Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/853585.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF, Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Character:
      Jensen_Ackles, Jared_Padalecki, Danneel_Harris, Steve_Carlson, Christian
      Kane, Jeffery_Dean_Morgan, Misha_Collins
  Additional Tags:
      Adolescent_Sexuality, Age_Difference, Anonymity, Coercion, Dark, Dirty
      Talk, Exhibitionism, Facials, Fingering, Manipulation, Masturbation,
      Multiple_Orgasms, Spanking, Toys, Underage_-_Freeform, Rimming,
      Voyeurism, Online_Relationship, Community:_spnkink_meme, Older_Man/
      Younger_Man, Young_Jensen_Ackles, Older_Jared_Padalecki, bottom!Jensen,
      top!Jared, Toppy_bastard!Jared
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-22 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 31432
****** A Crueler Winter ******
by deandatsgay_(orphan_account)
Summary
     Jensen isn't sure how things escalated so quickly. (SPN Kink Meme
     fill, age difference/underage, dub-con/non-con, younger!Jensen,
     older!Jared, meeting on internet chatroom).
Notes
     Fill for the spnkink-meme fill: Young / mid teen J1 is home pretty
     much alone for the summer and is bored. He finds an online chat room
     which leads to him being encouraged to post photos and eventually
     videos online. They are anonymous in that he doesn't show his face,
     but his biggest fan (and encourager) is J2 (aged in his 30s) who
     lives near him and knows exactly who he is. J2 engineers a situation
     where J1 turns to him for help and then J1 has to repay him. J2 uses
     the online stuff to ensure he doesn't tell.
     This story was on here and I accidentally deleted it and I have NO
     idea how!
     Please review or at least leave kudos. It only takes a little click!
     <3
***** Creepers *****
A girl in Jensen’s class was suspended for sending a topless picture to her
boyfriend.
Jensen thought – still thinks – it was stupid. Both students were eighteen, and
if the guy hadn’t been an asshole about something so awesome, the school staff
wouldn’t have freaked out and held the most awkward assembly ever to warn
teenagers about the Dangers of the Internet. He had rolled his eyes along with
his friends, because the information being spewed at them was so painfully
obvious and cliché, Jensen felt embarrassed for the teachers shifting behind
the podium.
Jensen knows if Mr. Beaver or Mrs. Cortese were with him now, they would be
thoroughly and utterly disappointed him. Mr. Beaver would clap him on the back
of his neck and say, didn’t you listen to a word we said, son? Kids these days,
think they know everything. Mrs. Cortese would stare at him with those deep,
soulful eyes, and he would lose himself in the sparkle of her lip gloss while
she bemoaned reckless, impulsive youth.
But Jensen is bored. He’s just been shipped from his father’s house – his
childhood house, his home – to his mother’s strange new two bedroom ten miles
away. He can’t just walk to Steve’s or Chris’ house now. The DirectTV still
hasn’t been set-up, and although he has a TV, all of the DVD’s are at home – at
dad’s, he mentally corrects. He must have watched every movie and series on
Netflix that he could ever possibly be interested in. He doesn’t have a
Facebook, because he doesn’t like small, mundane talk in person, let alone
online, and he doesn’t really get Tumblr, Reddit or Twitter.
There’s always porn, but even a fourteen year old boy needs to give his wrist
and dick a break every now and then.
So. Jensen knows what he’s doing is stupid. But it’s not boring, and he’s not
an a complete idiot; it’s not like he’s going to post nudes on the internet,
seriously, and he didn’t need a school seminar to tell him that, because he
does have a little thing people in Texas like to call common sense.
He logs onto a Sons of Anarchy room and logs off two minutes later. He checks
out the Alt. Rock room and leaves when user notwithoutmylunchbox starts
chatting furiously with EbonyWayX about Fall Out Boy’s triumphant return.
He hovers over the LGBTQ (queer and questioning) link, but doesn’t click.
Instead he watches the way the letters slide and flicker color, and wonders if
he would somehow look different, too, if he really did press the mouse.
His mom calls and he nearly falls back in his chair, glancing over his shoulder
to make sure she is ringing from her office and not floating outside of his
window, peering into his room and his soul the way she does whenever he’s doing
something he knows he shouldn’t be. She tells him she’s going to end up
spending a few more hours at work than she intended, and there’s money on her
dresser for him to order pizza. He wants to tell her, Mom, I have a debit card
now, that’s what it’s for, but he just smiles and tells her to drive home safe.
Jensen places his order online but doesn’t shut the chat window. After he’s
finished, he un-minimizes the chat and hovers over the same room.
This time, he clicks.
There are a few people logged in. WeAreTheUnicorn posts a reply Jensen doesn’t
understand to someone that must have been talking before he joined the room.
Frowning, Jensen decides he’ll just Netflix South Park until his pizza is
delivered. He is getting ready to exit when boisboisbois responds to the
conversation with a link.
boisboisbois: if ur lookin 2 c sum dick insted of just typin about it
Jensen wrinkles his nose at the atrocious spelling and shortcuts. He hates
agreeing with his grandparents but it does irrirate the shit out of him when
Danneel sends him a string of jumbled numbers and letters. When the link and
the description meet in his head, Jensen feels heat burn from his belly to his
cheeks.
Babyiwasbornthisgay: THIS ISN’T THAT TYPE OF CHAT ROOM
WeAreTheUnicorn: This is supposed to be a safe space for people to talk. If
you’re just going to post links to those places, you can leave this chat.
boisboisbois re-posts the links and adds young and hung!!!11 before logging off
the room.
Taking a deep breath, Jensen hovers over the link.
Oddly, he feels less hesitant clicking this one.
There is a garish red splash of words over a dull grey background.
BY CLICKING ENTER, YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE 18 YEARS OR OLDER. SITE MAY CONTAIN
ADULT CONTENT.
Jensen clicks ‘enter.’
ARE YOU SERIOUSLY 18 YEARS OR OLDER?
Paranoid, embarrassed, Jensen shifts in his chair and clicks ‘yes I am
seriously 18 years or older’.
OKAY. WE BELIEVE YOU. (NOT REALLY. ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE 18?)
Jensen clicks ‘yes’.
DO YOUR PARENTS KNOW YOU ARE TRYING TO GET ON THIS SITE?
Jensen huffs and fully intends to exit the site. It’s probably a scam. He is
going to click whatever answer they have laid out and end up downloading
malware to every computer in the block, or something. When Jensen looks over
the entry link, it reads ‘I’m old enough to see dudes taking their clothes off
online, Jesus Christ!’ His fingers hesitate over the corner ‘x’.
Fuck it, Jensen thinks even as his face flushes. Chris is good with computers,
and Jensen wouldn’t have to tell him it was gay porn that fucked his up.
The chat opens in a new window and several other pop-ups with obscene sounds,
moans and squelches, erupt onto the screen beside it. Jensen quickly exited out
of them, mortified even as he sat alone.
There is a pop-up asking for his e-mail and telling him to create a password
and username. He types in one of the fake g-mails he uses for porn, decides on
nenson for a name – it’s not like he’s ever going to be on this site again –
and opts to use it for his password, too. Once he’s accepted, he sees another
screen with a list of current users: only eight names, including his own, flash
in the corner.
Several comments are written across the screen, but Jensen’s eyes are focused
on the pictures in the middle of the page. They both show a boy who can’t be
eighteen, is maybe sixteen at the most. The first photo is a chest and up shot,
and the fuck has included his face in the picture. He’s handsome – hot, Jensen
thinks with a rush, the stupid dude is hot. The second picture is a chest and
down shot, and stupid dude is sporting a heavy bulge in his dark, too tight
briefs.
Jensen’s gut drops, frozen and burning and twisting into his throat, and his
thighs tremble as he twitches in his own loose boxers.
Erins_Party: Sorry boys, time to *get off* ;) TTYL!
Stupid dude loses 1,000 hotness points.
There are several lines of disappointment at seeing stupid dude sign out. A new
message flashes onto the screen.
Captainmorgan: I just wanted to see cock today.
Jensen laughs, a little surprised and disbelieving at the words and his own
reaction.
Collinit: I just wanted to see something young and pretty today.
Jensen doesn’t laugh at that. He gulps, suddenly feeling tight lipped and dry
mouthed and like some molten and molasses is crawling through his veins. Stupid
dude looked pretty and pretty young, so Jensen doesn’t really know what this
Collinit guy is complaining about.
Harley: I believe young and pretty just *got off*
It’s difficult to read shade over the internet, but Jensen is sure Harley just
threw some heavy shadows in stupid dude’s direction. He smiles again, feels as
if he can breathe a bit easier, and the heat in him simmers lower.
Collinit: What about you, nenson? What did you want to see?
Jensen swallows. Heat pierces him like a lance, igniting his nerves until he
begins to twitch in his seat. He should exit, close the chat room, shut the
computer down.
He doesn’t, but he doesn’t reply either. He doesn’t do anything except sit and
watch the screen; he doesn’t think he can.
Collinit: What are you looking for? First time here?
Suddenly, Jensen realizes he has no idea what he is doing here. He is about to
exit the chat room and never, ever think of it again when a new messages
appears.
Harley: You’re not young and pretty, are you? ;D
Jensen is thrown by the emoticon, but instead of rolling his eyes, he snorts
and shakes his head.
He finds his hands moving to the keyboard without really thinking about it. He
realizes what he is doing and his fingers hesitate above the keys.
What could be the harm, really, in exchanging a few messages? It’s not like
he’s going to post selfies with his face or dick in them.
nenson: Young. I don’t really know about the pretty.
Jensen has been told that he’s handsome, always by adults who reach to pat his
head or pinch his face, and he’s seen girls, locked tight in their circles,
watching him, whispering and giggling about him when he looks their way. But he
doesn’t know if he’s pretty. He doesn’t know if he wants to be.
Harley: Aw, now. I’m sure you’re pretty pretty.
Jensen thinks, clever, and is going to type his amusement when he remembers
this isn’t Facebook chat with the girl he had a crush on when he was twelve.
Collinit: Why don’t you post something?
Captainmorgan: You could post a picture and then we could see, but I’m sure
Harley’s right.
These guys are vultures, geese-us. Jensen is definitely going to exit now,
right now.
Harley: Calm down, boys. We don’t mean to scare you. You don’t have to post if
you don’t want to. But I’d like to see you. I’m sure you’re young and gorgeous.
And Jensen hesitates. His fingers tremble on the mouse as he reads and re-reads
the message. This guy – these guys – are perverts. Obviously, they’re on an
internet chat site asking for pictures of young men. Jensen is, too, but he’s
not actively encouraging impressionable teenage boys to post inappropriate
photos. He should tell these people to fuck off, get some therapy, watch more –
or less? – porn.
nenson: I don’t think I should.
He knows he shouldn’t, actually. Knows that it is stupid and wrong and stupid
and that he should not, under any circumstances, post anything.
Harley: Okay. Hey, it’s whatever you want. But just so you know, we won’t post
any of this stuff anywhere else on the web. This is a safe place. Whatever
happens here stays here.
nenson: Wait, is this a gay porn chat site or a travel ad? Because I’ve been to
Vegas before, and it sucked.
Collinit and Captainmorgan respond with ridiculous emoticons.
Harley: Eh, a little of both.
Jensen grins. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he finds himself asking
the guys to hold on a sec. It’s embarrassing but the best lighting in the new
house is in his bathroom, and he needs a mirror to make sure he doesn’t
accidentally catch any of his facial features. There is a dull thrill rumbling
as he takes off his shirt. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment.
He isn’t as tan as stupid dude or as muscled He’s a little tall for his age but
he’s still skinny. His shoulders have been getting broader while his waist and
hips remain tapered; his arms and legs have started gaining strength from
lifting weights in gym class, but their lean, not bulging.
Chewing his lip nervously, Jensen angles the camera to capture his image from
his throat to the top of his jeans. The line of his blue boxers peaks out above
the denim, and he briefly thinks of pulling his jeans up, but it’s not like
he’s going to offend the online perverts with a sneak of his underwear. Hell,
they’ll probably like it.
Jensen ignores the thrill that flips his belly at the thought and snaps a few
more pictures. He turns left, right, twists so he can get a shot of his back,
the valley of his shoulders and dip of his spine and beginning curve of his
ass. When he’s finished, his entire body is burning with mortification and the
same tingling buzz that infected him when he first stepped into the bathroom
After he uploads the pictures to the computer, he clicks back into the chat
room, but his fingers feel frozen over the keys. What in the actual fuck is he
doing? Is he really going to post these online for strangers, for filthy men
who want to ogle his youth and prettiness? Thinking of the situation in such
terms should break Jensen out of whatever enchantment the chat has put him
under. It doesn’t. Instead he feels another jolting twist of excitement, of
arousal, and he spreads his legs in order to relieve the growing tension in his
groin.
nenson: I’m back.
Jensen takes a steadying breath before adding, And just so ya’ll know…I might
not have been completely honest with those site warnings.
His nerves shake at the admission, and he wonders if maybe he’s too young for
these guys. Just because stupid dude looked like he was sixteen, it didn’t mean
everyone in the room would be keen on a guy who looked - and actually was -
fourteen.
Several responses pop up, mostly from the people who hadn’t been posting
earlier, assuring him it’s fine, no one will tell, they just want to see him,
see how young and pretty his, no one is going to judge him. When Jensen looks
in the corner, there are eleven users in the room instead of seven. He thinks
he should feel more nervous, but it only makes him breathe faster.
Jensen posts the first picture. A few moments pass with no response, and as
each second passes, a harsh clench begins in his chest. He isn’t sure, but he
thinks he might faint – or, worse, cry.
Harley: Holy fuck, you’re fucking beautiful.
Collinit: Wow. Wow. WOW. Pretty does not begin to cover that.
MikenIke: SHIT SON.
Captainmorgan: gorgeous.
tom895: HOT!!!
Harley: Jesus, dude, how could you have been worried at all?
Jensen is overwhelmed by the strong and immediate reactions, both from the
other men in the chat room and from himself. He thinks he can feel his entire
body flushing, and his face feels so hot he has to close his eyes and imagine
pressing his cheeks against the freezer to capture a moment of calm. The
attention, the words, dirty compliments from dirty men, makes him feel...he
can't really describe it, but it's different than the embarrassment and pride
he feels when he catches girls looking at him in class or when one of his
friends tells him a sister or cousin thinks he's cute.
He doesn't feel cute - these men don't think he's cute. They think he's pretty,
gorgeous, beautiful, hot - sexy. Is this what its like, he wonders in a fever
haze, to feel sexy?
The girl - the one who got in trouble - told Chris' older sister that was why
she sent the pictures to her boyfriend. She said it made her feel sexy. Chris
thought that was a fucking stupid reason. The girl's boyfriend - the one who
didn't get in trouble - said she was a slut. Jensen had curled his hands into
fists: he hadn't understood what she meant, but he knew it didn't make her a
whore, something wrong.
When Harley tells him he's probably the prettiest person he's ever seen and
asks if he has anymore pictures, Jensen doesn't feel like a slut or a whore.
Maybe a little wrong, maybe just breath of it, but not much, not really. He
feels flattered, enamored, excited. He feels even sexier. It's intense, so new
and strong, and he can understand how that girl might have let her brain drift
closed to keep chasing this heat.
nenson: A few more, yeah.
He posts one where he is standing on the side, one of his arms stretched across
his stomach and his hand resting on his hip. He frowns when he realizes how
prominent the freckles on his shoulder are at that angle and in that light.
But then Harley responds: Jesus, prettiest freckles I've ever seen. You got
those everywhere, beautiful?
There is a chorus of agreements and similar questions. As Jensen answers, Yeah,
and I hate every damn one of them, the mound in Jensen's jeans is hotter,
harder, twitching against the too soft fabric of his boxers.
It's weird, because if this was just porn Jensen was watching, he'd already
have his pants around his thighs, hand wrapped around himself while he
struggles to keep his eyes open and on the screen. But he hesitates to touch
himself. It seems egotistical, somehow, fucked up, getting off on strangers
getting off on these pictures of himself - which aren't porn, he may be half-
naked but it's the upper half, and it's not like he's doing anything in them.
After another profile, after a flurry of more comments, Jensen looks to the
users and sees at least twice as many names as he had when he logged in. That
should certainly make him nervous, scare him, should make his hands fly to exit
from the site. It only sharpens the ache in his gut and cock. He presses his
palm to the bulge in his jeans and closes his eyes, applies even more pressure,
and lets his mouth drop in a heavy breath.
Collinit: You shouldn't hate those! They're beauty marks, you know.
Breathless, Jensen moves to type with one hand while he keeps the other as a
heavy weight between his thighs.
nenson: Then I must be the most beautiful person in the world. Those stupid
things are everywhere.
Harley: Think you might be.
Jensen's blush deepens. He hopes his previous messages don't make it seem like
he's fishing, here, like he's desperate for compliments and attention. Rubbing
himself, he thinks that it might not be the freckles comments alone that make
him look like that.
Captainmorgan: So...you got those freckles *everywhere*, eh?
Jensen would smack himself if his hands weren’t already otherwise occupied,
because he walked right into that. He wonders if the other users think he’s
being coy, flirty, trying to coax them into coaxing him.
The sharp, sudden ring of the doorbell scares the fuck out of Jensen. His soft,
breathy noise of pleasure slides into a gasp of surprise. He’s more embarrassed
by the gentle noise than his state of arousal at first, but when the doorbell
rings again, he’s completely mortified by the bulge in his pants.
The pizza, Jensen remembers. He thinks of closing out the chat room and never,
ever logging in again. But something makes his fingers move - maybe the years
of his mother drilling politeness into his head, because somehow it seems like
it would be rude to just leave forever without saying anything, without saying
thank you to the creepy pervs who made him feel things he’s never felt before.
nenson: I gotta go, guys. I...
Jensen bites his lips, then backspaces.
nenson: Sorry kids, I gotta get out of here.
Jensen pauses. It’s stupid, these people probably won’t care, but he types and
presses enter.
nenson: Thanks.
He doesn’t wait for any responses. The doorbell rings again. Jensen's face is
stained, blood red and blood hot. He tries to adjust himself in his jeans, make
it look like he hasn't been doing exactly what he's been doing, and heads down
the stairs.
"Be there in a second!" Jensen yells loudly as he runs to the living room to
get the twenty his mother left.
When he gets to the door, he takes a deep, steadying breath.
The pizza boy is a few years older than Jensen, a kid he's seen in the hallways
a few times. Jensen knows the guy doesn't know him, probably doesn't even
recognize him, but he is suddenly gripped tight by fear: the pizza boy is going
to know. He is going to look at Jensen and know exactly what he’s been doing,
is going to know that he logged onto the site looking for something dark and
deep and dirty, that he posted pictures for perverts and got off on them
telling him how pretty he was, that he is a pervert, that he did something and
is something bad.
“12.49,” the guy says, sounding bored as he drums his fingers on the pizza box.
Jensen blinks. He can feel his blush flickering like embers on his cheeks,
inside his mouth. He wants to grab the box and hide his crotch, but if he
realizes, logically, that the only way the pizza boy is going to notice his
hard on is if he draws attention to it. The pizza boy doesn't know about his
erection, doesn't know how he got it or what he's done. The pizza boy just
wants his money.
"Uh, right," Jensen says, pressing the twenty to him. "Keep the change, okay?"
The boys eyes widen and a smile spreads across his lips - he's pretty, Jensen
thinks, but not like Erin...not like Jensen himself. "Thanks. Have a nice day!"
Jensen grabs the pizza box, slinks into the house, and slams the door shut.
-
They get new people on the site every day. It's one of the things Jared likes
most about it.
Well, that and all the pictures of underage boys.
But this nenson – and what the fuck is that username, Jared doesn’t even know –
is different from anyone he’s encountered in the past two years he's co-owned
and co-managed youngandhung.org. The kid is quick-witted, more clever and
entertaining to actually chat with than a lot of the adults that log in, let
alone the boys. Jared had been drawn by the obvious inexperience and
apprehension, by the vulnerability and sweetness clearly thrumming underneath
the bravado.
