Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/950558.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Character:
      Jared_Padalecki, Jensen_Ackles, Lauren_Cohan
  Additional Tags:
      Barebacking, Rimming, Wall_Sex, Manhandling, Explicit_Language, Dirty
      Talk, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Fingerfucking, Breeding, Kink, Forced_Mpreg,
      Implied_Mpreg
  Series:
      Part 3 of More_Than_Ropes_Will_Ever_Do
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-09-01 Words: 6110
****** Love Ridden ******
by skeletncloset_(alexa_dean)
Summary
     Jared was born into his profession. He’d never met his parents. His
     father had been katil, killed in action, more legend than man. He
     used to wonder what his father would’ve been like, whether he knew
     about Jared. It seemed more people knew about his father than he ever
     did as a kid and it’s taken Jared an entire life to emerge from the
     long shadow his father had cast.
Jared was born into his profession. He’d never met his parents. His father had
been katil, killed in action, more legend than man. He used to wonder what his
father would’ve been like, whether he knew about Jared. It seemed more people
knew about his father than he ever did as a kid and it’s taken Jared an entire
life to emerge from the long shadow his father had cast.
His mother had been a breeder. That much he knows, but like most children born
into life as katil he’d been taken from her at birth to be raised by guardians
under government supervision. Jared was, is, government property after all.
By all accounts there was nothing unhappy about his childhood. He never wanted
for anything. He never had a chance to be lonely living with other children his
age. All of them born under similar circumstances, destined for the agoge. Born
for it, in all reality.
They were special. Not like civilian children. That was what Jared had been
told anyway. What did he know of civilian life? He had nothing to compare his
life to. If his early childhood had been easy, life in the agoge was not.
Survivorship skills were the first lesson taught, given nothing but the
clothing on their back and a few instructions, they were thrown into the
wilderness for weeks at a time, led by an older recruit. Hunting, stealing,
lying, cheating, sabotaging, it was all about stealth and forming alliances.
Sports and close combat skills were group events, meant to build camaraderie.
By twelve, Jared became captain of his own squad of nine, leading them through
ritual and war games, often combined.
Upon the eve of every graduation from one echelon to another, they were lined
up and flogged. Usually in front of their female peers, who were allowed to
cheer or ridicule them if they fainted from pain or blood loss. The last boy
standing earned the highest distinction. It was a rite of passage-- tradition—a
show of strength, both physical and mental.
Jared had more reason than any to excel in all things, even in this. He has the
scars to prove it.
It made him very popular; very, very popular both among males and females. He’d
never given it much thought, how little sex meant to him, to them all. It was
recreational. It wasn’t frowned upon, but getting caught doing it was. Corporal
punishment expected for those involved. Stealth in all things was their way of
life. There was no excuse for sloppiness. Don’t get caught and cover your
tracks-- lessons that have kept Jared alive throughout the years.
By eighteen, Jared had his fair share of fun. He’d never been picky. Sex was
frequent, and perfunctory, more like swimming or wrestling, a rush of
adrenaline and endorphins and waves of heat. There was no mystery to it, but he
felt at some level that there should have been.
Jared was never unhappy. If he’s honest he relished each chance to prove
himself, going above and beyond and setting the standard by which all others
were compared. By the time he graduated into full-fledged katil, he'd inspired
more fear and respect and sometimes even unadulterated hatred, than any one
person in his entire battalion.
But there were things Jared wanted beyond that. Things for himself that he
couldn’t afford to entertain, a call for blood that had nothing to do with the
kill and everything to do with nature and living, breathing flesh of his flesh,
everything his parents had been wrongfully denied. Jared witnessed so much
destruction of life, he wondered what it would be like to create it. Somewhere
along the line, he’d forced himself to suppress the desire.
He knew he’d made it when he had been welcomed into the Agame two years ago-
- the youngest yet to reach the necessary requirement of successful missions.
And for a long time his work had been a welcome distraction, for a long time it
had been enough.
Until he met Jensen.
__
Jared hates leaving Jensen to wake up alone, but he has to do a little recon.
Setting a note on the pillow next to Jensen’s head, Jared takes a moment to
look, because it’s hard not to— eyes closed like seashells and strands of hair
sticking to his lips and cheek like lace, boyish ripple of spine between his
shoulder blades. The entire room smells of them, peppery, mingling with the
tang of sea salt and oak mast coming through the barred windows.
He pulls the sheets over Jensen’s body, kisses the skin on his shoulder, the
back of his neck. The touch of flesh-- electric, equal parts fear and desire.
Jared wants to slide his hands over him again, curl them over his belly and
down to touch soft, honey-brown fur. Wants nothing but this, them together. He
pulls strands of hair away from Jensen’s face, some of them recoil as they
snap, others stick.
