Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10212902.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Character:
      Jensen_Ackles, Jared_Padalecki, Original_Female_Character(s), Original
      Male_Character(s), Megan_Padalecki, Jeff_Padalecki
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Student/Teacher, Teacher_Jensen, Lolita_Jared,
      Genderfluid_Jared, Age_Difference, Crossdressing, Genderplay, Secret
      Relationship, Sexual_Experimentation, Sex_Toys, Consensual_Underage_Sex,
      Teenage_Rebellion, Homophobia, Underage_Drinking
  Series:
      Part 8 of fullofsugar!verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-10 Words: 5494
****** Closet Full Of Sugar ******
by hellhoundsprey
Summary
     Jared has a tendency to fight.
Notes
     It's been one year ever since the FOS!verse came to life—happy
     anniversary ♥. (Shhh, there's some pictures and fanart to be queued
     up for tonight over on my_tumblr.)
They tore the posters down again. Jared reapplies them. Nothing is futile. (Be
the change you want to see in the world!)
The girls stick around with less enthusiasm, but at least they do stick around.
Jeff hasn’t talked to him in eight weeks now.
“You seriously need a date,” Marsha declares through her bubblegum whilst half-
eyed texting her new boyfriend, and Jared has enough mercy to glare at her,
catch her raised eyebrow and snarky little laugh.
“I’m fine.” He stuffs the remaining replacement posters into his bag, for
later.
Obviously amused, his friend holds her phone to eye-level, checks her hair in
the front camera.
“You’re really not, princess.”
Jared is too tired for more than a roll of eyes.
Thank god there’s still Hayley; chiming in from never-too-far, “Our girl don’t
need no man.”
Fake triumph feels honest too, he thinks.
                                       ~
Jensen, Jensen, Jensen.
Jared keeps the first name tucked under his tongue, behind teeth. Only lets it
slip on grand moments. It’s special. It’s a privilege. A token, somehow, that
this is really happening.
“Show me.”
Jared’s fingers skip like they only do under Mr. Ackles’ eyes, have to try hard
to be slow enough to make it sexy, un-desperate. Pink gauze ruffles, gets
tucked aside, and Mr. Ackles’ flutter of lashes would have gone by unnoticed if
Jared wasn’t trained on it, nothing but it.
Okay, and maybe on the twitch between those legs; corner of vision.
It’s adorable, watching Jensen’s mouth clamp around a curse, Jared-conditioned
not to, and if that isn’t daring Jared to pull himself wide.
“Play with it.” His voice quakes, so quiet because it breaks, breaks, and it
feels weird in his too-tight throat. He taps the jewel with one digit to make
it sparkle, catch a sight. “Play with me, Mister.”
There are too many layers on them in the current depth of summer even though
the familiar scents are a solace. Feels good, too, to grip Jensen by his
stupid-white shirt, haul him deeper into Jared’s mouth, makes him feel the
tremble he can evoke when he push-pulls on the plug like he does. Jensen tastes
like sweat and hunger. Jared makes a mental note to slice a few apples, later.
Some of the lube escapes on the first drag out; Jared’s balls twitch uselessly
with the now added plush of thumb to his taint. He sighs on the slurp back
inside and blindly begins to pat Jensen’s front for the fly of his pants.
Hm. Jackpot.
“Don’t touch my cock,” kitten sighs, brow a little furrowed because the fresh
drag burns anew and because Mr. Ackles is hard-hot-wet under his palm. “I
wanna, l-let’s see if it works without.”
Ever since the birthday vacation, something in Jensen has changed. He’s way
softer around the edges. If he still wasn’t just as grumpy as ever, Jared would
almost say he’s…vulnerable. Less restricted.
It’s great, but also scary. Maybe Jared just got more scared overall with all
that moral talk and waiting and boundaries of Mr. Ackles’. Or they’ve crossed a
line of some sort, now, after one whole year together.
(They had celebrated, kind of. Jensen still won’t talk about it.)
Jensen closes his eyes more often, not to escape but to really let himself
go—it shows.