When Jensen had told them he'd have pics in a bit, Jared had felt anticipation
slice through his chest like it hadn’t in years.
Jared had watched the first picture pop onto his screen with a tense breath.
The kid didn't show his face - smart, just like Jared had thought, but not
experienced and wise enough to not show himself at all - and he didn't go nude,
no pretty - virgin, probably, damn - ass or hard - but probably equally pretty
- cock for he and the guys to drool and whimper and damn themselves over. He
had only ended up posting four pictures, all relatively tame for the site.
But fuck.
Fucking fuck, the kid had been gorgeous. Jared hadn't been lying when he said
the boy was beautiful, had the prettiest freckles he'd ever seen, that he
wanted to see more of him. Jared had wanted – fuck, does want - desperately to
see more of him.
What kills Jared is when nenson leaves. The boy doesn't immediately close the
chat like he's been frightened or caught. He calls them kids, cheeky and
adorable, and Jared just wanted to reach into the screen and pull the boy into
his lap, wanted to kiss the him senseless and map the rest of those lovely
freckles with his tongue.
Then the boy had said thanks. Thanks. Like Jared and the other men in the room
had done him some sort of favor by coaxing half-naked pictures from him. Jared
had felt a razor pang of guilt, of shame, emotions he thought he’d become
completely numb to. He’d pushed himself from his computer desk, dick and chest
tight and stinging.
Jared heads out to the small deck outside. The room was meant as a master
bedroom, the en suite bathroom and little balcony outside serving as selling
points of luxury, but Jared thought it made a better office, since in his line
of work, he often found himself needing a space where he could gulp a deep,
grounding breath of fresh air while still maintaining enough privacy to hide
his erection.
It's not that Jared is under any illusions. He knows he's a deplorable,
despicable human being. The fact that he wants such terrible things from young,
sweet bodies is the worst sickness lurking in his brain, but it isn't his only
defection. He's lied to and manipulated people all of his life - his parents,
his siblings, various girlfriends, teachers, bosses, therapists - to hide his
lusts, and he's twisted and tainted naivety and innocence to his advantage more
than once.
But he's been trying. He doesn't want to go to jail. He doesn't want to be a
sick fuck, either, of course, but after decades of trying and failing to purge
himself, he still wants who and what he wants and he can't stop, he can't. He
can try to stop touching, but he can’t even begin to stop that desire to touch.
He needs to stop touching. Every kid is another stain he can’t wash off of his
hands, and eventually it’s going to catch up with him: get him killed, get him
thrown in prison. Eventually, it’s going to destroy him.
So Jared's been keeping his hands off of bodies that are under seventeen. He's
been doing pretty good at keeping his hands above the age of consent - but of
course, that's mostly due to the website. A lot of his ability to refrain from
touching has been thanks to his ability to look his fill.
He knows it’s still beyond fucked up. He understands that starting a website
aimed at luring teenage boys into chat sites where they will be further
encouraged to bare their skin and souls isn't a good thing, doesn’t make what
he wants any less monstrous.
But he’s not touching; he’s just looking. Only looking. it's better than
hanging around liquor stores, offering to buy alcohol for minors in exchange
for a taste of their boy-sweat, or leaning against the walls in clubs, lurking
for boys who snuck in past the bouncer's radar. It's better than dating
divorcees to catch glimpses of their teenage sons changing or going to family
reunions for the sole purpose of cataloguing how his nephews and young cousins
bodies have changed.
Better, because he’s less likely to get caught this way. Because it’s less
messy on paper and in his brain. It’s less complicated, less risky, to just
watch them, touch himself and look at them through a screen rather than in
person through half-lidded eyes, rather than touch them himself. He's never
lured one of the chat boys to his bed, just to his website. None of the boys
have been used like that, at least not as a result of Jared's site. Misha keeps
a careful digital eye on everyone who logs in, and Jeff checks out and takes
care of anything suspicious. (Jared's lucky to have them, he understands, men
who not only share and understand his perversions but are technological
geniuses with connections to the FBI.)
But then nenson logged onto his site. Jared feels like he read the boy's heart
in his snarky, nervous comments, feels like he saw something deeper than all
that beautiful skin.
Jared’s wanted to break his own rules before, but that want is a constant oil
slick sickness, a shard that has been twisting in his gut since he turned 20
and realized he still wanted to be dating like he was 15. Boys have posted
pictures and videos and Jared has had to scream and sob like the children he
wanted to devour into his pillow. Jared has traced young lips through the
computer screen and wanted to find them, take them, just once, and felt raw
under the violence of his urges.
But nenson. But this kid.
Jared gazes around the cul-de-sac. He looks at the nice houses of the nice
families with the nice lives and knows he is a black hole sucking decency from
the marrow of their nice teenage sons. Then he sees one of those nice sons,
Jensen Ackles, open the door for the pizza boy. Jared has to take another deep
breath, press himself more firmly against the fence.
So maybe there is another boy that makes Jared hurt so sharply with want it
almost numbs him.
Jensen is in his young teens, probably just a freshman in high school. He moved
in with his mother, a pretty divorcee, and he was exactly the type of kid that
would decimate Jared if Jared couldn’t keep it to himself.
If it wasn’t for the site, Jared would have introduced himself to Mrs. Ackles,
charmed her, spent the night in an attempt to see the way Jensen’s hair stuck
up in the morning, catch a glimpse of skin as he reached for the cereal at the
top of the fridge.
Jared runs a hand through his hair. He wonders what it would take to lure
someone like little Jensen into the chat room, hates himself, and tries not to
stare.
He fails, of course; he always fails, he always looks, especially now that it
is all he will allow himself to do. He can see Jensen’s smile, wishes he could
hear his sweet laugh, run his nose along that soft hair, taste the shine in it.
Jared’s eyes roam Jensen’s chest, dip down to the loose jeans – Jensen never
wears the skinny jeans Jared sees all the other kids his age in – with a rip
over the front of one thigh.
Jared freezes, blood trembling icy and feverish.
The boy – nenson – was wearing jeans with the same tear.
Jared has seen Jensen up close before, seen how slender his hips and broad his
shoulders are, seen the pretty freckles dusted over those smooth cheekbones. He
remembers wondering if those freckles spread over his back, his chest, his
thighs.
For a moment, Jared thinks there is no possible way.
It has to be a coincidence. But he thinks of Jensen’s pink mouth and youth, the
absolutely damning bow of his lean little legs, thinks of how the ridiculous
username makes sense when considering the ridiculous real name. He recalls how
polite Jensen has been the few times they’ve met, remembers the deep flush of
want that made him dizzy when Jensen had thanked him for helping he and his mom
the day they moved in.
Thanks.
Oh.
Oh shit.
Jared can feel every good intention he’s been trying desperately to hold onto
crumble; he can feel it burn to ash in his dry throat, and when his eyes travel
upwards, catch the faint view of a bulge in Jensen’s jeans, he knows none of
those well-meaning limits he set for himself will ever rise again.
***** Higher *****
It takes about six weeks for Jensen to go from nervously posting pictures
shirtless pictures to setting the webcam up so the guys in the chat can watch
him jerk off live.
Jensen isn’t really sure how things escalated so quickly.
He hadn’t even been planning to log onto the site again. The first time on the
chat had fueled some intense thoughts, fantasies, that he would have never
thought himself capable of conjuring, letting alone getting off on. The
experience had also led to a flux of paranoia and shame.
The morning after Jensen posted those first pictures, he had woken up from a
dream of sirens and heavy hands and black words blaring on a screen. He’d been
hard and sweating. It had hit him, suddenly, as his eyes fluttered against the
early light streaming through his window, just what he had done the day before.
What if someone found out? What if that site was being monitored by the Feds
and an armored van showed up on his street, looking for nenson, smoking out
predator and bait? What if one of the guys from the chat stalks him through the
net? What if someone recognized him?
Jensen had flushed and buried his face into his pillow, mortified with his own
carelessness.
He tried to work through the rising tides of anxiety and panic by reminding
himself he hadn’t shown his face. None of the others logged into the chat that
day knew who he was. He was safe.
He had promised himself he would never do anything like that again, but a few
days later, he’d woken up with his cock hard, tip flushed and wet, and somehow
his foggy brain had rationalized signing into the site again.
It was a pattern Jensen fell into too easily: ignore his curiosity and desire
until it became too great, until he couldn’t keep his fingers from flying over
keys and snapping shots of his skin in the bathroom mirror. He could always
convince himself, right before he logged in or took a picture or chatted with
one of the other users, that what he was doing was normal and safe and okay. It
was exploration and it was healthy. He wasn’t hurting anyone, wasn’t getting
hurt. He wasn’t putting himself in danger. He wasn’t going to get caught.
Jensen had been persuaded to post pictures of himself in his boxers the next
time he logged in. It hadn’t really been difficult: he’d been hoping to be
persuaded, to be praised and prodded into baring more of himself. The comments
and rush he’d gotten had been more than worth it, had been the spring board for
the most shattering orgasms he’d known.
The next time, when Harley had asked if Jensen could post a picture of himself
without the underwear, show them all his gorgeous young ass, Jensen had found
himself typing okay before he was consciously aware of what he was agreeing to.
Jensen had been wary to go completely nude. That was one of the things he’d
promised himself when he first logged in. No face, no dick.
He’d seen Erin and a few other boys post pictures of themselves in full length
mirrors, naked, dicks red and slick in their hands. Jensen always wondered if
their skin was as soft, as flame hot, as it looked: wanted to test the heat
with his fingertips and his tongue. But Harley had private messaged him, asking
again and again if Jensen was comfortable chatting with him alone, telling
Jensen how he was like no one else Harley had ever seen on the site.
It’s up to you, Harley had typed. I understand if you’re nervous, Harley had
soothed. I want to see your cock so bad, fuck, bet it’s just as pretty as the
rest of you. Can I see it? Will you show it to me? Please? I promise I won’t
show anyone else. It’ll just be our secret. Please, just one picture, I want –
I need to know how gorgeous your little dick is.
Jensen had bit his lip to keep his pitiful whimper in. It was a tremendously
stupid idea, but Jensen was so hard, twitching and leaking against his palm,
and it was so easy to take a picture, so simple to send it to Harley and drink
in the stranger’s responses.
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Thank you, damn, thank you for sharing that with
me. You are hot. So fucking hot and sexy. Bigger than I expected, too, just –
fuck. You’re perfect. Your cock looks so fucking good, wish I could touch it,
taste it. Ever let anyone do that for you? Ever fucked anyone’s fist or mouth,
baby boy?
Jensen’s fingers had been trembling when he typed back No, Jesus Christ, no one
has ever wanted me like that before.
I want you like that so fucking bad, Harley had said.
Jensen read the filth that continued to pour from Harley’s fingertips until he
came all over his own fist. He had to type his good night with one shaking
hand.
The private messages with Harley made it even easier, so easy Jensen was
ashamed later, to break his own rules.
It was similarly exchanged conversations with Harley that led Jensen to this
moment, adjusting his webcam so it won’t capture his face, even if he forgets
himself during the chat.
He’s nervous. Apprehension is a cold cramp in his gut and he worries that he
may really get caught this time, by his mother or one of the users on the chat,
that he will come only moments into the session and utterly humiliate himself.
It’s already more than a little mortifying, how much he wants to get on the
site, show himself off, chat with anonymous men who want to fuck him for being
young and pretty and shameless online. His face and belly burn, his brain
stutters, fried, with embarrassment, but his cock throbs heavy in his sweats.
Harley helped him through this before. He typed encouragements and praise and
dirty nothings when Jensen first aimed the camera at his lotion slick hand
moving over his dick. He assured Jensen that it was the hottest thing he’d ever
seen. He begged Jensen to show the other men while promising not to judge him
no matter what his final decision was.
Harley: You almost ready, Jay?
absolute stupidest thing Jensen had done was tell Harley to call him Jay. The
name had just spilled from his fingers one afternoon while they were chatting
privately, a response to Harley’s use of his username and sweet but meaningless
endearments that made Jensen’s cheeks flush and his stomach flutter. Jensen
knew Harley didn’t realize Jay stood for J which stood for Jensen, but it was
too close to Jensen’s real life for him to have shared. He realized he needed
to be more careful, realized he should probably stop altogether, but he
couldn’t – he didn’t want to.
nenson: Ready as I’ll ever be.
Harley: You’ll be great. You’ll be so hot, gonna break our dicks before the
night is over.
Jensen can barely breathe as he clicks into the chat. He wishes he could hear
the inflection of Harley’s voice, see the expression in Harley’s eyes, know
Harley’s real name, but he’s pitifully grateful he doesn’t.
The anonymity of these encounters is one of the only steady fall nets he has in
his new life. Amid his parent’s fights and his own hormones and confusion, he
has this. He can’t fuck up here, isn’t risking anything when he falters here,
won’t be judged or found out here.
He brings up the window to open video chat and shifts his cursor until it
hovers over ‘ok’ before pumping lotion into his hand.
Jensen fists his cock, cold lotion a stark, tingling contrast to the blood
spiked heat of his skin. There is a soft squelch as he moves his hand faster,
pushes his hips up, and it seems like the sound echoes through the silence of
the house. His mother is asleep downstairs; he knows she can’t hear him. He
loosens his grip and breathes heavily through his mouth. He just has to be
quiet: can’t let loose any of the noises he made when he did this with Harley
while his mother was visiting her lawyer.
Using his dry hand, he right-clicks to start the chat.
The video platform of the site allows Jensen to use the webcam and invite other
users to view. They can’t respond with videos of their own, can only text;
Jensen can’t text, can only sit in his computer chair and touch. It’s perfect:
Jensen doesn’t have to worry about a Chat Roulette-esque exposure to random
dicks, and he has a valid excuse for slumping in his chair and losing himself.
He flows through awareness until he can only focus on the comments, the heady
buzz of power and praise, the feeling of his fingers stripping his cock and the
knowledge that fifteen strangers are watching him while they jerk themselves in
tandem.
Captainmorgan: Well look at you, got yourself all ready for us. That’s so sweet
baby.
Jensen swallows hard, but the movement doesn’t show up on the video. The webcam
captures him from his collarbones to the tops of his thighs. He’s leaning back,
knees spread wide – like someone kicked ‘em apart so they can get right down on
their knees and suck you baby, Harley had said during one of their practices.
(This was a performance, after all, and Jensen had been all shaking nerves and
keystrokes until he’d gone over it a few times with Harley.)
He realizes he’s getting attached to the persona of an internet pervert. He
knows it’s fucked up. But he can tell Harley anything, and Harley won’t judge
him. How could Harley judge Jensen when what Harley was doing in the chat room,
in his life, was so much worse? There is a freedom he feels with Harley and the
chat that he doesn’t know in any other aspect of his life.
And it's not like Jensen has totally lost his mind. He never uses real names or
addresses, never mentions how often he is home alone, never says where he goes
to school or how old he really is, never even lets out what state, what
country, he's living in. He does give Harley his e-mail one night, just because
Harley wants to send him some guitar tabs, and he feels ridiculous later, but
it was a fake account, made with a fake name and a fake birthday, so he doesn't
worry: just checks the account every day to see if he's gotten anything from
Harley or other messages from the site.
Collinit: Damn, look so gorgeous like that. Just get started whenever you’re
ready, beautiful.
Harley: Look at him. He’s never done this before. Doesn’t know how to get
started.
Jensen shudders and runs his palm over his belly. Those weren’t any words he
and Harley had rehearsed before, but they race hot along his hips, and he moves
to rub his hand over the ache. The pretense that he has never done this is
another layer separating Jensen from the reality of the fantasy he's indulging
in, another even dirtier, even hotter film between Jensen the young, athletic
introvert who likes mullet rock and will try anything once and nenson, the
cheeky sexual deviant who likes taking orders and having unknown eyes roam over
his skin while he touches himself.
Collinit: Just do what you normally do baby. How do you usually get started?
You like to go slow?
Jensen nods even though no one can see it – because no one can see it - and
slides his hand up his chest, pressure gentle and pace easy. His entire body is
shaking with want and panic and terror and want, fuck, with so much want he can
barely breathe around the heavy slick of it in his throat. With a deep breath,
he reminds himself that this is his show now; if he wants to shut this down, he
can close the chat up – he’s the only one who can.
But Jensen doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t even really want to slow down.
He rubs both nipples with two fingers, sighing into the feeling. Pinching
himself lightly with is right hand, he brings his left up to his mouth, wetting
the tips his tongue. The first time Harley told him to do this, Jensen felt
like a chick in a porno. He remembers how embarrassing it had been, how
stupidly mortifying considering Harley had seen his ass and his cock and his
half-formed fantasies, thoughts and nerves. He remembers the noise he made when
cooling spit met heated, hard nubs, too, the feeling of his fingers sliding
almost gracefully over his own chest.
Wish I could see you get yourself all wet for me, Harley had teased.
Harley was never going to see that. Jensen promised himself, no matter how far
he decided to travel along this path, no matter what rules he did break, he
would never do anything as stupid as putting his face on the chat or exchanging
any real information with anyone he met through the site.
Jensen holds his hand up to the webcam, turning them so the low light of his
room can outline his glistening fingers.
Harley: Good boy, such a good boy. Gonna kill me you’re so fucking good, so
fucking hot.
Jensen had almost forgotten they were still on private chat. The tiny window
holding he and Harley’s messages to each other is still open in the side of the
screen. He looks at Harley’s name stamped across the screen and feels his
anxiety ease even as his tension builds.
He rubs his spit slick fingers over one nipple while he brings his other
fingers to his mouth. His screen pings with a flood of messages. He ignores
them, slides his finger into his mouth, and twists his face at the taste of
lotion on his lips. He forgot, shit, that he'd already lotioned up his hand.
Eh, as Harley is so fond of saying when Jensen runs into a wall, and Jensen
takes a deep breath. He ignores the lotion and focuses instead on the taste of
salt on his skin, the feeling of his own wet heat closing around his fingertip.
He wonders, not for the first time, what it would feel like to have someone
else actually touch him instead of just watch and type at him. The thought is
as exhilarating as it is terrifying.
Jensen is, also not for the first time, happy to have this place, where he can
do anything that pops into his head and not have to worry about being rejected
or pursued past the point of no. He can tease from the comfort and safety of
his own home, can leave the other men with balls blue as the Texas sky and not
have to worry about the repercussions. No one is going to call him a cock
tease, a slut, force him to go further or faster than he wants, and no one is
going to deny him.
Jensen reads over the comments as he finally brings his other hand back to his
chest. There is line after line of so hot, of yeah baby, fuck baby, good baby.
(They always call him baby. They call the other boys on the site by whatever
moniker they’ve chosen, and Jensen almost wishes he’d picked a better username.
He doesn’t mind the endearment, though, doesn’t mind the reminder of what he is
to them, doesn’t mind the thrill.) He barely even looks at the usernames,
because it doesn't matter who is saying what, doesn't matter who is watching:
it doesn't make Jensen's body any less flushed, doesn't make his cock any less
desperate for touch.
that's it baby get those fingers wet
Play with your titties baby boy, harder, come on, get 'em all nice and red
Bet you look perfect sucking your little fingers. Bet you'd look perfect
sucking my thick cock.
Jensen clenches his jaw and reminds himself he's supposed to be quiet through
this.
Once he's teased himself past the point of pleasure, he begins sliding one hand
to his dick. The sudden outpouring of messages at the movement speed Jensen's
breath and his fingers.
touch yourself. go on baby. do it. gonna feel so good when you touch your
pretty cock. you know its gonna be so good.
Look at you already so wet like the filthy little girl you are. You gonna play
with yourself me? Gonna show me your dirty pussy, huh, show me how you play
with that big clit?
