Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2284299.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Primary_J2, jdm/jensen, Jensen/OCs
  Character:
      Jensen_Ackles, Jared_Padalecki, Jeffrey_Dean_Morgan
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Violence, Mutilation, Non-
      Consensual_Body_Modification, Drug_Use
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-10 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 19576
****** Disarmed ******
by Syls_Darkplace_(sylsdarkplace)
Summary
     J2 dark fic: Jensen is a successful business man who is outwardly
     respectable, but he has a dark and painful past that continues to
     haunt him. One night he’s abducted and forced to pay a price for
     wronging someone who’d once thought him a friend.
Notes
     This fic has been languishing in a WIP folder for awhile, and I
     thought it was time to finish the like 5% that wasn’t done and get it
     posted. Let me reiterate that this fic is very dark and consequently
     not for everyone. It deals with the cycle of abuse. Please take the
     warnings seriously. Thanks to
     [http://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/userinfo.gif?v=17080?v=119.3]
vennstiel for the feedback. All mistakes are my own. The following is entirely
fictional and should in no way be associated with certain persons resembling
the characters within.
***** Chapter 1 *****

Dallas/Present
The words on the spread sheet swam on the monitor, and Jensen leaned back in
his chair and rubbed his eyes. The hallways were dark and even the custodian
had come and gone. He should go home. He had a couple weeks till the end of the
fiscal year and the annual board meeting, but it had been a rough year. He
wanted to make sure that he had all the financial data sorted and answers to
all the questions the board might throw at him.
He sighed. It wouldn’t be any benefit to run himself into the ground either. He
was pushing 40. He needed a good night’s rest.
He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his suit jacket on the way out the
door toward the elevator. When he’d first started working at Spearman Alliance
Financial, he’d found the sixty-eight story building a little creepy after
regular work hours. There was something about the buzzing of the lights in the
halls and darkened offices that seemed like there could be a threat around any
corner, and while it had mostly lost its sense of menace, he didn’t linger in
the empty corridors.
He waited for the elevator to rise and stepped inside. He was struck again by
the funky smell. It wasn’t bad exactly, just wrong, and it had been that way
the entire twelve years he’d worked there and climbed to the top. He’d even had
the damned thing steam cleaned, but the fresh scent had lasted only a few
weeks. His nose scrunched. It wasn’t just that it smelled musty. There was a
faint undertone of stale cologne, sweat and cigars. It didn’t even make sense
since it was a no smoking building. It made him feel a little claustrophobic
and nauseous.
The elevator stopped on the parking level and Jensen was enfolded in a heavy
blanket of humid outside air. Summer in Texas, he ought to be used to it having
grown up there. His family had moved around – Houston, Waco, San Antonio,
Dallas. When they’d moved on, he’d stayed. Dallas was big enough to be
anonymous. That’s how he liked it.
The parking garage was almost empty with bright pools of light and deep
shadows. As he walked toward his black Mercedes, he was debating whether he
should stop and pick up some dinner at the Indian take out joint down the
street. His clicked the fob on his keychain and the car lights flashed. His
hand was on the door handle when he saw a movement reflected in the driver’s
side window.
He froze. An arm like a steel band went around his chest and a hand over his
mouth and nose. He didn’t fight. He’d learned not to fight.
 
Houston/1985
Calloused fingers scraped along the soft skin just below his hairline, and his
face was pushed into the sofa cushions until he thought he’d suffocate. It felt
as though his neck would break. His struggle to get free was little more than a
wiggle to the man holding him.
He’d seemed nice enough, the new neighbor, Mr. Morgan. When he’d come to the
Ackles’ front door that Saturday morning and asked Jensen’s dad if Jensen could
help him stow some boxes in the basement, his dad hadn’t hesitated. Jensen
hadn’t been enthusiastic about spending his Saturday morning helping some old
guy heft boxes in a dank basement, but he’d been taught to help others. That’s
what Jesus preached and that’s what his family believed. He’d gone along
without complaint.
"How old are you, Jensen?" Mr. Morgan said on the way to his house.
"Ten," he answered.
“Ten, huh? Well, I really appreciate your help,”  Morgan said. “I know you’d
probably prefer to be watching cartoons or playing video games or whatever kids
your age do these days.”
Jensen had squinted against the sun’s glared and peered up at him. “S’okay,” he
said. “Do unto others, you know?”
Morgan smiled and his eyes sparkled. “Yeah,” he said, “absolutely.”
He helped Mr. Morgan carry about a dozen boxes from the garage to the basement.
He was hot and tired and thirsty when Morgan asked if he’d like a Coke. There
was an old refrigerator humming away in the corner under the basement stairs,
and Mr. Morgan got one for each of them. Jensen eagerly opened his and drank
down about half of it.
“So, Jensen, you like girls?” Mr. Morgan had asked.
Jensen shrugged. Why did adults always ask shit like that anyway? He felt his
cheeks heat up. He was ten, but he’d seen some porn on the internet at his
friend Billy’s house. Some of it had guys and girls, some two or even three
guys together. It all gave him a weird excited, squirmy feeling in his belly
and made his dick hard. He was kind of confused by that. “Sure, I guess.”
Mr. Morgan leaned his elbow on a pile of boxes and raised an eyebrow. “You like
boys?”
Jensen knew he shouldn’t. That’s what they said at church. He stared at the
hole in the toe of his left Converse and shrugged.
“Yeah, you do,” Mr. Morgan said with a grin. “Pretty little boy like you. Of
course, you do.” He reached out and stroked his rough fingers along Jensen’s
cheek. Jensen took a step back. “No need to be shy,” Mr. Morgan said. “We’re
going to be real good friends.”
Jensen wasn’t stupid. He knew a threat when he heard one. His heart hammered.
His gaze flicked to the stairs, the only way out, and Morgan stood between them
and Jensen. He took another step backward.
“I, um … I should go,” Jensen said. “I need to …”
Mr. Morgan shook his head and walked toward him. “Your dad said you were free
all morning,” he said. “And we have a lot to do.”
Jensen tried to jerk away when Mr. Morgan reached for him, but the man was too
fast. The can of soda hit the concrete floor with a clunk as Jensen was spun
around and thrown face first onto the old couch against the wall. Then the hand
was on his neck holding him down, and Jensen’s fingers scrabbled over the nubby
fabric searching for purchase. He barely noticed the sharp pain as a broken
fingernail caught and tore below the quick. His shorts and briefs were yanked
down his legs.
“No!” he yelled. “Stop! Stop it!”
“Shut up,” Mr. Morgan said. The hand moved from his neck and the man placed his
forearm across Jensen’s back, crushing the breath from his lungs. “Shut up, you
little cock tease. You think I don’t know what you are? I know.”
The pressure of the arm eased slightly as fingers squeezed his bottom. He let
out a whimper as the hand spread his ass cheeks. Then, both hands were on his
ass, spreading and caressing him. Tears were streaming down his face. He’d seen
enough porn to imagine what Mr. Morgan planned on doing to him.
“Please, don’t,” Jensen asked. His breath hitched. “Please.”
“Stop lying, you little fag,” Mr. Morgan growled. “I know you want it. In a
couple years, you’ll be bending over for every hard dick that comes along.”
There was the click of a plastic bottle cap and something cool and slick
pressed against Jensen’s butthole.
“No!” he yelled and tried to push himself up off the couch. The hand came down
hard enough on Jensen’s ass cheek to knock him back down onto the cushions.
Jensen’s fists beat against them, and he tried to kick. The hand came down even
harder and landed with a sharp crack on his skin. It left him breathless for a
second. His parents had spanked him. They believed in physical discipline, but
he’d never been hit like that.
“Stop fighting me,” Mr. Morgan said. “The more you fight, the more it will
hurt.”
The man grabbed his hips, and Jensen screamed into the musty cushion.
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen was at a loss. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. The room
was bright, white, and sterile, like … exactly like a surgery room. An IV stand
towered above him and tubes ran from the bag to his arm.
He felt disoriented and slightly nauseous. He didn’t remember being sick, and
he had no pain, well, his head hurt a little, but not like he’d been in an
accident. He was leaving work. He remembered. He’d been on his way to the car.
A spike of panic hit him. He tried to sit up, but his arms were strapped to the
gurney and his legs too. He’d raised his head enough to see a man standing with
is back to him at a counter. He was wearing green scrubs. Dark hair curled from
beneath a surgical cap.
“Where am I?” Jensen asked.
The man turned. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said from behind a surgical mask.
“Sooner than I thought, but that’s okay.” He turned back to his task at the
counter. “We’re almost ready.”
“Ready for what?” Jensen asked. “Where I am I? What am I doing here?”
“Here,” the man said as he pulled a rolling cart toward the foot of the gurney,
“is my private surgical suite.” He started making some adjustments, and Jensen
realized that his feet were strapped to stirrups which were being moved up,
forcing his knees to bend back toward his waist and his legs to spread. He felt
cool air on skin, and his balls tightened as though trying to crawl up into his
abdomen.
“You know, I thought about law school,” the man said in a conversational tone,
“but I wanted to do something good for others. That was a conscious decision. I
wanted to help people, make up for …” His voice trailed off as he arranged
instruments on a tray. “Anyway, I decided to go to medical school and become a
surgeon. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that I could help them by
using my skills on you.” There was the sharp smell of antiseptic, and Jensen
flinched as something cold and wet was rubbed on his groin. “Handy that you
keep this all shaved.”
The doctor moved around the gurney and leaned over Jensen. “Open your mouth,”
he said.
“Wha …”
The doctor shoved a rubber bit between Jensen’s teeth. “I’m sorry there’s no
anesthesiologist. You may want to bite on this,” he said. “I’ll give you a
sedative and a local though. It’s the best I can do. I’m afraid.” His voice was
calm and soothing as though he believed every word he said. “Oh, you wanted to
know why you’re here. See, I think the best way to help people is to take away
your weapon.”
Jensen shook his head. He was breathing hard through his nose like a winded
horse, his eyes wide and pleading.
“You probably don’t remember me,” the doctor said. He sounded almost sad.
But Jensen did remember those fox-tilted eyes.
 