It scares Jared just how easily Jensen has a way of making the world disappear.
He’s quickly become a persistent, dangerous distraction Jared can’t afford to
have. But it’s like his entire body is stuck on repeat—the touch of his teeth
to Jensen’s shoulder, the feel of Jensen’s bones, sharp knobs of his spine
between Jared’s knuckles, shifting, and Jensen shaking and shaking, his mouth
open to Jared’s because every breath unshared is a breath wasted.
He wants it all the time-- the feel of him around his tongue and fingers and
cock and just about all of Jared.
Kallon had made a stupid mistake pairing him with Jensen, because there is no
way in hell Jared is going to give Jensen up, no way he’s going to let Jensen
give up on them.
**
Jensen is pissed when Jared gets back around lunchtime. Jared is starting to
wonder if that’s Jensen’s default setting. It would be annoying if it were
anyone other than Jensen, but since it is Jensen it’s unbelievably sexy.
He looks sulky and small in a terrycloth bathrobe, bee-stung pout dominating
his too pale face. His hair is a scary tangled mess and Jared . . . Jared is
trying hard not to laugh his ass off, knowing he’s the cause of it. Jensen
couldn’t look less civilized if he’d jumped out of the woods in a loincloth. He
looks less fucked than he does ravaged by a large wild beast.
Jared just knows he’s not going to make it through the day without getting
hurt. He’s just not, if the look on Jensen’s face is anything to go by. It does
little to dampen Jared’s perpetual state of arousal.
So maybe Jared does deserve it. He’ll admit that much. He’d been trying to
knock Jensen up not too long ago and he hasn’t really given Jensen any reason
to trust him. He only has Jared’s word to go by and technically they’re still
strangers.
Then there are Jensen’s violent mood swings to worry about, which not only
confuse Jared, but they seem to confuse Jensen as well. He has Lauren working
on hacking into the lab database to find out any information she can on
carriers. God only knows no one else will tell him and Jensen’s knowledge
appears to be just as limited as Jared's. At this point any glimpse of what
they may have in store for them in the future is vital, more so if it has
anything to do with Jensen's biology.
Information is rarely irrelevant.
When he really thinks about it, there is no polite way of breaching the subject
with Jensen and Jared is a little reluctant to pry.
God, but Jensen does look really, really good, especially in sunlight—a
glowing, golden thing, liquid bronze in the crevices between muscles and
lighter honey everywhere else, freckles a deeper, richer caramel.
Jared thinks that maybe he should pull Jensen onto his lap and go for a couple
of handjobs.
It’s allowed, right? All he has to do is open the robe, get a hand around them
both and maybe slip a finger or two inside . . .
“So how does it work down there anyway?” So yeah, maybe Jared needs a bit of a
distraction right now. “Where do you put the baby?”
Jensen chokes, spitting up chunks of apple, bits flying onto Jared’s empty
plate. Jared hands him a bottle of water, which Jensen takes almost gratefully.
“Are you seriously asking me this? While we’re eating?”
“Oh, come on. You put some guy’s eyes out. Don’t tell me you’re getting queasy
over anatomy now.”
Jensen moves his plate aside, takes a sip of water and stares at Jared like he
sprouted a second head. He glowers, cheeks reddening, barely able to look Jared
in the face.
“Do you even know?” It occurs to Jared, suddenly. Jensen flings his apple core
at him and Jared ducks it.
“Of course I do! It’s my body.”
“Then?”
“Are you always this inappropriate?”
“Are you always evasive or are you just a prude?”
When Jensen averts his gaze Jared is convinced he’s looking for something else
to throw at him and when he stands up, Jared goes immediately on high alert.
Jensen is so fucking beautiful when he’s mad, the light seeking him out in a
shimmer, like it can barely stand to keep away.
Jared has to adjust himself, spread his legs as he begins to fill out. Jensen
stands in the middle of the room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself,
unsure and a little insecure or maybe it’s something else entirely. Maybe
Jensen is feeling what Jared’s feeling too and is being pushed back against the
wall by it, where he decides to rest opposite Jared.
“You know how your trachea splits into your pharynx and your esophagus? How one
closes off, while you use the other? It’s like that. Works kinda like your
urinary tract too. It’s the reason you can’t ejaculate and piss at the same
time. So when we’re doing it—“ Pink spreads from his cheeks to his neck to his
chest. “When we’re doing it, you’re not really—you know—“
“No, Jensen. I don’t.” Jared can’t help it. “You’ll have to explain.”
“Now, you’re messing with me,” he says, biting his lip and slitting his eyes
like he just might strangle Jared. It makes Jared warm all over and just a tad
bit slutty. He arches over the back of the chair, arms extending high above his
head, exposing his abdomen, the low slung curve of bone and Jensen’s eyes
flicker there and away.
“Okay,” Jared says, bringing Jensen back to the present. “Change of subject.
Let’s talk about me, then.”
“Do you do this for a living?”
“What? Sex?”
“Yeah, sex. I mean this can’t be your whole life, is it? Fucking me or people
like me?” There’s a vulnerable note in his voice that could be jealousy, or
nothing at all.
“Not fucking you, Jensen. Breeding you. Might as well be honest about it.”
Oh.” Long pause. “So what do you do besides that?”
Jared hesitates, toes the line, not knowing how much to reveal. He thinks
better of it. Jensen will find out sooner or later. “I . . . I’m katil.”