Jared has a huge hand in the back of his knee, pressing it up to his chest, and
another one pumping a jeweled plug in and out of his ass; things are good.
“Ah, ah—”
“Wait, lemme, m-my pants.”
Hand over forehead, hair out of the way. Jared’s blush deepens under the jump
of now cloth-free dick, Jensen palming himself quickly, holding his shirt out
of the way; almost completely naked (a rarity).
Jensen looks like he is hurting, here, between Jared’s legs.
He nods towards Jared’s natural leakage, asks, “Are you sure ’bout that?”
because he’s a sweetheart like that.
Jared’s head lolls back into the pillow with a satisfied grin and a, “Yeah.”
He doesn’t come. As expected as it was, it still is leaving a dull ache behind.
Stupid, he knows. Not even all girls can come from penetration only. Stupid.
“Are you still sure?”
Jensen kisses like he eats pussy, and that earns Jared’s panties another wet
spot. He glares at his cock between their bellies, straining to break out of
the baby fabric, slurs his, “Uh-huh,” against Jensen’s slick mouth.
Mr. Ackles makes his favorite Jared-sound: the tiredly painful one. “You’re a
public menace like that.”
“Not a public anything.” Doesn’t even make sense, fuck it. God, he’s horny.
Calm down. “Jus’, can I. Lemme use your shower, please.”
“Sure.”
One rule of the house is that nothing leaves it without Jensen knowing about
it. Unfortunately, another rule is: no personal sex toy stash for underage sex
kittens.
So, Jared can’t exactly ask for that vibrator.
Fresh out of the shower, the ever-trusting Jensen downstairs, it’s too easy to
smuggle the desired object from drawer to backpack. Jared is in equal parts
proud and ashamed.
But a man has needs, right?
Smooch to cheek; Jensen chuckles for it but Jared’s still pink-cheeked and too
riled up for anything else, really.
“Friday works for you?”
It’s Tuesday. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay, take care. Do your homework.”
“Will do.” God, Jensen is so warm and smells so good. Won’t hurt to press
another kiss onto that mouth, right? Ooops, tongue. Ooops. Boner. “Okay, I’ll
uh. See you, Mr. A.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t trip over it.”
Jensen can be a smartass. If only it weren’t so cute.
                                       ~
It smells like barbecue.
“Hey baby, there you are!”
“Hi, sorry, yeah I was, uh—”
Jeff brushes past him, plate loaded up and Jared hears stomps leading upstairs.
He’s outside with his parents and sister before he can hear the door to Jeff’s
room bang closed.
Mom doesn’t say it out loud but her face, just like Dad’s, spells, ‘Don’t mind
the idiot, we love you.’ Meg just, well. She’s just a kid. She doesn’t want to
take sides.
“Do we have, uh. Is there chicken left?”
“We saved it for you.” Mom smiles, summer evening and wine bright, looks a tad
like Mr. A when she’s this soft with Jared. “There’s more in the fridge if
you’re still hungry after this.”
“She bought an entire coop worth.”
“Don’t listen to your father.”
Everyone is smiling. Jared’s plate fills without him lifting a finger, so he
has time to stroke Meg’s stuffed-smiling cheek, brush his own hair behind his
ears. He digs in with gusto, one leg tucked up so his knee bumps against the
table, hunched-over. Your typical teenage boy, even though they assured they
don’t mind (but they do, and he likes giving back).
Well aware that they would never ever say this to Meg, he can find delight in
Mom’s proud, “You’re eating so much lately. It’s so good to see you with such a
healthy appetite.”
                                       ~
The ritual begins when he turns the key inside its lock. Not much later, Jeff’s
handed-down sound system starts lulling The Cure; turned up a little louder for
a safe environment. The curtains are drawn, all lights out. The walls are in a
dusty pink and it’s not the sunset’s fault (not anymore).
Jared undresses, lays his clothes carefully over his nearby chair. Getting down
on one knee, he can reach underneath his bed to pull out the box.