San Antonio/1991
Jensen was sixteen when they moved to San Antonio. He hated it, but then he
pretty much hated everything and everyone, especially himself. His older
brother was off at college. His parents both worked and his mom had joined the
women’s group at their new church. They were too busy to notice he hadn’t tried
out for any sports or joined clubs at school like he used to.
He sat in the back of class, and he kept his head down as Ms. Gonzalez
demonstrated algebraic formulas on the white board. He missed having something
to do after school. He missed baseball, but his parents had strongly suggested
that he not try out for team sports anymore and track hadn’t worked out either.
His grades had fallen too much for Key Club.
He rose as the bell rang and made his way to his locker and dumped his books
before going to the cafeteria. He managed to shuffle through the lunch line
without meeting anyone’s eye and sat down at an empty table off to one side. He
had the usual pepperoni pizza and a Coke. He glanced up as another kid took a
seat.
“Hey, Jensen,” Aaron said. He was a quiet kid, small, good in science and math.
A stereotype, but a nice one.
“Hey,” Jensen said and dug into his pizza.
“Jen-NEE!” someone called from a couple tables over. The taunt was followed by
laughter.
“Ignore them,” Aaron said. “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you.”
“Yeah,” Jensen said. “I know.” And he did. He’d heard it all before. When he
was younger, he let it roll off his back, but somehow it was different, had
been for awhile, more malicious. Instead of hurt, he felt rage building. It had
come to a head in Waco when he broke a teammate’s nose in the locker room.
“Hey dudes,” Lupe greeted them as he sat down, “how’s the table of misfit toys
doing?” He tucked his long dark hair behind his ear and grinned.
Aaron rolled his eyes, but Jensen smiled. “Same old shit, dude,” he said.
“I hear ya, man,” Lupe said.
Jensen was through his first piece of pizza when the voices at the nearby table
were raised again.
“You don’t know he’s a fag.”
“Come on, just look at him.”
“You don’t know until those juicy lips are wrapped around your cock. That’s all
I’m sayin’, man.”
“Dude, that’s gay.”
“It’s not. Getting’ sucked off by a fag doesn’t make you a fag. Suckin’ cock
makes you a fag.”
“And that is a fag.”
“Hell, yeah, hey! Hey, Jenny, wanna suck my choad?”
Aaron reached out and grabbed Jensen’s wrist. “Jensen, don’t.”
Jensen realized that his fists were clenched, and he’d started to push his
chair back. Aaron’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Pendejos,” Lupe said. “Let it go, man. They ain’t worth it.” He stood. “Come
on, I got some primo weed. You’ll forget all about those pricks.”
Jensen’s hand was still shaking as he took the joint from Lupe’s fingers. They
were deep under the bleachers near the press box at the athletic field. It was
cooler and shadowy here. It felt safe. Jensen knew better. Nowhere was safe. He
watched as Lupe took the joint back and put it to his lips. Lupe side-eyed him
lazily.
“You know,” he breathed out with a plume of smoke, “you scare them.” He was
leaning back against the block wall of the press box, looking up at the
framework of the bleachers above them.
“What?” Jensen’s smoke slowed brain scrambled for a foothold. “Why?”
“Because they look at you, and it makes their dicks hard.” There was weight to
his gaze when he met Jensen’s eye. Jensen dropped his eyes and sure enough
there was a bulge in his friend’s jeans.
Jensen swallowed the dry catch in his throat. “It doesn’t scare you?”
Lupe smiled. “No, man.” He held the joint out to Jensen again. “It’s no big
thing, and I don’t do that with friends.”
Jensen just nodded and took a hit.
...
Lupe had a job after school, and Aaron had swim practice most days. So, Jensen
went home and watched porn on the computer and stayed away from other kids.
It wasn’t hard in the new neighborhood. There weren’t any. The closest was the
runt across the street – Jared with some unpronounceable last name. He was
skinny and actually tall for his age with floppy brown hair, dimples, and
inquisitive eyes.
He’d wave. “Hi, Jensen! Hi!” he’d yell from his yard.
Jensen would lift his hand in acknowledgement and walk on into the house. He
never saw Jared playing with other kids either. Maybe there weren’t any Jared’s
age on the street either. It was an old neighborhood after all. Mostly 1950s
ranches and split levels with big maple and oak trees towering over them. A lot
of the neighbors did have gray hair. Jensen felt kind of bad for a young kid
like Jared who was so friendly.
One day, Jared was tossing a ball in the air and trying to hit it with a bat.
He wasn’t having a lot of luck until Jensen was almost to his house. Jensen
heard the thwack of the bat hitting the ball and turned just as it whizzed by
his head. It hit the storm door with a loud bang and bounced onto the grass.
Jensen’s eyes widened at the long crack that ran diagonally across the
Plexiglas panel in the door.
He looked back at Jared who was standing frozen in his driveway with his hands
over his mouth.
“Fuck,” Jensen said under his breath, and then he called out, “Jared!”
That seemed to take the kid off pause, and he ran across the street and up the
driveway.
“Oh my God!” he said when he got close enough to see the broken door. “Oh my
God! Oh my God!”
“It’s okay,” Jensen said.
“My mom and dad are going to kill me,” Jared said. His eyes were big and wet.
“Nah,” Jensen sighed. “I’ll say I did it.”
“What? No, you … why would you do that?” Jared asked.
“I’m pretty clumsy,” Jensen said. “They won’t even be surprised.”
“Really?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, really,” Jensen said. “You want a soda or something?”
“Yeah?” Jared blinked up at him.
“Why not?”
That’s how Jared started following Jensen into the house almost every day. He
was a nice kid, good natured and happy. He might talk a lot, like he’d washed
down a bag of Skittles with a couple Mountain Dews, but he liked old horror
movies and he didn’t make kissy noises at Jensen.
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen came awake and passed out again.
The second time he awoke it was to his own moans. The pain in his groin was
like nothing else he’d ever felt – bright and hot and sharp – and he struggled
against the restraints. The room that came into focus was unfamiliar. There was
nothing remarkable about the pale gray-blue walls or the pine dresser.
But Jared was there. Not the skinny kid that Jensen had known. This guy was
tall with broad shoulders and long dark hair, but Jensen recognized the multi-
hued eyes and ghosts of dimples on his cheeks. He came and sat on the edge of
the bed.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“Yeah,” Jensen groaned.
“Are you in pain?” Jared asked.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Jared said.
Jensen wasn’t sure he wanted to know. In fact, he was sure he didn’t, but
wanted to hear it wasn’t true. “What did you do to me?”
“I think you know,” Jared said. “I told you I was taking your weapon. You must
know what that means. It’s called a penectomy.”
Jensen’s stomach rolled. “Not castration?”
“No, your balls are still there. You can still get aroused. In fact, there’s
still a bit of the penis root left underneath, but there’s not enough to hurt
anyone with.”
If Jensen had anything in his stomach, it would have come up. “Why didn’t you
just take everything?” He could feel the rage welling beneath the surface, and
he pushed it down.
“Without your testicles, you’d lose bone density and get fat. You’d have an
increased risk of cancer. This isn’t a punishment, although you know really,
you deserve it. You’ll still have a libido. You just won’t be able to fuck kids
anymore.”
“I don’t …”
“Don’t lie!” Jared growled. His brows were drawn together and his nostrils
flared. He added quietly, “Don’t you fucking lie. I know what you are. I know
about the kid down the hall in your building.”
Jensen’s mouth dropped open. “What? Tyler?”
“His name doesn’t matter,” Jared said. He stood. “Do you remember all their
names? Huh? Do you remember mine?”
 
“Jared.”
 
San Antonio/1991
The kid was sprawled across Jensen’s bed with a Dark Knight comic spread open
on the green comforter. Jensen was at his desk idly swiveling his chair one way
and the other. He was horny. He glanced back at Jared who was engrossed in his
comic. Jensen pulled a couple magazines from his desk and began thumbing
through them. He’d seen the images countless times, but he paused on one of his
favorites – a blond guy on his hands and knees and a brunette behind him with
his cock about halfway into the blond guy’s ass.
Jensen heard a small gasp behind him and looked back. Jared’s eyes were wide
and a blush stained his cheeks. He dropped his eyes back to the caped crusader.
“Jared,” Jensen said, “do you like girls?”
“What?” Jared looked back up.
“Do you like girls?” Jensen asked and opened the other magazine to a picture of
a girl with her face buried between another girl’s thighs. “Or do you like
guys?” He held the first photo back up.
He saw Jared swallow. “That,” Jared said, “I like that.”
Jensen smiled. “That’s cool.”
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen had done very little other than sleep and eat the past couple of days.
Jared said it was his body’s way of trying to heal and deal with the trauma.
“I almost lost you to shock, twice,” he said.
“Maybe you should have,” Jensen said. He was still tied to the bed. He relied
on Jared for everything – feeding and washing him, emptying the bed pan and the
catheter bag.
“I’m not a murderer,” Jared said. “I’m a healer.”
“Yeah, right, do no harm,” Jensen said.
“You have a lot of fucking nerve talking about doing no harm,” Jared said. “How
many …” He stopped abruptly with his hands up. “Doesn’t matter. Here’s the
deal. I’m taking you home tomorrow, and I will be watching you. You will stay
away from kids, and if you try to get reconstructive surgery, you will regret
it.”
“What?” Jensen asked.
“Just trust me,” Jared said with a shrug. “Things could be worse.”
“I’m going straight to the cops,” Jensen said. “You think what I did to you was
bad, wait till prison.” Jensen regretted the words the moment they were out of
his mouth because he’d never meant to hurt Jared. He’d liked the kid. They’d
had fun together.
“You won’t go to the cops,” Jared said. He leaned over the bed and sneered.
“You want the board of directors to know you’re dickless? Think you’ll make CEO
then? Huh? Your mom and dad? Big brother? You want them to know why? Because if
I go down, everyone will know what you are – a pervert, a rapist, a child
molester.” Jared stood up straight, face impassive. “No, you’ll never tell
anyone. You’ll take this to your grave.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Jensen said. “I didn’t rape you.”
Jared took a step back, lips parted as though he was about to speak, but he
just shook his head and walked out.
 
San Antonio/1991
They were lying naked across Jensen’s bed. Their clothes were strewn around the
floor and the covers were hanging off the end of the bed. It had become a
pretty regular thing for them to fool around for the couple of hours they had
until one or both of Jensen’s parents came home or Jared was expected home for
dinner.
It started with handjobs – not a big deal, Jensen had said, just like jacking
off together. He liked kissing Jared. The kid had no idea what to do at first,
but he was eager to learn, sweet and open and responsive. The same with
blowjobs – Jensen had demonstrated on Jared, running his hands up the inside of
the kid’s splayed thighs, licking over his small nuts and sucking his little
cock into his mouth that knocked a gasp from Jared’s throat. Jensen thought
Jared might have been as surprised as he was when his body bucked and come
erupted into Jensen’s mouth. That had been awesome, and Jared was more than
willing to give it a try on Jensen.
For weeks though, Jensen had been itching to get his cock inside Jared’s tight
little ass. He’d managed fingers. He had two in there while he kissed Jared.
The kid was lost in it – their mouths working together, hips rolling, cocks wet
between them, and Jensen’s ring and middle fingers fucking into Jared’s hole.
Jared moaned and pushed back onto Jensen’s fingers.
“I want to fuck you,” Jensen said as he broke the kiss. “Can I?”
“Your fingers feel good,” Jared said.
“My cock will feel even better,” Jensen said.
“I don’t know. It’s really big.”
“Okay, okay, let’s do some more fingers and see, huh?”
Jared gave a small nod. “Okay.”
“Okay, roll over. Yeah, on your knees. God, that’s so pretty.” Jensen squirted
some more lube on his fingers and pushed three slowly into Jared’s hole. He had
to squeeze the base of his cock as the pink flesh swallowed his fingers. “Is
that all right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jared said. He sounded breathless and spread his knees a little
more.
“Doing so good,” Jensen said as he began twisting his fingers and spreading
them, moving them deep and pulling them to the rim. It was so silky, hot inside
Jared. He just wanted in there. He wanted to be a part of Jared. He pulled his
fingers out and slicked his cock.
“Wanna get inside you, okay?” he asked.
“Wait,” Jared said, but Jensen had already lined up the head of his cock with
Jared’s glazed opening, and he pushed forward. “Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop, Jen.”
“Sh, just relax,” Jensen said, and he rubbed a hand down Jared’s spine. “Relax
and it’ll be okay.” He started to push in again.
“No! It hurts. Please, stop.”
And he did when he was fully sheathed in Jared’s body. “Oh God, that’s
incredible.”
“It hurts,” Jared said again. “Please, Jen.”
Jensen sighed. “Yeah, okay, okay,” he said. He started to withdraw as gently as
possible, but when he was nearly halfway out, his hips rolled forward without
intent. He’d waited so long, he’d taken so much time with Jared, he liked him
so much, so much, this was so good, so good. His body seemed to move of it’s
own accord.
“It hurts,” Jared sobbed. “Please stop, please.” Jared sounded so young and
scared, and it echoed in Jensen’s head, bounced off basement walls, and led to
nothing but shame and meant nothing. He was nothing. He thrust and thrust. It
was mindless, rutting like an animal. He was bad and didn’t deserve this. He
was dirty, and he’d never go to heaven anyway. He came with a grunt. Two more
thrusts and the last of his release spilled into the Jared’s body.
He withdrew his wilting cock and sat back on his heels. Jared’s hole was
flushed dark, swollen, and leaking come. Jared was silent and still. Jensen
leaned over him.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked.
He heard the swallow click in Jared’s throat. “You said you’d stop,” he said in
a small, hurt voice.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen said. His eyes burned. “I meant to, but ... I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He laid down beside Jared and kissed his wet, salty cheek. “Hey, it won’t hurt
so much next time. I promise.”
 