“What’s that?”


“An assassin. I kill people for the state, Jensen.”


“Were the other guys assassins too? The ones that were chasing me?”


“Probably.”
“Was Tapping trying to set me up with them too?”
“Not unless they’re Agame like me. Only we get the privilege.”


“So, you’re not like me then. You’re normal.” It’s a statement.
“I s’pose so.”


“Then why are you here? What makes you so much better?”


“Should I be offended?”
“Just surprised you never asked these things for yourself.”


“They don’t pay me to think.”
That seems to be the wrong answer, because something dark travels over Jensen’s
face. Talking with Jensen is like navigating a minefield, blindfolded, and
maybe in the dark.
“Well, I’ve got a pretty good theory,” Jensen says, his mouth twisting up. Eyes
lit up from the inside and his skin taking on copper glow across his cheeks,
his chest.
“I’ll tell you all about me, then. My kind—we’re freaks, completely man-made, a
genetic mistake. Your government took human zygotes, modified their DNA to
increase fertility in females.”
“Ninety-nine percent of the time, male embryos miscarried,” he shrugs.
“Anyway, the experiments had been geared toward females initially. Then, by
chance mutation, some of the males didn’t die. Your guys, your scientists
discovered them to be capable of impregnating and becoming pregnant. They bred
them all, males and females, for generations like dogs until they displayed the
characteristics they were looking for. So, now you’ve got me, a bona fide
product.”
“Here’s the real kicker, the reason why we’re so fucking valuable to your
government. . . Do you know what our gestational period is?” His shoulders flex
and he chews viciously into his lip.
“Ninety-days,” he says after a long, insecure sigh. “Ninety fuck’n days. You
know what your program does? They take the offspring. Give them massive doses
of growth hormones to speed up their development. By twelve they might as well
be twenty. So I had to ask, why would they do that?”
Jared kind of feels sick. He’s getting the picture and it’s ugly. He keeps
quiet, waiting for Jensen to continue.
“You know what I think?” Jensen hisses, voice pitched low, all but pulling out
his hair. “This program you’re a part of is not about increasing the human
population, not about making the population stronger and better suited to
survive disease. It’s about creating a FUCKING army! Made from the very best
stock humanity has to offer. And that’s you, Jared.”