The velvet choker—he wants it for tonight. Needs it, in a way. One of the
earliest presents. He has so many back at Jensen’s that this one didn’t catch
any attention by going ‘missing’. It’s a little tight now, just right. He can
feel it when he swallows, runs his fingers over it and then drops lower, down
his chest, belly. He blinks at his already-again hardening cock and squeezes
his thighs together.
The box disappears after Jared’s picked the lubed from it. Backpack, bed,
laptop. It’s too warm to hide under the covers, but he figures this will be a
little louder, so.
Headphones. Shifting legs under the still-cool covers, he rubs over his asshole
while navigating through videos, discarding by quick checks alone.
Big tits are a no-go.
He knows he’s got it once it starts playing. Things can’t go fast enough
now—screwing the lube open, getting some on his fingers and then the pastel
purple silicone. He bites his lip, drinks in the sight on-screen, pushes one
finger in easily.
There are two dicks in her and one in Jared, a mouth on her tit and fingers on
Jared’s. His mouth falls open when he dares to turn on the vibration.
Yeah, fuck, god, you love it, don’t you?
Come on, that’s it, yeah; take it, baby girl!
Jared full-body flutters.
                                       ~
He’s seriously aching.
Girls probably don’t have this kind of problem, do they?
Mr. A lets him eat at his mouth straight away, helps him strip down right in
the doorway, because why the heck not. Jared feels like rubbing off on him like
a dog would. So he keeps his hips hitched away—just to have Mr. Ackles pull him
in, get Jared’s slick all over his jeans. Jensen barely remembers to note out
loud that it’s, “No problem the washing machine can’t handle.”
Screw the washing machine—Jared is burning. “No, j-just—put something in my
butt, please, please; if you do it it’ll work, I know it, I just know it—”
Jensen full-stops, holds Jared a breath away to study his face, looks about as
flushed as Jared himself.
“Y-you didn’t…?”
Jared shakes his head. He’s holding on to Jensen’s neck at this point.
Breathless laugh; sounds hurt. “Why would you do that? Baby? Baby.”
Bridal-style up the stairs (as if Jared could survive that). His princess bed
bounces under his weight and he’s up on his elbows to watch Jensen go all
scrambled and wild-haired, onto the search through the cabinets for—what?
“Just anything would be fine, really,” quips Jared (but gosh, what, what?).
Jensen is kneeling on the floor now, on his haunches, hands on a box that was
inside a box in the closet, and how did Jared not find it yet? Is it new?
But Jensen, after thinking in stillness for a minute, basically throws it back
in. “No,” he murmurs, “no, this is… This is going too far, you’re just…”
“I want it,” and that’s no lie. “I can take it!”
It’s the most dangerous and beautiful moments when Jensen looks like he’s about
to break into tears.
Kitten’s mouth is dry. Her fingers peel at her hole, unthinkingly, and it’s
slightly sore from last night, but.
“Show it to me.”
Nobody but Jensen ever does what Jared tells them to, not even himself. Demure
like a kicked dog, Mr. Ackles brings the box like a sacrifice for kitten to rip
it open like the spoiled child she is. She is now sitting in the middle of the
bed without leaving Mr. Ackles any space to crawl next to her, over her; he
stands, awkwardly, waiting.
It’s big. “It’s beautiful,” she gasps. The smooth glass feels amazing in her
hands. Her dick pumps out slick at the imagination of how it will feel inside.
Big eyes up to her favorite. “Can we. I. Can you fuck me with it?”
Jared can barely hear anything over the pulsing of his cock, over the loud
sounds of kissing. Jensen has him on his back, one hand on his shoulder and one
around the toy he’s clasping to his bird-heart like he wants it in there.
Jensen says, “Let me take care of you,” and reaches out for the special drawer.
Jared almost doesn’t need the toy to come right then and there.
It’s hard to get Jensen to do any of this stuff. Maybe Jared died and went to
Heaven?
All that’s left of him by the time his thighs are bound together is a sad, wet
heap of pink on this bed, under Jensen’s mouth. Jensen clasps collar and
handcuffs and the thigh parts together, sweet like a secret, and Jared shiver-
pumps in the fold of belly and legs.
