RPS: Better Than Birthday Cake [Having It and Eating It] (JA/JP)
TITLE: Better Than Birthday Cake [Having It and Eating It]
AUTHOR: Mari [3090]
PAIRING/FANDOM: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki [CW RPS]
RATING: NC-17 [for graphic sex and improper use of icing]
CATAGORY: PWP, romance, m/m slash
DISCLAIMER: To my knowledge, this hasn't happened. I don't own Jensen or Jared. I don't know what they do in their free time. I just fantasize.
NOTE: Okay, so this is ridiculously late. Considering that I'm still tinkering with a Supernatural Valentine's Day fic, I have just come to accept my chronic procrastination. But late porn is better than no porn at all! Written in honor of Jensen's birthday, March 1.
Jensen remembers his fifth birthday with startling accuracy.
It wasn't because of superhuman memory. He was sure he slept through his whole first birthday. All he could remember about his seventh was a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, where he could not win the 2100 tickets needed to get a Super Soaker no matter how many times he whacked a mole. If he ever needed to relive his childhood, his parents had that covered, too. His dad had a home movie collection stuffed with evidence of his growing pains from chubby cheeks to knobby knees. As for Mama, well, she was a scrapbooking fanatic. But no, he didn't need help recalling that one particular birthday. It was like he had his own mental Polaroids tucked away in the back of his mind.
For one, he remembered what he wanted that year - a Big Wheels tricycle. The people who made Big Wheels sure knew how to sell 'em, ‘cause he had pestered his parents for weeks. Big Wheels. Big Wheels. Big Wheels!
On Saturday mornings, he had watched G.I. Joe with Josh in the living room, and right when the boys were really hyped up, there would be a commercial break. Little Jen would see those boys cruising around, racing each other on their trikes and he just about lost his mind with excitement every time.
He could picture how he woke up that morning. His Daddy had a funny, sparkling look in his eyes that made him look like Santa Claus, all jolly and red-faced. Sometimes he would smile, remembering Mama's soft, warm hand stroking his hair away from his forehead, gently thumbing away the Sandman's dust from his eyes. "Wake up, sleepy head," he could hear her, even now. "Today's your special day."
His special day. He knew that right from the start. The night before, after Daddy had finished his bedtime stories and right as Jensen started drifting to sleep, he could smell it in the air. It was like Mama was baking cookies! Scents like vanilla and chocolate mixed with the warm air that wafted through the house every time Mama used the oven.
He remembers finding the origin of that scent, too. That was the best part of all. That morning, Mama and Daddy were milling around the house, getting dressed for work and ready for the new day. Jensen was left in the kitchen to eat his Cheerios.
That's when he saw it - a cardboard box on the kitchen table. It had not been there the day before and it was covered in a shiny foil that was just the thing to get his attention. As soon as Jensen peeled back the tin cover and took a peep inside, he had struck the jackpot.
Rows of cupcakes filled the box - all covered in dollops of glossy icing. Some were creamy white while others were an even more tempting chocolate brown. Mama had taken special care with these cupcakes. They were a surprise for Jensen's preschool class. She even dropped a sprinkling of jellybeans on top of every one.
In that moment, Jensen decided that those cupcakes would not make it to snack time.
It was hard to stop once he got started, and it was extra-hard to slow down when he knew that Mama and Daddy would catch him any minute. He took giant, greedy bites, puffing out his cheeks like a chipmunk as he stuffed his mouth with cake, candy, and frosting.
By the time his Daddy noticed what he was doing, he was sitting on the kitchen table, eating his fourth cupcake with relish. Empty cupcake papers littered the table top. Jensen's overalls were smeared with chocolate icing. It didn't even matter that Daddy fussed at him, cause he didn't even fuss that much. It was Jensen's birthday. He could have finger-painted on the living room walls with icing and Cheerios, and he still wouldn't have gotten in trouble for it.
Jensen hardly even cried when he got a tummy ache later that day. It was his special day. He had his cake and he ate it, too.
____________________________
Jared's kink of the day is using those unbelievably long fingers to scoop out great gobs of Pillsbury Birthday Funfetti icing and smear it all over Jensen.