Jensen rolls his eyes, a little annoyed with whoever is typing that
feminization filth for throwing off his game. He's not judging anyone who gets
off on that - because hello hypocrisy - but he figured out pretty quickly that
he would much rather read about how a guy wants to suck his cock or balls or
eat and fuck his ass than work over the tits and pussy he doesn't have.
Feminizing dirty talk seems a lot more demeaning, too. Jensen doesn't want to
be called filthy or dirty, told he's a slut or a whore, even if he's a good or
pretty one; the words hit a little too close to the part of his brain that
knows what he's doing is wrong, the part of himself that sometimes shudders
with shame. The words make him angry sometimes, too, make him think of that
girl deleting her Facebook so she didn't get harassed by her ex-boyfriend's
buddies anymore.
Harley: Ignore him.
The messages appears in the private window. Jensen licks his lips and eases the
pressure of his hand, trailing his fingertips along the fine trail of hairs on
his stomach. His muscles quiver under the touch.
Harley: That's it baby boy. Fuckin' always teasing us, you love it, don't you?
Knowing how hard you're making that stupid mother fucker? Knowing how hard all
of us are, just because of you?
The groove random doucher had thrown is back in full swing as Jensen reads
Harley's message. Jensen's fingers come to the dark patch of pubic hair he'd
been too unsure to shave. (It's not something Jensen could talk to Danneel or
Chris or Steve about, but he knows he can ask Harley later. He thinks he's
going to ask Harley to tell him the best way to shave; thinks if he likes how
it feels and how it looks, he might ask Harley to watch him with the upkeep.
And, holy fuck, even thinking about thinking something like that makes his
blood curdle and rush.)
Jensen rubs a sweaty palm along the length of his cock, circling the flared,
leaking head with the heel of his hand. He can’t stop the heavy breath he
releases at the feeling or the way his eyes flutter closed and his head drops
against the chair. The pressure of his hand is so light, so warm and slick, not
nearly enough to do anything but torment him – but there is another weight, the
feeling of invisible eyes watching, hungry and desperate. The knowledge that he
is being watched settles like a living touch along every nerve in his body.
His hand is slippery from sweat but only a sheen of lotion remains on his skin.
He brings his fingers from his nipple to trail his cock again, then lets them
drift lower, a gentle, tickling pressure on his balls. The screen erupts in the
pings and flashes of new messages, but Jensen focuses on teasing his sac with
one hand while he pumps lotion into the other.
When his hand is sloppy with lotion, he sweeps it in front of the camera before
finally wrapping them loosely around his dick.
Harley: That’s it, baby boy. Think about all the people watching you, how hard
and hot we all are just for you. Think about how hot it is to watch you. Think
about how hot you get us and how much we want to fuck you, how fucking much we
want to see you come all over yourself. Doesn’t it feel good, Jay?
Jensen knows Harley can’t see his nod or hear his breathy ‘yes’, but Harley
knows his answer all the same.
Jensen’s grip tightens until he has a firm hold of himself. He begins sliding
down, slicking his cock. On an upward stroke, Jensen sweeps the pre-come
drooling from his slit with his thumb, smears it into the spit and lotion
already coating his cock.
Harley: Fuck baby boy, not gonna last watching you like this.
Jensen isn't going to last, either. He knows the guys have been waiting for a
show and he doesn't want to disappoint them, but he's been on the edge of
orgasm since he woke up this morning with the knowledge that today was The Day
tumbling like a leaden weight in his gut. His hips stutter into his movements
and he bites his lip as he fucks up into his fist. He tries to stop, to slow
his movements, but his wrist twists as if under a spell and he feels helpless
in the face of impending pleasure.
Not yet, not yet, not yet, he tries to tell himself. Don't look at the screen,
don't think about them watching, don't.
The urge to look mutates from unrelenting desire to physical force. Jensen
finds himself opening his eyes as his hand speeds. The sound of slick flesh and
the heavy breaths he can't help but make fill the room, mingling with the
sounds of new messages. He tries not to read them, knows that if he does he
will spill molten hot over his knuckles before he's ready, before he's really
gotten to the speed and pressure that make coming satisfying now. His gaze
drinks in the messages before he can force himself to look away.
fuck your fist, that's it, faster baby, faster
get it baby! come on! come all over yourself like the dirty little boy you are!
Jensen closes his eyes and holds onto those stupid words, tries to repeat them
in his head so he doesn't lose it immediately. It helps a bit, gives him a
chance to tighten his grip and really work himself, building a new rhythm to
this even faster speed. He licks his lips as he looks at the screen again,
remembers no one can see it, and bites his the fist that isn’t around his cock.
Get it! Yeah, that's it, fucking GET IT!
A noise spills around his fist. His nerves shake, panic building at the thought
of being heard by his mother, but fuck, he's so close now. All he needs is...
Harley: Almost there, baby boy? The message is flashing in their private
window. Jensen gulps and almost nods, almost cries, because he is almost there,
almost, almost. Me too. Watching you, shit, wonder how many of us are gonna
blow our loads at the same time? Cause we're all gonna come from watching you,
hottest thing any of us fucks have ever seen. Come on, want to see you come,
want to lick it off those pretty balls, suck it off that pretty cock.
Jensen is powerless. He tries not to come; he really, really tries, but he
does, teeth sinking into his knuckles and fingers closed tight around his cock
and entire body shaking.
He slumps back into the chair, taking deep, greedy breaths around his hand. He
knows immediately that he will feel ashamed tomorrow, but right now there is
come dribbling hot over his still hard dick and his twitching fingers and a
screen bright and loud with messages from the strangers who just watched him
jerk off, and he feels invincible. Blinking, taking a deep breath, Jensen gives
his cock a few shuddering pulls, lifting his hips as much as he can into the
movement. A thanks for watching, folks, and he bites his lip not to groan.
-
Jared isn’t religious, but Jesus fucking Christ, he’s definitely going to Hell.
It’s difficult to care about the fate of his immortal soul when he’s watching
Jensen come all over his fist.
Ten years ago, Jared would have been horrified by what he had just seen, said
and done.
Ten years ago, Jared didn't think it was possible to hate himself more than he
did the first time he reached out and burned young innocence away with his
mouth and hands and cock. He had been young, living with this disease that
slithered in his muscles, boiling his blood, for years. He hadn't been able to
stop himself from speaking low into the ear of a 16 year old blonde who'd snuck
into a frat party. The next morning, he had stood under the hot spray of his
shower and hoped the burn could scald his soul clean.
It's strange how age has numbed him. How, years after that first time, Jared
barely feels guilty at all.
There is the constant, familiar ache of shame in his shoulders, but the monkey
isn't screeching and clawing his back anymore - it's just laughing, breath
puffing against the nape of his neck as he gives in over and over and over to
the temptation of Jensen's username flashing on his screen.
If Jensen had wandered into any other site in the world, he would probably be
six feet under dirt or concrete, buried or trembling in some sick fuck's
basement. But Jared has rules, for himself and for the other men who use the
site, and Jensen is tucked cozy in his bed as opposed to locked in a bunker of
sexual depravity.
Jared knows he isn't keeping Jensen safe. The things he encourages Jensen to
do, the things he helps Jensen discover he wants, the ways he wants to worship
and violate Jensen's body, aren't safe. He is keeping Jensen from stumbling
into deeper dangers, though. Jared begins to feel as if he is protecting
Jensen, in some very fucked up, horrible way; he ignores the damning,
possessive whispers infecting his brain, reminding him that he is only
preserving the pieces of Jensen he wants for himself.
Eventually Jared begins to think that Jensen needs this as badly as he does.
Jensen clearly wants it. The boy takes to every suggestion with eager
apprehension, blooms so beautifully bruised under the attentions. Jensen is
yearning for it, is desperate and gagging for it, for the direction and desire
of Jared and the other men. Jared remembers discovering his older brother's
skin mags under the bed for the first time and how it sparked a hunger to learn
every shade and form of sex. Who knows what kind of fuck Jared would be if he'd
had the internet then, had access to every fleshly possibility floating and
time to sort through them, figure out what he liked and wanted. He knows Jensen
is floundering in that exploration now. But Jensen doesn't have to batter the
tides of his own feelings and the overwhelming markets of pleasure alone. Jared
will help him: Jared will teach him.
Jared picks up easily on what Jensen likes, more quickly than Jensen himself.
For instance: Jensen has a burgeoning exhibitionist streak the length of a
fucking football field. It doesn't take long to figure out that the amount of
people logged onto the site has a direct correlation to how hard and quickly
Jensen gets off. Jared was only keeping Jensen's pleasure in mind when he
suggested Jensen turn his private show a little more public - really. It had
barely taken a nudge, a few carefully chosen words, for Jensen to say okay, for
Jensen to admit yeah, I want that.
Jensen takes direction beautifully, is thankful and more than little enamored
of the apparent knowledge of the men who give him ideas and direction.
Jensen shines under praise and flattery is a quick way to open his mind and
legs and jeans. That is the same with nearly every boy who logs onto the site,
though. Jensen is another smart boy making dumb decisions on the internet,
another kid who thinks he knows more than adults who want to protect him and
the animals who want to rip him apart. If Jared truly wanted to remain sober,
to help Jensen, he would show him exactly how stupid he's being. Instead Jared
makes promises Jensen shouldn't believe, feeds Jensen's false security with no
one else will ever see, baby boy, you're safe.
Jensen has sensitive nipples, even more sensitive balls; he could probably come
just from Jared sucking them into his mouth, and Jared has come from thinking
about it, imagining how he could swallow both of those soft, sparsely coated
balls into his mouth at once.
Jensen doesn't think he likes pain, had told Jared that pinching his nipples
with his nails so harshly and so long had just hurt, but Jared had seen the way
Jensen's cock choked and dribbled when Jensen played with his chest the way
Jared told him to. Jared had told him that was okay, he was still figuring out
what he liked, but Jared already knew. Jensen just needed someone to show him,
needed real skin on skin to understand how good it could feel to let someone
work his ass red with the palm of their hand then kiss and lick the skin back
to cream.
Jared learns other things about Jensen, too, from their chats and from watching
the Ackles house from his balcony. Jensen has a few close friends who he's been
seeing less and less as the result of his parent's divorce, loves music and
playing guitar but doesn't let people hear him sing, prefers playing baseball
or basketball to watching TV but has been spending most of his time inside
because he has no one to join him. Jensen has a tender heart and a strong mind
and a wise soul.
If Jared weren't sick, if Jensen were older, Jared thinks they could have
fallen in love.
Jared knows the feelings he has towards Jensen don't qualify as love - not
really. Jared is enchanted, infatuated, obsessed, not in love. But Jared hasn't
ever felt the type of love he has read stories and heard songs and watched
films about. The elation expanding his chest is ugly, twisted, sick. He wants
to keep Jensen safe from predators like himself, because Jensen is too good,
too beautiful, for filthy hands, but mostly because he wants to keep Jensen,
period: wants to own and claim and adore and have him, always.
Always. Jensen may not always be young but he will always be pretty, the kind
of pretty that has brought Jared to his knees, made him commit terrible crimes.
Even when Jensen grows fully into his body, he will still have those lovely
eyes and those freckles. Jared can almost imagine wanting him beyond the
darkening of his hair and the growing lines of his face.
That is enough like love for Jared: it might be all he will ever feel.
Jared doesn't stop to question if Jensen could love him, because of course
Jensen could. Anyone could love Jared if they didn't know the darkness lurking,
barely hidden from the surface.
Which brings Jared to his current dilemma. He absolutely can't break the rules
of the site. His ass isn't the only one on the line if Jensen were to learn who
he was. He hasn't told Misha or Jeff who nenson really is, certainly hasn't
told them he's been talking to the boy privately, and neither of his partner's
have realized what he's been doing. Misha keeps track of every account, but not
Jared's, because Misha and Jeff don't suspect him of doing something risky. Why
would they?
Jared wonders if his partners have ever done anything like this. Probably not.
After all, there has never been anyone like Jensen on the site before.
But Jared can't keep up the charade.
He can't keep logging in and pretending. He can't keep telling Jensen it's
okay, no pressure, you're the one in charge, because even though Jensen
eventually does all Jared asks of him, Jared has become weary of asking, of
keeping up the facade that Jensen didn't practically sign his soul to Jared the
first day he logged in. He can't keep pretending Jensen isn't his. He can't
keep the claim buzzing unsettled in his fingers anymore. He can't keep waiting
for Jensen to make the wrong move, find the wrong site, do something stupid
with someone who doesn't care about keeping Jensen pleased and unharmed. He
can't keep watching Jensen on the screen and from his yard without touching.
Fuck, it's been so long since he touched, and Jensen is so perfect, so
beautiful, so tempting, a siren in bad plaid and jeans that Jared couldn't
ignore if he were tied to the post.
Jared has to touch Jensen before someone else gets their hands on him, or
before Jared loses his mind.
He only needs the opportunity.
***** Sin City *****
Jensen almost doesn’t do it. Swiping a vibrator and a tube of Wet from
Spencer’s is fucking suicide. His mother will kill him if he gets caught. His
father will fucking kill him if he gets caught. The kids at school will
absolutely slaughter him.
Jensen does it.
Tries to, anyway.
He gets one foot halfway onto the tile of the mall floor when a shrill buzz
erupts through the store. His body freezes. The alarm sounds once more, and the
muscles of his neck thaw enough to allow him to look back and see that there
are no employees rushing after him. He still has a chance.
When he turns to run, he collides into a solid chest. He instinctively raises
his arms to brave himself, dropping the vibe and lube and inadvertently laying
his hands on strong, broad shoulders. Two arms, two gigantic hands, wrap around
his middle, keeping him steady. He looks up, into the face of his roadblock,
and his breath catches in his throat.
“Mr. – Mr. Padalecki?”
The man blinks down at him, surprise and recognition flitting through hazel
eyes.
“Jensen,” Mr. Padalecki – Jared, that’s what his mother had said his name was –
says, a little surprised and breathless. “Where’s the fire?” he asks, smiling
in amusement, and now is really not the time but woah, Mr. Padalecki is hot as
fuck and how had Jensen never noticed that before? He’d clearly spent too much
time on the internet and not enough outside spying on his movie star gorgeous
neighbor.
Jensen blinks, trying to lift the slow dragging heat congealing all logic and
sense of self-preservation as it attempts to pump from his brain to his body.
Keep it in your pants Ackles, fuck, he thinks wildly. The alarm is still
ringing and if Jensen doesn’t get out of here right this second, his entire
life is so beyond fucked he can’t even really imagine it. He’ll have to leave
school, the state, probably the country – and won’t his estranged parents just
be so pleased about that.
Flushing with shame and a growing sense of helplessness, Jensen turns to look
behind him again. His entire body goes taut when he sees a young woman with
multi-colored locks slamming the door to the store room. He immediately twists
back around, gaze falling to the utterly conspicuous neon blue vibrator and
strawberry lube by his feet. Jared must follow the direction of his gaze,
because when Jensen looks into Jared’s face again, he is staring at the floor.
“I – ” Jensen begins to croak, but he doesn’t know what to say. He can hear the
employee yelling, moving towards the exit where Jensen is standing stupid as a
statue, still pressed to Jared’s imposing, powerful frame. “I have to get out
of here,” he finally whispers, searching Jared’s face for an ounce of sympathy.
Jared had been young once, surely he had done something dumb in the name of
getting off, so surely the man could understand Jensen’s plight? Jensen feels
pitiful – he should’ve been able to get through this on his own, shouldn’t have
gotten caught – but he gnashes his pride between his teeth and gives in to the
desperation curdling in his gut. “Please, I – ”
The look on Jared’s face is something Jensen has never seen another person wear
before. Instead of trying to move around him, instead of trying to break and
run, Jensen’s body shivers and he takes a tentative step back.
“Is there a problem here, sirs?” a pleasant but clearly pissed voice questions.
Jensen feels a delicate hand settle around his shoulder, then he feels nails,
not at all delicate, digging into his collar through his jacket and t-shirt. He
hisses.
Suddenly Jared’s face transforms. His eyebrows lift, the intensity boiling in
his vision softens, and the press of his lips – his pink, pink lips that Jensen
cannot stop looking at because they are so pink – lifts into a smile so bright
Jensen squints against its brightness. Two dimples pop alongside his smile, and
Jensen wants to see how far his tongue can make it down them. He blushes and
looks away. (Seriously too much time on the internet. Jensen is about to go to
jail, about to be humiliated to the point where he will have to change his name
and live the rest of his life out with a secret identity, and he can’t stop
perving on his random too old, too hot to be real neighbor. Jesus. Christ.)
“I’m so sorry,” Jared says, voice not as deep as Jensen was expecting but still
low, still the tone and timber that makes people shiver and ache. “I was on my
phone and I ran into…” He makes a vague sweeping motion towards Jensen with the
fucking biggest hand Jensen as ever seen. “And I just sort of walked off with
my stuff in my hands.” His smile turns rueful, apologetic, and he reaches to
rub his hand across the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. “I’m really
sorry. The alarm went off and I think I scared this poor kid half to death.
Sorry, by the way. I just – I think I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached. Do
you think I could just pay for my things and we could…forget I tripped the
alarm off and nearly gave one of your customers a heart attack?”
The girl is helpless to resist the earnest expression in Jared’s face and the
sincere pleading in his voice. Jensen can’t blame her. The grip loosens on
Jensen instantly and her voice becomes soft and pleasant as she tells Jared to
meet her at the register. Jensen isn’t sure exactly what’s going on until Jared
bends down and picks up the dildo and lube in one of his giant paws.
“Thank you,” Jensen says. His voice is raw, throat barbed, and he feels like he
hasn’t spoken in years, like he’s never spoken more important words in his
life. “Oh, man, thank you, thank you so much. I – ” have to get out of here,
but thank you is what Jensen means to add, but then Jared is in his personal
space, a burning line of muscle and golden skin and nice, pressed clothing
against Jensen’s arm and shoulder.
“There’s a bathroom in the parking garage. Go down there and lock the door.
I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”
Jensen’s mouth drops open as his eyes go wide, confusion twisting in his skin.
“Wha – ” he rasps, almost choking on the word. “What?”
“Sir?” a perky voice shouts from the register.
Jared gives a tight, obviously forced smile that doesn’t make him look any less
beautiful. “Be right there,” he answers back. His eyes and voice drop back to
Jensen for just a moment. “Go on.”
Then Jared sweeps past him. Jensen can’t move. His skin throbs with a searing
ache where Jared’s body and words had touched him. He doesn’t think he can
breathe.
He hears Jared talking to one of the employees, and suddenly his brain kicks
his ass into overdrive. He runs from the store to the parking garage as fast as
he can.
Jensen is panting when he gets to the lowest level. He’s almost to the bathroom
before he slows, easing himself into a gentle pace as his mind races to catch
up with his body.
What the hell just happened? he asks himself. Did Jared just cover for him? He
thinks that’s what went down. But Jared also asked him – told him – to come
here. Jared didn’t say why, but all of the reasons Jensen can think of for a
guy twice his age to want to rendezvous with him in a dark parking garage
bathroom are really, really bad. He shouldn’t go in there. He should go back to
the bus stop and ride straight home and tell his mother Mr. Padalecki across
the street might be a pervert.
But Mr. Padalecki down the street knows Jensen is a pervert. If Jensen doesn’t
stay to meet him, what is Jared going to do? What if Jared gets to his mother
before he does? What if Jared tells the store manager it was the kid he’d
bumped into that was really trying to steal the toy and lube? Fuck, what if
that’s what Jared is doing right now, and security is going to be the one that
comes knocking on the bathroom door?
That doesn’t really make sense, though, Jensen realizes. He also realizes he
doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to be sure to preserve the last
shreds of his dignity. He heads inside the men’s room and locks the door, just
like Jared told him. He can just keep it locked, he reasons, until Jared tells
him what he wants.
Jensen doesn’t have to wait for long. There is a pounding on the door,
startling him, and he moves to the lock before remembering his plan.