“They tried cloning us, but it didn’t work,” Jensen continues. “The incidence
of cancer in clones is ridiculously high, so they settled for breeding us,
doping up our offspring.”
“I’d say about ninety-five percent of them die, if not more. My guess is their
brains can’t keep up with the exponential growth of their bodies. Your guy
James whatever, Stuart or something—he told me I was special.”
“Apparently they screened my DNA when they caught me. They thought I was
fellahin at first. They were going to send me to one of those labor camps. I
think they may have seen a picture of me somewhere, like one of those
artificially aged photos or something, because next thing I knew I was getting
my blood drawn and my shit examined. They determined I’m a perfect host. I can
carry that five percent. I’m their success story.”
Jensen pushes a palm against his lower abdomen with a look not so much disgust
as horror and loathing. His eyes grow wide, then wider.
“I’m their fuckin’ cash cow! I don’t want children, Jared. Especially not with
someone like you. I want to escape and I’m willing to exchange sex for your
cooperation, but it’s going to be under my terms. Don’t expect much of it. This
system you’re working for is fucked-up and I want no ties to it and you’re an
unpleasant reminder of that.”


Jared feels a surge of anger, rising out of his chair.
“What right do you have to judge me? I do what I have to do to survive. Same as
you.”


“Yeah, well, I’m a part of something bigger, the resistance. I’m here to change
the system, not get used by it,” Jensen replies.
Oh. Oh, Jared is pissed. He can’t remember the last time he lost his cool.
“I was born into it. I’ve been training since I was seven. I never had a choice
and let me tell you something. You know how old I am? Twenty-seven. Twenty
fucking seven! In my line of work that’s pretty fucking amazing,” Jared’s voice
is low and he’s making an effort not to appear menacing, which is a feat given
his height, but he wants to get his point across. Wants skin against skin and
nothing but heat, the distance between them is suddenly too far, an obstacle to
breach and easily remedied.
”The odds of me making it past thirty are one in a hundred. Now those may be
pretty good odds if you’re playing the lottery, but I’m not playing the
lottery. I’m betting my life. That’s all I have.”
He shouldn’t crowd Jensen against the wall like this. He takes the risk.
“Don’t you forget what I’m about to do for you, because of you. I don’t have to
do anything. So before you decide to mount your fucking high horse, remember
that. You should be thankful you got me instead of some other asshole. They
would not have been as kind.”


“Don’t be so sure of yourself,” Jensen goes breathless, swallowing as Jared’s
arms lift to lean against the plaster, bracketing Jensen’s shoulders. 


“You have no sense of self-preservation, do you, kid?”


“I don’t know what you want from me,” Jensen hisses back, robe yawning open to
reveal Jared’s marks, deeper violent. “All I know is I’m not going to be some
bitch to be bred to some top dawg -- agame, katil – or whatever the hell you
call yourself. It’s going to take more than two fucks and that’s two more than
I’m comfortable with. So keep your dick to yourself.” 


“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” Jared counters. “Not to be cliché or
anything, but I remember last night differently. And it was three by the way.”


Jensen cringes, shoulders reaching his ears. Jared feels smug, quickly
realizing that the second best thing to fucking Jensen is making him turn red.
He’s just not sure whether he prefers it out of anger or embarrassment. He’d
rather not choose. 


“It changes nothing.” Jensen’s voice is cold, but his eyes are not. 


“I doubt you mean that.” Jared’s mouth hovers over his, not touching, but not
moving away either, full of as much desire as hostility.
There’s opportunity there, a shiver of want. Jared can smell it, a shift in the
air that leaves his hair standing on end. He grabs Jensen’s face, pushing the
pad of his thumb over his lower lip. Jensen does not resist, but he doesn’t
participate either. 