Jensen didn't think this up all on his own, so you know. It's not like he and Jay were cruising the baking aisle of Albertson's when all of a sudden, Jensen throws out a proposition.
"Jared, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "I think so, Jen...but can we really bake a cake large enough for Rosenbaum to pop out of? The motherfucker's pretty big..."
No, this is something that Jared cooked up by himself.
Jensen sort of falls into it or rather, wakes up to it. His eyes open to the feeling of something slick and kind of cold being painted on his skin. Then Jared's tongue - he knows it when he feels it - starts licking and lapping down his neck, down his spine, along the curve of his ass...
"Whoa!" Jensen jumps, squirming under Jared's hands. "Easy there," he tries to turn over but those firm hands on his hips keep him still.
"Jen, did anybody ever till you that you've got dimples," Jared kisses two spots at the base of Jensen's spine. "Right here?"
"Nah, only you," Jensen raises up on his elbows, drowsily gazing over his shoulder. "Jay, what're you doin'?"
Jared raises an eyebrow and leers, with his chin resting on Jensen's ass and a can of icing in his hand. Jensen just snorts, ‘cause Jared is trying to be sexy while holding up icing with that look like it was Strawberry Astroglide.
He just prays Jared didn't bake anything.
How could he? There's no eggs in the apartment. The milk is of very dubious freshness. They would have to go grocery shopping soon---
Jensen's mental grocery list is whisked out of his mind by little lapping licks that retrace the trail that Jared had painted. Jensen lets out a soft chuckle, smothered the sound against his pillow. He doesn't know what tickles him more - Jared softly sucking on the nape of his neck or the idea of them strolling down the cereal aisle together, debating over Capt'n Crunch and Lucky Charms before calling a ceasefire, buying both, and then mixing it all in a big ol' bowl.
Christ, life and love seem to have snuck up on him all at once. Suddenly, he is going all domestic.
But he can relax, because Jared didn't buy any cake mix. There's no point to that. He is never going to bake a cake and he knows that. All he wants to do is lick, suck, taste, devour Jensen, to find all of his tanned and freckled weak spots.
Jensen tries not to feel so stickydirty watching grinning, blushing lips kiss childishly colored sugar cream off of his stomach. Jared just looks so damn young sometimes. Not really green, not quite innocent, certainly not pure. Just young - dimpled, fresh faced, bright eyed young.
Especially with sprinkles clinging to his lips.
____________________________
When Jared's cock drags along that one so sweet, so right spot, Jensen is just feeling it. It's primal. Instinctual. Pure want - conscious thought doesn't apply. Cause at that painful perfect moment, all Jensen is seeing is flashes of color, brief bursts of images, shapes, memories that randomly, unconsciously swoop up from the back of his mind, too fast for him to catch. Something that looked like page nineteen of a script gave way to the exact shade of the inner burst of honey gold in Jared's eyes. Yes, perfect. Jared's perfect feline eyes with tilted corners like apostrophes, lowered provocatively as Jared pressed in, in, in...
If this is his birthday present then God, please God, why can't it be his birthday every day of the year?
When it's good, sometimes it's just too good, and Jensen feels like he's got a bottomless pit where his self-control used to be. He'll gluttonously take whatever Jared gives him, like the little boy who gobbled up cupcakes until he got sick. That good. So good that he can't even speak. He just freezes, can't give any discernable directions. He's blissed out and just down to the basics - throaty moans, sharp sighs, and calling on God's name, or Jared's name, or both, or none, or everything in creation combined. Good thing Jared just knows how wants it. Right there, harder but not faster. Oh no, make it last. Make it burn afterwards.
Hard slick pulsing pump in, though slow, slow enough to count inches if only numbers were possible at the moment. Jared's hand slip under Jensen's hips, fingers slowed by sticky friction. Push meets the pull in a deep thrust that has Jensen shaking, body humming, tense and taut as a guitar string.
There's a sweet, sharp repetitious smack of skin meeting skin - ass meeting hips - and Jared's hand lifts Jensen's hips higher, reeling him in. Jensen's back arches off of the bed, fingers sinking into Jared's sweaty hair, grasping tight as if it was a lifeline.