“Are you alright?”
Jared can’t speak, but he can nod.
“Good. Good.”
Jensen praises with kisses and cherry-lubed fingers. It’s a rub with intention
and Jared clenches at the pressure despite knowing better. He can’t help it.
He’s too riled up.
“Easy.”
Jared hiccups his approval. “I’m good. I’m good. I’m being good, Mister,
please.” Then, in a sudden gulp of spit and that finger dipping just inside,
“I’m, I’ll, I’m gonna come.”
“Just another minute.”
He sounds like the girls in the videos now, finally. High-throated and off. He
has to clench so tight it’s a miracle that finger finds any space to push into,
really.
His boyfriend is straining. “Relax. Easy.”
Kitten whines when she starts coming. A tightly bound package, chest to chest
with her Mr. Ackles, his mouth flying over her face, mouth, into her hair; she
feels him breathing here. Two teacher-fingers are pumping into his prostate,
just right, perfect, like no toy ever could, like Jared could never do it
himself.
Once Jensen pulls out, Jared’s ass is truly sore.
“Still wanna try it?”
Jared bites his lip, keeps his eyes barely-slitted and on his love, unable to
focus on anything but green, green.
They get it worked in to the second bulb before he calls it off; mortified.
“I’m sorry,” prays Jensen and, “Hold it next to your cock,” demands kitten.
He looks at her, caught, eyes student-wide.
Oh, now more than ever. “Lemme see,” she clarifies.
He shuffles so she can see; only now unzips his jeans.
They both seem guilty at the sight.
Jensen squints; squeezes. “You’re still growing, right?”
Jared gives a weak laugh.
                                       ~
There is no space for a conscious thought before throwing yourself between
someone’s fist and someone else’s already-on-the-ground body. There is time for
screaming though, for bellowed curses that are too sudden and aggressive for
those who were counting on subdued prey. (Both of which Jared isn’t.)
“Fuck OFF! Leave him ALONE!”
They spit, but run. (Jared is aiming for six feet these days.)
No teacher to be seen. Nobody, really. They’re so selectively smart.
“Hey. Are you okay? Can you get up?”
The kid is bleeding from his nose. Jared hoists his arm over his shoulder,
stems him up like that. Discovers they’re about the same height.
A groan. Then, “Thanks. Thank you.”
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”
Jared watches over him getting patched up by the school nurse, scrunches his
nose at the disinfectant. Heather glares at Jared as if this was his fault.
The boy shows up later that day, while Marsh is draped over the monkey bars and
Hayley is clutching the liquor in fearful instinct. When she realizes it’s not
an adult but Nathan Parker, she relaxes. Another swig, and she hands the bottle
to Nathan, who accepts without comment.
Nathan Parker has black skin, blacker eyes, wears dull colors. He’s got that
bloodshot eye from earlier, the busted lip, and he’s hiding his limp like a
boss.
Nathan Parker is really fucking cool and Jared tries not to lose it when Nathan
drags himself over to him, the only queer member of the queer trio occupying
the same ping-pong for the past six months.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Jared interrupts picking at his cuticles in favor of receiving the
bottle from Nathan. Nobody is wiping the neck prior to taking a sip, and Jared
won’t start now.
“Pretty lame party.”
Jared snorts. “Yeah, well. Welcome to our sweet lil’ town, ’cause that’s all
we’ve got.”
“Quite the cliché, huh. Getting drunk on a playground. Like in the movies.”
Nathan accepts the bottle back. Is still staring Jared down. Not in a menacing
way, just…
“You’re free to leave, y’know.”
Nathan doesn’t answer to that.
They stay. Jared trips over his own feet at some point, and Marsh seizes the
opportunity to straddle him, tickle him until he has to slap his own hands over
his mouth to not awaken nearby house owners. It’s a usual ‘drink’ night, with
the addition of one silent guest.
                                       ~
“So, you know the new kid?”
Jared looks up from his homework.