Stubborn little brat.
“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop,” Jared says, not sure if he means it,
pressing close, hard-on against Jensen’s hip and Jensen stiffens against
Jared’s thigh, breath gone ragged and quick.
He parts the slit of Jensen’s robe and palms his sac, soft and thin-skinned
weight. Tugs so Jensen squirms, his solid little ass grinding back into the
wall away from Jared. Jared pushes his balls aside, rubbing his thick-muscled
smoothness behind and pauses just beyond, finds Jensen wet.
“Something tells me you’re not going to,” he rumbles and his chest goes tight
and icy with anticipation. He keeps rubbing Jensen’s hole, holding back from
crossing the line and slipping inside where Jensen glistens and Jared should
be.
He’s patient and hungry, but he wants Jensen to want, wants to break his
denial.
“Stop me, Jensen.”
Jensen doesn’t, he just pushes forward into Jared, pulsing around his fingertip
and spreads a hand over Jared’s neck, mouth slightly parted, his tongue
flicked-out pink, eyes lidded, beautiful and terrible and so fucking hard for
Jared. Hand pushing him down.
“Shut-up and eat me.”
Yeah, Jared is really, really onboard with that, because he’s on his knees
already like a penitent. Jensen’s bowed legs part for him as Jared takes the
tip of Jensen’s cock into his mouth, thick ropey veins striping the surface.
It follows the shape of Jared’s mouth past his gag reflex and Jared holds it
there, not breathing, but glancing up. Jensen’s eyes track Jared with feral
quickness, hips an undulating movement to push further, not hard but insistent.
One sleeve of his robe slips off Jensen’s shoulder and Jared has to hold him
still, cutting into his hips with his nails.
He loves this. Really loves it. Loves what it does to Jensen. Jared’s not a
cruel guy, so he pulls back with a hard, mouthwatering suck, his cheeks coming
together to frame Jensen’s cock in his mouth, proficient in this as Jared is in
all things.
When Jared’s throat constricts around Jensen’s cock it’s because he wants it
to, each muscular flutter is a purposeful, efficient movement-- each lick of
sea-snake tongue, each rub of lips, a swash on the shore.
The real pleasure is in watching Jensen, hips riding quiet like he’s dreaming
in slow motion, forgetting that they’re not supposed to do this, that he
doesn’t want it, or would like not to.
Coming off the top, Jared licks the underside of Jensen’s dick to the seam of
his balls, sucks one, then the other, then both together, rolling them in his
mouth. Jensen gasps, one hand in Jared’s hair and the other over his own chest,
pinching his nipple red and stiff.
He pushes Jensen’s dick against his belly, hooks his leg in the crook of his
elbow and then pushes it up on his shoulder. Jensen yips and steadies himself
on Jared’s shoulders.
“What are you—“
“Trust me.”
It’s easy, driven as he is by the smell of Jensen all over his face, on his
lips and tongue, in his lungs. He searches him out, kissing past the perineum
until he’s sinking into Jensen, hole wrapped tight around him, clutching at his
tongue. He’s swollen and damp and his legs shake, and his ass grinds down on
Jared’s face, sac against his cheek, glazed and sticky from Jared’s spit.
Jared’s neck aches and his muscles burn with the angle. Jared slides a finger
right next to his tongue, a strange and graceful dance, finding each other in
the dark by touch alone and the strong, wet crush of Jensen so full.
He leaks over Jared’s cheeks, sweetly secret smell, muscles a ripe swelling
give over the blade of Jared’s tongue, the push of his fingers (now) not one,
but two. Jared kisses, oh, he kisses, deep and dirty, pushing upward and
through, a hand behind Jensen’s knee, pushing it right up against Jensen’s
stomach. Holding him upright as he fucks him with his fingers and his tongue.
If Jared wasn’t so strong, they would have fallen on the ground with the
violence of Jensen’s thrusts as he gets hotter and wetter and louder.
Jared can imagine him, head thrown back, robe caught around his elbows, one
hand over his mouth and the other sliding over Jared’s behind his knee, pulling
as Jared pushes to open him up wide and wanting.
He has to do it, get in deeper, slide his thumb alongside his fingers in a
yawn, thrusting his tongue between them, like sinking into the earth. There is
nothing gentle about the way Jensen squirms or the way Jared screws him.
He wants to be inside there, wants to reclaim and remind Jensen exactly what
it’s like to fuck like he means it. That Jared’s not alone in this. Especially
this.
Jensen holds tight to Jared, gathers him close, his toes pinching Jared’s skin,
kneading the meat of Jared’s shoulder and Jared has to pull back if only but to
see the perfect pink oh of Jensen’s mouth. Jared is no longer moving his hand,
allowing Jensen to ride his hand. 