Dallas/Present
Jared stopped his car in front of Jensen’s apartment building, and Jensen
glanced at the glass doors that led to the granite and glass lobby. He wondered
if he could make it to the elevator banks.
“Just take it easy,” Jared said as though reading his mind. “Or I can help you
inside.”
“No,” Jensen said with a glare.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.” Jared handed him a small duffle bag. “Everything you
need is in here – antibiotics, dressings, tape, instructions, the whole nine
yards. Change the dressings just the way it reads, and take the stitches out in
six days.”
Jensen sat there with the duffle on his lap. There was a dull ache in his groin
despite the pain meds that he’d taken earlier. “Will it ever stop hurting?”
“Physically? Yeah,” Jared said. “Well, I’m in the fire lane, and it’s time you
went home and acquainted yourself with your new junk.”
Jensen had the urge to punch him, but he wanted to get away from him more. He
swung the car door open and hefted the duffle onto his shoulder.
“Oh, and Jensen,” Jared called out, “I programmed my number into your phone in
case you have any problems.”
Jensen didn’t respond. He just slammed the car door and shuffled toward the
building hoping that Jared had pulled away. He didn’t want his tormentor to see
him dragging himself like a wounded animal toward its den.
He had to put his weight against the door to get it open, and he kept his eyes
downcast as he walked through the lobby. Despite the loose sweats he wore,
every movement was torture.
“Hey, Mr. Ackles, haven’t seen you for a few days,” Denny the afternoon doorman
called out. “Hey, you okay, sir?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said without looking up.
“You sure?” Denny asked.
“Yeah, fine,” he said and kept walking.
“Must have been a hell of a party,” Denny muttered as Jensen shuffled away.
Jensen collapsed into the corner of the elevator when the doors closed behind
him. He punched the button for the 29th floor and hoped it didn’t stop until it
got there. It didn’t, and he was soon at his own door. Jared had included his
cellphone, wallet and keys in the side pocket of the duffle bag, and Jensen let
himself inside.
He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been gone, less than a week he thought, but
he was glad he didn’t have pets. The couple of ferns by the window did need
water though. He wished he hadn’t left the blinds open. The sun would fade the
carpet. His thoughts ground to a halt. What the fuck was he thinking?
He stopped in the middle of the apartment – the living room in front of him,
the kitchen and dining area to the left, the hall to the bedrooms to his right.
He’d been a different person when he’d walked out of this place the last time,
and he wasn’t sure who he was now.
Somehow, somewhere he’d gotten on a path that had led him here.
 
Houston/1987
Mr. Morgan’s big warm hand patted Jensen’s bare ass where he lay stretched
across the man’s lap on the old the old sofa in the basement. It had become
familiar in the almost two years that they’d lived next door, but now the
Ackles were moving away.
“I’m going to miss you,” Mr. Morgan said and puffed on his cheroot. “You are
very good at being very bad.”
Jensen didn’t answer. He just laid there and waited for it to be over. Mr.
Morgan had made it very clear from the beginning that Jensen couldn’t tell
anyone about what they were doing or bad things would happen.
“Remember how you cried and fought that first time?” Mr. Morgan took a drink of
his Lone Star. “And now look at you the little slut that I knew you were. You
take cock better than a porn star.”
Mr. Morgan’s thick middle finger slid down the crease of Jensen’s ass, and his
cock began to thicken against Jensen’s belly.
Jensen felt nothing.
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen took a deep breath and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He set
the duffle on the vanity and kicked off the slip on shoes Jared had given him.
He vaguely wondered if he’d ever get his suit and shoes back but didn’t much
care.
He turned toward the full length mirror. He was closing in on forty but still
looked good. Work outs kept him from having that middle age pudge. His jaw was
firm and defined. His hair was thick and dark. Maybe he had more crow’s feet
than he once did and his lashes weren’t as long and thick. Those were pluses in
his book.
He took a deep breath and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the sweat
pants. He didn’t intend to close his eyes as he pushed them down around his
feet. He didn’t want to look, but he hadn’t gotten where he had in business by
hiding from hard facts. He had to face this and go on somehow.
He opened his eyes and took in his reflection. Clearly, his balls were still
there, but the dressing lay flat against his groin. A breath shuddered from his
throat. He looked downward, and shaking fingers plucked at the tape holding the
dressing to his skin. He caught the tape with his thumbs and began to pull it
away.
He swallowed a whimper as the red, twisted scar and black stitches were
revealed. He winced as it pulled away from his scrotum, and there, just above
his nutsac, was a raised bump with a tube sticking from it. He dropped to his
knees and vomited his breakfast onto the tile.
 
Waco/1988
“Listen, this is our secret, okay?” Jensen whispered.
His cousins had come to visit from New Mexico, and his cousin, Mitchell, was
sharing his room. Mitchell was younger, but not much. They were both in middle
school, practically the same age.
A patch of light from the street bounced off the wall by the door, and Jensen
could hear the TV and laughter from the family room. Mitchell lay on his back
with Jensen between his spread legs. Jensen untied the drawstring on Mitchell’s
pajama bottoms and pulled them open.
“This will feel really good,” Jensen whispered. “Promise.”
 
Dallas/Present
Throughout the day, Jensen took Percocet that Jared had sent home with him and
dozed. Nothing seemed real. It was some kind of waking dream. He’d emerge from
this and find himself whole. It wasn’t possible that the boy he’d known could
become capable of maiming anyone this way.
Jared was sweet, candy pink lips and hole, salty and slick on his tongue,
laughing eyes and golden skin soft as that of a peach. He’d moan and gasp,
JenJenJen like a chant fell from his lips.
Jensen curled in on himself, staving off the pain and nausea and memories.
 
Waco/1989
He hadn’t liked Drew that much, but they were the only freshman on the track
team and they lived two doors down from one another, so they’d run together
most every morning in the forest preserve not far away.
It was a serious workout, and they didn’t talk much. Sometimes Jensen would try
to tune Drew out as he rambled on about cool kids that he hung out with at
school. He was dating Kayla Connor despite the fact that he regularly traded
handjobs with Jensen at some point during their run, and occasionally cajoled
Jensen into a blowjob that he rarely reciprocated.
That was purely physical release, the result of a “Hold up, dude, I can’t run.
I’ve got a hard on,” that became an almost routine part of the run.
They had just rounded the lake and were making the long curve that marked the
second half of the run. To their right was a tall fence that separated the
forest preserve from a landfill, and to the left was thick brush and tall
trees. This was the section where they usually stopped when they wanted to fool
around, but Drew wasn’t slowing down. He just kept talking.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m a fag,” he said.
Jensen had no idea what had come before that. He hadn’t been paying attention,
but the words stopped him in his tracks.
“What?”
Drew stopped and turned back to him. “I’m just saying that I’m not gay like
you. I like girls.” He shrugged.
Jensen scoffed. “What makes you think I don’t like girls?”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Because you suck my dick all the time.”
“You’ve sucked my dick.”
“Not because I like it,” Drew said. “Jensen, I’m not putting you down, man. You
like sucking cock; that’s cool. I don’t. I do it as a thank you, you know?”
Jensen nodded. “So you blow me, so that I’ll keep blowing you.”
Drew shrugged. “Seems fair, right?”
Jensen put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Yeah, right.”
“No harm, no foul.” Drew pulled at the leg of his running shorts.
“Yeah, whatever.” Jensen started walking. He’d almost passed Drew. The path was
clear ahead.
“So you want to, you know?”
Jensen stopped. The path was hard packed beneath his running shoes and clumps
of blue wildflowers grew along it. He sucked his lips between his teeth and
nodded. “Yeah, why not?”
He followed Drew a few feet from the path, and before the other kid could turn
around, Jensen shoved him against a tree. Drew let out a startled sound and
tried to push away from the rough bark. He drove an elbow backward and caught
Jensen in the ribs. Jensen stumbled back, but he had an arm around Drew’s neck.
They went down and rolled, but Jensen came out on top. He wasn’t on the
wrestling team, but he never lost on the mat in gym class. His arm around
Drew’s neck was secure.
“You think I’m a fag? Huh?” Jensen demanded. “You and your fuck buddies on the
football team?” He yanked at the waistband of Drew’s shorts. “I’ll show you who
the fag is, you little prick.”
Drew’s neck was hot and damp against his cheek as Jensen worked the guy’s
shorts off his hips with one hand and pulled his own down below his balls. He
spit into his hand and smeared his cock with it. He guided it into the sweat
slick crease of Drew’s ass, and the kid struggled beneath him.
“Stop fighting, asshole,” he said. “You think sucking cock makes me a fag? You
don’t know anything about me.” He shoved, and it hurt. The guy’s hole was tight
and dry. Jensen felt like his dick was being torn open. He pushed again. Drew
let out a strangle cry, but Jensen just tightened his grip and pushed harder.
The head slipped out of Drew’s ass and down between his thighs. Jensen jabbed
between them, his cock hitting Drew’s nuts. He thrust brutally.
“You remember this,” he said. “This is what happens when you fuck with a fag.”
Jensen came, his release spurting over Drew’s balls and thighs. Jensen’s rage
was purged. He pushed himself off Drew and scrambled backward. He sat on his
ass watching the other boy. Drew didn’t move. He lay with his head in his arms.
His shoulders heaving as he sobbed. Jensen stumbled to his feet and pulled his
shorts up.
“Just stay away from me,” he said.
He climbed back to the path and started running.
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Dallas/Present
Jensen had managed to get the dressing back over his wounds the night before,
but had the challenge of facing the shower the next morning. Never washing his
crotch again was not an option.
He shampooed and conditioned his hair, lathered his upper body and down his
legs, even scrubbed his feet, before soaping his buttocks and crease. The
weight of his balls was reassuring but only made the lack above more profound.
He ran his soapy fingers lightly over the tender incision. The raised whorls
and coarse thread felt alien to his fingertips, and the nub of flesh around the
tube was painfully sensitive. It was taped there to prevent the urethral
opening from healing shut. Jared said he could remove it in a couple of days.
The idea made his stomach do a flip, and he had to swallow down bile.
He put his forearm against the shower stall and leaned his head on it. The
water beat down on his back as he tried to breathe evenly.
This was it. He’d never shower at the gym again or with someone else. He’d
never beat off in the shower. He’d never have sex. Balls or not, he wasn’t a
man anymore. Jared hadn’t just taken a weapon from him.
 
Dallas/1993
Brittany leaned forward in the light from the dashboard, licked and closed the
joint. Seal’s luxurious voice sang of roses and graves and filled the car with
longing. Jensen eased the seat back, and Brittany laid the joint down on the
dash. She leaned over and tipped her head up for a kiss. Her lips were sticky
with gloss and tasted like Red Bull. Her hand found its way to the hard length
of Jensen’s cock in his jeans.
“See, I knew they were wrong about you,” she said.
Jensen’s arm tightened around her. “What?”
“The guys, you know,” she said. Her lips connected with the underside of his
jaw, as her hand massaged his crotch. “Said you were queer.”
Anger flared in his chest. “Shut up,” he said.
“Hey!” she pulled away. He could see the glassy glare of her eyes reflecting
the dash light.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just … forget about them.” He pulled her closer again and
nuzzled her neck. His hand cupped her breast, and his thumb found the hard nub
of her nipple.
“Maybe it’s me,” she said. “Is it me?”
“Is what you?” But he knew what she was getting at. He could feel his erection
flagging.
“Like usually you like guys, but I do something for you that other girls
don’t?” There was an edge of glee in her voice.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said. He put his hand over hers and rubbed it against his
half hard cock.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she gripped it through his jeans.
“Less talk maybe?” He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes.
“Yeah, okay. I know I talk a lot. People tell me that all the time,” she said.
She unbuckled his belt and slid the zipper down. “Wow, it’s nice and big. Let’s
get it hard again, huh? Has a guy ever blown you before?”
Jensen’s eyes flew open, and his cock started to soften. He tried to let her
words go and concentrate on the sensation of her soft wet hand.
“I’m going to do things no guy has ever done,” she said, and that was it.
Jensen lost it. His dick went completely soft. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Huh?” She jerked his cock harder.
“Stop it,” he said and shoved her into the passenger seat.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said.
“You think it’s a turn on to have you talking about that?” He tucked his cock
into his shorts and zipped up.
“What about you guys? Yeah,” she said. “It is. You are, aren’t you? Gay?”
“Get out!”
“What?!”
“Get the fuck out of the car before I hurt you.” His voice was low and
strained, his hands fisted on his thighs.
She gathered up her purse and jacket and got out of the car. “You’re an
asshole!” she yelled and slammed the door.
Jensen blew a breath out and started the car. “Yeah,” Jensen said. “You have no
idea.”
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen sat down in his office chair. Most everyone was gone, but he could hear
the custodian pushing her cart through the halls and emptying trash cans. He
checked the angle of the sun over the city. He had time to make the phone call
before the sun got too low for it to infiltrate the parking garage.
He thumbed his cellphone on and scrolled through his contacts to find the
number Jared said he’d programmed into it. He dialed and pressed his lips
together as he listened to it ring.
“Jensen?”
“Yeah. Listen, I need to know something,” Jensen said. “After … after what I
did, why did you keep hanging around?”
He heard Jared huff. “Are you really that fucked up? It’s not about that one
time. I was twelve. You were sixteen. It never should have happened.”
“But … you liked me, didn’t you? I thought you wanted to.”
“Jesus,” Jared said and after a pause, “You really are that fucked up. Goodbye,
Jensen.”
“Jared, wait, I …”
The line went dead.
 