“Nathan?”
Jared looks back down. “I guess.”
Mr. Ackles hums. Rustling of papers, silence. Then, after a while, “Is it true
what they say?”
“What?”
“That he’s…you know.”
“Black? Yeah.”
“No, I mean—Jared.” Mr. Ackles puts on his best ‘I’m so offended you think I
thought that’ face. Pale-blushes a little for it. A little fish-gaping before
he specifies, “Gay. Queer. Whatever.”
“I dunno. We don’t talk about that stuff.”
“What do you talk about then?”
“I dunno? Literally everything else?”
“So.” It looks uncomfortable, the way Mr. Ackles is twisted around on the sofa
to keep up eye contact. “Does he know that you’re…?”
“Mr. Ackles, I think the entire city knows I’m a queer.”
Jensen shrinks just a little more. “But did you tell him that you’re in a
relationship?”
Jared blinks, drops his gaze again as he shakes his head dutifully. “No. Of
course not.”
And then Jensen says, “Okay,” and Jared needs an embarrassing amount of minutes
to figure out that queasy undertone in that one stupid word.
Jared rises from his place at the kitchen table to pussyfoot over to the sofa.
Mr. Ackles looks guilty, keeps staring his work down with a crease between his
eyebrows, feigns surprise when Jared reaches out for him.
“What?”
Kitten slips into his lap. He only reluctantly puts his arm around her hip.
She cradles his head, pets his beard. She has her face hidden in his hair,
mouth close to an ear so she can kiss it that much easier.
She hopes he can feel her heart hammering up against his shoulder. Whispers,
like the secret that it is, “You’re the only one for me. You know that, right?”
Just like Jensen doesn’t verbally reply at all, Jared doesn’t dare ask outright
if Jensen is jealous.
                                       ~
Nathan tells them he moved here with his mom. That he’s missing their old house
and the neighborhood cats, but not the school. He cradles his newly rawed elbow
and Jared winces in sympathy.
“You have to fight back.”
“Huh.”
“It will get better once you do.”
Nathan makes that face Jared recognizes from himself whenever Jensen would give
him another useless moralist-talk. The face of someone who is tired of people
giving advice they don’t have a clue of.
Nathan is the fourth to the already-there three black kids in the entire
school.
Jared scratches at the healing scab on his knee; at a loss for words anyway.
                                       ~
Hayley’s dad’s new job leaves him with little free time and his daughter home
alone a conveniently high amount of weekday afternoons. Neither of them can
cook for shit, but Hayley makes some damn good sandwiches.
They’re strewn all over her room. Marsha is scribbling something down while
Hayley scrolls through her Facebook feed as she plots possible Star Wars story
developments with Nathan. Jared has the bed to himself, spread eagle, mind
somewhere between Mr. Ackles’ thighs and Meg’s upcoming birthday. The original
plan was to go in with Jeff for that boy band concert ticket, but, well, that’s
out of the question as of now.
One warm hand pulls at Jared’s foot, cradles it. Jared hears the room going
silent over the skip of his heart.
Nathan hums, “Nice color,” and Jared can’t bring himself to pull his foot away
just yet.
It’s Hayley who says, “You’ve gotta stop that, dude.”
“Stop what?”
“Hitting on him.”
“It’s useless,” sighs Marsha from far, far away.
Nathan looks over his shoulder then, and he looks as surprised as he doesn’t
seem sad at all, asks, “You have a boyfriend?”
Jared is up on his elbows, and Nathan is still holding his foot. “No,” he says.
“I don’t.”
“Sure he does. How do you think he’s affording all his big girl clothes, huh?
Sugar daddy. I called it.”
Jared feels his face heating up and looks at nothing and nobody in particular.
Clenches his fists, leaves his foot limp and heavy in Nathan’s hold.
Jared says, in an afterthought, “That’s not true. There’s no one.”
“Yeah, right.” Hayley yawns, scratches between her boobs, smacks her lips.
“You’re solo and I’m fucking Han Solo.”