“Who is it?” he asks, trying to sound steady and calm.
“Me. Open up.”
Jensen narrows his eyes. “What do you want?”
“For you to open the door.”
Huffing, Jensen snaps, “Why did you tell me to meet you down here? How do I
know you’re not some fucking creep?”
Jared must be shuffling outside of the door. Jensen can hear his shoes, can
hear him sigh.
“I just wanted to talk to you, Jensen,” Jared answers. He sound sincere. The
tone gnaws lightly on Jensen’s tender heart until he remembers the tone is the
same one Jared used on the Spencer’s manager. “I swear. Can I come in and talk
to you?”
Jensen bites his lips as he tries to calculate the realistic probability that
Jared ‘just wants to talk’. Not every older guy is a frequent visitor of
youngandhung, Jensen reminds himself. And Jared did just save his entire life.
Jensen can probably afford to give him the benefit of a doubt.
“What’s the password?” Jensen asks, apprehension unfolding in his chest as his
fingers come to brush the lock.
He hears Jared chuckle, the sound of it dark and slick, and Jensen pulls his
hand back.
“I just saved your ass from a Hell of a lotta trouble.”
That’s a pretty legitimate password, Jensen figures, and he ignores the nerves
and the alarms going off in his own head to open the door.
“Hi,” Jensen says awkwardly, moving back so Jared can step in. The door falls
closed.
“Hi,” Jared repeats. He’s grinning so good naturedly that Jensen feels stupid
for having doubted him. The guy is built like a small house but his smile makes
him look like an overgrown five-year-old. Jensen smiles, more than little
embarrassed, back at him. Jared swings a Spencer’s bag in front of him. “I
think you might have left something at the store.”
Mortified, Jensen reaches to take the bag. Jared yanks it out of his reach,
dangling it above his head. At 5’7”, Jensen is one of the tallest boys in his
class, but Jared has at least half a foot on him – probably more – and even as
Jensen gets on his tiptoes to swipe the bag, he can’t reach.
Jared laughs, swinging the bag as he walks to the sink and scoots to sit in
between them. His ridiculous legs are so long his feet almost touch the floor.
He moves them back and forth as he fishes the vibrator Jensen was attempting to
steal from the bag. Jensen can’t move, can’t blink, can barely think as Jared
tosses it between his hands.
“Interesting choice,” Jared says, sounding amused and casually curious, as if
he’s talking to Jensen about the weather. He waggles the package in front of
him. “You get this for your girlfriend?”
The comment snaps Jensen into motion. Indignation, anger and humiliation flush
him – he can see the color high in his cheeks in the mirror. He stops a few
feet in front of Jared before he answers, “That’s none of your fuckin’
business.”
“Woah there Jenny!” Jared laughs, holding up his free hand in a gesture of
peace. “You got quite a mouth on you there.”
The way Jared’s eyes linger on Jensen’s lips, the heavy swallow and wetting of
those pink lips, makes Jensen think the older man isn’t referring to his
vocabulary. Something hot that isn’t lust, isn’t anything like what Jensen
feels on the site, begins to spread through his chest.
“Don’t call me that,” Jensen snaps. Scared – Jensen is starting to feel scared.
It’s different than the panic attacks he’s had before, where everything feels
cold and his vision blurs with nervous sweat. It’s heavier, but slower. Jensen
feels like he’s moving through water as he takes a step back.
“Hey,” Jared says, softening his voice, and Jensen isn’t thrashing through
water anymore but stuck in Jared’s honey tone and honey eyes. “I’m just
teasin’, Jensen. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He smiles warmly, those dimples
somehow lulling Jensen’s fears. They flare again immediately when Jared asks,
“You get this for your boyfriend?”
“I didn’t – ” Jensen starts, then clenches his jaw. He sounds young and shaken,
and he’s suddenly aware of how vulnerable he is. “It’s not for anything.”
Jared slides gracefully off the sink. He looks so out of place, standing tall
and imposing and darkly gorgeous in the dingy bathroom.
“You shouldn’t lie. Especially not to me. I helped you out, didn’t I? I just
wanna know what you got it for. Then I’ll give it back to you.” He grins, and
it’s like the sun breaking over an ugly night. Jensen still feels chilled from
his words. “Scouts honor.”
“I don’t have to tell you what it was for.”
Jared shrugs. “I guess you don’t. I guess I could just keep it. I guess I could
drop it by your mom’s work on the way home, too.”
“I got it for me,” Jensen hisses. Heat stings his eyes but he isn’t crying.
Every cell feels alight: enraged. “You fucking creep.”
“That’s not any way to talk to a friend now is it, Jen?” Jared says, calm and
somber, and Jensen no longer feels scared; he feels terrified. Then Jared
clicks his tongue. “Or do you prefer to go by Jay?”
Jensen bolts for the door before his brain even processes the reason he’s
moving at top speed. There is only one person he has ever asked to call him
Jay. Only one person in the 14 years of his life that has ever called him that.
Jensen’s hand barely closes around the doorknob when a heavy weight pummels him
from behind, knocking his chest into the door and the air from his body. He
tries to scream, tries to tell Jared to get the fuck off of him, but his arms
are being gripped in those enormous burning hands. Jared pushes him into the
door one more time, his cheek smashing awkwardly but not really painfully into
the door, then spins him around. Jensen feels dizzy and breathless, completely
disoriented, as he looks into Jared’s gaze. The older man’s pupils are blown,
black swallowing flecks of green-gold. Jensen tries to struggle in the iron
grip, but he only ends up wriggling useless and pitiful against the body flush
against his own.
“Hey, hey,” Jared whispers. His voice is soothing, soft and warm, something
Jensen could sink into and find comfort. The tone is the complete opposite of
Jared’s body, of Jared’s grip, which is molten and unyielding and cutting the
flow of blood to Jensen’s brain. “Calm down, Jen. Relax.”
“Let me go,” Jensen snaps, still fighting, still trying to slide or shake from
Jared’s hold. Panicked, horrified, sure he is going to get raped and murdered
and probably raped again, Jensen starts yelling. “Get your hands off of me, let
me go, I’ll – I’ll scream. Someone will hear me, and I’ll get the police, tell
them everything, I’ll show them the site, and – ”
A huge hand settles across his mouth, fingers digging into his jaw firmly
enough to tell him to keep it shut without actually hurting him. Jared’s other
hand is still gripping his upper arm. Jensen tries to bring his newly freed arm
to push Jared away, to punch him, to claw his eye, anything, but he only
manages to get his forearm across his chest before Jared crushes both with his
own massive body. Glaring, shaking, Jensen tries to get his teeth into the meat
of Jared’s palm, but when he tries to bite he only snaps on air.
“Shh, baby boy,” Jared murmurs, dipping so his mouth hangs next to Jensen’s
ear. Jensen wants to cry at hearing the endearment spoken aloud. No one was
ever supposed to call him that outside of the chat. No one was supposed to
know. Fuck, there are so many things Jensen has let happen on the site that was
never supposed to see the outside of wires, and here it all is, terrifying and
strong and standing right in front of him. “Now you don’t want to start talking
about the police. You do that, they’re gonna wanna know what you were doing on
that site, baby. There’s nothing connecting me to it. I can dump the laptop I
use for it before they got to me. But you… Well, caution isn’t really your
strong point is it?”
Jensen’s struggles deflate a bit at Jared’s words. He still shakes and shudders
in Jared’s arms, but he stops trying to think of how he can free himself. His
brain skips then sticks to the point Jared’s low voice is making in his ear.
“Do you really want everyone to know the things you’ve been doing online,
baby?” Jared accentuates his question by squeezing Jensen’s arm and jaw. The
pressure aches, startles him, and Jensen shakes his head no. He wishes Jared
would get his hand off of his mouth so he could breathe, so he could scream
instead of cry. Tears bite the corner of his eyes and he screws them shut. He
won’t cry. He won’t. “No, you don’t.” His voice is gentle, a warm coo as the
thumb resting on Jensen’s cheekbone becomes to move. Jared’s tone remains soft
even as his words grow thorns. “Because no one else would understand why a
sweet boy like you likes doing such dirty things for men like me, would they?
They’d think you were filthy. I could do anything to you right now and they’d
think you deserved it, advertising for it, begging for it like you have been.”
Jensen wants to sob, wants to slide down the door in a heap of useless bones
and muscles, because Jared is right. Whatever Jared does, Jensen can’t go to
the cops; he can’t go to anyone. His parents would disown him, his friends
would never speak to him again. The only person he could have told was Harley,
and how fucking pathetic and sad is that? The only person Jensen could trust
with anything was nothing but a fake account and a fake name, nothing but a
sick fuck who has him alone, pinned and helpless, in the locked bathroom of an
underground parking garage.
“I’d probably have to explain that you were the one trying to steal sex toys
from the mall.”
Jensen sags even further against the wall. What had he been thinking, trying to
swipe from Spencer’s? What had he been thinking, posting on that chat site?
“I’m going to take my hand away now,” Jared says, and Jensen blinks through
watery eyes. “You’re not gonna scream, are you, baby?” Slowly, Jensen shakes
his head. Jared flashes those dimples at him and tabs Jensen’s cheek with his
thumb. “There’s my good baby boy.”
“It’s Jensen,” he rasps, but the words limp from his mouth, stinging and
bruised like his chest, like his ego and his heart. He wants to crumple in on
himself, hide from the world for the next century or two, until his shame and
humiliation ease. He takes in a few deep breaths as he tries to calm himself.
He wishes he had at least one of his arms free to wipe at his eyes.
“Don’t be like that,” Jared says softly. He pulls back slightly, giving Jensen
a few inches of space, and drops his hand from Jensen’s shoulder. His other
hand stays on Jensen’s face. “Come on, Jensen. I thought we were close.”
“What do you want from me?” Jensen snaps. He tries to gather his shaking
bravado, tries not to sound heartbroken and angry and defeated. It hurts to
speak. It hurts to breathe.
“I just want you,” Jared answers. He sounds sure and gentle, as if he’s trying
to soothe a spooked animal. Jensen doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know
what to think. Then Jared brings his other hand to Jensen’s jaw, tilts his
head, and kisses him.
Jensen’s eyes are wide and he’s so surprised he forgets to clench his mouth
shut, forgets to bite at Jared’s soft lips or warm, wet tongue when it glides
into his mouth. Jensen has kissed a few girls before, Chris’ sister at a sleep
over, Sarah and Jessica at a party last year, and Danneel once a dare. That had
left his lips buzzing and his heart beating nervous and elated in his chest,
but it hadn’t been anything like the raw war drum pulsing through his entire
body as Jared deepens the kiss. Jared moves his mouth with a hunger and skill
that Jensen has never felt. He brings his hands to push at Jared’s chest, but
his fingers just flutter in nervous confusion when Jared sucks his bottom lip
into his mouth.
“S-stop,” Jensen breathes when Jared’s teeth release his lip. Jared replaces
the blunt edge of teeth with the softness of his tongue. “Stop,” he mutters
again, feeling heady and desperate, as Jared licks into his mouth.
“Told you this I what I wanted,” Jared breathes and the words fall onto
Jensen’s tongue and tumble down his throat. “Come on Jensen, baby, you want
this too.”
Jensen tries to shake his head but Jared’s hands hold him in place. He tries to
say no, he doesn’t want this, this was never supposed to happen, he was safe,
Harley promised him he was safe…but that’s Harley’s – Jared’s – tongue in his
mouth again, stopping him from saying anything.
“Kiss me back,” Jared pants. “C’mon, Jen, baby boy, open your mouth for me,
kiss me back.”
Jensen digs his fingers into Jared’s chest, but when Jared moves in, Jensen
tries to move his mouth along with Jared’s. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s
doing, isn’t exactly sure how to keep up. Jared makes a sound that goes through
Jensen, makes his stomach flip. When Jared dips his tongue into Jensen’s mouth
again, Jensen moves his own tentatively against it.
“Fuck,” Jared rasps when he pulls away. “Fuck, my good fucking boy.”
“Don’t,” Jensen says. He doesn’t want to hear those words out loud. He doesn’t
think he can take it.
“Shh,” Jared hushes before kissing him again.
Jensen doesn’t know how long they kiss before Jared breaks it again. He’s
breathing heavy and even his brain is fever hot.
“Come here,” Jared says, tugging Jensen by the long blue sleeve of his shirt.
Jensen follows him over to the mirror where the Spencer’s bag and vibrator are
set. He can’t keep his eyes off the package. “Relax. I told you I wasn’t going
to hurt you.” Jared positions him facing the mirror, belly pressed against the
counter, back warm where Jared is pressed against him. He’s smiling, sounding
close to laughter, when he sees what Jensen is looking at. “Did you really
think you were gonna get that in you, baby? You can only get, what, two fingers
in?”
Jensen shudders. His face is crimson and his voice wavers as he says, “I was –
I was gonna work up to it.”
“Shit,” Jared says the word like it’s been punched out of him. He twists
Jensen’s head and contorts his own body to drop an mouthed kissed on Jensen’s
lips. “Well I can help you with that, baby boy. Just lean up like this.” Jared
moves Jensen exactly how the man wants him, pushing his chest down while
pulling his hips back from the sink. Jensen has to put his arms in front of
him, brace some of his weight on his forearms. “Yeah, there you go.”
Jared mouths kisses on the nape of Jensen’s neck while his hands slide.
His left hand moves through the space between Jensen’s hanging shirt and
Jensen’s trembling skin, touching only when he brushes Jensen’s nipples. Jensen
makes a surprised noise, a gasp breathier then he would like to admit he was
capable of. It feels so good when he touches himself there, but holy fuck, the
gentle pressure of Jared’s thumb and forefinger rolling the nub together is so
much better.
Jensen is so caught up in Jared’s fingers on his nipples that he barely notices
Jared’s right hand, huge and capable, undoing the button on Jensen’s jeans.
Jensen’s hands immediately fly to stop the movement, causing him to slump
against the counter. The cold blunt edge digs into his belly.
“Hey, calm down, Jensen, Jen, c’mon.” Jared murmurs the words as he grabs
Jensen’s wrists and sets them back on the counter. “I told you, baby, I’m not
gonna hurt you. I just want to help you out. You ever wanna get anything bigger
than your fingers up this pretty ass without tearing it up, you’re gonna need
it.” Jensen trembles but stops struggling so wildly. Jared kisses the top of
his spine, then licks the top knob before sucking as much skin as he can into
his mouth. “I’m gonna make you feel so good baby boy. Just let me.”
Jensen is still shaking when Jared re-positions him, pulling his hips out even
further. He closes his eyes as Jared’s fingers go back to undoing his fly. The
sound of his zipper being undone ricochets through the bathroom.
“Someone could walk in,” Jensen says, voice and muscles shuddering. He doesn’t
think the words will deter Jared’s determination, but he has to try. There is
no way he can fight Jared, but maybe he could reason with him…
“Locked the door,” Jared answers as he pulls Jensen’s jeans down. He runs his
fingers over the strip of skin above Jensen’s boxers. “Bet you’d like it
though, someone coming in, seeing you like this.” Jared chuckles and hooks his
fingertips underneath the band. “If only there was a little window in the door,
then people could just watch. You wouldn’t even see them, Jen, but they’d see
you.”
Jensen is trying to deny how hot, how good that sounds, when Jared peels the
boxers to Jensen’s shaking thighs. But Jensen is hard, so hard, and his cock
bobs against the sink, the cool surface a delicious drag of sensation on his
hot skin.
Mortified, Jensen buries his head into his arm. He ignores the sounds and words
and touches Jared gives him, focusing on the soft fabric of his shirt against
his cheek and the buzzing of the lights in the bathroom.
Then a firm, golden forearm is fiddling with the Spencer’s bag on the counter.
“No,” Jensen whispers, terrified Jared is reaching for the vibrator they both
know he isn’t ready for. “N-no, no, you – ”
“Shh,” Jared says, rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulder blades. “Just
getting the lube, okay.” Jared gives a soft laugh, like he and Jensen are
friends, like Jared is doing Jensen a favor, like Jensen is just adorable and
Jared wants to eat him up.
“What are you gonna do?” Jensen rasps.
“Finger you open,” Jared answers, like it’s the most natural response in the
world. Jensen flushes and ducks his face back into his arms. “You’re so sweet
Jen. So cute the way you still get embarrassed.”
Jensen shakes his head. His skin shakes when Jared lays his hand over the small
of his back, then glides down, warm palm and calloused fingers rubbing over his
ass. Jensen tries to buck away from the gentle touch but just moves his hips,
his throbbing dick, against the counter. The noise he makes is a foreign cry in
his throat.
Jared pulls the bottle of slick from the bag. He pops it open with his thumb,
caressing both cheeks of Jensen’s ass before moving to drizzle the lube on his
fingers. Unable to watch as Jared wets his hand, Jensen watches Jared’s face in
the mirror, and is surprised to see Jared watching him.
“You’ve never used lube before, have you?”
Fuck. Jensen feels embarrassed on top of violated, ridiculous on top of
completely stupid.
“Jen?” Jared is smiling at him in the mirror. “I only ever saw you use lotion.”
“No I haven’t,” Jensen says in a rush. He wants – he needs Jared to stop
talking about the site, stop making references to the things Jensen did there.
“Here, lean on your left side. Give me your hand.” Jensen does shift his
weight, but Jared grabs his hand before Jensen can even try to keep it away.
“It’s gonna be a little cold, but it’ll feel awesome. Promise.”
Jared drips some of the lube onto Jensen’s fingers. It’s like watching a movie,
because those can’t possibly be Jensen’s fingers shining with slick in the low
light.
“Here,” Jared says again, directing Jensen’s hand behind him. Jensen can feel
panic rise at the strange familiarity of the movement.
He’s touched himself like this in front of Harley – Jared – before. He’s
touched himself like this in front of more people than that, actually. Of
course Jensen was separated by the webcam, couldn’t smell Jared’s scent or feel
the heat radiating from Jared’s hand, but he’s done this before. He squeezes
his eyes against a fresh wave of humiliation and betrayal, against tears that
he will not cry. He’s done this before, he can do it again.
It usually feels good to rub the pad of his lotioned index finger against his
hole, but as Jared directs him to circle two lube slick fingertips along his
ass, it feels insane.
Jared chuckles like he knows exactly what Jensen is feeling. “Better than
lotion, huh Jen?” he asks.
Jared continues to control the basic movement of Jensen’s wrist, directing the
speed and pressure of Jensen’s fingers circling his hole. He’s relaxing under
the wet, gentle slide of his hand, the familiar ache beginning to flutter. He
wants to push in, wrap his other hand around his sock, feel the way the lube
mingles with the dribble of hot pre-cum gathering at his tip.
Jensen thinks it should feel worse. His stomach is caving in itself with shame
and embarrassment and the rest of his body should be following, but all he can
think is how fucking perfect it would be to finger himself right now, at this
angle, with this strawberry slick dripping on his fingers, with Jared, who has
violated him in so many ways, a heavy weight against his back.
“Push in, baby. Just a little.”
Biting his lip, Jensen does as he’s told. There’s no use fighting and Jensen
wants it anyway, as fucked up as it is. So he eases the tip of his index finger
past the melting ring of muscle, almost choking on the ease with which he
slides in. There is a little resistance as Jensen pushes in further, past the
first knuckle, but the feeling of pushing the slick even deeper, the incredible
pressure and stretch, is more than worth the few moments of discomfort.
“Just a little, Jen,” Jared chastises. When Jensen glances at the mirror,
vision blurry, he can see Jared’s grin. “Always so eager. You love it, don’t
you? Having a finger in you?”
Jensen closes his eyes and pushes his hips back, trying to wriggle even deeper
and ignore Jared’s words. A frustrated huff leaves his lips when Jared tightens
his grip, halting the movement of Jensen’s hand. Jensen tries to work the
finger in his hole, move the digit up and down and in a small, teasing circle
without moving his wrist. Then Jared pulls Jensen’s hand away from himself,
slides the finger still pumping helplessly out of Jensen’s hole. Jensen grits
his teeth.