“Yeah,” he encourages. “Can feel you squeezing me. You want me out, don’t you?
You can’t stand feeling like this. Wanting it. Wanting me.”
Jensen doesn’t answer, he shifts looking for the right angle, the right tilt
and thrust that Jared won’t give him and Jensen is forced to look him in the
eye, dazed and angry, hand leaving Jared’s hair to grope his wet dick.
“No,” Jared commands, leaving no room for choice. “You come-- you come on my
fingers. Or you don’t come at all.”

His jean’s are tacky and gross with precome, and he wants to fuck, wants to
fuck so bad, but he wants to prove a point too, needs Jensen to know he can be
trusted, that he knows self-restraint.
Jensen takes it all in stride, breathing hard and mouth slanting upward at the
corner, like he has the better end of the deal and Jared isn’t sure that he
doesn’t, because he’s splitting himself open, sweet and filthy, the edge of
pain furrowing his brow. He takes what Jared allows and he runs with it. Jerks
back and forth, snaps his hips and groans, both hands fisted in Jared’s hair,
leg wound around Jared and pulling him in closer Fucks Jared’s fingers faster
and deeper, like it’s enough when it shouldn’t be.
Jared encourages him, amazed and breathless watching him.
“That’s it baby, you’re almost there. I can see it. Your dick is so wet for me-
- and fuck, you’re just pouring over my palm. Wish you could see it. It’s so
fuckin’ hot.”

“Make me come,” Jensen moans. “Wanna come. Fuck me deeper, stretch me out. Feel
so full—“


Jared’s totally on it So on it, he does give Jensen what he needs and pushes
in another finger, watching for the second Jensen’s sac pulls taut and there it
is. He’s coming all over Jared’s shoulder and Jared fights to keep inside, to
work him through it, massage it out, while Jensen shouts a string of fucks and
oh gods, until they turn to stop.


Jared falls back on his heels smiling and wiping the slick off his hand over
his shirt. Might as well since it’s ruined already.
Jensen slides down the wall collapsing in front of Jared, slumping over his
knees, boneless and breathless and maybe a little embarrassed.
“You okay, kid?” Jared knows the answer, but he feels he should ask anyway.


“Yeah, ummm--” Jensen looks pointedly at Jared’s aching dick. “You want me—“


“Don’t worry about it,” Jared assures him. “I’m gonna get cleaned up.”


He leaves Jensen sitting there, knees pulled together and looking disappointed
or maybe hurt. Jared closes the bathroom door behind him and grins into the
mirror as he tears off his shirt.
**


It isn’t anything at first, movement, a sigh, the sound of skin, but it cuts
through his sleep, fills him up with warmth. He blinks, searching for Jensen
next to him and his heart quickens, jumps and makes a home in his throat. 


Jensen is propped against the headboard, heels together and knees open, hand
between his legs and another over his nipple, worrying the bruise Jared left
there. His teeth are closed around his lower lip and the fingers of his hand
pump hard against his ass. He doesn’t look at all like he’s enjoying it. He
looks like he’s in pain and he’s making these soft, plaintive huffs through his
nose. He jitters and rocks against the mattress, leaves his dick neglected,
trapped between his hip and thigh, gleaming wet trails.
Jared expects Jensen to bolt or hide as he rolls over and sits up, but he
doesn’t, doesn’t so much as blush. Just holds his gaze steady, not stopping,
but pleading.
“It aches,” he says as Jared inches over, his palm finding Jensen’s thigh, hot
and slippery with sweat.
“Hey, I think we should get you in the shower. You might have caught something—
“I’m fine, just need—“ Jensen groans, then reaches for Jared with both hands,
pulling him in and kissing him, arching into his body, shifting until he’s
underneath Jared, legs split open around his hips, thighs hitching round his
ribs, ”Just need this. And you.”

