I'm Sure I Can't Pretend to Be a Gentleman (I Love the Way You Move When I'm Inside of You)
So this one time at band camp Jared/JDM basically became the OTP to end all OTPs and I've currently got like eight different ideas that I really want to write but this one decided to kick and shove it's way to the front of the line because sex! and kink! and bondage! and Hoobastank lyrics! huzzah!
(Also partly written for checkthemargins because she is on board of this ship with me)
Jared/Jeffrey Dean Morgan | NC-17 | very very very vague spoilers for 7.08
After seeing Jared get tied to a bed in Time For A Wedding, Jeffrey has some, ah, ideas.
Jeff is pinning him to the bed with his weight almost as soon as they’re in the bedroom. At first Jared struggles, pushes up against him and attempts to flip them over, six feet of pent up energy begging to be released. He straddles his hips and growls in his ear, “Don’t move.” It doesn’t occur to him not to do it. He stills underneath him, hearing the growl, the way he shifts forwards so Jeff’s hands are circled around Jared’s wrists, keeping them crossed and up above his head. The stubble on his cheeks scratches across Jared’s throat; he tips his head further back, giving easy access for lips and marks and stubble burn.
In the background he hears scratching noises, realizes that it’s the dogs scratching at the door and that Jeff managed to close it when he wasn’t looking so that they wouldn’t get in. They whine pitifully, and Jared is almost sympathetic until it occurs to him that the noise actually came from himself, his body’s (treacherous) reaction to Jeff sucking marks onto his collarbones while he tugs down the neck of his t-shirt.
“Jesus, Jay.” Jeffrey says, teeth scraping against his skin through trails of wet that his tongue leaves behind. His thumbs rub at Jared’s wrists, just above his pulse point on each. Blood races beneath his skin and he can feel it, presses down hard, hard, harder until he knows his fingerprints will be bruised into his skin. “Want you,” he whispers, kissing the skin behind his ear. “Wanna fuck you. Wanna tie you up.” Jared downright shudders, arching up into him, narrow space of empty air between the sheets and his back where his chest is pressing up into the firm solid muscle of Jeffrey’s.
“Looked so good like that,” Jeff’s tongue curves around the shell of his ear, dipping in wet and smooth and it’s ridiculously hot, one of the things that shouldn’t be but is. “Soon as I saw you like that, all tied up. Wanted you like that too.” His thumbs are still rubbing above Jared’s pulsepoints, so slowly, driving him crazy. They stretch out, Jeff’s hands tugging at his wrists until his arms are stretched above his head, at either end of the headboard. “You weren’t even naked, dressed and covered and they couldn’t see how beautiful you are.”
He takes a pause, hands smoothing down past the tendons in his arms, down his chest to the V of his hips and hooking into the hem of his t-shirt. Sitting in between Jared’s spread legs, Jeffrey edges the shirt up, lips grazing every inch of skin as it’s exposed. Even though his wrists aren’t restrained anymore, Jared doesn’t move to touch Jeffrey’s hair, curve his hands - huge, distractingly huge, hands - around the back of his skull, his neck, into curled salt-and-pepper hair. His hands stay where they are, up by the posts of the headboards as his chest jumps and trembles while under siege.
The shirt bunches up around his armpits; Jeff takes a second to pull it properly over his head because he thinks Jared might not appreciate it if he ripped one of his favorite v-necks. He pulls his own shirt off too, leaning back down to scrape his teeth across his jaw and lick into his mouth. “Stay still,” he mouths into his skin, pulling back slowly. “Don’t move.” Again it doesn’t even cross his mind to not do it, and he watches through eyes stuck at half mast as Jeff shifts backwards and kneels, pulling his belt through the loops of the dark colored jeans he was wearing.
Jeffrey Dean takes his wrist again, pulls it up until he can loop the leather around his wrist and slide it through the loops and tighten it until he can’t move, until he knows that an hour from now - two hours from now - the skin will be rubbed raw and there’ll be bruises that he needs to kiss better and Jared’ll have to to cover up with long sleeves and leather bracelets and wrist cuff. He moves back down his body, lips branding a trail down his skin. “C’mere.” Jared arches up as much as possible, one hand tied to the headboard and the other free to reach down and grab Jeffrey by the hair, tugging him up for a searing kiss that’s all wet and hot and molten lava. “God,” he starts to say, but Jared just cups his face with the one hand he has free and holds him in place so he can lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue.