“Motherfucker,” Jensen hisses. He jumps a bit when he feels the broad tip of
Jared’s thumb sweep the heated ring.
Jared laughs and bends to mouth at the fabric between Jensen’s shoulder blades.
His other hand releases Jensen’s wrist to reach for the lube. Jensen is on the
edge of desperation and a complete break down when Jared returns a slick hand
to his ass.
“I need you to relax for me, be my good baby boy. My fingers are a little
bigger than yours and you’re gonna need to just take a deep breath and let me
in.”
Then the tip of one impossibly huge finger is circling his slicked hole. Jensen
shudders again. He tries to breathe through his mouth, relax like Jared said,
because Jensen doesn’t really want Jared to finger him but Jensen really,
really doesn’t want Jared to tear him apart. He thinks of calming things, like
lavender and the sound of rain on a window, but his body tenses taut as a
bowstring when Jared begins to ease the tip of his middle finger inside.
“Relax, come on baby, just let me.”
Jared’s instruction isn’t helping calm him, but Jensen doesn’t say anything. He
clenches his jaw and tries to will the tension away.
Eventually Jared slides in to the first knuckle. Jensen has to take a
shuddering breath and shift his hips to accommodate the intrusion. It honestly
doesn’t feel like he’s being stretched anymore than he has with two fingers,
but it feels different from the other times he’s done it himself in nearly
every other way. The angle is better. The sensation of someone else touching
him, opening him, is better. The feeling of his ass clenching around something
warm and good without the feeling of his own fingers being surrounded by heat
is surreal and somehow, also, better.
Jared finally slides all the way in, the webbing of his fingers pressed against
Jensen’s ass as he sinks down completely. He’s deeper than Jensen has ever
gotten himself and it feels so much more – intense, full, terrible. Jensen sags
against the counter as Jared starts moving in shallow thrusts. He can’t stop
his mouth from dropping in a heavy pant when Jared starts to increase his
speed, starts to push in a little harder, forcing his finger even further
inside. Jared starts pulling out more and more with every thrust, and after a
few torturous moves, Jensen finds himself angling his hips up, finds himself
pushing on his toes to meet Jared’s finger so he can get it back in deeper
faster.
“Ready for another one, baby?” Jared asks. He pulls his finger out completely
and Jensen clenches his hole almost immediately, trying to relieve the dull
ache of emptiness that throbs through his hole. He keeps his mouth shut,
though, and doesn’t twitch his hips again. Jared doesn’t need to know how
pathetically desperate he is for it, after all.
Jared drizzles more lube onto his hand, coating his index and middle fingers
liberally. A detached sense of gratitude flutters in Jensen’s chest, because
Jared could have been brutal, could have already gotten him on his knees and
fucked him raw and broken. Jensen feels sick. He wants Jared back inside of him
if only for the distraction the violation will bring.
Jared massages the ring of Jensen’s hole with his slippery fingers. He slides
the two tips inward, blunt nails barely dipping into Jensen, before pulling
back to just rub again. Jared repeats the tease until both fingers slide with a
greasy pop into Jensen’s ass.
“Shit,” Jensen breathes, because the feeling of two of Jared’s fingers is
vastly different from his own. It burns. It feels like Jared will never be able
to get them both in, and Jensen feels a sense of relief and frustration at the
thought.
Jared is patient. He twists his fingers horizontally and presses them in, then
pulls back and flips his hand vertically and presses in. He keeps up the steady
motions until Jensen feels himself opening, feels his hole getting wetter and
looser and more hungry. When Jared finally gets both fingers in past the second
knuckle, Jensen feels like he is going to cry in release and humiliation.
Jared finger fucks him with a steady, even pace. His thrusts are forceful
enough for Jensen to really feel it, feel the skin and unyielding bone, feel
the heat and pressure, without hurting him. Jared pushes in a little more
quickly, a little harder, and then slides his fingers inside Jensen until he
brushes a place that makes Jensen moan before he can stop.
“There we are,” Jared murmurs.
Jensen never found his prostate before, couldn’t get the right angle, couldn’t
get far enough. The sensation of Jared moving gently against it on every couple
of thrusts quickly builds in Jensen’s gut, spreading lust and pleasure through
his limbs fire fast. He chokes on a groan when Jared starts hitting it more
often, starts moving over the bundle faster, rougher, starts increasing the
plunge and pressure of his thrusts.
“You’re so fucking tight, Christ,” Jared says. “When did you think you were
gonna be able to fuck yourself with that thing, Jensen? I can barely get two
fingers in you and you’re like the fucking Jaws of Life around me.”
Jensen shakes at the words, wishes he could snap or snark something in reply,
but his mouth isn’t stable enough to form words. He can only make choked noises
caught halfway between pain and pleasure. Until Jared brings his other hand
down, smacking Jensen on the ass with enough pressure to sing and draw a yelp
from Jensen’s lips.
Angry, embarrassed, Jensen cuts his gaze to the mirror, fully prepared to glare
Jared to death for pulling that shit. When he looks in the mirror, he sees
Jared’s attention is turned completely to the ass he is fucking with his
fingers and spanking, again, with the palm of his other hand.
Stop and what the fuck, man? is on the tip of his tongue, but Jared just swats
the words back down his throat when he brings his hand down, harder, sharper
this time. Jensen winces and tries to pull away, but he’s still clenched around
Jared’s fingers, and he realizes with a kind of horrified heat that he’d rather
feel the sting of Jared spanking him than lose the sensation of Jared rubbing
aching heat of his ass, of Jared stabbing and soothing those nerves. He still
tries to twitch his hips from the onslaught of Jared’s hand, but Jared just
follows him, pressing until Jensen’s cock is pressed between his quivering
stomach and the counter.
Jensen makes a pained noise. “Hurts, Jared, stop – ” he half-demands, half-
begs.
Jared eases his fingers from Jensen’s ass, rubbing over the swelling hole, and
slides his arm around Jensen’s chest. Jared slowly brings Jensen upright.
Shaking, nearly out of breath, Jensen braces his trembling hands around the
counter. Jared moves to Jensen’s side, left arm around his lower back while his
right arm begins moving from his breastbone to his stomach. Jensen closes his
eyes. He becomes aware of the hot bulge in Jared’s dark jeans against his hip.
He tries not to think about, how it feels or what it means. His eyes fly open a
moment later when Jared’s left hand rises and delivers another sharp smack to
Jensen’s ass.
“Stop,” Jensen pants, meaning everything but mostly the spanking. Harley –
Jared – had asked him if he’d thought about this before, and Jensen said he’d
try it once, maybe, but he didn’t think it’d be his deal; he wasn’t into pain.
The spanks Jared delivers aren’t terribly harsh but it still stings, still
makes Jensen feel like his ass must be red and hot to the touch.
Jared just spanks him again, curling the fingers that were just fucking
Jensen’s ass around his twitching dick. Jensen groans and twitches in Jared’s
hand. Despite the throbbing heat Jared laid into him, Jared’s half-slick, half-
dry hand around his cock is the absolute best thing Jensen has ever felt.
Jared starts jacking him with slow, steady strokes. Jensen can’t help but try
to push into Jared’s loose fist, but when he stutters forward, Jared spanks
him, hard, the slap echoing throughout the bathroom. Jensen glares daggers and
shards of broken glass and fucking fangs at Jared through the mirror. Jared
laughs, again, and dips his head to suck the lobe of Jensen’s ear.
Jensen doesn’t know what it is that finally sets him off. Jared’s fingers
moving over the leaking head of his cock, Jared’s teeth and tongue lapping his
ear and sending shivers down his spine, or the final, powerful blow of Jared’s
hand on his ass, but the stings of pleasure and the shudders of pain finally
merge. Jensen shoots hot, come splashing over the counter and Jared’s fingers.
Almost immediately, Jensen slumps in Jared’s arms.
“Woah, I gotcha,” Jared says. He maneuvers a still panting, practically
boneless Jensen until his back is resting against the counter. Jensen is still
hard, cock still red and flushed even as his come coats the skin. “Hold onto my
shoulders,” Jared tells him. Confused, Jensen moves trembling hands to Jared’s
chest. Jared drops to his knees, right in front of Jensen’s erection, and
Jensen curls his fingers into the fabric of Jared’s shirt.
“What are you – ” Jensen starts. His words die and rise again as a loud,
shocked moan when Jared’s tongue laps at his cock.
“Told ‘ya I wanted to taste your pretty dick, baby boy.” Jared licks him from
his slit to the base of his cock, long, firm, torturous drags and gentle sweeps
at the cooling come. Jensen is so sensitive, too raw and too hot, but he digs
his fingers into Jared’s shoulder and doesn’t try to move away.
Jared runs his tongue along the underside of Jensen’s cock, then swirls it
along the head. Jensen moans when Jared takes him into his mouth. Jensen was
wrong, earlier, because the hot suction of Jared’s mouth, the sight and feeling
of those pink lips easily stretching around his dick, is the most incredible
thing he has ever felt. If he hadn’t come moments ago, he would now, right down
Jared’s throat.
Jensen moves to tangle his fingers in Jared’s hair, tugging sharply to try to
get Jared off of him.
“Sore,” Jensen complains when Jared looks up at him, eyes dark as he keeps
sucking Jensen down. “Stop, m’sore.”
Jared eases off Jensen. He licks his lips and Jensen snaps his eyes away.
Jensen is sticky and slick and still not soft as Jared pulls his boxers and
jeans back, tucks him in and zips him up.
“Sorry baby, taste so good I couldn’t help myself.”
Jared doesn’t sound sorry. Jensen is panting, eyeing Jared with exhausted
apprehension, as the older man stands. What is Jared going to want from him
now? He tries to keep his gaze from narrowing on the heavy line of Jared’s cock
in his jeans, but he can’t help but glance between Jared’s thick thighs, can’t
help the nausea furious and curious, cautious desire at the thought of what
Jared will want Jensen to do, what Jared will want to do to him.
Jared kisses him. Jensen tastes himself on Jared’s tongue and it’s awful, so
much sicker than the few times Harley – Jared, fuck, Jensen doesn’t know if he
can get used to this – coaxed him to eat his own come off of his fingers.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?” At Jensen’s wide-eyed stare, Jared chuckles. “I can
give you a ride.”
No, Jensen thinks, immediately shaking his head. He can’t get in a car with
Jared. Who knows where he would end up? Even if Jared did actually take him
home and not into the woods to fucking axe murder him, Jensen’s mom is still at
work, and Jared’s house – Jared’s home pedo base – is only a few homes away.
Jared wouldn’t even have to drive him to the middle of nowhere to keep
molesting him.
“No way,” Jensen says, mentally grasping for something, anything, that will get
him out of this bathroom relatively unharmed. “I mean, I – I came here with a
friend. My friend, he – he’ll wonder where I am. He’s already been texting me
like crazy, I need to go find him before he calls my mom.”
Jared raises an eyebrow in clear disbelief, but he nods.
“Alright. But I want you to come over later. Around 7:00.”
Relief crashes through Jensen before he processes Jared’s words.
“Okay,” Jensen mumbles. That gives him two hours to come up with something to
get himself out of this.
“I mean it, Jensen. 7:00 PM.”
Jared moves out of Jensen’s personal bubble, and Jensen is both grateful for
the reprieve and left unsteady by the loss. Jensen stands in a daze while Jared
turns the water on and maneuvers Jensen so he can wash both of their hands. He
stares at the contrast of Jared’s skin and size on his hand. Suddenly Jensen
feels small, fragile and caged like a bird’s furious heart. Part of him is
numb, in shock, and still can’t quite believe this huge, dangerous man is the
funny, dirty Harley he’d come to depend upon so much.
“Why don’t I go ahead and take this with me?” Jared says, gathering the
unopened vibrator and dropping it back into the Spencer’s bag. He smiles,
oozing charm and lupine hunger. “Wouldn’t want you to get over eager and hurt
yourself.”
Jensen narrows his eyes, making Jared grin again. The bright expression on
Jared’s face falters as his eyes sweep over Jensen’s back. Jared reaches out,
gingerly touching Jensen’s shirt. Jensen’s face twists in a grimace as he feels
wetness against his skin.
“Woops,” Jared whispers, pressing the damp shirt into Jensen’s back. “Here,
take my shirt.”
Jensen flinches when Jared begins unfastening the button down. “No, I don’t – ”
want to wear your shirt, don’t want anything of yours touching me.
“Your friend to ask how you got a come stain on the back of your shirt?” Jared
finishes, smiling brightly. Jensen flushes as Jared finishes shucking his shirt
off. “You can tell him you’re trying a new look.”
Jensen catches himself before he thanks Jared for the shirt. He remains silent
as he slides it over his arms. The warm scent of Jared envelopes him, soft and
comforting. Jensen fiddles with the bottom of the shirt to avoid Jared’s gaze.
The tube of slick is pressed into his chest. Jensen looks at the red plastic,
seeming so obscene now, resting against his breastbone. Jared taps the lube
against him.
“You will be needing this, though. Don’t worry about bringing it tonight. I got
us covered.”
Jensen just nods, terrified that if he speaks he will break down in tears or
collapse into a complete meltdown.
Jared kisses him softly one more time. “7:00, Jen. Don’t be late, okay?”
-
On the bus ride home, Jensen pushes this thumbs through the button holes in
Jared’s sleeve and thinks about how incredibly fucking stupid he is. He can’t
even feel sorry for himself or indignant that Harley – Jared, Jared, Jared –
sought him out, because he knew, he knew what he was doing was dangerous and
wrong and he did it anyway. He could have just watched regular porn like the
rest of his friends or called his older cousin to have the ‘I Think I Might Not
Be Straight’ talk, but no: he teased online predators with videos of himself
jerking his cock and fingering his ass, and only told Jared – not Harley – that
he was pretty sure he was bi.
Jensen takes a bath as soon as he gets home. He runs the water hot and tries to
cauterize the gashes in his pride and heart. All he can feel, smell, think
about, is Jared’s voice speaking words Jensen has read multitudes of times,
Jared’s hands and mouth doing the things Jared had always chatted about doing.
When Jensen feels like crying again, he reminds himself how hot he thought Mr.
Padalecki was when he ran into him the store. How he couldn’t take his eyes off
his lips, and then how he’d had those lips wrapped around his spent dick. There
are tons of guys that would be drooling to be in Jensen’s position. A hot,
experienced guy wants to guide him into debauchery. Wasn’t that what Jensen was
fantasizing about when he was on the site? He knew what types of guys were
watching him, after all. This was like a wet dream materializing in front of
his eyes, like his life was rolling along the script to a porno movie instead
of reality. It’s the consequence of actions Jensen knew he shouldn’t have been
making.
There’s nothing to fucking cry over.
Jensen lays in bed, watching his alarm clock as the numbers change from 5:47 to
6:55. He could just not go, but he figures it’s a little too late for that. He
thinks of texting Chris, saying If you don’t hear from me by morning, tell my
mom I’m buried in Mr. Padalecki’s crawl space, but doesn’t. Caution isn’t his
strong suit, after all, he thinks with a sneer and a pulse of anger. He doesn’t
want Chris involved in any way, doesn’t want anyone involve in any way.
He changes into a clean pair of jeans, an unstained white shirt and a dark blue
hoodie. Briefly, he considers throwing Jared’s shirt away, ripping it to shreds
or maybe just burning it, but in the end he folds the shirt and tucks it under
his arm.
It takes Jensen two minutes to arrive on Jared’s porch. Glancing around to make
sure no neighbors are watching, he inhales a calming breath and knocks on the
door.
Jared is in another button down, black, and the same jeans he was wearing
earlier. He flashes his shining smile and damning dimples. “Come on in,” he
says, making a sweeping gesture.
With a final deep, shaky breath, Jensen steps inside.
***** Mercy *****
So Jared may have gone a little overboard in the parking garage.
But he really, seriously, honestly could not help himself. It didn't matter how
many times he told himself to slow down, to give Jensen a chance to breathe, to
save fingering and spanking and light humiliating for another time, a better
place: he was possessed the moment he finally - fucking finally - had the
opportunity to brush his arm against Jensen's shoulder. The ember sparked in
his chest and burned, burned, burned. Jared had been more fire than man when
he'd pressed Jensen against the whitewashed bathroom wall and seared his
possession into Jensen's should-be-a-sin-mouth.
The plan had been to ease Jensen further into deviancy slowly, bring Jensen to
his knees with a gentle hand and soft praise.
That plan had been shot to fucking shit when Jensen had bumped their bodies
together and then turned wide, terrified, beautiful eyes up at Jared; when
Jensen had flushed under the dim store light and pleaded so, so pretty for
Jared to help him. Please, Jensen had begged, and Jared had nearly ripped him
from the store, buckled him in his Jeep, and whisked him a way to a country
with no age of consent where no one could ever, ever find them.
Jared feels mildly ashamed for the way he behaved, but as absolutely horrible
as it is, he feels embarrassment curdling colder than his gut than guilt.
He shouldn't have lost control.
He shouldn't have brought up the site, shouldn't have used it or Jensen's
failed attempt at swiping a sex toy as leverage to mold Jensen's shaking,
resisting frame into something sweet and pliable and just for him.
He shouldn't have had to. If Jared had only followed the plan, the rules, ones
he personally developed for the purpose of avoiding dangerous situations like
these, he wouldn't have needed the extra push to make Jensen soften and spread
his thighs.
But Jared had snapped. He had looked into Jensen's gorgeous face, seen the neon
vibrator and tube of strawberry Wet lying by Jensen's heels, and lost it. Just
fucking lost it, just fucking lost everything. Every decent fiber still in his
veins had unraveled, every sense of self-preservation crumbled, and every
intention of coaxing Jensen to him softly, safely, faded under the rush of
blood between his brain and his legs. The only thing he could hear was Jensen's
heavy breathing. The only thing he could see was Jensen's beauty, pretty
freckles swept over pretty skin and bright eyes. The only at thing he could
fucking breathe was the scent of Jensen's warmth and cologne.
The situation spiraled so quickly out of Jared's control it was dizzying.
Before he had known what he'd been doing, he was handing his secrets over to
Jensen on a platter, was condemning himself to every form and circle of Hell
with threats and softly spoken endearments, was pressing Jensen into the
whitewash door and the cracking sink and breathing both of their fantasies to
life while trying to hold Jensen still, trying to make Jensen fall apart for
him.
If Jensen hadn't been overwrought with humiliation and misplaced fear, Jared
would be listening to Misha and Jeff screech about rules and protocols and so
shit like this doesn't happen, Jared! while they hauled ass to Mexico or
Canada, threw themselves over any border the Feds couldn't cross. But sweet
Jensen, so vulnerable and lost and young, had swallowed every honey laced word,
and he'd done it all beautifully.
Jared had felt such a conflicting rush of relief and want and anger when Jensen
just gave in.
He'd been thankful for Jensen's tendency to lay blame and responsibility
inward, but he'd also been pissed, because other than making horrendously poor
decision on the internet, Jensen was amazing. He was gorgeous, whip-smart with
wit that could cut a lesser person in pieces, talented, brimming with life and
a heart that was just so obviously good. He shouldn't have been bought the shit
Jared fed him for a second. He shouldn't have even let Jared in the bathroom,
shouldn't have met Jared there.
It was more proof how badly Jensen needed someone to teach him, protect him
from his own curiosity and heart-first urges. Jensen needed someone to save him
from men like Jared, and it disgusted him as much as it thrilled him that he
got to Jensen first.
Jared would be the only. Maybe no one could protect Jensen from Jared, but
Jared wasn’t going to let any monster crueler or sicker than himself lay a hand
on Jensen’s beautiful head.