"Ah, Jay. Fuck!" Jensen shouts like the word was pulled from him before he could hold it back.
Jared laughs indulgently at that, a throaty vibration that travels all the way down Jared's spine, down the tip of Jared's cock, deep inside Jensen. It's enough to make his toes curl.
"Fuck," he punctuates the growled word with another deep thrust. He drawls, words hot on Jensen's jaw and brimming with the unspoken implication of I've got you where I want you. "Mmm, that's right."
Jensen groans, dragging his nails down Jared's back, because he deserved it. And Jared hisses, almost howls in response, like that little zing of hurt was enough to put him over the edge. Jensen is sure that he's holding his breath as Jared works at wringing a release right out of him. He wants it now, but he wants it to last even if he's about to suffocate in the process. He comes with a gasp, his lips smashing then slipping against Jared's in a frantic kiss, muffling his keening whimpers against Jared's mouth.
Jared shudders, letting go of a moan, or maybe a laugh. There's something victorious about that sound. When he comes, it's hot and hard as he pulses inside Jensen, and it feels like the final word.
It's good that they found a way to banter with their bodies, ‘cause Jared effectively fucked all knowledge of the English language right out of him
____________________________
A musky, sultry scent hangs heavily, pleasantly over him like a blanket - filling the air, filling his lungs, reminding him of exactly why his nerves are fried and why his muscles burn. He can stick out his tongue and find Jared's taste in the air. He wants to capture that cloud, lock it up in a room and have the only key. Or at least milk that scent out of Jared at every chance he gets.
The bed dips as Jared returns to bed with a plate in his hand, a fork in the other.
"I got you somethin'," he says, pointing out the big slab of cake on the plate. "Though I don't have any candles."
"That's all right," Jensen stretches, moving over to make room on the bed. He scowls at the cake, sizing it up. "Uh hold on. You made that?"
Jared snorts in surprise. "Shyeah. Sure did. Naked, too... all except for a little apron that said 'Suck the Cook.'"
"And I missed it."
"Mmhmm."
Watching Jared's tongue dart out to lick the back of the fork, he quips, "...Would've liked to have been there. If only to get proof of you in an apron."
"Mmhmm," Jared purrs again. He's eating that slice of cake like it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. It looks good; it's chocolate, too, which is so like Jared to pick something as rich and sinfully super-sweet as a double chocolate cake.
"Damn you, ya Cookie Monster. Give me some. It's my birthday."
"It sure is," Jared drawls. "All day and all night."
The words slide off his tongue and sound like a promise of things to come.
He breaks off a bite-sized chunk of cake, sticky with frosting, holding it to Jensen's lips. Jensen takes the bait, lips wrapping around Jared's fingertips, making a promise of his own. Errant cake crumbs dust the corners of his lips and Jared hungrily licks them up.
Jensen snickers. He wonders if Jared is half-puppy, sometimes. "What am I today? A plate?"
"Nah," his eyes lower as he murmurs. "You just make sweet things sweeter."
Leave it to Padalecki to say something like that. It kind of hits Jensen when his guard is down, it - he vaguely thinks that it takes his breath away but no, it doesn't, cause dude, that's straying into harlequin novel territory. It's just that Jared is so close. Skin to skin, breath to breath. It's easy to catch bared emotions when they're right in his face and Jensen doesn't know what to do with them. He's never been a pro at romantic pillow talk.
He inches back. He tries to read Jared, hoping to find 'Whatever. Lets fuck' but only finds 'I think you're kind of wonderful' in Jared's eyes. He chuckles. He turns his head away, breaking Jared's gaze as he leans in for a kiss.
He catches the corner of Jensen's mouth before Jensen loosens up again. Noses bump together, and it’s a little junior high, with hands clumsily fumbling. Jensen doesn't mind. This is the best gift he's ever gotten, even if he's still reading the instruction manual.
"Happy birthday, Jen."
Sunlight floods the bedroom, and covers Jared, making him look even more golden than he does every day. Jensen almost lets a gasp slip when he drinks in the sight of Jared above him, bathed in that morning light. He brushes Jared's sweat-damp hair away from his eyes, and smiles. Just smiles. Cause yeah, this is way better than birthday cake.