With Jensen’s breath hot on his neck, Jared’s more than a little confused and a
lot aroused, can’t seem to manage rubbing two brain cells together, because
he’s kissing back, hard and dirty, spreading Jensen open with lips and tongue,
sucking at him.
Jensen wrenches Jared’s hair, rubs himself against Jared, his nipples hard and
hot like sunwarmed pebbles over Jared’s chest. Jared can barely move, can’t
even get a hand between them. He has to squeeze one of Jensen’s wrists to get
his attention.
“What’s going on?” Jared blurts out, before he changes his mind and follows
Jensen into madness, because that’s what this is.
“You smell good, like really fuckin’ good,” Jensen noses Jared’s neck, nuzzling
and licking. “You taste even better.” The edge of his teeth find the skin below
Jared’s ear, sinking in with no hint of gentleness.


“Wanna fuck you.” Jensen teases, tongue flat against Jared’s jaw and he shakes
as he says it, grabs hold of Jared’s wrist with his free hand and pushes it
between their interlocked hips. “So fuck’n hard for you. I can’t stop thinking
about it. What you did—“
Jensen’s voice falls like a heavy shadow over his skin, husky with grown-up
sex. Jared reminds himself that it doesn’t have to go very far; that he’s in
control, even when it doesn’t much feel like he is right now, that maybe Jensen
really does need this.
“Your fuckin’ mouth.” Jensen bites Jared’s lip and sucks.
“Kept waking up thinking about it. Your fuckin’ hands.” Jensen squirms a hand
around Jared’s cock. It looks ridiculous and huge in Jensen’s palm. But Jensen
doesn’t seem to mind, not a trace of his initial apprehension when he and Jared
first met.
His eyes flicker, hand wrapped tight and wet from his own slick as he jacks
Jared and feeds off his tongue in sips. Grinds his ass against Jared’s thigh,
cheeks parting and exposing his hole to Jared’s too-tight skin. Jared can feel
the tension, the flex and release there.

“Can you pull out in time?”
“What?”
“Can you pull out in time?”
That really gets Jared’s attention. “I thought you said we wouldn’t—“


“I changed my mind.”


“There are risks—“


“That we’ve already taken. What’s one more time gonna do?”


Jensen’s eyes shutter, his face half in shadow and slightly sinister, but
beautiful even in anger, in madness, in whatever has taken possession.


“Want your dick, Jared. It’s not fuckin’ brain surgery.”
Jared narrows his eyes and pinches himself hard at the base of his dick,
bowing
over Jensen’s body, touches the glans to him. Jensen makes a noise like Jared’s
hurting him deep inside, like Jared is already inside.

He lifts Jensen into the air, scoots his thighs underneath the generous clutch
of his ass, spreads his cheeks apart to look at the dusky little hole there,
gleaming and twitching.


Jared really loves this part. More than he should. That first moment of
hesitation, of fear, the way Jensen can’t seem to help opening up to Jared,
even when it looks like Jared is entirely too much for him to take.
Beautiful and grotesque--huge, meaty, porn-star cock splitting him apart,
pushing into Jensen’s hot little belly until he’s whining, making quiet little
sounds like rusty gears as he urges Jared to bottom out. Jared doesn’t get how
it works. Jensen’s so small. All Jared knows is that it looks futile to force
his way in and he thinks he should stop, but then Jensen suddenly opens up to
accept him. Squeezes down on him so hard it hurts a little, but Jensen’s wet
enough to make it good..
He takes it. Takes it good and Jared lets him know it, rewards him with gentle
little thrusts of his hips, hands on his nipples, tweaking them, rubbing them
raw.


“It’s okay,” Jared hushes, “I got you. I got you. Not gonna leave you like
this.” Jared gentles into stretched-out heat. Grunts from the long sinuous
drag, the way Jensen takes him in, like he needs it to breathe. “Gonna give you
what you need.”
“Fuck me like you mean it,” he growls right into Jared’s jaw, dragging his
teeth through his stubble. “Stop being a pussy and ride me hard.”