Jared wonders now if maybe Jensen had known better, had somehow seen the sick
shade of Jared's skin, if Jensen had taken one slow look over Jared and pegged
him for the type of predator that would be more than happy to take Jensen's
bait. Jared doubts it; Jensen had shaken and fought and given in at all the
wrong moments, too strung out on humiliation and finally fulfilled desires to
have been playing Jared hot and cold.
Jared doesn't know if it would be easier if Jensen really was a pretty little
Lolita offline as well as on. Probably, but Jared wouldn't be as interested,
wouldn't have remained hooked like he has since he saw Jensen the first time
with those cock sucking lips and shining smile and soft thanks. Jared likes how
Jensen ticks forward then back, likes how Jensen can type filth and spread his
ass on camera so Jared could jerk himself while staring into that gorgeous hole
then blush and flush like a pretty little virgin when Jared kissed him softly.
A tentative knock at the door pulls Jared from the counter where he’s been
piling Texas toast on a small serving plate. He wonders if he should be worried
that Jensen will be standing with cops flanking his side, but he dismisses the
thought. Jensen was so nervous, so sure of Jared’s lies, there is no way he
would think of going to the police.
Jared feels a distant pulse, realizes again how deeply disturbed of an asshole
he is. He can’t take back the bullshit. He can’t give Jensen back anything he
took from him. But Jared can ease it, and he takes solace in the promise he
makes that he won’t hurt Jensen so badly anymore.
When Jared opens the door, he smiles wide at the sight of Jensen, gorgeous in a
deep navy hoodie and the dusk. “Come on in,” he says.
Jensen looks wary. Jared thinks Jensen should have been wary long, long before
this.
After Jensen steps inside, Jared cuts a quick glance around the neighborhood.
“You hungry?” Jared asks as he closes and locks the door. When he turns he
finds Jensen staring up at him, eyes fluttering prettily at him in confusion.
“Jen?”
“Are you serious?”
Jared shrugs. “I saw your mom still wasn’t home. I thought you might be
hungry.”
“What the – ” Jensen starts, then shakes his head. A breathy, incredulous laugh
leaves him, and Jared just wants to swallow it up. “Fuck it. What – what do you
got?”
“Chicken, asparagus, russet potatoes.” Jensen wrinkles his nose, freckles
scrunching adorably. Jared chuckles, wants to taste that skin and those lips
again. “Well. Breaded chicken thighs, bacon wrapped asparagus, and mashed
potatoes with gravy. And Texas toast. There’s apple pie, too.”
Jensen stares at him incredulously. The boy gapes for a few moments, looking as
if he is going to say something, but stopping several times. Finally, he says,
“I think wrapping the asparagus in bacon defeats the purpose of vegetables.”
“Yeah, well, vegetables are fucking gross.” Jared grins at him as he ushers
Jensen into the living room. “I’ll get you a plate. You want something to
drink?”
Jensen licks his lips, a nervous gesture, but damn if it doesn’t completely
distract Jared from what he’s supposed to be doing. He thinks about how soft,
how small and how perfect those pretty lips felt against his.
“You got any gin?” Jensen chokes, trying to hide his nerves behind the words.
Jared laughs almost inappropriately loud at the words, at how sweetly Jensen
tries to pretend he isn’t terrified by how much confused he is, by how much he
wants this.
“Don’t think you’re quite old enough for that, kiddo. I think I have some Sunny
D.”
Jared is teasing, but Jensen doesn’t look amused. He frowns and snips, “Old
enough for you to fuck.”
Jared doesn’t say anything. Jensen is scared and young but he’s not weak, isn’t
going to just keep his mouth shut even when he leaves his body open. Jared can
work with that. He’s entranced by Jensen’s bright spirit, doesn’t want to
diminish it. He just wants it under his hands and mouth and cock.
Jared shuffles into the kitchen, grabbing two plates and piling them with food.
He sweeps two hard Apple ciders from the fridge. He spreads it out on the
coffee table, then heads back in for the toast. He made two packages, because
he can eat one by himself when he’s not even hungry, and the stack wobbles on
the plate.
“Here you go. You need anything else?”
Jensen shakes his head. They eat in silence for, Jensen sneaking glances at
Jared as he cuts through his chicken. Jensen makes a surprised noise as his
teeth sink into the asparagus.
When they’re finished, Jared takes the plates into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Jensen asks as Jared comes back into the room. Jensen is
staring hard at his shoes. “This isn’t – this isn’t a date, dude. Is this why
you told me to come over here? For – for fucking dinner?”
“You do have a mouth on you,” Jared sighs. He takes the seat next to Jensen on
the couch again. “Your mama know you talk like that?”
“Don’t talk about my mom. Don’t – ”
“Jensen,” Jared says, halting Jensen’s spiraling words. “I told you to come
over here because I wanted you. I told you. I wasn’t lying, not earlier and not
when I was Harley.”
“Shut up,” Jensen cuts, gaze snapping to meet Jared’s. “Please, just – I don’t
want to talk about that. Any of that…stuff.”
“Okay,” Jared agrees easily. He’s lying, and it’s just another thing he’ll feel
ashamed and enthralled by later. He wonders how long it would take to get
Jensen back on the site, this time riding Jared’s dick while they both kept
their shoulders above the webcam. “I meant what I said at the mall. I don’t
want to hurt you. I know I got… I scared you, earlier, and I’m sorry. But I
didn’t hurt you, and I won’t. I want to show how good everything we talked
about on the – sorry.”
Jensen looks down again.
Jared scoots in closer, ignoring Jensen’s flinch as he reaches for his face. “I
want to make you feel good. I know what you want, baby, and I can make it good
for you.” Jared sweeps a thumb over Jensen’s plumb lip before replacing his
finger with his tongue. He traces Jensen’s mouth before pressing their lips
together. Jensen shudders as Jared reaches to pull Jensen into his lap. Jensen
feels lean and strong and so fucking small in Jared’s hands. Jared could spend
hours watching his hands slide over Jensen’s slighter body.
Jared loses track of time as Jensen moans and shifts, both closer and father
away, in his lap. He peels away Jensen’s hoodie and t-shirt, runs his hands and
then his tongue over the lean, sugar spun skin of Jensen’s chest. Jared closes
his mouth around one of Jensen’s nipples, and Jensen moans in surprise. Jared
moans right back, groaning into the feeling of Jensen’s hard nub and young
skin.
Jared works Jensen’s chest while he undoes Jensen’s jeans, pulling the fly
open. He rubs Jensen through grey boxers and uses his other arm to reach for
Jensen’s hand.
“Undo my shirt.” Jensen doesn’t move. “C’mon, baby, help me out.”
Jensen brings his shaking hands to the buttons of Jared’s shirt. Jensen undoes
the buttons unsteadily, noises falling from his lush lips and hips squirming
against Jared’s thighs as he opens the shirt.
Being pressed skin to skin with Jensen dizzying. Jared brings his hands to
Jensen’s hips, has to lift Jensen up a bit to slide his hands under the jeans
and around the curve of Jensen’s ass. He kneads the skin in his fingers before
maneuvering Jensen on his back, pressing him into the leather of the couch.
Jared kisses Jensen’s mouth until it swells red and hot under his teeth. Then
Jared kisses his neck, sucks both nipples and tongues them until Jensen wraps
his hands in Jared’s hair, and licks his way down Jensen’s belly.
Jensen’s breath hitches as Jared urges his hips forward. Jared pulls Jensen’s
boxers and jeans down to thin calves. Jensen’s full cock bobs, flushed a
gorgeous red that Jared needs to taste again. The last time, Jared didn’t get
nearly long enough to taste Jensen’s pretty cock.
Jared licks along Jensen’s cock, savoring the taste, then moves to press a kiss
to Jensen’s thigh. He brings one hand up to run his fingers along Jensen’s
balls, teasing the way Jared’s been wanting to tease for months. Then Jared
laps at the tender sacs, making Jensen squirm and release the most gorgeous
shocked, hurt little noises of pleasure. Jensen has never been a master of
self-control when it comes to pleasure, moves against Jared’s mouth, pressing
closer with his hips as his fingers twitch in Jared’s hair.
Jared hadn’t been lying when he said Jensen tasted good, when he said he
couldn’t get enough. He groans almost as loudly, as fervently, as Jensen when
he moves his mouth to the swollen head of Jensen’s dick. Jared sucks the flared
tip into his mouth, curling his clips around it and running his tongue along
the slit. Jensen makes such sweet noises, little groans and oh’s and fuck fuck
fuck’s spilling from his lips.
Jensen has a fat, long cock, thick and beautiful, but he’s small enough that he
fits easily down Jared’s throat. He’s young enough that he comes almost
immediately. Jared looks up from where he’s sunk down on Jensen’s cock,
watching as Jensen shakes then releases a groan that is shattering and
shuddering loud.
Jared swallows every fresh drop of come Jensen shoots, throat and mouth and
tongue working at Jensen’s spent cock even when Jared can’t feel the slick
liquid heat any longer.
“J-Jared, fuck, get – get – ” Jensen protests breathlessly.
With a pulse of willpower Jared no longer thought he possessed, he slides his
mouth from Jensen’s dick.
He can’t help the lingering lick he gives as he pulls away and is rewarded by
the shudder of Jensen’s body and the broken ‘ah’ Jensen groans.
Jared has to physically remove himself from the couch to keep from sucking
Jensen’s cock back into his mouth. Jensen is panting, eyes closed and entire
body taut, on his earth brown, leather couch. Jared makes a choked noise in the
back of his throat at the ridiculously gorgeous picture. He pushes the heel of
his hand against the bulge in his jeans before moving to undo the top button.
Jensen’s head lulls, butterfly lashes moving against his cheeks as he takes
Jared in, and Jared knows exactly how he wants to - needs to – play this.
Jared hooks his thumbs in the loops of his jeans and stalks forward. Jensen,
dazed from his high, can’t hide the way his eyes roam over Jared’s stomach and
chest. Jensen’s eyes move up but never quite make it past Jared’s mouth. Jared
smiles. He’s not cocky, but he knows what he looks like. He knows how people
react to the skin and muscles he’s worked for - it’s one of the reasons he
worked so damn hard.
He knows how boys like Jensen, who haven’t seen a naked body ever, not in real
life at least, especially the body of a man who wants to fuck them, react.
“So fucking gorgeous when you come,” Jared breathes.
He’s wanted to see Jensen’s face, see Jensen’s eyes, when he finishes for
months. Having a close up of Jensen’s cock as it shot and dribbled and twitched
was hot, was beautiful, but it hadn’t been anything like watching Jensen do it
in person.
He presses one knee into the couch, making sure to brush against Jensen’s side,
press denim into sweat slick, naked skin. He braces one hand on the arm of the
couch and curls his other around Jensen’s neck, tilting so he can kiss him deep
and hot and perfect.
When Jared pulls back, he slides his fingertips from Jensen’s neck to his
collar bone, brushes Jensen’s nipple, and tucks his hand gently underneath
Jensen’s wrist.
“You wanna touch me, Jen?” he asks. Jensen shudders and licks his lips again.
Jared’s eyes zero in on the movement. “You wanna taste, baby? See what a real
cock feels like in your pretty mouth?”
Jensen immediately snaps his eyes shut and his face away, but he doesn’t move
his body. Jared breathes in, shaking, because yeah, Jensen wants it. Jensen
might not want to talk about what they talked about on the site, but that
doesn’t mean Jared can stop himself from doing it. Jared had told him how good
it feels to suck cock, to get a hard dick in the back of his throat, to feel it
shake and spurt in his mouth. Jensen had wanted to learn it then; Jared is more
than ready to teach him now.
Jared finishes unzipping his jeans. He steps out of them, lets Jensen get a
clear view of Jared fat and hard in his briefs, before pulling his underwear
down as well.
Jensen makes a strangled, throaty sound as Jared’s cock bobs from his briefs.
It’s adorable, so raw, and Jared has to wrap a hand around himself.
“Scoot up a little, Jen,” Jared asks as he fists his dick.
Jensen swallows hard, hesitates, but shifts forward to lie on his side at the
edge of the couch.
Jared slides his knee on the couch, his thigh pressing against the armrest.
Jensen pushes up on his elbows, but both forearms are still touching Jared’s
legs. Jared moves in closer and brings one hand to pet Jensen’s hair. It’s
silky under his fingers. Jared moves to cradle Jensen’s jaw and rub his thumb
over Jensen’s freckles. He wraps his other hand around his cock, guiding the
head to brush against Jensen’s lips.
Jensen’s surprised gasp hits the head of his cock. Jared groans, rubbing his
dick against Jensen’s mouth. He moves the head over Jensen’s bottom lip, and
the feeling of Jensen’s warm, petal softness against his dampening slit makes
him hiss.
“Suck me baby, come on, need to feel that mouth on me.”
And Jared does need it, practically falling out of his skin to get those lips
around him. He meets Jensen’s eyes and tries to pour every ounce of molten heat
into his gaze. The jade of Jensen’s eyes have been swallowed by blackened lust.
Jared feels a hot, wrong, so very fucking wrong, thrill, because he is the dark
desire clouding Jensen’s face.
Jensen opens his mouth, lips dragging against the flare of Jared’s cock as he
does, and Jared is more than tempted to sink into the widening wet heat of
Jensen’s mouth. Instead he shifts his hips back so that only the aching tip
nudges Jensen’s lips.
“Let’s start slow, okay? Just – fuck, fuck.” Jared’s well meaning instruction
devolves into obscenities when Jensen tentatively moves his still open mouth
along a heavy vein. “Yeah, yeah, fuck. Just like that. Like – fuck.” Jensen
keeps sliding his slips teasingly over Jared’s cock until Jared can hardly take
it. He presses his thumb into Jensen’s jaw and says, asks, begs, “Kiss it,
baby, come on, kiss it for me.”
Jensen eyes him with an expression Jared’s want fried brain can barely
decipher, but he’s pretty sure there is disapproval in Jensen’s eyes. But
Jensen licks his lips, allows his lips to drift almost shut, and presses a
gentle kiss to the underside of Jared’s cock.
“Fuck,” Jared groans. The hand on his dick tightens involuntarily and his other
hand flies to Jensen’s head, fingers scraping through golden brown locks.
Jensen drops another kiss to the shaft before moving, hesitant and unsure, to
the spongy head. A few fat globs of pre-cum dribble from Jared’s slit, and if
Jensen would just rub it across his mouth, Jared could go to Hell a happy man.
Jensen kisses the heated skin, sliding over the drops. Jared shudders.
“Lick me, Jen, baby, c’mon. Lick it up. Taste my cock.”
Jensen’s candy pink, candy sweet tongue slides graceful and heavy from his
mouth. The tip of his tongue
drags lightly over Jared, licking away the smear. A soft noise escapes Jensen’s
lips, as if he wasn’t quite expecting the taste or the feeling of hard flesh
under his tongue. Jared wants to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, but all
he can do is moan at the feeling of the perfect kitten lick and the sight of
Jensen’s bubblegum lips and tongue on his swollen dick. Jensen continues
delivering short but slow licks, and it’s mortifying but Jared doesn’t think
he’s going to last long enough to actually get his cock in Jensen’s mouth.
Jared starts stroking himself harder as Jensen continues to lap at the head of
his dick. Jensen’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavy through his nose.
He’s a vision, all his beauty spread out just for Jared’s greedy eyes. When the
head of Jared’s cock is slick with spit, Jensen begins to move, licking further
down the length. His tongue begins to move a little faster, make broader,
firmer strokes. Jared grips the short hair between his fingers and does
everything in his power not to slam his hips forward and just bury himself in
that pale, perfect throat.
But that isn’t going to happen, not today. Jensen isn’t ready to take him all
yet and it’s not really what Jared wants right now. Well, it’s not what Jared
wants most right now.
“So good, baby, doin’ so good,” Jared praises.
Jensen makes another little noise and tenses as if he wants to hide himself in
embarrassment at the commendation. Jared knows Jensen gets off it, though: if
Jensen hadn’t told Jared himself in the chat months ago, admitted that he liked
being a good boy, then the heavy erection he’s sporting would tip Jared off.
It’s the evidence that Jensen wants this, the view and sensation of Jensen
licking more and more boldly along Jared’s cock with that quivering virgin
tongue, that pushes Jared over the edge. He fists his dick in his dry hand, and
it’s a little too dry, a little too rough, but Jensen looks and feels so good
it doesn’t matter that Jared is fucking into the friction of his own hand.
“Fuck, gonna come, Jen, baby, Jensen, gonna – ”
Jensen opens his eyes, tongue stilling as Jared shifts back, giving himself
enough space to position his cock above Jensen’s face. Jensen’s gaze widens
almost comically, and he gasps, “Jared,” in a breathy voice, and he’s so
insanely beautiful Jared groans and comes. Jared has himself lined up with the
line of Jensen’s cheekbone, but just as suddenly as Jared shoots hot over
Jensen’s skin, Jensen shifts. Jared ends up spurting all over the soft column
of Jensen’s throat.
“Fuckin’ fuck,” Jared pants, watching as his comes slides to the hollow between
Jensen’s collarbone. It’s an obscenely gorgeous picture, so Jared’s not
disappointed when he asks Jensen why he moved – just curious.
Jensen stares at him, eyes and mouth wide. “Were – you were going to come on my
face.”
The indignant pitch of Jensen’s voice is so cute, Jared can’t halt his chuckle.
He drops to his knees, legs shaking, and brings his hand to trail his fingers
from Jensen’s jaw to the pool of come coating Jensen’s skin.
“Yeah,” Jared murmurs. He feels dizzy and dazed, winded from his orgasm like he
hasn’t since he was a teenager himself. “Why’d you move?”
Jensen blinks at him. “Because you were going to come on my face.”
Jared laughs again, leans in to kiss the accusatory twist from Jensen’s lips.
His fingers glide through the mess of come on Jensen’s skin. He pulls back,
watching in fascination as he spreads his own cooling come down the center of
Jensen’s breastbone.
“Damn, Jen, so hot like this,” he breathes. The milky tint begins to blend into
Jensen’s chest as Jared moves to rub it into Jensen’s nipple. Jensen stutters
on his startled moan. Jared wants to see Jensen lost like this, wants to watch
come slide from Jensen’s face and throat and shoulders down his body, wants to
see Jensen covered in gleaming trials from cheek to thigh. One day, Jared
promises himself, he’s going to paint Jensen head to fucking toe in come.
“Damn, Jen, so hot like this,” he breathes. The milky tint begins to blend into
Jensen’s chest as Jared moves to rub it into Jensen’s nipple. Jensen stutters
on his startled moan. Jared wants to see Jensen lost like this, wants to watch
come slide from Jensen’s face and throat and shoulders down his body, wants to
see Jensen covered in gleaming trials from cheek to thigh. One day, Jared
promises himself, he’s going to paint Jensen head to fucking toe in come.
Jared swipes two fingers in the mess, then brings them to Jensen’s lips.
“Just a taste, baby boy,” Jared says, rubbing the tip of one glistening finger
against Jensen’s swollen mouth. “C’mon, one little taste. You might like it,”
he teases, but he feels more desperation than mirth as he watches Jensen’s eyes
squeeze shut.
Jensen huffs a disbelieving breath at Jared’s word, but he opens his mouth, jaw
shaking slightly as his tongue once again sweeps across Jared’s flesh. Jared
knows Jensen doesn’t like the taste of his own come, but Jared was never
allowed to actually see Jensen’s blush or soft lips and tongue lick his hand
clean, and Jared needs to see what Jensen looks like eating come off of his
fingers. Just once.
The adorable scrunch of Jensen’s nose tells him Jensen doesn’t find Jared’s
come any more appealing than he had found his own.
So Jensen doesn’t have a taste for come. That’s okay. There are plenty of other
things Jared can do to not let the liquid heat coating Jensen’s chest to go to
waste.
“Got you somethin’,” he says, exhaustion and lust thickening the southern heat
in his voice. “A present. You wanna see?”
Jared is still trailing slippery fingers over Jensen’s nipples, and it shakes
the boy’s response.
“P-probably – not,” Jensen answers.