                                       ~
Jared is too small-big. Wants everything and nothing, both at once. Jensen
can’t do anything right, but Jared doesn’t want him to stop, either.
He works both of their cocks between their bellies, straddling Jensen in
Jensen’s bed, and he can’t spend the night tonight but he’ll sure as hell leave
a piece of him behind. So Jensen can hurt for the loss. Can hold on to Jared’s
scent (if he even wants to).
Jared groans against Jensen’s mouth, foreheads sweat-stuck together and he was
wearing a bra a few minutes ago, somehow. The plastic flower bracelet on his
right wrists jingles with every move.
Jensen, Mr. Ackles—holds on, hips chasing, eyes closed.
Jared doesn’t often think about it (tries not to), but sometimes it hits him
that he’ll never know what Jensen really is thinking about when they’re
together like this, what he is seeing, what he needs.
It takes his breath away, and it hurts.
Jared feels his throat seizing tight, and he slows his hand.
“What’re you thinking about? Right now?”
An unwilling mumble, dream-clouded. “Don’t stop.”
Jared doesn’t. “Are you thinking of someone else?”
“What? No. No. Hey.” Eyes open, trembling lip and hands up Jared’s skinny
thighs, thumbs skipping past hip bones. Jensen’s hands span wide across Jared’s
ribs. “Why’d you think that? I’m here. Right here.”
Jared lets Jensen roll them over. Lets Jensen sigh when he lets go, leaves him
hanging so he can that much better kiss Jared’s neck. Lets Jared fold his legs
between their chests, gets a hold of Jared’s cock and tugs it picture-perfect.
Like he has a manual to it, or maybe is said manual. At this point, nothing
would surprise Jared anymore.
“Tell me I’m yours.”
“You’re mine.”
“And that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
Jared’s palm fits perfectly around Mr. Ackles’ cock, and Mr. Ackles is easy to
please. “Tell me you love me,” sighs kitten, girl-sweet so the wetness in her
eyes is okay.
Jensen’s, “I love you, Jared,” always, always sounds like he’s praying.
                                       ~
“He’s older, right?”
Jared blinks.
Nathan is yet to be fazed by what he is saying out loud. “Like, is he in
college or something?”
No reply.
“Been there. I feel you, man. It sucks.”
Jared tucks his knees closer under his chin. “…What was it like?”
“Good. Then shit. Then shittier. And then his girlfriend found out.” Nathan
inspects his nails while he speaks until he’s fed up with it, shoves his hands
into his sweater’s front pockets. “Or vice versa. Whatever.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Shrug. “Let’s hope you’ll have more luck than me. He any
good?”
Kitten sighs in pain. “Yeah.”
“Shit. You’re in deep, huh?”
Jared hides his face to groan, hears Nathan chuckle, feels encouraging claps to
his back.
                                       ~
The air conditioner works quietly, but Jared feels oily with sweat. He humps
Jensen’s belly that much harder; holds on just for the vital gasps Jensen
produces at the bump of Jared’s panty-covered ass to his naked cock. Jared can
feel him working himself faster. Feels knuckles bumping into his tailbone.
Closed eyes, again. Kitten kisses them. Licks at lashes.
Mr. Ackles trembles for that, as if she’s hurting him. Traces the crease of her
ass over the tulle, head turning and neck craning as if his mouth was searching
for a tit to latch onto.
Jared provides.
“Fuck me.”
“God—”
“I’m ready.” Jared gets angry at the wrinkle between Mr. Ackles’ eyebrows. “I
want it. Put it in me.”
“Baby, no,” bad-dream murmurs, hasty kisses and wet-dick smears against Jared’s
skin. “Not yet. Not yet.”
Jared churns his dick into Jensen’s belly extra-deep, feels that breath hitch
and pinches a nipple just because he can, because Jensen is naked and in bed
with him and jerks off against Jared’s ass and kitten is sick of rules that
don’t even exist.
She bites, “They’d lock you away no matter if you’d fuck me right,” just when
Jensen starts to unload, and she is scared of those hitched breaths but lives
off them, too.