Okay, seriously? Seriously? What a little shit.
Jared slams into his body, breath rushing out of him like air through a canyon,
like Jared’s finally gone and killed him. It’s too sudden and it makes Jared’s
teeth clack and Jensen’s head bounce off the mattress.
Jared loses himself, licks over his lips and grits his teeth to the fluttering
tension inside Jensen, like wings beating against Jared. Moves into him, bucks
and growls, taking down a worthy opponent who just won’t quit, won’t let go
until Jared’s good and rung out.
And they push and they pull and they bite, and Jared allows himself to rest his
weight on Jensen’s chest to scoop the neat little mounds of Jensen’s ass, so
infinitely touchable, and crushes them into his hips, sinking into him in long
pistoning strokes—deep, deeper than things should go or be, right up against
the chambers of his heart.


Jensen’s jaw clenches and the muscles in his neck pull taut and cord up. He has
heels pushed into the mattress and Jared can’t make out if its in pleasure or
pain, if it’s sweat or tears or both on his cheeks. But Jensen keeps pushing
back, pulling Jared closer and moaning.
“Breathe, Jensen,” he kisses his cheek, tastes saltwater. “You gotta breathe.”
Sweat shines in the hollow of his throat and temples
And Jensen arches, pushing his chest into Jared’s, rolling his shoulders, and
dragging Jared’s mouth down to his nipples, then reaches to clutch the sheets
with arms outspread in supplication.
He’s wild and slightly disturbing when he’s like this, a snake-charmer boy,
deceitful as a razor in the apple, shaking off time and space only to start all
over again to suck Jared into his need, his want, his heat, making Jared
helpless and violent with sex.
He pushes up slightly to his knees. Has to pull out, get away, because it’s too
much, but Jensen won’t let go, legs wrapped up tight on Jared’s hips and his
eyes gone wide with panic.
“No.” One word, with a world of meaning behind it, dripping with threat.
Jensen’s body chokes him, suffocates him and they’re both pushing off the
mattress in a crush of heat and swollen wet mouths, dark as grapes, until the
pressure inside Jensen changes, becomes hotter and tighter, a writhing wave-
like thing that has Jared moaning loud, then louder than Jensen. Jensen’s arms
wreathed around his back, strong and sinewy and inescapable, holding onto Jared
as he skids and bounces along his body.


He clings through each thrust, gone wild and loose. Orgasm swelling to a blaze
inside Jared’s belly. In Jensen’s, squeezing tight as he comes between them and
Jared has to rush to catch up, rocking forward on his knees, pumping him full
and wet, leaving him messy and leaking back out. 


Jared shouts through it, baby, and yes, and fuck, because it’s the longest
orgasm of his life and quite possibly the most painful.
“Jensen?” His voice is shaky, like he’s standing on the ledge of something he
can’t see and he sounds younger than he’s been in a long time. “Hey.”
He rolls to his side, but Jensen comes with him, sending Jared completely over
onto his back with Jensen on top, the tip of Jared’s cock still inside, like he
can’t let go. His stomach gives a little jerk against Jared’s.
“You okay? I mean, are we okay?”
Jensen makes a little noncommittal noise, sort of involuntary and shaky. “We’re
okay.”
Jared touches them together, a swipe of thumb that has Jensen hissing. He looks
up at Jared through his messy blond locks, shy and worried. “I mean it. We’re
okay. It’s not your fault. Just—“
He comes off Jared quick, swallowing a noise in his chest that Jared was too
unprepared to hold onto, come and slick flooding all over his dick and balls
and thighs, translucent pearly white. Jared strips a pillow of its case and
uses it to clean up.
“Is it always like this?” Jensen asks Jared, scuttering until pressed against
the headboard to watch him, with legs crushed to his chest and arms wound
protectively around them. “With other people?”


“No.” Jared answers truthfully, tosses the pillowcase toward the corner of the
room, and hopes not to step on it when it doesn't make it. “Never.”
There’s something Jensen needs, validation, reassurance, something that’s only
in Jared’s power to give. So he does what comes naturally and yanks Jensen by
the ankles, until he’s flat on the mattress and kisses him, their lips meeting
sweet and slow, clinging together when they pull apart. It aches.
“Here, let me clean you up.” He ducks under Jensen’s crooked knees, between his
legs, and presses his face into him, tongue in a dart, and kisses him again.
*TBC*
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