Jared moves to kiss Jensen’s belly, smiling into his skin. He keeps sliding his
fingers around as he reaches under the couch for a plastic bag. Briefly, he
thinks he should slow down, wait to show Jensen this particular gift another
day. But Jared is under the influence of a frenzy, here, and he can’t stop,
can’t back or ease away. He’s wanted Jensen for so long, watched him and waited
for him, and now that he finally has Jensen spread out and at his mercy, his
patience and sense of pacing have abandon him. He wants to do everything with
Jensen, for Jensen, to Jensen, and he wants it all now.
“The toy you got earlier was a little big for a starter,” Jared explains as he
shifts back onto his haunches.
He props the bag on the coffee table, watching as Jensen eyes the bag as if it
could mutate into a monster any moment. “Plus, neon? Not really your color.”
Actually, everything was Jensen’s color. But Jared wants – needs – to fuck
Jensen. Jared needs to fuck Jensen soon, today, now (now now now). He meant it
when he said he didn’t want to hurt Jensen, though, so fucking his beautiful
boy with his fat dick is out of the question tonight. Jared has already seen
how pretty Jensen is getting finger-fucked, but Jared needs to see more. He
needs to see something shaped like a cock sinking into Jensen’s not so virgin
but still so pretty hole. He needs it tonight.
Jared picks he small vibrator from the bag. It is not from Spencer’s. Jensen is
the kind of gorgeous that countries have fallen for, that men have killed and
died and damned themselves for. Jensen’s brand of beauty deserves silk clothes
and finely threaded sheets and proper sex toys from actual sex shops.
 
Jared holds the toy up for Jensen to see. It takes the boy a moment to realize
what it is. The vibe is black, smaller than two of Jared’s fingers, with a
small flare at the end and six different speed settings. Baby boy’s first real
toy, and it’s almost as perfect as Jensen is.
"You wanna know what I'm gonna do with this?" Jared asks, trailing the toy over
Jensen's soft belly.
The contrast of harsh, black silicone and Jensen's cool cream flesh is both
obscene and strangely sweet. Jared almost wishes he had the patience to gather
Jensen in his arms and bring him to the bedroom, kiss Jensen senseless and lay
him on Jared's huge bed.
The first time he really fucks Jensen, he promises himself, it will be in a
real bed, with low light and candles and music and every other ridiculous
cliche. The first time he really fucks Jensen, he'll make it sweet and soft and
beautiful, like Jensen himself.
The vibrator and Jared's fingers, maybe his tongue, are going to be the only
things in Jensen's ass tonight though. Jensen's body isn't ready for Jared like
that, and if Jared tries, he's going to tear him apart in more ways than one.
Jared's patience and control is worn threadbare as it is: he couldn't stretch
long or wide enough, wouldn't be able to resist pushing in before Jensen was
ready. Jared would hurt him, would make him cry, and Jared doesn't want to see
tears in those pretty eyes.
Jared realizes he's been so caught up in the invisible patterns he's making on
Jensen's skin with the vibrator he didn't notice Jensen staring wide-eyed and
cautiously curious at him.
"Jen?"
Jensen swallows and closes his eyes. "Just - just do it," he breathes.
"Whatever you're gonna do, just - just - "
"What do you think I'm gonna do?"
Jared wants Jensen to talk to him like he did on the site. He knows Jensen
won't do it if he tells him to, though, will tense and sink back into messy
thoughts, so he'll try to work Jensen up to it slowly. Well, as slowly as he
can.
Lowly, he adds, "What do you want me to do with it?"
"Fuck," Jensen chokes, squeezing his eyes even tighter. When he opens them,
they are gentle and rippling with anger and arousal and tears. Jared wants to
soothe him, ease his mind from the confusion, the humiliation, the tension and
the fear that break openly on his face. "Just. Fuck me. You're gonna - you're
gonna fuck me with it. So just. Do it."
Jared kisses Jensen's hip. "Yeah, baby, I'm gonna fuck you with it. Is that
what you want me to do?"
Jensen almost looks like he is going to say no, so Jared licks the softness of
Jensen's thigh. Jensen only said stop twice, only said no once, because he
thinks Jared holds the hand so far above his head he can't even see it. Jared
has to show Jensen that this is the only way things can go, this is what Jensen
wants and needs and Jared really is the only person who can give it to him,
before Jensen realizes just how powerless Jared really is.
"Come on now, baby boy. Remember how good it felt to have my fingers in you? To
get something bigger than your little fingers in your ass? Remember how hard
you got when I touched you. Just. Right." Jared puncuates the last two words by
laying quick but firm kisses to Jensen's balls. "Fuck, I remember, how fuckin'
tight you were, all those little noises you made when I finger-fucked you. It
was good, wasn't it? You can tell me, baby boy, Jen. Tell me."
"Yes, okay, you - " Jensen huffs. He makes two fists in the leather of the
couch. "Fuck you. Yes."
Jared ignores the curse, focuses on the heat and tremble of Jensen's voice.
"This'll feel even better."
Jensen buries his face into the couch cushion and makes another one of those
noises Jared is quickly becoming obsessed with.
Jared grabs a cushion from the other end of the couch. He thinks of telling
Jensen to lift his hips up, because Jared doesn't even have words for what it
does to him when Jensen follows his orders, but instead he lays the pillow and
vibe down, then uses both hands to push up Jensen's thighs. Jensen's eyes fly
open. He sends Jared a sharp look, but holds his position when Jared reaches
for the cushion to ease it underneath Jensen's hips.
For a moment, all Jared can do is stare. Jensen's dick is pink and fat, not
quite full but getting there. (Jared doesn't think he actually ever got soft.)
Jensen's thighs, his little bow legs, are milk rich and cream pale. Jensen's
ass is smooth and round, his hole is pretty and practically begging to be
filled, to be stuffed so full Jensen chokes on it and begs for more.
Jared leans forward to kiss one of those full cheeks, then nips it, not too
hard, just enough to see a bloom of pink when he pulls away.
"Gonna eat you out first, baby boy," Jared breathes against Jensen's skin.
Jensen shudders and releases a little whine. Jared wants to say, aw baby, you
know you want it, you know how hard your little dick got when I would tell you
I was gonna lick your ass open, fuck it with my tongue before I fucked it with
my cock, but he doesn't. He's too close now to actually getting a taste of
Jensen's lovely, hungry hole, and he isn't going to chance Jensen almost
freaking out again.
The noise Jensen makes when Jared first runs the tip of his tongue gently over
his ass is so hot, Jared's own spent cock twitches again. Jared groans right
back, and his entire body burns as his moan falls against Jensen's skin. He
uses his hands to push Jensen's legs until his knees are bent and spread as far
as they can go. Jared doesn't know if it's the bow in Jensen's legs or the
youth in Jensen's bones, but Jensen stretches wide, so wide, like the space was
made to accommodate Jared's broad frame while Jared settled inside. Jared
presses closer, burying his face and tongue into Jensen's ass as deeply as he
can.
Jensen's hands fly to Jared's hair again. Jared moans, almost laughs into
Jensen's skin. He's never been so glad he's kept his hair at a good pulling
length in his life.
Jared moves his face along with his tongue, pressing firm then soft, teasing
Jensen's hole until the boy starts to really shake. Jared slides his hands
until he's palming Jensen's ass. It's crazy and hot and perfect, how easily
Jared's hands cover so much of Jensen's skin. Jared uses his thumbs to spread
Jensen's ass further, the tips sinking into the ring of muscle around Jensen's
hole, holding it open for him to push his tongue further inside.
"S-shit," Jensen breathes.
Jared can tell Jensen didn't mean to say the word. He can tell Jensen doesn't
mean to rock his hips down, either, doesn't mean to press his ass into Jared's
face or sink his tight, burning hole further down on Jared's tongue. Jensen is
starting to lose it, is starting to reach the point where the feelings of
embarrassment and apprehension and indignation at being coerced into this are
drowning in the sensations Jared brings him. The boy is making the same moans,
making the same rocking motions, he did when he was close to coming in the
parking garage.
Jared licks him for just a little longer. He considers wrapping his hand around
Jensen's cock, jacking Jensen off while he keeps eating his ass, but Jensen
still gets sensitive after he comes, too young to handle too much at once.
Jared still wants to fuck him with the toy and suck his dick again, still wants
to get his own cock in Jensen's mouth and see his come clinging to Jensen's
golden lashes.
If Jared does get him off again, though, he can use mix Jensen's jizz with the
streaks on Jensen's chest, can coat his fingers in it and feed it into Jensen's
ass, stretch his hole for the toy with their own slick.
Maybe he could have Jensen turn over, push his ass out while Jared jerked
himself and shot over Jensen's hole.
There are too many possibilities. Jared feels almost overwhelmed, unsure which
opulent gift to unwrap first. He imagines it must be even worse for Jensen, who
is scared and wanton and doesn't even know half of the things Jared is going to
do to him. The thought stirs his pity, and he decides he'll only make Jensen
come twice more.
And because Jared might love him, because Jared doesn't want to scare him
anymore, he'll give Jensen a break in between. He won't even drag out any of
the other toys he bought at the shop. (He...might have gone a little crazy in
the store. It was just that almost everything he looked at was something he
needed to show Jensen. Metal and leather and rope cuffs for Jensen's wrists and
ankles, nipple clamps with rubber and grooves, one pair black and one pair with
weights already on them and one pair that came with adjustable ones, dildos and
vibrators and plugs of different shapes and lengths and widths, lube flavored
like chocolate and berries, lube that warms up, a silky blindfold, stiff whips,
black bars he can hang on his bedroom door then strap Jensen to.)
Jared pulls away, and Jensen tries to pull him back before realizing what he's
doing. Jared tries not to smirk as a sense of triumph fills his chest.
Jared wipes his index finger through the mess on Jensen's collarbone, then
brings the slick tip to circle Jensen's hole. There's lube under the couch,
too. (Jared was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to make it to the bedroom; he
was too hungry for Jensen to wait, and the thought of defiling the boy on the
couch he sits on every day, the couch people gather around when he has friends
and family over, was too delicious to pass up.) Jared doesn't reach for it just
yet, testing how far he can push inside without it. His finger sinks inside,
slowly. There isn't as much resistance as there was when Jared had bent Jensen
over the sink, but Jensen is still tight. Jared only gets his knuckle past the
clenching ring before Jensen twists in discomfort.
Reluctantly, Jared eases his finger from the incredible silk heat. He bends
slightly to reach for the tube chocolate lube. Popping the cap, he drizzles the
lube onto his fingers, rubbing two against his thumb to warm it before rubbing
it against Jensen's spit slick hole. Jensen breathes out heavily and Jared's
gaze travels to his face. Jensen's eyes are closed and his mouth is open,
panting for air. Jared wants to tongue fuck Jensen's mouth just like he did
Jensen's hole, but when Jared shifts to kiss him, Jensen's eyes snap open and
he twists his head.
"Jen," he says, pushing the tip of his middle finger into Jensen's ass. Jensen
moans, soft and broken, when Jared makes a circle, pressing firmly against his
channel. Jensen moans again as Jared slides even deeper. Jared leans in again
for a kiss.
"N-n-no way," Jensen stutters. His face is red, flushed and shining with a
sheen of sweat, and his hands are gripping the couch so hard his knuckles are
white. "Didn't - shit - any-anyone ever tell you - ah, ah - not to - to go ass-
to-mouth."
Jared laughs softly, pulling his middle finger out before adding his index
finger and pressing back inside.
"Let me kiss you, baby," Jared whispers.
Jensen shakes his head. His hips move start moving against Jared's fingers.
Sighing, Jared decides they'll work on Jensen's discomfort later. He wants
Jensen's hot, wet, perfect mouth, wants to run his tongue along Jensen's, but
he focuses his attention on how much he wants to see the vibrator fucking
Jensen's ass.
Jared's fingers don't want to leave the burning clench of Jensen's hole, and it
takes Jared a bit to stop working Jensen with his hand and move to the toy. He
finally picks it up. He circles the tip around Jensen's glistening hole. It's
such a pretty sight, one of the hottest things Jared has ever seen, and he has
to take his rapidly rising dick in his hand to relieve the ratcheting ache.
"Just - " Jensen starts, then bites his lip.
"Just what, baby boy?" Jared asks. He thinks he knows, but he wants to hear
that delicious dirty talk he knows Jensen likes so much fall from Jensen's
gorgeous mouth. "What do you want Jensen? Tell me. I'll give you anything,
everything you want. Just tell me." Jensen hesitates, body shaking. Jared
pushes the toy against Jensen's hole, presses the barest breath inside. Jared
watches barely an inch of the silicone sink inside the pink-red-perfect skin.
Jensen releases a low groan. Jared looks at Jensen's face, pinched in pleasure,
then eases the tip of the toy out of him. "Say it, Jen. Say what you want."
"Fuck me, you - y-you - just - f-fuck me - do it, just - "
Jared presses the vibrator back to Jensen's hole and Jensen stops talking,
voice catching on a heavy breath. Jared can barely breathe as he slowly -
gently, he has to be gentle - pushes the toy slowly into Jensen's ass. Jensen
pants and twists his hips, stills, then moves again. Jared is going to give him
a moment to get used to the feeling, he is, but Jared's hand starts pumping the
vibe in and out. He keeps the thrusts shallow, twists his wrist so he can rub
the tip of the toy against Jensen's inner walls. Jensen moans and it's closer
to the shameless sounds he couldn't keep in his throat from earlier than the
noises he's been making.
"You like it, Jen? Tell me. Talk to me. Feel good?"
Jensen shakes his head no, but as his nerves melt under the heat of his
arousal, he says, "Y-yeah. Yeah, s'good, but it's - it's not." His words falter
as Jared starts to move the toy a little faster, a little harder.
"Not what?" Jared asks, just as breathless as Jensen is. Fuck, Jared wishes it
was his cock he was watching get swallowed by Jensen's hot ass, but this is
almost good enough. "Not what, Jen? It's not what?"
"Y-y-you said - the - it - that it would be -be better."
It takes Jared longer than it probably should to translate Jensen's words, but
when he does, he has to groan and squeeze his eyes.
"It's not better than my fingers baby boy?" he breathes. When Jensen shakily
moves his head, Jared thinks he is going to explode, maybe his brain, maybe his
cock, maybe both. "Jesus. Jesus. Jensen. You - " Jared laughs or chokes, maybe
sobs, and shakes his head.
"It's - " Jensen begins, shuddering as Jared rubs the tip inside of him.
"S'cold."
Jared licks his lips and makes a mental note to use the warming lube with all
of Jensen's toys. He must be in love with Jensen, because how could he not be,
especially when shit like that just falls from Jensen's lips?
"I know baby boy, I know. M'sorry. I'll use something different next time,
okay, get this fake cock nice and warm before I fuck you with it." Jensen
shakes. "But this little thing can do something my fingers can't. Wanna see?"
Jared doesn't wait for Jensen to answer, just flips the tab to the vibrator's
first speed.
Jensen's entire body shudders. The shocked noise he makes is like nothing Jared
has ever heard. It's beautiful, raw, so hot Jared thinks he is going to melt.
Jared can't help but switch the speed to the second setting. Jensen moans
again, loud and long, and his cock, standing full and flush, beads at the top.
Jared wants to see if Jensen can come just from getting fucked, but the sight
of pre-come gathering at the pretty pink head of Jensen's dick is too tempting.
Jared leans forward, licking the liquid off the tip before sucking the head
into his mouth. Jensen cries out, hips jutting into Jared's mouth once, twice,
three times before spilling onto Jared's tongue.
Jared keeps sucking gently as he switches the vibrator off and eases it out of
Jensen's ass. When Jensen whines, he eases off of Jensen's still twitching
cock. He watches Jensen shake and twist and take greedy gulps of air as he
strokes himself. His own dick is hard, so hard, and he wants so badly to bury
it in Jensen's mouth. He just jacks himself, slow and steady.
It takes a while for Jensen to come down. When Jensen's breath begins to slow,
he opens his eyes. Jared is struck again by how fucking beautiful Jensen's eyes
are, how fucking beautiful Jensen is. Jensen is so young and gorgeous, so sweet
and strong, so perfect.
"Are - " Jensen rasps. He coughs and takes another moment to catch his breath
again. Then, he asks, "Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Yeah," Jared answers, still working his cock with his slick hand. "Not
tonight, though."
Jensen's eyes widen, then drift to Jared's dick as he shifts backwards. "When?"
he asks, sounding lost. "When are you - I mean, how - how long are you..." He
raises a shaking hand, gesturing vaguely between them. He bites his lip as his
gaze drops to Jared's cock again.
How long do I owe you? Jensen doesn't ask. Will it be over once you fuck me?
Jensen doesn't say.
You owe me until you come to me on your own, Jared doesn't answer. No, never,
Jensen. It'll never be over. Jared doesn't say. He's aware that those are
fucking creepy answers, fucking creepy sentiments, and he isn't going to admit
either out loud.
Jared stops touching himself, moves his hands instead to rub Jensen's shaking
thighs. "Shh," he says. "Think you can move?" Slowly, Jensen nods. "You're such
a good boy, Jen. I want you to get on your knees for me, okay?"
"You want me to, uh, to...again?" he asks, stuttering and flushing.
Jared just nods. "Yeah. I wanna come again," he responds. Then, just to see
Jensen's blush deepen, just to tease, Jared adds, "Wanna know where?"
"Not on my face," Jensen snaps breathlessly.
"All over your pretty face," Jared laughs, chest pulsing with fondness while
his cock pulses with want.
Jensen glares at him but doesn't protest as Jared helps him slide his shaking
limbs get slide from the couch to the floor. Jared sits down, settling back
into the cushions and spreading his knees wide. Jensen looks like a little
angel debauched to Hell as he settles between Jared's legs.
Jensen starts licking Jared's cock firmly. He's trying to hurry, Jared
realizes, trying to just get Jared off as quickly as possible.
"You that hungry for my cock, Jen?" Jared asks. Jensen's movements falter.
Jared wraps his hands around Jensen's face, moving his thumbs along Jensen's
freckles. "Why don't you try to suck me this time, okay? Just a little?"
Eyes closed, Jensen nods. He opens his mouth and just leans forward, stretching
his lips over the head of Jared's dick. Jared means to tell him to wet his
lips, curl them over his teeth, go nice and easy, but he doesn't - he can't. He
can only groan and slide his hands to cup the back of Jensen's head.
Jensen tries to go too fast, stuff too much of Jared's fat cock in his mouth at
once. It's almost enough to make Jared come again. Jensen's eyes fly open and
he jerks away, breathing heavily through his nose. His teeth scrape over
Jared's skin as he does, and Jared hisses, but he probably deserves the bite of
pain - deserves more than that, if he's being honest with himself.
"I can't," Jensen rasps.
"S'okay, you were perfect, baby boy, fuckin' perfect," Jared says, petting
Jensen's hair. "You just tried to go a little too hard, but it's fine. You
don't have to do that tonight. Just - just jack me off, okay? Wanna feel your
hands on me."
Jensen nods, looking relieved but oddly frustrated. Jensen doesn't like not
being able to do things, Jared remembers, recalling Jensen's stories about how
he almost lost his damn mind trying to learn the guitar, about how he didn't
care that much about learning until he and his friend both tried and Jensen
didn't progress as quickly, about how he played day and night until his fingers
were red from chords digging in until he could play just as well as his friend.
Oh, fuck. Jared really, really, really hopes Jensen becomes as devoted to
learning how to suck cock as he did learning to play guitar. (He hopes Jensen
likes it as much, too; hopes Jensen becomes just as obsessed.)
Jensen curls his hand around Jared's dick. His palm is smooth but his fingers
are calloused and it gives Jared an extra thrill. Jensen brings his other hand
up, too, moves so he can wrap them both around the hot length and width of
Jared's cock. Jared is still a little slick from where he'd jerked himself with
lubed fingers, but Jensen's hands are dry. It shouldn't feel so good. But it
does feel good, so good, too good.
