat that he doesn't so much notice that the younger man has worked the rest of his finger into Jensen's tight, virtually untouched ass. “Guh,” he grunts when Jared works his way back up the shaft, licking and sucking at the most obscene volume possible.
From there, things in Jensen's brain kind of dissolve into an incoherent hodge-podge of “Yeah, fuck . . . God, fuck!” and “Shit, wait a minute!” and “You fuckin' move and I will kill you!” and “Jesus, fuckin' . . . again . . . do that again, Jay!”
And so what if it's not the best fucking feeling he's ever had? It's sure as hell better than the first time. Jared's fucking glowing, filthy vows and encouragement gritting out of his fuck-raw throat. His eyes are brighter than Jensen has ever seen them, and that maybe makes all of this fucking worth it. He's not saying that he wants it like this all the time, or that he fucking loves taking it.
But when Jared's the one giving it? Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world.