Jensen stares up at her as if she just murdered him.
“You don’t care about me at all! You never listen!” (She’s yelling now.) “You
treat me like some toy when you feel like it and the next second I’m a child!?
You can’t possibly BELIEVE putting everything BUT your dick up my ass makes you
ANY less of what you ARE!”
“Jared—”
“No, now YOU listen to ME!” She sits up, fingers digging into Jensen’s broken-
into chest. “You let me have THIS! You tell me you LOVE me! What the FUCK do
you expect?! Do you think that doesn’t DO things to me?! That the second I
leave your house, I go back to being who I am without you?! I DON’T,” she sobs.
“This is how I AM, WHO I am, and if you can’t understand that, then at least
STAND UP for ONCE and tell me to GET LOST!”
Jensen gasps again, stammers, “Jared,” like he lost every other word in his
vocabulary, like he can’t believe Jared would talk to him like that.
(And kitten can’t believe it either.)
“I’m.” Jensen gulps for air, hands on Jared’s wrists, thumbing for a pulse.
“I—I never meant to—”
Kitten yelps, suddenly struck and aware of the pain she just inflicted, and
she’s sobbing, “Sorry! Sorry!” in one choppy stream until she’s thrown herself
into Jensen’s arms.
“I never meant to. I never meant to, kitten.”
(Kitten thinks, ‘To play lovers?’) “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“No,” and Jensen sounds raw here, “you’re right.”
Jensen plays connect-the-dots with the moles on Jared’s back, has been doing it
for months. It came as naturally as it stayed, just like Jensen gives passing
kisses where he otherwise wouldn’t have moved at all.
And Jared thinks: Admit it.
Whatever it is. Out with it.
“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” slurs kitten, half-dozed off and still teary.
“If we don’t go all the way, I don’t want to keep seeing you.”
“Why’s it so important? Don’t you like what we’ve been doing up to now?”
“Because—” Jared blinks through his lashes to find his forefinger tracing that
one rocking horse in the forest of Jensen’s freckles. “—because if I’m not all
you need, nothing means anything at all.”
                                       ~
It’s only after all her guests are gone that Megan pokes her head into Jared’s
room. Her big brother scoots closer to the wall so she can lie down on his bed
with him, eye him suspiciously, brush his hair out of his eyes.
“Do you want me to call you a ‘she’ now?”
“Why?”
Megan furrows her brow. “Because.”
“You don’t have to.” (Nobody but Jensen ever knows who he is, anyway.) Smiles,
combing his fingers through her hair. “I’m jus’ your stupid big brother,
Meggie.”
She seems satisfied with the answer—tucks herself against his side, crown of
hair under his chin. After a while, she comes to the conclusion that, “Jeff is
such a jerk.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He can hear her pout. “He didn’t get me anything at all.”
“Really now.”
“Yeah. You should totally kick his ass.”
“Hm, I dunno. He isn’t much of a bag of sunshine to me either. In case you
noticed.”
“Like I said,” she growls, “jerk.”
Jared hugs his sister close as he chuckles his, “Yeah.”
                                       ~
They’re staring all weird when they only enter the house party (college and
high school, friends of friends of Marsha’s boyfriend; don’t ask). By the time
Jared is dancing with Marsh, they’re down to the blatant stink eye.
Things heat up when Nathan joins them.
Shoulders first, then elbows—Marsha pushes back hardest. Then come the
comments, shouted over the music, and Jared puts his arm around Nathan’s
shoulders just to make it quick.
He’s got blood on his crop top and never-ending laughter in his chest. The
outside-night is summer-mild, perfect for running.
Alive, alive; his friends right by his side, screaming their laughter when
they’ve lost them—those futile victories, all they’ve got.
And, of course, Hayley’s dad’s beer stash.
Jared holds a cold one to Nathan’s cheek on the porch while Marsha tries to
clean his still-runny nose. She squeals when he snorts with laughter, spraying
himself and her with blood, and Nathan begs them to stop while holding his
belly.