San Antonio/1991
It was a gray day. Soft, misty rain hung in the air. Jensen’s t-shirt was damp
with it. He could see it clinging to his lashes. His sneakers slapped the wet
sidewalk as he walked hunched over down his street. The rain caused a hush over
the neighborhood, and he could hear a dog barking a couple blocks over.
He was almost to his house when the loud scrape of plastic on concrete startled
him. He looked up and there was Jared dragging a trash can to the street. He
hadn’t seen the kid in two long weeks.
Jensen quickly crossed the street. “Hey, Jared!”
The kid looked up with a start and took a step back as though he might turn and
walk away.
“Wait, please,” Jensen said.
Jared’s gaze scanned the neighborhood before coming to rest on Jensen again. He
shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and eyed Jensen warily.
“Listen, I … I wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry,” Jensen said. “I didn’t
mean to hurt you.”
Jared just bit his lip and looked away.
“I don’t blame you if you don’t want to be friends anymore, so … Anyway,
sorry,” Jensen started to turn away, and then swung the backpack off his
shoulder. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got something for you.”
“For me?” Jared frowned.
“Yeah, for your birthday,” Jensen said. He’d pulled the zipper open and dug
through his school folders. “Your birthday was last week, right? And I didn’t
see you, so …” He held out a comic in a plastic sleeve.
“Wow, The Killing Joke,” Jared said. “It’s mint.”
“Yeah, I didn’t figure anyone else would get it for you,” Jensen said.
Jared’s mouth turned up just enough for his dimples to show. “Thanks, Jensen.”
“You’re welcome.” Jensen took a step backward. “So, I’ll see ya around, Jared.”
Jared gave a small nod. “Yeah, okay.”
 
Dallas/Present
 
The week started out with Jensen removing his stitches on Saturday morning.
He’d spent as little time as possible looking at or touching his groin. He’d
kept it covered with the dressing unless he was cleaning it. He’d lift the
dressing to piss.
That was proving to be a bigger problem than anything. He had to sit to piss.
His father had always drummed into his head that just because men could sit to
piss, that didn’t mean they should. Only women and drunks sat.
Jensen sat. On his first try, he ended up with piss all over the floor. He
leaned farther forward, but ended up with it all over his balls. He thought the
problem might be the tube, but once that was removed, he’d learned that he
couldn’t piss without touching himself. Sure, that had been normal once, the
familiar weight of his dick in his hand.
He soon learned to hold his balls back with his fingers while directing the
small lump of flesh downward with his thumb. By the time his bladder was empty,
he was folded in two and his tears ran down his cheeks.
On Sunday, he had to do more than lift the bandage with one hand and piss with
the other. He sat down on the commode lid and peeled the dressing off. He
hadn’t really needed it for a couple of days, according to Jared’s directions,
but it served a purpose. His.
He examined the incision. The swelling was almost gone, and it wasn’t as red.
Most of the skin had a natural creamy color, but the scar was still dark pink,
ugly, crosshatched with black stitches. The bump of tissue that surrounded his
piss hole was almost more of an abomination than if he’d been smooth. It mocked
what he had been.
He took a breath and released it. He slipped the tip of the scissor blade under
a stitch and clipped it. Using tweezers, he pulled the thread from his skin.
The sensation made him shudder and his breath hitch in his chest.
“Fuck,” he mumbled. He cut and pulled another stitch, and the sensation grew.
His groin felt hot and swollen. He took out another stitch and another. He laid
the scissors aside and looked at the area. It wasn’t as bad without the
stitches, but the bump, where the feeling of heat was concentrated, looked
swollen. Jensen pressed his fingers to it, and it was hard.
His head swam, and he threw out a hand against the corner of the vanity to keep
from tipping off the toilet. He had an erection. That was it. That was a hard
on.
He stumbled to his feet and grabbed his robe on the way out of the bathroom. He
pulled it on as he made his way to the bar in the living room. He poured a
glass of bourbon with shaking hands. Amber liquid stood in spots on the
polished oak of the bar. He raised the glass to his lips and drank it down.
He sucked in a breath. He had a gun, and he knew where Jared lived. He knew
where his office was. He released a sob. He couldn’t. He deserved this, even if
Jared wasn’t right about everything. He was right about enough. Jensen poured
another drink.
Despite waking up on the bathroom floor after dark, he continued drinking every
evening. He had less than a week to finish preparing for the annual board
meeting, but his thoughts were scattered. He wasn’t sleeping and had trouble
with his stomach, which wasn’t a surprise between the drinking and not having
an appetite.
“Jensen, Jensen!”
He looked up from his computer monitor to find his assistant leaning in the
doorway with a look of concern.
“Yeah?”
“Have you forgotten the prep meeting with legal?” she asked.
“No, no,” he said. “I just got busy and lost track of time.” He started to flip
through a pile of folders on his desk.
“They called …”
“I’ll be right there … in the …”
“East conference room,” she said with a frown.
“East conference room. Right,” he said. He stood and picked up a pile of
folders. He hoped he had everything he needed. He had no recollection of having
scheduled the meeting.
Just that morning he’d run into a colleague he’d worked with for three years
and couldn’t remember his name. Worse. It was as though the guy was familiar,
but he couldn’t place his face.
Jensen took a deep breath and headed to the meeting.
San Antonio/1992
Jensen caressed the silky skin along Jared’s inner thighs and took the head of
the kid’s cock into his throat. Jared had grown taller and muscle had replaced
the little bit of baby fat around his middle. His cock had gotten long and
thick, balls heavy. He was going to be a big guy. His fingers scrabbled over
Jensen’s scalp when Jensen hummed around the flesh filling his mouth.
“Oh God, Jen, oh fuck, I …”
Jared’s cock jerked and bitter slick filled Jensen’s mouth. He swallowed and
swallowed, held Jared’s cock in his mouth until every drop was spilled. He
pulled off with a wet pop. Jared’s hair was a mess, and he had a stupid,
satisfied smile on his face.
“Was that okay?” Jensen asked. His hand wrapped around his own hard aching
dick, and the smile faded from Jared’s face as he watched.
“You, um, you want me to take care of that?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” Jensen said. “How do you want …” He was tempted to
crawl right up over Jared and offer it to him, but he held back. The kid was
still skittish even after all these months. Much as Jensen wanted to fuck him,
he didn’t push the idea too hard. Someday maybe they could try again. 
Jared scooted away from the headboard, so Jensen could take his place. Jensen
leaned back and spread his legs. Jared knelt between them and looked up at
Jensen with those exotic eyes. He suddenly looked like the twelve year old who
Jensen had first taught to give head. He’d been so tentative and curious. Now,
he was confident and capable.
He stroked the shaft and up over the crown a couple of times before pressing
his lips to the head. Jared had a beautiful mouth. A smile like the first sunny
day of spring. The pinkest, most talented lips and tongue. It flicked out and
over the slit, and Jensen’s breath hissed. Jared licked a stripe up the
underside and with a wicked glint in his eyes, swallowed Jensen’s cock to the
root.
Jensen groaned. “Fuck, Jay, so good.”
Jensen hadn’t been cheated in the dick department, and it wasn’t easy for Jared
to take it that far. He usually didn’t, and that was okay. As he pulled back,
he wrapped his hand around the base and it followed his mouth as he bobbed up
and down. Jensen closed his eyes and focused on the hot, wet suction of Jared’s
mouth.
Jared took his time, tongue swirling and cheeks hollowed. He knew how to wind
Jensen up and drag pleasure from him. As Jensen’s balls grew heavy and began to
draw up, his hips lifted from the mattress and his fingers tangled in Jared’s
hair. The tension snapped in bone shaking burst of heat and light and strangled
moans. His head and shoulders rose off the bed as his body bowed.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Jensen groaned. He held Jared’s head in his hands, his lips
pressed to the curls of Jensen’s groin.
Jensen fell back limp on the bed, and his hands dropped to his sides. Jared let
Jensen’s cock slip from his flushed lips. He blinked and wiped his mouth on the
back of his hand. As he sat up, he started to turn away, but Jensen grabbed him
and pulled him down on top of him. He kissed him, licking his come from Jared’s
mouth.
Jared slowly relaxed, and Jensen stroked his hair. “You’re awesome. You know
that, right?”
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen stood at the window in his office. Downtown Dallas was spread out before
him. He’d worked damned hard to get here, and his plan was to make CEO within
two years when his boss retired.
The board meeting was two hours away. He’d worked his ass off all week to get
his presentation perfect, rechecking numbers and comparisons. He had on his
best suit and his lucky tie, but there was nothing he could do to get back what
he lacked. The men and women in that board room wouldn’t know, couldn’t know,
but he did.
His mouth was unaccountably dry. He sat down at his desk and pressed the call
button for his secretary.
“Allison, could you get me some iced tea?” he asked.
“Sure, would you like …”
 
Jensen was standing at the front of the boardroom with his hand raised to the
screen behind him. He looked out over the people seated at the table. Their
faces were all turned attentively to him.
His mind was blank.
 
He had no idea what he’d been saying. He didn’t remember coming into the
meeting. He glanced back at the PowerPoint slide but it didn’t make sense.There
were bars of red and green and blue, yellow and orange like stair-stepped
jagged teeth. Numbers on the X and Y axis connected with nothing in his head.
The graph was meaningless.
 
When he looked back at the suits around the table, he saw looks being
exchanged, but he couldn’t meet anyone’s eye. His breath was trapped in his
chest.

“I … I’m sorry,” he mumbled and left the room.
 