Without prompting, Jensen slides forward. His hands are stacked just below the
drooling head of Jared's dick, and he rubs his lips over along the ridge, a
smear of pre-come sliding over a soft cluster of freckles.
"Shit," Jared moans, fingers tightening around Jensen's head. "Such a good
fucking boy, Jensen, baby, fuck."
Jensen doesn't do it again. Like he didn't mean to do it in the first place,
like his brain was curious and moved his body before his heart caught up and
told him it was wrong. Jared is going to replace that voice with his own,
replace every 'shouldn't' in Jensen's head with 'oh fuck yes please Jared yes.'
Jared will burn out Jensen's shame with his hot cock, with his come over
Jensen's skin and down Jensen's throat and dribbling in Jensen's ass.
After a few minutes of Jensen working him, the friction starts to feel a little
painful. Jared doesn't really mind, but his hand reaches for the tube of slick
without really thinking. Jensen slows and begins to unwrap his fingers from
Jared's length.
"Keep goin', doin' so good," Jared tells him.
Jensen licks his lips and does, does exactly what Jared tells him, just like he
did on the chat. Jared opens the lube and drizzles it over his cock, slick
dribbling in long lines over his cock and Jensen’s hands. Jensen makes a
surprised noise of discomfort.
“Cold?”
Jensen looks up at him. “Y-yeah,” he says.
Jared realizes Jensen’s arms are shaking, not just hands. He must be exhausted;
Jared has to admit he’s put Jensen through a lot today.
“Let me warm it up for you baby,” Jared says, wrapping his right hand around
the join of Jensen’s grip.
The feeling of lube and Jensen’s skin on his cock, the sight of it, makes Jared
push his hips into Jensen’s hands. He watches as his hand, so much larger than
even both of Jensen’s stacked on top of each other, golden brown where Jensen’s
are pale, moves with Jensen’s. His other hand is on Jensen, palm resting heavy
on his sharp jaw.
“Gonna let me come all over you baby boy?” Jared pants, curling his fingers
into the nape of Jensen’s neck. Jensen doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move,
doesn’t make a sound, but he does close his eyes and take a deep, hard breath.
Jared moans and shifts his lips forward. “Yeah, that’s my good baby, so good
Jen, you’re gonna let me, let me cover you – ” And Jensen nods, fucking nods,
like he’s saying yeah Jared, you can, you can do it, please do it, please give
me your dick and your come, feed it through my mouth, through my ass, please
Jared, come on my face, please. “Shit, Jen, Jensen, Jensen – ”
Jared pushes Jensen’s head down and aims his cock at Jensen’s cheekbone. Jensen
gasps at the movement and the flutter of his lips, the gentle sound, finishes
him. Jared groans low in his chest as he spills over Jensen, scorching come
splattering on over his cheek, his nose, the edge of his lips. A drop even
splashes onto Jensen’s lashes, darkening and clumping the pretty strands
together.
A molasses blob clings to Jared’s slit, and he bumps his cock forward, using
his hand to direct his dick against Jensen’s cheek. He smears the dribble on
the soft, smooth skin below Jensen’s eye, covering a line of gentle freckles
like he’s playing fucking connect the dots with his own damnation.
Taking a shaky breath, Jared rubs his cock through the gorgeous mess he’s made
of Jensen’s gorgeous face. It feels so good, dragging the fat head over
Jensen’s come sloppy skin, smearing his twitching, searing skin with his own
slippery come and Jensen’s silky skin.
“God damn.” Jared’s head falls heavy against the of the couch. “God fuckin’
damn.”
There’s no way Jensen’s real. No possible way. Jared’s dreaming. He’s in
Heaven, except people like him don’t get into Heaven. He’s in Hell…and Hell is
awesome? This has got to be a prelude, something completely sick and scorching
to lull him into evil and a false sense of pleasure before his eternal torture
begins.
When Jared opens his eyes, peering over his cheekbones at Jensen, he sees
Jensen wiping through the trail of come. Lazily, Jared moves his own fingers
over the mess, then tangles them with Jensen’s. He tugs on Jensen’s hand and
murmurs, “C’mere, baby.” He shifts forward so he can hitch his arm under
Jensen’s shoulder, help maneuver him and back into Jared’s lap.
Once he gets Jensen back onto his thighs, he licks a long stripe up Jensen’s
face.
“Jared,” he whines, shifting in Jared’s arms. “S’gross, feels – don’t – ”
Jared keeps licking. When Jensen squirms, he wraps his lips around the fleshy
mound of Jensen’s cheek and sucks, sucks the come and the sweat and the
innocence right off of Jensen’s skin.
“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” Jared asks after he releases Jensen’s face
from between his mouth. He licks the tip of Jensen’s nose, catching a
smattering of come on the tip, and smiles as Jensen scrunches his nose. “You’re
fuckin’ filthy, my dirty baby boy. Let me get you in the bath, okay, get you
all cleaned up before I send you back home.”
Jensen nods, his sticky face falling into the crook of Jared’s neck.
“Want me to carry you?” Jared teases, but he’s serious. Jensen is still
trembling.
“Shut up, I got legs,” Jensen breathes.
“Pretty little bow legs.”
Jared wriggles one of his arms under Jensen’s ass, pulling the teenager into
his chest. “Hang on for the ride, baby,” he says. He can practically feel
Jensen roll his eyes, but Jensen hooks his arms around Jared’s neck and his
legs around Jared’s waist as Jared rises to his feet.
It’s easy to carry Jensen up the stairs. Jensen is light and solid in his arms,
shaking and breathing heaving against the column of Jared’s throat. He feels
perfect.
Jared brings Jensen into the master bathroom. He sets Jensen on the sink and
sneaks a kiss to his cheek before Jensen can complain about it being gross.
Jared runs the whirlpool bath, checking the water to make sure it’s not too
warm or too cold. When the tub is full and at a nice, warm temperature, Jared
turns back around. Jensen’s eyes snap to the bathroom door, head moving quickly
and cheeks heated, and it takes Jared a moment but from the tilt of Jensen’s
head, the teenager was checking out Jared’s ass.
“Okay, baby.” He walks over to the sink and holds his arms open. “In we go.”
“M’not a baby,” Jensen mumbles. He slides forward on the counter. Jared moves
back and allows Jensen to jump off. He moves on shaky legs towards the bath. He
runs his fingers through the water, checking the temperature for himself.
Jensen climbs in gingerly. Jared hangs back for a moment, just watching as
Jensen sinks into the deep tub, making a little noise as muscles slide into the
warm water. He cups some water in his face and splashes it against his skin.
Jared frowns as he watches Jensen clean the come from his face, but he ignores
the twinge in his belly. Instead he stalks over to the tub and asks Jensen to
scoot forward so he can join him.
Jared takes his time washing Jensen’s hair, kisses the freckles along Jensen’s
shoulders before washing them, rubs his loofah over Jensen’s stiff nipples and
soft belly. It’s a god damn shame that Jensen is too small and inexpierenced to
take Jared’s cock, because they are in a perfect position for Jared to lift
Jensen onto his dick and fuck up into him until water floods the tiled floor
around them. Jared does use the opportunity to finger Jensen again. He slides
two fingers in and pumps, rubs Jensen’s prostate, until Jensen says he’s sore.
Jared imagines his hole is probably puffy and angry red. So Jared pulls his
fingers from Jensen’s hole and jacks Jensen off. It takes longer than any other
time, but Jared doesn’t mind jerking Jensen’s dick until his own wrist starts
to throb. He keeps moving past the ache, past Jensen’s complaints that his
little cock is sore, that he can’t come again, he doesn’t have any come left,
until Jensen shoots into the water.
They stay in the tub until the water begins to cool. After they climb out,
Jared towels Jensen dry. He runs back down the stairs to grab their clothes.
They dress in silence.
Jared walks Jensen back downstairs, leading him to the backdoor instead of the
front. He thinks about punching his number into Jensen’s phone so Jensen can
let him know when he’s made it home okay, but that’s too risky for both of
them.
“Message me,” Jared says instead. “E-mail me and tell me you got home safe.”
Jensen lifts an eyebrow at him. It must seem strange for the man who has just
marathon-molested him to be so concerned about his ‘safety’. One day, though,
it will be second nature for Jensen to let Jared know he’s alright, and Jensen
will realize Jared only wants to make him happy and keep him happy and safe and
care for. “I live, like, literally one minute away.” When Jared continues to
stare at him, Jensen throws his hands up. “Okay. Fine. I’ll e-mail you as soon
as I get in.”
Jared wants to kiss Jensen again before he leaves. He’s definitely got to break
Jensen of that silly taboo.
As Jensen turns to leave, Jared takes a chance and kisses the back of Jensen’s
head. Jensen cranes his neck, narrowing his eyes as color blooms on his cheeks.
Jared hopes he never breaks Jensen of that, hopes that no matter how much filth
Jared exposes him to, Jensen will blush afterwards.
“See you around,” Jared says. His throat swells with emotions he doesn’t want
to examine.
Jensen bites his lip, then nods. “See you.”
Jared watches Jensen as he walks into the dark night. There are lamp posts
lining the street, allowing Jared to keep an eye on him until Jensen makes it
to his home.
He bounds up the stairs to his computer. He’s expecting a message.
***** Clique *****
Chris and Steve are laughing annoyingly loud when the beat-up Samsung Jared
gave Jensen a few weeks ago buzzes. (Jared had said Jensen needed something
disposal and anonymous to communicate through. Jared gave him the phone with
his own number punched in under Harley. On Jared’s phone, the Samsun is labeled
under Nick.) Danneel snaps her hawk sharp focus from the boys kicking the
soccer ball back and forth to Jensen, who is sitting on the bleacher bench
above her.
“Jensen?” she asks. “Is that you?”She looks confused, probably because she is
currently fiddling with Jensen’s iPhone in her hands.
Jensen freezes. “Uh,” he says. “Um, what?”
The phone buzzes again, and Jensen manages not to wince.
Danneel tilts her head. “Jensen?”
“Oh. Um. That.” He fishes the phone out of his backpack. “I must’ve grabbed my
mom’s phone on accident, or something.”
There are three unread texts. He flips to the messages before Danneel says,
“You can’t read your mom’s texts! You don’t know what you could find.”
Jensen stares at her as the implication sinks in. “Ew, Dani. Just. Ew.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t read them!”
Jensen rolls his eyes and shoves the phone into his jacket. “I gotta run to the
bathroom, make sure they don’t fuck with my stuff okay?” he says, nodding to
the boys who are now rolling in the grass.
“I won’t let them do anything,” she promises, smiling at him pretty and sweet.
After he turns around, he hears her yell, “Hey Chris, wanna take pictures of
your dick and post it online under Jensen’s name?”
Jensen flushes, belly and face burning in humiliation and shame as he walks
quickly to the bathroom.
When he gets inside, he locks himself in one of the stalls and pulls the phone
out.
Harley: Steaks are on the grill.
Harley: Champagne is on ice.
Harley: Camera’s set-up.
Jensen bites his lip. He presses his back against the cool wall of the bathroom
stall, letting his head lull back too.
It’s been nearly a month since he ran into Jared Padalecki at Spencer’s. Nearly
a month since his life has completely changed.
Since that day, Jensen’s body has been fucked by Jared’s fingers, tongue, and
more toys than Jensen even knew existed. He feels like his mind, his heart,
have been fucked too, scrambled and twisted by Jared’s words and behaviors.
Even after all this time, betrayal stings like a fresh burn on his skin, but he
no longer feels as if he’s lost his confidant.
As pushy and almost terrifyingly focused on defiling Jensen as completely and
quickly as possible as Jared is, the man is also still the same goofy,
encouraging, non-judgmental Harley that Jensen became such close friends with
all those months ago. He is still the only person Jensen can tell anything to,
from stupid stories about his teachers and his parents bickering through him to
admitting he still wants to get on the site.
It had been embarrassing how quickly Jared coaxed him back online, how easily
Jared had worked through the rage and humiliation Jensen felt to remind Jensen
how good it was to put himself out there. It was almost easier the second time,
which didn’t make any sense, because the evidence of why exactly the things
Jensen wanted were stupid and dangerous was sitting next to the camera,
watching him in person while a dozen other men watched him online.
Jensen scrolls past the new messages to the first text Jared sent him that
morning.
Harley: Can’t do 5, I’ll be home at 8. There’s leftover fajita stuff in the
fridge. I’ll grill after work. Be a good boy today, baby.
The second text, sent only minutes later.
Harley: Use the blue plug. Have it when I get home baby boy. Be nice and wet
and open for me. Gonna fuck you tonight. Gonna fuck you for real.
Jensen had been expecting it, but seeing the words in black on the phone Jared
gifted him was still shocking, still made his stomach drop in fear and his cock
throb.
Jared had said he was going to fuck Jensen since that first day, admitted it
easy and breathless. Jensen had been on edge for days, always tense and ready
to bolt when he went to Jared’s house or when Jared snuck into his. He had been
nothing short of terrified, which had been ridiculous because before Jensen had
known the guy he was chatting up online was his friendly neighborhood
hebephilliac, he had told Harley he wanted to know what it was like to ride a
fat cock one day, wanted to get fucked while the camera fed it through the chat
room.
But then Jared had told him that he wasn’t getting Jared’s cock until he asked
for it, and Jensen had been able to breathe again. He’d never ask for that.
Until last night. Jared had been pulling three fingers out of Jensen’s hole,
getting ready to replace them with a string of warming lubed beads, when Jensen
had experienced some crazy out of body incident, had some sort of aneurysm,
because he’d said, Just fuck me. You bastard, just fuckin’ fuck me.
I’m gonna fuck you baby boy, gonna push these beads so far up your hole, rip
out, make you scream -
Your dick, you dick. Fuck me with your dick.
And Jared had just stopped. Just frozen. Jensen had squirmed, whined, pulled
against the soft leather cuffs on his arms.
Jensen. Jensen.
D-do it, Jensen had stuttered, had shuddered. He hated how pitiful and young he
sounded when he trembled like that. But he was so far past the point of
humiliation that it was humiliating. Put your cock in me, Jared, fuck me.
Jared had just groaned his name and kissed him deep, fucked Jensen’s mouth like
Jensen wanted him to fuck his hole.
Not like this. Shh, shh, gonna give you my dick, I promise, but not like this.
Don’t worry. Your ass is still getting fucked tonight.
Jensen had flipped him off in his cuffs, because something about Jared pushing
him, about Jared ripping his control and choices away, made him want to snap
back. If he couldn’t deny Jared, he could at least make it a little more
difficult, make Jared work for it, lash out with words and gestures when Jared
really pressed.
Jensen had been angry, felt betrayed all over again. Jared had made him want it
– or maybe Jensen had always wanted it and Jared just brought it out. Jared had
made him ask for it, then denied him. Jensen had felt stupid and humiliated,
felt the same flushes he had when Jared revealed himself the first time.
But then Jensen had woken up to those messages, and excitement and terror had
flooded his chest until he thought he was going to drown.
Jensen keeps scrolling through the messages, cheeks and cock burning as he re-
reads the texts.
Harley: Late meeting got cancelled. I’ll text you when I have everything ready.
Use the black dildo under your mattress to stretch yourself before you come
over if you have the chance.
Jensen hasn’t. After school, he walked with Danneel to meet Chris and Steve at
the nearby park and wait for Steve’s brother to come give them all a ride home.
And as soon as Jason drops them off, Jensen will slip through Jared’s backdoor.
He could take his time, do what Jared says, but he’s excited and nervous and he
can’t tell if he just really, really wants Jared to fuck him with his cock or
if he just wants to get it over with. It’s both, probably, but he thinks…he
thinks it’s more eagerness than terror, and that scares him the most.
Nick: Still at the park. Be there in an hour.
Jared texts back almost immediately.
Harley: I’m serious baby. You need to get yourself lubed and stretched for me.
Jensen rolls his eyes, because it’s not like Jared isn’t going to eat and
finger his hole for days before he finally fucks his cock into it, not like
Jared won’t fill him with enough lube and spit for Jensen to choke on.
But Jared is… Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it. Jared is so attentative,
so worried about hurting Jensen, but Jared doesn’t think twice about pushing
Jensen’s limits so hard he thinks he is going to fly apart at the seams. Jared
didn’t want to tear Jensen by dicking him to soon, but Jared doesn’t have a
problem fingering and eating and playing with Jensen’s long past the point of
soreness, doesn’t have a problem sucking Jensen until his cock is so sensitive
it hurts to even feel Jared’s sweet, burning breath on the skin. Jared always
has a snack or dinner waiting for him after school, helps him with his
motherfucking math homework, listens to him talk about his day, then blindfolds
him and beats his ass red with the flat of a paddle before getting him off so
many times Jensen nearly loses consciousness.
(Spanking, Jensen has learned, is one of those things he gets off on but
doesn’t necessarily like. He isn’t into the fact that he’s into it, but Jared
tells him there is nothing to be ashamed of, he’s prefect. Jensen knows it
probably doesn’t mean anything, but his heart flutters all the same.)
Jensen scrolls past the latest messages, shifting on his feet when he re-reads
Jared’s text about the camera.
Jared had asked him how he wanted to get fucked the first time, and Jensen
hadn’t known what to say. He hadn’t known if he had even wanted to get fucked,
then.
You want it just me and you baby boy? Want me to put you on camera? I could do
that, baby, just work you up and down my fat cock while your dick bounces and
who knows how many people watch. I wanna fuck you sweet baby boy, but you gotta
tell me how you want it.
Jensen had known he shouldn’t, had known it was fucked up, but the idea of
being fucked for the first time on the site, on any site, was one of the crazy
hottest things he had ever heard. Jared told him it was okay, Jensen could have
his first time however he wanted. In the end, Jensen had settled for Jared’s
camera and making a movie they could post or watch together later.
Jensen splashes some cold water onto his face before he heads back out to the
park, tries to cool the flush on his face.
When he gets back to the bleachers, Jason is already waiting for them. He’s
talking to the girl who had been suspended for the topless photo.
“Is your brother talking to that girl that - ?” Chris is asking Steve as Jensen
walks up to them.
“Yup,” Steve answers, shaking his head. “It’s not like he has any game, man. He
can’t get anyone else. She’s like one of the only girls easiest enough – ”
“Hey,” Jensen says from behind them, surprising himself the sharpness of his
tone. His friends turn to him, greeting him their smiles. “You shouldn’t talk
about her like that.”
“She’s the one who sent topless pictures of herself,” Steve says. Under the
force of Danneel’s glare, Steve relents. “Not judging. I’m just sayin’…”
Jensen tries to drown the conversation out. He doesn’t need to hear voices
outside of his own hand reiterating how dumb it is to take naked pictures and
send them out.
“It’s just you never know whose gonna see that shit, especially online, you
know” Chris agrees, and Jensen almost laughs.
He thinks of Jared, those tilted hazel eyes boring into him, and he thinks of
Harley, those kind and lying words he typed when Jensen first logged on. Jensen
thinks of how it might end, and doesn’t know how he feels about the probability
– the certainty – that Jared will stop wanting once Jensen has outgrown his
desires.
“I mean, right?” Chris says, voice rousing Jensen from tumbling down that road.
When Jensen realizes Chris is talking to him, Jensen licks his lips. Images of
Jared play through his mind, memories of Jared touching him, of Jared telling
him to go out for baseball because he had an awesome hit and to audition for
Key Club because he had the voice of angel, and of Jared filling his ass with
his tongue and fingers and toy. He almost shudders in anticipated pleasure, in
something teetering between disgust and desire, as he thinks of how tonight,
after filling Jensen’s hole with everything else he could get his hands on,
Jared is going fuck him.
“Right,” Jensen agrees, hoping no one notices the color in his face. His phone
buzzes. He has no idea what Jared’s message will be, but he licks his lips.
“Totally right,” he says again. “You never know who can find you on the
internet.”
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