Nathan braids Hayley’s hair. Jared dances to the music Marsha puts on on the
fuck-old stereo, decades-ago disco tunes made for glitter. She joins him
eventually, warm and sweat-salt despite the wide-open porch doors. More drinks,
more volume, more laughter, more dancers. Jared’s eyes are closed, Hayley’s
arms around his hips, letting him grind back into her lap like she’s someone
else.
Her nails are painted the same bright blue as his. She scratches them up his
bare belly, tickle-light in its intimacy, and Jared hasn’t needed Jensen this
bad in a long time.
Jared is sobbing, later, in Nathan’s arms, in the makeshift extra bed on the
floor in Hayley’s room.
Nathan whispers, “Tell me about him,” right against the back of Jared’s hands
that Jared is holding in front of his still-tender face.
Jared sobs more.
                                       ~
Mr. Ackles is grabbing straight between Jared’s legs, makes him sway in the
doorway, knees buckling with the throb of it.
“What’re you doing?”
“Can’t I?”
Jared lets Mr. Ackles kiss him while he fondles his dick. Puts his own hands on
Mr. Ackles’ arms, the bareness of it because not even Jensen can say no
tanktops in this heat, apparently.
Jared’s eyes threaten to flutter close.
“Let me change first.”
“You’re fine.”
“No, I’m hot.”
Jensen blinks suspiciously. God, he’s tanned. Has he been sunbathing without
Jared? “You still mad at me?”
Kitten frowns. “I’m always mad at you.”
Jensen puppy-huffs against Jared’s neck. “Tell me what to do to make it
better.”
“Keep going, for starters.”
Jared’s dick strains fatter with the attention Mr. Ackles gives it. He hums his
approval, pets Jensen’s cheek.
Jensen on his knees for her is, like, the most beautiful thing. The softest.
The way he’s just going for it—eyes closed, open-mouthed. Dick, balls, dick;
noses lower, pushes his tongue up Jared’s ass like no big deal, like Jared
didn’t ride his bike here for half an hour just before he rang Jensen’s
doorbell two fucking minutes ago.
It’s how Jensen blinks his eyes open though from down below, so desperate for
kitten’s attention, what makes her grab for his hair, guide him lower, deeper.
She lets him up just long enough so he can breathe, “Sit on my face,” and
pushes her cock past those pretty teeth, down that slick trail of tongue and
then throat.
Jensen would take everything from her.
Kitten slips out of her boy layers and puts on that one flimsy bralette just
because it rubs her nipples just right, rucks Jensen’s shirt up to his pits
before she lets him pull her ass onto his mouth. Kitten rolls her hips as he
eats her out, lets her palms slip-slide over pale chest and tummy. Kneads
Jensen’s nipples before pressing the heel of one hand down over the bulge in
his shorts, artlessly, cruel.
He doesn’t want to be let up, not once.
The bucking comes that much more suddenly—has kitten reeling from her way-out
state and struggling to keep her balance. Jensen trips them over, Jared on his
back and his cock all the way stuck down Jensen’s mile-long, beautiful throat.
She keens when he screws one finger in right up to the knuckle while swallowing
around her, whines at the second but lets her legs fall open in eagerness.
Jensen flicks his fingers when he bobs his mouth down on her dick, and she
doesn’t have a chance, none at all.
Jensen swallows it all. Licks her ass next. She’s hard again by the time he
comes up for air.
The reposition, again. Sitting, kissing, Jensen slurs, “Take off my clothes.”
Jared realizes Jensen is still wearing his stupid cap he had opened the door
in, earlier.
The cap stays on. Kitten’s bra, too.
Shower. Ice tea. Cherries. Jared paints Jensen’s toe nails—bright red. Jensen
dorks around but can’t help blushing.
“Maybe you won’t even like it.”
“But then we’ll at least have tried.”
“So it’s a principle thing.”
“What isn’t?”
“Heh. Good point.”
Jensen stretches, rearranges his head in Jared’s lap when he comes back down.
Cranes his neck for more cherries, mouth wide open. Jared feeds him all
carefully.
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