Dallas/1993
Jensen guided the car cautiously down the street lined with new tract homes
with their neatly planted bushes and brown wood chips. Each front yard boasted
a maple or oak sapling. Most back yards held a trampoline or swimming pool. His
family got a pool, evidence of how well his dad’s business was thriving as was
the car. It was second hand, but still, when Jensen had shown how well he’d
brought his grades up since they’d moved to Dallas, his dad had agreed that he
deserved some reward.
He was farther from school here too. He couldn’t walk like he had in San
Antonio. Everything was different. He missed Lupe and Aaron. He hadn’t realized
how easily they’d fit together at school in San Antonio until he moved to
Dallas. The kids were different in his new school. No one bothered to harass
him, but even the misfits didn’t go out of their way to notice him. Maybe that
was good. It’s why he was studying more. He liked his classes for the most
part. His grades were back up.
Jensen slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a boy who raced out of a driveway
on a bicycle. The kid just looked up with big eyes and then grinned when he saw
the car. There were kids everywhere in the neighborhood. Bikes and Big Wheels,
baby buggies and basketball hoops were in nearly every driveway. Lawns were
littered with brightly colored toys. Kids ran from house to house. Jensen
couldn’t believe adults bemoaned the amount of time kids spent playing video
games. Not in his neighborhood.
A little boy with a naked GI Joe dangling from his hand waved to Jensen from a
yard. He waved back and rubbed his aching temple. The time after school was the
worst, those empty hours alone in the house. He filled it with homework, but he
missed Jared. The kid was like a phantom limb, a dull ache that he couldn’t
assuage. It was only made worse by the fact that he doubted that Jared missed
him.
The streets and the houses were all so much the same that even after three
months Jensen had to pay attention and watch street signs in order to not make
a wrong turn. He spotted the house on the corner with an extra large concrete
goose on the porch and turned onto Adelaide Way. The goose was wearing a
firefighter’s helmet and slicker today. He rolled his eyes.
His street seemed less busy than usual. There was just one kid walking toward
him carrying a skateboard. Summer tan skin showed between his untied high-tops
and baggy shorts. His bare arms were even browner. He wore a Black Sabbath t-
shirt with the arms cut off. The breeze lifted his dark hair, and as Jensen
passed, he looked up and smiled. Jensen wondered why the kids in his class
couldn’t be that friendly.
As he approached the house, he clicked the garage door opener and the door was
rising as he pulled into the drive. The garage was empty except for the stack
of unpacked moving boxes lining one wall, a shop vac, and the lawn mower. He
pulled in and turned the car off. Both of his parents would be out most of the
evening – his dad at a Rotary meeting and mom at church.
He gathered up straw and gum wrappers from the console and floor and put them
in a McDonald’s cup before getting out. He tossed into the trash before pulling
the shop vac over to the open door. The machine roared to life, and Jensen ran
the hose over the seats and console. A Skittle rattled up the hose when he
moved to the floor. He pushed the seat up and did the floor in back.
He ducked out of the car and turned the shop vac off, and standing there in the
doorway was the kid with the skateboard. It was still tucked under his arm.
“Hey,” Jensen said.
“Hey, I’m Matt,” the kid said. “So, you’re new here, huh? I mean, of course you
are ...” He trailed off with a blush.
“Jensen, and yeah, new.”
“You need some help?” Matt asked.
“Nah, I’m done.” Jensen pushed the shop vac against the wall.
“I haven’t seen you around. You go to St. Pat?”
“No, Central,” Matt said. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and set
the end of the board on the toe of his sneaker.
“Yeah?”
“It’s a big school,” Matt said.
Jensen nodded. “What year?”
“Freshman.” Matt said. “I guess you must be like a senior or something.”
“Yeah, I am,” Jensen said.
The uncertainty crept back into Matt’s stance as though he wasn’t sure he
should hang around or go.
“It’s no big deal,” Jensen said.
The kid took a step into the garage. “That’s a sweet ride,” Matt said, eyeing
the car.
Jensen’s gaze followed the sweep of the red side panel. “It’s second hand,” he
said.
“Still, an Eclipse is pretty cool,” Matt said.
“Yeah,” Jensen said. “Listen, I was just going to drive over to Dairy Queen and
get a shake if you’d like to ride along.”
“Yeah?” Matt’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. His smile wasn’t
as bright as Jared’s smile, but it was nice.
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen woke up with morning wood. He could feel it distinctly, the heavy,
flushed weight between his legs, so familiar and grounding.
He stretched and blinked against the sunlight slanting through the blinds. He
rolled onto his back. His hand reached to grip his erection through his boxers
and found a void. He was jolted completely awake, and yet the sensation
remained. The heat of anger bloomed in his chest, and he pressed his hand flat
over his groin to try to convince his brain of the facts.
His fingers pressed against a hard bump, and a current of heat and need coursed
through his body. His hips rolled up in to the pressure with the instinctive
urge to thrust. He had an erection and the desire to fuck.
He yanked his hand away as rage and despair filled him. It was a black, howling
monster with sharp teeth and claws that sank into his flesh and mind. He threw
himself on his stomach and screamed into the pillow again and again. He gasped
and choked with nothing but his own hot breath close against the linens.
He quieted, remembering his mother’s disdain at his tantrums as a child and
acting out as a teenager. “That kind of behavior won’t sway me, young man. It’s
a useless expenditure of energy.” She was right. Useless. That hard needy flesh
was still there pressed now against the mattress.
He pressed his hips down a little harder and tightened his gluts. The slight
rub made his stomach muscles quiver. The need to thrust was almost
overwhelming. The response was so ingrained, part of what he was. Or had been.
The almost imperceptible  movements continued. It wasn’t that it felt good. It
felt wrong. Horribly wrong. Shameful even.
He didn’t want to get off with this mutilated flesh, on being some genderless
freak, but he needed. He rolled over and yanked his shorts off. He tossed them
to the floor and lay with his legs spread, his palms flat on the mattress
beside him. The cool air mocked the heat between his legs. He cupped his hand
over his groin, and his hips pushed up into his warm hand. He almost moaned. He
snatched his hand away.
He let out a shuddering breath and pressed his fingertips to the bump and let
them explore the firm mound. It was larger than he’d thought. Not long. It
stuck up only about an inch, with maybe that much more beneath the skin, but it
was almost the circumference of his cock. It was his cock, he realized, or what
was left of it.
He scrabbled off the bed and ran for the bathroom, falling to his knees and
retching over the toilet. Nothing came up but bile, but his stomach cramped so
hard his knees came up off the floor, and he was left gasping and teary eyed
when they subsided. He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain and idly
thought of killing himself or Jared.
The smell of sour sweat and sickness made his stomach turn again. He pushed
himself to feet and stepped into the shower. Turning the water on cold, he let
its icy fingers thrum down on him until he shivered. He mixed a little more hot
in and soaped up. That the flesh between his legs was soft came as a relief,
and he washed with as little contact as possible. The silence of the bathroom
when he turned the water off was eerie.
Shaving was a habit, and he had the razor in his hand when he realized he had
nowhere to go, again. He couldn’t pretend it was the weekend. There was no joy
in the minor weekend rebellion of not shaving. He was unemployed.
He’d tried to return to work after the board meeting, but he hadn’t been in his
office ten minutes when he got a message asking him into the CEO’s office.
“Jensen, have a seat,” Fuller said. He sat behind his sleek oak desk, the light
from the corner windows reflecting off his bald head. Jensen used to imagine
how much better he’d look in that chair. With a sinking feeling, he knew that
wasn’t going to happen. “So tell me, what happened yesterday in the board
meeting?”
“I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Jensen said with a shake of his head. “I
put a lot of hours into the report, but I just ... my mind went blank.”
Fuller tapped the bound copy of the annual report on his desk. “Yeah, I read
the report. It’s fine.” Fuller pursed his lips and let the pause draw out.
“You’ve been under a lot of pressure here for awhile, but I’ve never known you
to let it get to you,” he said. “Personal issues?”
Jensen licked his lips. “It’s been resolved,” he said. “I can assure you ...”
Fuller held his hand up. “You look like crap, and you have no focus,” he said.
“Take a few days off. Rest. Get yourself together and we’ll talk.”
Jensen felt as though the floor had fallen away. He’d been around long enough
to know that his career path was looping back to middle management. He rose to
his feet, and his hands were shaking. He wanted to reach across the desk, grab
Fuller and bounce his face off the oak top, but he had enough self-awareness to
know that he wouldn’t stop until the man was unrecognizable. He nodded and
left.
And now, he pulled on a pair of old jeans worn and faded till they were white
in places. He added an old Cowboys jersey and wandered into the kitchen. There
was a row of empty beer bottles and a couple empty Maker’s Mark fifths beside
the sink. He opened the refrigerator. There was a jar of brown mustard, a
bottle of soy sauce, a shriveled apple, and few slices of bread. He grabbed the
bread and put a slice in the toaster before putting a new filter in the coffee
maker. It wasn’t unusual, but as he spooned grounds into the filter, he spilled
some on the counter. He swept it off the counter into his palm and tossed it in
the trash, brushing his fingers together over the can. He was about to fill the
pot when an acrid, burning smell hit him.
“Damn it!” he said, popping the blackened toast up. The piercing wail of the
smoke detector made him flinch, and he grabbed the toaster, yanking the cord
from the wall, and flung it across the room with a roar like the Hulk that
should have been funny. It wasn’t. Nothing was. He went to the smoke detector,
flipped the cover open, and yanked the battery out.
In the silence, he became aware of the pain in his hands. They were red from
the hot toaster. “Fuck!” He balled up his fist and was about to slam it into
the front of the cabinet when he pulled himself back.
He turned the cold water on in the sink and put his hands under it. He rested
his elbows on the edge of the sink and let his head hang. Breathing slowly
through his nose, he concentrated on calming his racing heart. It was a long
time since he’d felt this angry and confused and lost.
Dallas/1995
Jensen was at his desk with his feet up. An empty beer bottle and a plate with
one pizza crust sat beside the keyboard. He’d just entered his favorite chat
room when a knock came at the door. He huffed but got up. There weren’t many
people who would come to his door.
He padded across the yellowed linoleum and opened the creaky door. A kid with
dyed black hair stood slouched in the hall. He peered up at Jensen with kohl
lined eyes from under spiky black hair. He thought himself a Texas Billy Joe
Armstrong.
“Hey, Maggie picked up Singles and Sleepless in Seattle,” he said. “Thought you
might want to watch with us.”
“Sleepless in Seattle, huh?” Jensen said.
“Yeah,” Zack smirked.
“Who could resist?” Jensen said. “What time?”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll be down in ten,” Jensen said.
Zack smiled for the first time. “Okay, cool.”
Zack and his mom, Maggie, lived downstairs from Jensen. They moved in three
months after he had, after he was settled in and in love with his attic
apartment. He had a futon and a desk where he did homework, ate, and jacked off
to porn. There was a fire escape that ran across the gabled roof where he could
sit at night, drink beer and smoke weed. It was pretty much perfect.
Until Maggie and Zack moved in downstairs. Maggie was little more than ten
years older than Jensen. She’d had Zack when she was a sophomore in high
school. She was now a senior in marketing at the university, and Zack was a
sophomore in high school. He couldn’t have been any less like his mother. He
was dark to her light, serious to her vivacious.
It wasn’t unusual for Jensen to hang out with Zack and Maggie. He spent time
with one or both of them nearly every day whether it was watching movies or TV,
or having dinner or just talking in the hallway. He knocked on the door but
didn’t wait for an answer. He went on in.
Zack was strung sideways across the loveseat with his feet hanging over the
arm. There was a can of Pepsi on the table next to him as always. He waved at
Jensen in greeting but didn’t take his eyes off the TV.
“Hey, Jensen, you want a glass of wine?” Maggie called from the adjacent
kitchenette. She held up a bottle and wiggled a goofy enticement dance.
“Sure.” He laughed and flopped on the old sofa.
She poured two glasses of red wine, and he watched her as she carried them to
the sofa. He liked the way her slim hips swayed in jeans. Her burgundy tank top
was loose over her small breasts, the nipples clearly visible through the
fabric. Jensen had to look away as his cock began to thicken, and he met Zack’s
gaze for a moment before Maggie handed Jensen a glass of wine. She sat down on
the sofa beside him and put her feet up on the coffee table. 
“Okay, Zack, let’s get this show on the road,” she said. The kid glanced at her
with an expression that Jensen couldn’t read before he picked up the remote and
started the video.
They finished the bottle of wine and Zack was asleep on the love seat by the
time th credits rolled on Singles.
“Lowered expectations,” Jensen said with a smile. She’d pulled the pins out
that had held her wavy blonde hair up, and it fell around her face. She had a
nice profile – slightly turned up nose, golden lashes.
“Yeah,” she said, “but sometimes we get too hung up on the little things, you
know?”
Jensen chuckled. “Yeah, like saying, ‘Bless you,’ when someone sneezes.”
“Something like that,” she agreed. She turned toward him and curled her feet
under her. “You ever have a serious girlfriend, Jensen?”
“No,” he said. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. “Listen, I
have early class tomorrow. I better go.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “Sure.”
He stood. “Thanks for the movies and wine,” he said.
“Oh hey, anytime,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to leave so early.” She
followed him to the door, stepping in close to him, and tipping her head up.
He knew an invitation when he saw one. She was so slight, almost vulnerable,
but he’d seen her fight it out with the landlord over rent. She’d been on her
own with Zack since she was teen. She was tough. His hand went to her hip and
slipped to the small of her back. She felt like a reed along the shore, pliant
and strong, but deeply animal. Her arms went around him.
He dipped his head, and their lips met. Her mouth was wet and sweet like wine.
There was no resistance, no hesitation, and Jensen felt something warm and
buoyant flood through him. He broke the kiss with a smile. She grinned back and
patted his shoulder.
“Night, Jensen,” she said.
“Night, Mags.”
He made his way upstairs with a strange sense of well-being. He kicked off his
shoes and changed his jeans for a pair of sleep pants. He knew he should get
some sleep, but he felt oddly restless. Grabbing a beer and the one hitter, he
climbed out the window onto the fire escape. He sat down with his legs hanging
over the side and leaned back against the railing. The quarter moon was just
above the tree line, and it cast a pallid glow across the rooftops and streets.
He sat the beer beside him and packed the one hitter. He liked Maggie, and she
pretty clearly liked him. It surprised him, but she wasn’t an ordinary girl and
maybe that’s what he needed. He put the pipe to his lips and flicked the
lighter. He drew the smoke deep and held it, resisted the tickle in his throat
urging him to cough, and took a drink of beer. He leaned his head back against
the railing and let the smoke drift from his lips.
The fire escape trembled and rattled. Someone was climbing up from below. He
looked along the horizontal deck he was sitting on to where it dropped over the
side of the house. A dark blob appeared in the darkness and then the pale oval
of a face.
“Hey, I thought you must be out here,” a voice said as the blob transformed
into a body. Jensen recognized Zack’s voice. “I knocked on your door, but …”
Zack sat down beside Jensen.
“You were asleep when I left,” Jensen said.
Zack was quiet a moment. “No, I wasn’t,” he said quietly and then added. “I
thought you liked me.”
Jensen peered at him in the darkness. “I do like you.”
“Then what are you doing with my mom?” There was a quaver in his voice. Zack
never called Maggie ‘mom.’
“I don’t know what you mean,” Jensen said, but he thought he did.
“I saw you,” Zack said, and Jensen felt like he was being accused of a lie,
worse like he’d betrayed Zack somehow.
“Zack, I like you both. It isn’t like …” The words died on his tongue, because
what was it like?
“Like you have to choose? But you do,” Zack said. He turned toward Jensen. “She
has lots of guys who like her, Jensen. She doesn’t need you, and I thought …”
Jensen raised the pipe to his lips and lit it. He took a long hit and let his
mind go blank.
“Shotgun,” Zack said. He tipped head and offered the open O of his mouth. His
eyes looked heavy with sleep, lashes sooty, and the moonlight glistened for a
moment on the soft wet of his tongue. The weight of need and some gossamer
tendril of connection pulled Jensen forward, and he exhaled through pursed lips
into Zack’s mouth.
Zack laid his hand on Jensen’s thigh, the heat of it soaking through thin
cotton and resistance. Jensen opened his mouth, sealed his lips to Zack’s,
tongue slipping over slick tongue.
Zack’s hand moved to Jensen’s crotch and cupped his thickening cock, and Jensen
shifted his thighs wider. Zack rubbed and stroked until precome soaked through
the thin cotton, and Jensen moaned into the kid’s mouth. Zack leaned back, eyes
bright on Jensen.
“I can make you feel good,” he said. “I’ve done this before.”
He deftly untied the drawstring of Jensen’s sleep pants, and his hard cock
sprung free. The hot, wet cave of Zack’s mouth engulfed him.
“Oh God,” Jensen gasped. “Fuck your mouth ...” He gripped the edge of the fire
escape and panted. He fought the urge to thrust his hips until he trembled.
“Yeah, oh God, please.” The rush of fire and shattering pleasure left Jensen
breathless as he shot into Zack’s throat. The way it rippled around his cock
made him shudder.
“Stop, oh fuck,” Jensen groaned when it got too much.
Zack pulled off and grinned. His lips and chin were shiny with spit and come.
Jensen reached for his fly, popping the button and lowering the zipper.
“Jensen, wait, Jensen, I ...”
He pushed his hand into Zack’s shorts and a sloppy mess of jizz. His mouth
dropped open in surprise.
“I got off,” Zack said.
He was beautiful in his embarrassment. His eyes were dark pools in the
moonlight. His pale skin glowed. Jensen’s fingers dragged a path along Zack’s
soft cheek. He kissed him and sucked hungrily at his bottom lip. Jensen leaned
his forehead against Zack’s, lips barely parted.
“I want you to fuck me next time,” Zack whispered. “Will you?”
“I’ll do anything you want,” Jensen said.
 
