There's not a moment's hesitation in Jensen's mind when he nods and says, “Till the wheels fall off, Jay. You and me.”
Jared's smile could light the shadowed room. “Alright then. Lay back and give me your right hip.”
“My hip?” Jensen rolls his eyes. “This gonna be another one of those nights where you just suck on random parts of my body 'til I beg?”
Instead of answering, Jared's hands push at the waist band of his jeans until Jensen can see a gauzy bandage. When he pulls that back, he reveals a brand new tat. Solid black, curved numbers.
9.16
A year ago.
Today.
Forever.
Without further provocation, he leans back and pulls his jeans down as far as he can. “This isn't getting' you outta blowin' me. You know that, right?”
Jared snaps a glove into place and runs his tongue along his teeth, looking not at all unlike a fucking vampire in the light and shadows from the lamp next to the chair. “Man, when have you ever known me to try and get outta suckin' your dick?” He sits and grabs the disposable razor from his station. “Sit still. Don't geek out on me now, Ackles.”
“Right. Because the thought of you suckin' my dick, and your hand right fucking there is gonna make it easy to sit still.”
Jared flexes his hand low on Jensen's pelvis and carefully runs the blade over the area he's going to be marking. “I promise not to make it sexual until I'm finished,” he winks and trades the razor for an pen.
The tip of the pen is cold, but Jared's fingers brushing his skin are more than enough to warm Jensen right back up. The concentration on his face, the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth and moves slowly, like this has to be the most perfect thing he's ever done, shoves Jensen past warm and right into the inferno.
This guy is his. This guy with the strong, steady hands, the sparkling, hazel eyes, and the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders lays down beside Jensen every night, and wakes up wrapped around him every morning. And according to the ink he's etching into Jensen's hip, he wants to keep doing it.
It's pretty fucking intense. And while Jared keeps to his promise, doesn't make so much as an innuendo, while he's working, there's an intimacy hanging between them in the silence. It's palpable, and it's undeniable. Jensen's not a very sentimental guy, but this? This is a moment.
It's not the most intricate design he's ever had done. And it's not complicated. But when he stands from the table to look in the full length mirror beside Jared's station, Jensen can't help thinking that it's the most perfect piece on his body. Jared did the Texas tat inside his forearm, and the scorpion on his neck, but this one is different.
This isn't a piece of art. It's a piece of Jared. And that is, without a doubt, the best gift anyone's ever given him.
*-* It came out a little longer than 1000 words, but I figure it's alright, since there was more than one request for it. Hope you enjoy!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
The Tat Fic 2/2
Date: 2010-04-08 11:12 pm (UTC)Jared's smile could light the shadowed room. “Alright then. Lay back and give me your right hip.”
“My hip?” Jensen rolls his eyes. “This gonna be another one of those nights where you just suck on random parts of my body 'til I beg?”
Instead of answering, Jared's hands push at the waist band of his jeans until Jensen can see a gauzy bandage. When he pulls that back, he reveals a brand new tat. Solid black, curved numbers.
9.16
A year ago.
Today.
Forever.
Without further provocation, he leans back and pulls his jeans down as far as he can. “This isn't getting' you outta blowin' me. You know that, right?”
Jared snaps a glove into place and runs his tongue along his teeth, looking not at all unlike a fucking vampire in the light and shadows from the lamp next to the chair. “Man, when have you ever known me to try and get outta suckin' your dick?” He sits and grabs the disposable razor from his station. “Sit still. Don't geek out on me now, Ackles.”
“Right. Because the thought of you suckin' my dick, and your hand right fucking there is gonna make it easy to sit still.”
Jared flexes his hand low on Jensen's pelvis and carefully runs the blade over the area he's going to be marking. “I promise not to make it sexual until I'm finished,” he winks and trades the razor for an pen.
The tip of the pen is cold, but Jared's fingers brushing his skin are more than enough to warm Jensen right back up. The concentration on his face, the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth and moves slowly, like this has to be the most perfect thing he's ever done, shoves Jensen past warm and right into the inferno.
This guy is his. This guy with the strong, steady hands, the sparkling, hazel eyes, and the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders lays down beside Jensen every night, and wakes up wrapped around him every morning. And according to the ink he's etching into Jensen's hip, he wants to keep doing it.
It's pretty fucking intense. And while Jared keeps to his promise, doesn't make so much as an innuendo, while he's working, there's an intimacy hanging between them in the silence. It's palpable, and it's undeniable. Jensen's not a very sentimental guy, but this? This is a moment.
It's not the most intricate design he's ever had done. And it's not complicated. But when he stands from the table to look in the full length mirror beside Jared's station, Jensen can't help thinking that it's the most perfect piece on his body. Jared did the Texas tat inside his forearm, and the scorpion on his neck, but this one is different.
This isn't a piece of art. It's a piece of Jared. And that is, without a doubt, the best gift anyone's ever given him.
*-*
It came out a little longer than 1000 words, but I figure it's alright, since there was more than one request for it. Hope you enjoy!