***** Disarmed 3/3 *****
He crawled back in his window a few minutes later, washed up and fell into bed.
He was asleep within minutes. He was up early for class and had little time to
reflect on the night before. Shortly after arriving home after his morning
classes, there was a knock on the door. It was Zack.
Jensen smiled and swung the door wider to let him in. “Hey, no school today?”
“Yeah.” Zack shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I just needed to
see you.”
“Why?”
“Last night ...” Zack said. He shifted from foot to foot.
Jensen stepped in close and laid his hands on Zack’s arms. “What about it? If
you wish we hadn’t ...”
“No! I just want to know if you were fucking with me,” Zack said.
“Fucking with you? What do you mean?” His hands tightened on Zack’s arms.
“I mean ...” He tipped his head to the side. “Is it you and me, or are you
still interested in her?”
“No,” Jensen said. “I, I’m not interested in her.”  He wasn’t sure how he’d
handle Maggie’s advances, but he knew he wanted this boy.
Zack smiled. “Okay, good, cause I’d like you to make good on that promise.”
“What promise?”
Zack leaned in and slipped his hands around Jensen’s hips. He nosed under
Jensen’s jaw, warm breath chuffing across his skin. “You said you’d fuck me.”
The rush of blood and heat to Jensen’s groin made him breathless. “Yeah, I said
that didn’t I?” He felt Zack nod.
“You did,” he whispered. “So, Maggie has class all afternoon. You?”
“No, I ... I mean, I do, but I guess I could play hooky with you.”
Zack was rubbing against Jensen as though trying to wriggle into his skin. His
hands had pushed under Jensen’s shirt, and he mouthed wet kisses along Jensen’s
neck.
“Jesus,” Jensen groaned. “Want you.”
“Yeah,” Zack echoed.
Jensen stepped back and pulled his t-shirt over his head as he toed off his
sneakers. He eyed the futon, which was still unfolded and a pile of twisted
sheets from the night before. Zack was standing there quietly watching him.
“Zack, you okay?” Jensen asked.
The kid licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Jensen took his face in his hands. “You sure you want to do this?”
Zack’s throat worked and his gaze shifted over Jensen’s face. “Yeah,” he said
and smiled. “Yeah, absolutely.”
“Okay, good.” Jensen pushed the hoodie off Zack’s shoulders and kissed him. His
mouth was soft and welcoming. He kissed like Jensen was the best thing he’d
ever tasted.
Jensen pulled the kid close and pushed his fingers up under his t-shirt and
over his warm back. Memories of golden skin flooded his mind – long coltish
legs splayed wide, fingers scrabbling along his arms as moans filled his ears.
He pushed the memories away and kissed Zack deeply. Evidence of the kid’s
arousal was firm against Jensen’s thigh. He let his fingers dip below the
waistband of Zack’s shorts. Zack hummed approval into Jensen’s mouth. They
broke the kiss and finished stripping their clothes off.
Jensen grabbed the lube from beside the computer and watched Zack crawled onto
the futon. With an odd twinge, Jensen realized that he’d had no one in his bed
since Jared. “Have you done this before?” he asked.
Zack was on all fours, and he looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said.
“A couple times.” He bit his lip. He was pale and lovely with narrow hips and a
solid little ass flushed deep rose in the crease. Jensen’s pulse throbbed in
his dick.
“Okay,” Jensen said, “because I don’t want to hurt you, so ...”
“You won’t,” Zack said. “Come on.”
Jensen climbed onto the bed behind him and slicked lube onto his fingers. He
ran the tip of his index finger around the puckered opening. It twitched at the
caress. He pressed the tip against it, and it relaxed, allowed him in with
almost no resistance. He squeezed the base of his cock with the other hand to
stave off coming right then. When his finger slipped all the way in with ease,
he pulled it out and pushed two in the next time.
“God, that feels so good,” Zack said. “I want your cock.”
“I just want to be sure,” Jensen said.
“I’m ready,” Zack insisted.
Jensen knew his cock was a lot thicker than his two fingers, but his dick ached
and the kid was so sure that he crawled up closer and pressed the head of his
cock to the shiny hole. He gripped Zack’s hip as he lined up and pushed
forward. He saw Zack tense as he met some resistance. Jensen paused to allow
him a moment to adjust.
 
“Do it,” Zack hissed and pushed back. His hole opened around the crown of
Jensen’s cock. The sight of it being engulfed by the silky grip was almost more
than he could take.
Jensen started to move again. Zack reached back and grabbed Jensen’s thigh to
urge him forward. Jensen didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed in Zack’s hot,
slick channel. It clenched around him like a vice, and he could see the rise
and fall of Zack’s back as he panted.
“Jesus fuck,” Jensen muttered. “You okay?”
“Fuck me,” Zack said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen said as he began to move. It was so slick and hot and
tight. Perfect.
“Oh God,” Zack moaned. “More.” Jensen rolled his hips, and Zack sank his
fingers into the sheets and tipped his hips up. “Yeah, there, aaagh ...”
Jensen grabbed Zack’s shoulder and pulled him back onto his cock as he moved
faster – skin slapping against skin, hearts pounding, and in his head, Jensen
heard, ‘JenJenJen...’ His eyes slammed shut as he tipped over the edge. His
cock jerked inside Zack, spilling his release into the kid. He rutted against
Zack, riding out his climax, and Zack’s spine arched as the boy came with a
cry.
Jensen didn’t pull out for a moment. He just leaned over Zack and nuzzled the
back of his neck. “That was great,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Zack said. His hole clenched around Jensen’s oversensitive cock, and he
winced. “That was awesome.”
Jensen straightened and let his cock slip from Zack’s ass. A dribble of pearly
fluid escaped before it twitched closed. Jensen rubbed over it with his thumb
and Zack wiggled his hips before turning and rolling onto his back. Jensen
blanketed him, legs slotting together, and lips meeting.
“I made a mess on your sheets,” Zack said when they broke the kiss.
“I guess I need to do laundry.”
“Mm, can we do that again first?”
“As much as you want,” Jensen said with a grin.
“Yeah? How soon can you get it up again?” Zack asked.
Jensen felt his cock try to fatten. “Pretty damned soon.”
That’s how it started, but Maggie ended it a few weeks later when she ambushed
Jensen in the hallway. He was on his way home from class, and he found her
sitting on the stairs to his apartment. She stood up on the bottom step as he
approached. A sick feeling of dread settled in his stomach when he saw her
face. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t imagined this moment might happen. He’d
just wanted it to be different.
“I know what you’ve been doing with my son,” she said. Her eyes were red and
swollen, but fierce with anger and indignation. Jensen sucked his lips between
his teeth and looked away. “That’s it? No denial? No apology? Nothing?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I thought we were friends,” she said.
“We are friends.”
“Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare!” she yelled. “You’re fucking my son!
You’re five years older, you son of a bitch!”
“And you’re eleven years older than me. You gonna tell me you wouldn’t have
fucked me?”
“We’re adults!” she shouted. “He’s fifteen!”
“I’m not the first, you know,” Jensen said.
“So you think it’s okay to mess around with a kid who’s already screwed up?!
Just fuck him up some more?!”
“No, Maggie, it isn’t like that.”
“It is like that! Jesus, what is wrong with you? How could I have been so wrong
about you?” Her lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. “You stay away
from him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t touch him. I’ll have you put in jail, so
help me. You stay the fuck away from us, Jensen.”
She shoved around him and went into her apartment. Two days later it was empty.
He never saw Zack again.
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen’s neighbor Kasey was waiting outside the elevator. She was tall, her
height accentuated by high-heeled boots. Her auburn hair fell over one shoulder
as she talked on her cellphone. She ushered her son onto the elevator with a
hand on his back. He pulled away and leaned in the corner. Jensen followed them
onto the elevator, and she smiled at him and mouthed the word ‘hi’.
“I know,” she said into the phone. “I know. That’s how she always is. Yes!
Exactly.”
Jensen tuned her out and glanced over at Tyler who was 12. Jensen knew that
because he’d run into them on the elevator two months earlier and Tyler had
been surly because he’d gotten a new Nintendo system as a gift and Kasey had
dragged him away from it to go visit his grandparents. Tyler was lanky,
freckled and dimpled with a mess of chestnut hair. Jensen looked away.
“You okay, Jensen?” Kasey asked.
He was startled to see she was off the phone. “What?”
“You’re really thin,” she said. “Have you been sick?”
“Just some stomach trouble,” he said.
“I hope you’re feeling better,” she said as the elevator bell dinged and the
doors slid open.
Jensen glanced at Tyler. “Yeah, fine.”
 
Dallas/2005
The sound of voices broke through Jensen’s concentration, and he looked up in
annoyance from the spreadsheet on his monitor. The numbers were just not adding
up right. Through the half-open door of his office he saw the back of his
assistant’s blond head. Leaning on the raised shelf at the front of her desk
was Fuller’s son – Brendan or Brant or something. Benton, that was it. He
grinned at Claire and brushed the hair out of his eyes.
Jensen tried to focus on the problem on screen, but their voices kept
distracting him. Jensen didn’t realize he was watching them until Benton
glanced up and met his eye. The boy gave a little smile – shy or flirty –
Jensen wasn’t sure at first. Benton held his gaze just long enough for Jensen
to think the latter more likely. He felt his cock stir.
The kid was a high school junior working at the firm for the summer. He liked
to chat with Claire. He always stood right there where Jensen couldn’t help but
see him. The kid pushed himself away from Claire’s desk and walked to the open
door.
“Hey, Mr. Ackles,” he said. “I’m taking the mail down. Is there anything you
need me to get?”
He licked his lips. He didn’t miss the way Benton was watching him. “No,
thanks,” Jensen said. “Claire gets my mail.”
Benton smiled slightly. “Okay, well, if there’s anything I can help you with,
let me know.”
Jensen nodded. “Thanks,” he said.
The kid started away.
Jensen looked down at the spreadsheet. “Benton.”
The boy turned expectantly. “Yeah?”
“Do you know Excel?”
“Sure.”
“I’m having trouble with this formula,” Jensen said.
“You want me to take a look?” The smile said Benton didn’t believe for a minute
that Jensen didn’t know what he was doing.
“That would be great,” Jensen said. “Close the door.”
 
Dallas/Present
He followed Kasey and Tyler through the lobby, but turned left as they headed
for the cab stand. He didn’t have a plan. He just needed to get out of the
apartment. He knew the plan should be to look for a job, but every time he
started to work on his resume, he’d been plagued by the same inability to focus
that he had at work. He’d find himself standing in front of the open
refrigerator or standing on the balcony hours later with no recollection of
what he’d been doing.
So he walked with no destination in mind. He let the sounds and smells and
sights of the city occupy his senses and distract his mind. As the sun was
setting, he went into a bar with neon beer signs in the window and a sign over
the door that read Mr. G’s. It was a narrow store front with a bar down one
side and a row of tables down the other.
The place was busy, but as Jensen looked around two men put money on the bar
and passed him on their way to the door. Jensen slid onto one of the empty
stools and ordered a bourbon neat. He downed it, caught the bartender’s eye,
and pointed at the empty glass.
A man sat down beside Jensen. “I’ll get that,” he said to the bartender, “and
I’ll have the same.”
Jensen wasn’t sure he wanted to say ‘thank you.’ He hadn’t gone in to get
picked up. A huge meaty hand was thrust in front of him, and Jensen was forced
to look over at the man offering it. He matched the burly hand – tall, shaved
head, short gray beard, tattoos covered muscular arms, t-shirt stretched tight
over his shoulders. Next to the word ‘bear’ in the urban dictionary was a
picture of this guy, Jensen thought.
“I’m Mike,” he said when Jensen took his hand. It was warm and firm, and he
didn’t hold Jensen’s too long.
“Jensen.”
“Jensen, that’s a nice name,” Mike said. His eyes gleamed, and Jensen knew what
he saw. The weight loss brought out his bone structure and accentuated his
large eyes and full mouth. He wished he hadn’t bothered shaving. He wished he
were groomed and dressed well. Instead, he sat there in torn jeans and jersey
with messy too long hair. He knew he looked younger than his 38 years under the
gaze of this older, stronger man.
“Thanks ... for the drink,” Jensen said.
“Anytime,” Mike said.
Jensen took a gulp of his liquor and fought not to grimace at the burn.
“So Cowboys fan, huh?” Mike nodded at Jensen’s jersey. “I’ve got season
tickets, if you’d like to come along some time.”
Jensen’s lips twitched into a smile. “I do too actually.”
“No shit?” Mike grinned.
“No shit,” Jensen said and finished off his drink.
“Mine are Row 12, 40 yard line.”
“Row 16, 50.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Jensen over. “You buy those seats
yourself?”
Jensen knew that he was implying they were a gift from a wealthy lover. He
huffed. “Yeah, I did.”
“So you just slumming tonight?” Mike asked.
“Just out for a walk and wanted a drink,” Jensen replied.
“Yeah? So what do you do, Jensen?”
Mike was turned facing Jensen, elbow on the bar, knees spread. Jensen was still
facing the bar, turning only his head to talk. He motioned the bartender for
another drink. He hadn’t eaten all day, so he shouldn’t, but the feeling of
disconnection and recklessness lingered. He wanted it to end or just not feel
it.
“I’m in assets management at Stearman Alliance,” he lied.
Mike’s eyebrows rose. “So you are more than a pretty face.”
“I like to think so,” Jensen said. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I own a small contracting company,” he said. “Bricker Construction.”
Jensen cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’ve seen the trucks. You’ve got that job out
on the new access road. I wouldn’t call that small.”
“It’s all relative,” Mike said.
The bartender refilled Jensen’s glass.
“You might want to slow down,” Mike observed.
“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “I’m not driving.”
“Keep that up and you won’t be walking either.”
Jensen laughed. “You’re all right, Mike.”
“So are you.”
Jensen’s smile faded. “You don’t know me,” he said.
Mike leaned a little closer. “I’d like to.”
Jensen intentionally looked up through his lashes. “Why because I’m rich and
pretty?”
Mike’s throat worked a lump down, and he licked his lips. “It’s a start.”
Jensen felt a sudden flash of annoyance. “Tell me something, are you looking
for a relationship or a quick fuck?”
Mike’s eyes widened slightly in the change of tone. “Does one have to preclude
the other?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Good, cause I’d like to go to a game with you sometime,” Mike said. He
stretched his legs and stood. “Right now, I’m going to hit the head.”
 
Dallas/2008
Jensen downed the whiskey and looked across the club. It was Tuesday night slow
and mildly depressing. A few were drinking in earnest at the bar and knot of
loud regulars and their hangers on laughed in the corner. They were all within
a decade of Jensen’s age either way except one young guy with spiky dark hair
and a slim build. He regularly tipped a beer bottle to full lips. He looked
bored. Jensen imagined he could wipe that expression off the kid’s face. The
kid looked up then; right at Jensen. The guy smiled and walked away from his
friends without a word. He made his way to the bar.
“Buy you a drink?” Jensen asked. “Or would that be legal?” He wasn’t as old as
Jensen had first thought – not high school, but college perhaps. He was still
in that pretty stage, all big eyes and long lashes.
The kid gave a slight shrug and a smirk. “Legal age for some things.”
“Some things like?”
“Like upstairs.”
“You’re a shy one, aren’t you?”
The kid blushed, but gave Jensen a challenging look.. “Why beat around the
bush? We both know why we’re here.”
Jensen set his empty glass on the bar and debated with himself for a moment.
This was an offer, a proposition. There would be no blame or doubt or cause for
regret. He nodded. “Right, let’s go.”
Perspiration glistened on the back of the boy’s neck. Jensen resisted the urge
to grab him and lick it off. Instead, he watched the wings of the kid’s
shoulder blades glide beneath the thin fabric of his shirt and the roll of his
firm ass in his jeans. By the time they’d moved through the club to the stairs,
Jensen’s cock was fully hard and straining against his fly. They climbed to the
loft that overlooked the dance floor. A long walkway was bordered on the right
by a half-wall that with gaps that gave access to low couches and tables along
the railing, and on the left, were enclosed cubicles.
The balcony appeared empty but for two tired looking queens sipping martinis. A
full ashtray sat on the table before them. Neither looked up.
“Second from the back,” Jensen said.
The guy shrugged and led the way to the cubicle. He turned as he stepped inside
and pulled Jensen toward him. He was all hot mouth and caressing hands. Jensen
kissed him hard and fierce, shoved him against the wall, as he undid the guy’s
jeans.
“Hey, slow down,” the guy said.
“What? You want romance now?” Jensen asked.
“Just want to enjoy it,” the kid said with a pout.
“Oh you’ll enjoy it,” Jensen said as he turned the kid around and pushed his
cheek to the wall. “Slutty boy like you. You’ll love every inch.” He yanked the
kid’s jeans down around his knees. He was wearing a black jockstrap underneath.
Jensen palmed his firm ass cheeks. “Look at that – easy access.” He pressed a
finger into the kid’s crease and let it trail down to his puckered opening. It
was slick with lube. “Jesus,” Jensen groaned, “fucking ready for it, huh?”
“Not the only one,” the kid said with a belligerent edge to his voice.
“Yeah,” Jensen said. He grabbed the kid’s hands and pushed them up the familiar
scarred wall where he grasped both wrists with one hand. He opened his fly with
the other. His cock sprang free from the tight confines of his jeans. He was
tempted to just drive it into the boy’s slick hole, but despite the almost
fatalistic trajectory he knew he was probably on, he wasn’t so far gone as to
forgo the condom.
“You want this, huh?” he said in the kid’s ear as he fished the packet out of
his pocket.
“Yeah,” the kid said. A green eye angled back at Jensen like a challenge.
“Say it,” Jensen growled. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and
rolled it on without looking. “Tell me what you want.” He watched the kid’s
profile – the shift of his eyes and slight tilt of his lips.
“Fuck me,” he said. “That what you want me to say?”
“Yeah,” Jensen said. He slipped the head of his cock up the crack of the kid’s
ass and felt the tip of hips in response, saw the flutter of lashes.
“Come on,” the boy said with more confidence. “Fuck me.”
Jensen bent his knees, lined up with the kid’s hole with practiced skill. He
thrust upward with enough force to lift the kid’s heels off the floor. The
boy’s lips rolled between his teeth, and he swallowed a grunt.
“Feel that?” Jensen asked. “That what you want?”
The boy’s lips parted but no sound came out. He nodded. That was all the
permission Jensen needed. He pressed his face to the back of the kid’s neck and
drove his cock in fast and hard into the hot, slick channel. Small pained
sounds were being punched from the kid’s throat. Jensen reached around, shoved
his hand into the kid’s jock, and fisted his flagging hard on. He jerked it
back to hardness.
“Come on,” Jensen growled as his balls began to draw up tight to his groin. He
was right there. “Come on, come on.” His hand moved faster, thumb twisting over
the head of the kid’s dick even as his own pistoned deeper and harder. The
boy’s cock jerked, and come erupted over Jensen’s hand. The kid’s hole clenched
around Jensen’s cock, tipping him over the edge. He pushed in deep and spilled
into the condom.
“Fuck,” he cursed. He let go of the kid’s hands, and they slipped down the wall
beside his head. The kid’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was panting. Jensen
grabbed the condom at the base of his cock and pulled out. The kid winced.
Jensen held his messy hand up to the kid’s mouth. “Help me out with this.”
The guy’s fingers closed around Jensen’s wrist, and his glistening pink tongue
lapped at the sticky release on Jensen’s knuckles. He continued to lick and
suck as he turned with his back to the wall. He drew Jensen’s middle finger
into his mouth with his lips pressed to the webbing. He met Jensen’s gaze as he
pulled the finger from his mouth with a pop. He ran the flat of his tongue up
the palm of Jensen’s hand.
“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” the kid said.
“Sorry, that’s my MO,” Jensen said. “But, hey, you got off, right?”
“I didn’t say I was complaining,” the guy said. “It’s kind of hot.” He arranged
his cock in the jockstrap and zipped his Levi’s. “I’m Jake by the way.”
“And I’m leaving,” Jensen said.
“Hey, come on,” Jake said. “I’m not asking for a dinner and a movie. I just
thought if we ran into each other again ...”
“Jensen,” he said and almost immediately regretted it. He didn’t do second
rounds.
Jake gave him a cheeky smile and pushed past him into the hallway. “See ya
round, Jensen.”
 
Dallas/Present
Jensen nodded at Mike and went back to his drink. He finished it in three gulps
and headed toward the mens' room. There was a dark, narrow hallway, and the end
was the door to the alley. Mike stood beside it. Jensen followed him out, and
they walked away from the lighted doorway's
“So you top or bottom, Jensen?”
“Bottom,” he said after a pause in which he considered how he could be anything
else now.
“That works for me,” Mike said. He drew Jensen toward a darkened corner. His
hands were light on Jensen’s arms as he kissed him. It was firm but kind of
tender. Mike didn’t crowd or push him. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Mike mumbled
against his lips, and Jensen huffed out laugh. Mike drew back. “You’ve probably
heard that your whole life.”
Jensen grabbed Mike’s belt and pulled the larger man toward him. Jensen leaned
against the brick wall as he undid the buckle and lowered the zipper. Mike put
his hand on the wall beside Jensen’s head and kissed him. A pleased hum came
from Mike’s throat when Jensen wrapped his hand around his cock. It was hard,
substantial, precome already beading at the tip. Mike’s free hand went to
Jensen’s fly, and Jensen pushed it away.
“You want to fuck me?” Jensen asked.
“Yeah,” Mike growled. He moved closer. Jensen could feel the heat coming off
his body, and there was the faint scent of cigars. Jensen needed air and space.
He felt a cold, dark dread seeping in, and he knew the chilling passivity that
would follow. He fought it, moving his hands to his own fly and lowering the
zipper, but as he pushed away from the wall to turn around, Mike moved in,
pressing him back. His hand slipped into Jensen’s jeans.
“No!” Jensen hissed. He squirmed between the brick wall and 250 pounds of
muscle and bone. Mike’s thick fingers crawled over Jensen’s bare skin until
they found the small lump. They stopped moving.
“What ...”
Neither of them moved or seemed to breathe for a beat, and then Mike’s hand
withdrew and he took a step back.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
Jensen’s fist came up between them and caught Mike under the jaw. He stumbled
backward as much from surprise as the force of the blow. Before he had time to
react Jensen threw another punch. That one landed on his nose. Blood gushed
from it.
“Fuck!” Mike exclaimed. One hand went to his face and he raised the other in
defense, but Jensen brought his fist in under it, catching in the jaw again and
snapping his head back.
Mike wasn’t a fighter, and he raised his arms only in defense. He couldn’t fend
off Jensen’s rage. He pursued him landing blow upon blow until Mike went down
next to a dumpster. His face was a bloody mess, but his eyes were open and
moving.
Jensen’s breath heaved in his chest, and he became aware of the throbbing in
his hands.
“Fuck,” he said. He started to walk away and turned back. “I told you you
didn’t know me.”
...
 
Jared looked up from a file as Jensen entered his office. The desk in front of
him had neat stacks of files along one side, forms to the other, light, pen
cup, paper clip holder and a small collection of drug samples on the front
corner.
“Have a seat,” Jared said. He leaned back in his chair and eyed Jensen as he
sat down in the chair opposite. Jared’s long hair was pushed behind his ears.
He wore a white lab coat over an open-neck dress shirt. “My assistant said you
wanted to see me for a consultation.
“You won’t answer your cellphone,” Jensen said. He’d wondered how he’d feel
when he saw Jared again, but he felt strangely detached, as though this was
some ordinary medical consultation.
“You didn’t leave a message,” Jared said. He held a pen between his fingers and
rolled it.
“This isn’t the kind of thing you leave in a voicemail.”
Jared’s eyebrows went up. “Okay, what is it?”
“I need you to finish what you started,” Jensen said. He looked down and picked
at the frayed threads in the knee of jeans.
“Sorry?”
“You need to castrate me,” Jensen said.
Jared leaned forward. “Excuse me?” Jensen thought he heard a hint of excitement
in his voice.
“Testosterone causes aggression, right?  So ...”
Jared eyed Jensen’s bruised and torn knuckles. “What happened?”
Jensen let out a shaky breath. “I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Jared’s nostrils flared, and he scoffed. “You’ve hurt a lot of people who
didn’t deserve it.”
“So make it stop,” Jensen said.
Jared tapped the pen on desk. “Reducing your testosterone level might help,
but, as I told you, there would be serious side effects ...”
“I don’t give a shit,” Jensen said. He leaned forward with his hands fisted on
his knees. “Jesus, I almost killed a guy.”
Jared’s gaze pinned him back in the chair. “Aggression is not your only issue.
You have to know that.”
“Then what is it?” Jensen gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward.
“Ask yourself that,” Jared said. “You and I were friends. I believed that, and
I trusted you. You betrayed that trust. I’ve never been able to sustain a
relationship. I still don’t trust people. You took that from me, completely. I
don’t know who fucked you up, but you need to ask yourself what he took from
you.”
Jensen watched as Jared took a business card and scratched something on the
back with the pen. “If you want me to prevent you from hurting anyone else ...”
He stood and leaned across the desk. Holding the business card between his
middle and index finger, he offered it to Jensen. “Come to the house tonight at
nine.”
“What ...”
“You’re going to have to trust me,” Jared said. His eyes were unreadable as
Jensen took the card.
...
The air was heavy with an approaching storm. The undersides of the clouds were
a leaden gray bringing an early dusk, when Jensen knocked on Jared’s door. It
was a tract home neighborhood, and he was glad that Jared had given him the
address or he never would have found his way back to the house, not with the
condition he’d left in.
He couldn’t believe he was back there as he stood outside that simple oak door.
Bushes neatly mulched with brown wood chips lined the walk. A pot of purple and
white petunias sat on the stoop. The wind kicked up with the approaching storm,
and leaves shook on the young trees.
The door swung open, and Jared stood there in dark jeans and a v-neck. “Come
in,” he said. Jensen followed him down the hallway, and when they got to the
door leading to the basement, Jensen hesitated. He watched Jared descend.
Jared turned and looked up the stairwell at him. “Coming?”
Jensen swallowed the lump in his throat. This was his idea after all. “Yeah.”
They continued to the room Jensen had first awakened in weeks earlier. For the
first time, he felt really apprehensive. His balls pulled up tight like they
were trying to crawl up into his belly, and his heart pounded. He couldn’t
believe he was doing this, was asking it of Jared. Jensen stood there watching
the other man don a lab coat and look over some notes. He remembered the skinny
boy whose smile was like sunshine. He wished he could see that smile again.
“You can go ahead and undress,” Jared said without turning around.
Jensen’s hands were shaking so badly he had difficulty unbuttoning his shirt.
He kicked off his shoes and pushed them under the chair. He hung his shirt over
the back of it. Taking his jeans off required an act of will, and he didn’t
look at himself as he pushed his boxer briefs down. He still avoided looking at
his groin when he could, but that’s where Jared’s gaze went when he faced
Jensen.
“Lie down,” he said.
Jensen faced the table and put his fingertips on the stiff white sheet, but
didn’t move to lie down.
“This is why you’re here, isn’t it?” Jared asked. “You asked for my help.”
Jensen let out a shaky breath and sat on the end of the table.
“That’s good. Now lie back and slide to the edge here,” Jared said. “Good. Feet
up.”
Jensen felt vulnerable there with his feet up in the stirrups, legs spread,
cool air on his skin, and Jared, his kidnapper, the man who had mutilated him,
had taken his manhood, was there, touching him. Jensen gripped the edge of the
table to keep himself from running or striking out. He closed his eyes and saw
Mike’s bloody broken face, Drew lying in the brush, and his friend’s tearful
fox-tilted eyes.
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling tiles. Jared pressed the pads of
his fingers to the skin over Jensen’s pubic bone moving in circles around lump
of flesh above his balls. Jensen flinched.
“It’s okay. I just want to see how everything has healed,” Jared said. “Relax.
Just an exam.”
Jensen blew out a breath between pursed lips and tried to relax as Jared’s
fingers kept moving inward until the found that soft lump of tissue, what
remained of his cock. He gasped as they grasped it firmly, massaged, tugged,
let go. A gloved fingertip traced the scar.
“This is looking really good,” Jared said. “I had the best stitches in my
class. It will continue to fade, and look at that.” The finger rubbed the
hardening mound. “Still has some function.” There was a slight smile pulling at
his lips, barely there dimples creasing his cheeks.
The fingers moved to Jensen’s balls, cupped and rolled them. Jared met his eye
a moment before he pulled a rolling stool over and sat down. He held Jensen’s
balls up and used his other hand to hold his crease open. Breath blew across
his skin and then the hot, slick muscle of Jared’s tongue trailed along his
taint, down to his hole.
“Mm, pretty,” Jared murmured. He pressed his tongue against the twitching
opening and pushed the tip in just a little before withdrawing and tracing the
puckered rim.
“Wha, what are you d,doing?” Jensen asked. His voice broke as Jared’s tongue
slipped inside him. The fingers holding his nuts were moving slightly, just
enough to send jittery sensations through him. The stub of his cock was
throbbing.
Jared withdrew his tongue with a wet squelch. “How many orgasms have you had
since your surgery? Any?”
“No.”
“You want me to take everything. You need to know what you’re losing.” The flat
of Jared’s tongue laved over Jensen’s balls.
“No. Stop.”
“Then I won’t do it.” Jared’s breath sent skittering waves over Jensen’s skin.
“Is that what you want?”
“No,” Jensen conceded.
Jared suckled first one ball and then the other, and a slick, gloved finger
slipped into his hole and crooked against his prostate. Jensen felt the
distinct sensation of his cock twitching.
“Oh God!” he gasped.
“Feel good?” Jared murmured. He licked up over Jensen’s balls and that hard
mound as his fingertip continued rubbing his prostate. Jared pressed his lips
around the firm lump of his cock stem and applied suction. Jensen’s hips
jerked, and Jared looked up with a wicked glint in his eye and began to suckle.
Jensen felt as though he was going to come out of skin. He was panting, almost
sobbing as tension wound tighter and tighter, and his balls felt heavy, tight,
and then he was trembling. It felt as though liquid fire was rushing to his
groin.
He was coming, shooting into Jared’s welcoming mouth. The hair was standing up
on his arms, his body was arching off the table as the orgasm shook through
him. It was so intense and it had been so long, and this was Jared. This was
the boy he’d hurt and lost. The shuddering continued as he went limp on the
table and tried to catch his breath. Jared’s finger slipped from his body, and
he looked up with dark, hooded eyes. His lips were parted and come trickled
over his candy pink lip. His tongue flicked out and lapped it off.
“You really want to give that up?”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” Jensen said. “I have to.”
Jared stood and leaned between Jensen’s raised legs, braced a hand on each side
of his chest. “You don’t,” he said. “Just give yourself over to me.”
“What?” Jensen asked.
“Stay here with me, and I’ll make sure that you never hurt anyone again.” Jared
reached between them, cupped Jensen’s balls pulling them up tight, and pressed
the heel of his hand to the sensitive nub. Jensen’s hips jerked in response.
“And you can keep all this.”
“With you.” Jensen thought it must be some trick. Jared had maimed him and
dumped him back into his life. He looked up into those multi-hued eyes. “Why
would you want that?”
“I told you. I trusted you, and you betrayed that, stole it, and I never
trusted anyone again,” Jared said. “If you give yourself to me, the burden is
yours, to trust me.”
Jensen felt the weight of the proposal pressing down on him. “What would you
do?”
Jared shook his head. “I’d take care of you and what you need,” he said.
Jensen tried to imagine his life out there in the world alone, castrated. He
hadn’t been able to make it before. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper,
“You’d take care of me?”
Jared smiled, not his open sunshine smile, but warm and sweet. “Yes, Jen, I’ll
take care of you.”
“All right.”
Jared stroked his cheek and bent down to brush a kiss across his lips. “Before
we do this, I want you to tell me something,” Jared said. “Who made you this
way, Jen?”
Jensen’s eyes widened, and he shook his head.
“Have you ever told anyone?” Jared asked.
Jared’s face was just inches above his. “No,” he whispered.
“How old were you?”
“Ten.” His voice quavered, and his eyes burned.
“You knew him?”
“No, Mr. Morgan was new, next door, he, he just …”
“He what?” A tear spilled from the corner of Jensen’s eye and ran down his
temple. Jared wiped it away with his thumb. “He threatened you?”
“He, he said my parents would hate me.” Jensen’s breath hitched in his chest.
“Everyone would think it was my fault. Tell me I didn’t do that to you.”
“No, you didn’t say that.”
A sob burst from Jensen’s throat. “I’m sorry. I am. I loved you.”
“I know,” Jared said. He smoothed Jensen’s hair back from his damp forehead.
“That’s why I kept hanging around, but then you left.”
“My parents moved …”
“I know,” Jared said, “and now I have you back always.” His smile was sad as he
stood and moved around to the side of the table where he secured Jensen’s arm
to the edge.
“What are you doing?” Jensen asked.
“Our deal, Jen. There are things I have to do to make sure you don’t hurt
anyone else,” Jared said. He pulled the IV stand over to the table. “Just
relax,” he said. Jensen felt the stab of the IV needle in the back of his hand.
 
                                     -30-
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