The belt at his hips is tugged on, one of Jeffrey’s hands pulling on Jared’s hair and the other down at the front of his pants, undoing the buckle and tugging it out through the loops. He curls his hand around Jared’s hip, thumb pressing right underneath his hipbone, and tightening until he’s arching, lifting up off the bed in just the way that Jeff wanted but didn’t enunciate. He pulls the belt out the rest of the way, grabs his wrist in a way that’ll leave matching bruises to the ones on the opposite. Jeffrey locks his wrist to the other bedpost, arms spread wide and shoulder blades almost meeting in the center of his back.
“Christ, Jay,” Jeffrey says fervently, fingers unbuttoning his jeans slowly, tugging them down Jared’s narrow hips. He worships them - the V - with his lips and tongue, teeth scraping along sensitive skin. His nose presses into his lower stomach, brushes past his treasure trail in a way that makes Jared suck in and bite his lip in anticipation. Black boxer briefs cling to his skin, stretched tight around the way his cock is almost obscenely hard and curving upwards towards his stomach. Jeffrey presses his face to the front of the material, breathing in the scent: musky and masculine and almost a hundred percent Jared, something that he’s intimately familiar with.
Mouth working at the front of his briefs, his tongue presses to black fabric as he does his best to taste. He closes around the head and Jared makes an incredibly unmanly noise, hips pressing up in search of something more that Jeffrey clearly doesn’t want to give him - not yet. His tongue circles around, presses up under the crown and even through the material it’s like a shock, only slightly dulled by the barrier between body parts. Jeffrey pulls back when the fabric is damp, wet with spit and slick and pre-come.
He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand, dips the other past the waistband and curls his fingers around Jared’s cock with the other. The hand that isn’t refamiliarizing himself with the more private parts of his boyfriend grabs his hair, pulls him up and forwards in a way that has to kill his shoulders and kisses him until he can’t even remember his name. When he draws back Jared follows him, slow whimper from his mouth as he tries to follow his lips.
Palms spread out across his chest, thumbing at Jared’s nipples and collarbones, pressing just a little too hard to his throat so that he can’t breathe for just a few seconds, just long enough. It makes him dizzy, tiny black spots dancing across his vision. Jared strains at the belts for the first time, pulling because he wants to grab Jeffrey and pull him down and rut against him until he comes, push him down and onto his back and ride him slow and long and hard. Instead he’s got Jeff laughing into his skin, tongue drawing a slow wet trail across his pecs, moving down and down and down until he’s taking him deep into his mouth.
Even more than he wanted to rut against him, ride him - fuck him, get fucked - Jared wants to slide his fingers through Jeffrey’s hair and push him down and further and harder and faster. The worst part is that he seems to know it, takes him deep but does it slow, achingly slow, too much tongue and not enough suction.
Jared’s eyes are a little crazy when he pulls off, teeth digging harshly into his bottom lip. Jeff grins at him, loose and teasing, lips slick with spit and pre-come. He leans back down, licks a stripe across the head of Jared’s cock and then again and again and again, fucking tasting him like his dick was a piece of candy. He pushes one of his legs up so it’s bent at the knee, foot planted against the bed. Jeffrey moves lower, tip of his nose brushing the base of his cock as he mouths at the soft skin of his balls. “Jeff - Jeff, please - Jeffrey I can’t,” Jared pleads, tipping his head back further into the pillows.
“Yes you can,” Jeffrey promises, voice rough and only just above a growl. He looks up at Jared, eyes dark with intent and he smirks, makes sure that he knows what it is that he’s doing before he goes down, his hands circling Jared’s slim hips and lifting them as he licks the smooth stretch of skin behind his balls and up towards his entrance. Jared shakes, bites his lip to stop from crying out as wethotslick slides in, not enough and again with the fucking tasting. Deeper inside and truth be told Jeffrey fucking loves this, making him shake and fall apart on his tongue.
He pulls back a little, blows cool air that makes Jared clench and moan low. Two fingers go in without theatrics, and Jeffrey knows that it has to burn, hurt at least a little but Jared just tips his hips up and begs silently for more. Scissoring his fingers slowly he leans back down and then pulls his fingers out, using his thumbs instead to spread him open and press his tongue back inside. The thing is that Jared is a very hands-on kind of person, touchy with everyone and especially during sex. Right now he wants absolutely nothing more than to twist his fingers into Jeffrey’s hair, pull him up and kiss him, scratch red lines down his back. He wants to flip them over and ride his face because he can.
Worst of all, Jeffrey knows it, judging from the way his eyes are crinkling as he pulls back and wipes off his mouth and smirks smugly at him. “You want more or do you think you’re okay?” he asks, twisting his fingers back inside of him. Jared arches back against his fingers, a soundless cry escaping his parted lips. “Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he says in one breath, eyes rolling back in his head as Jeffrey’s fingers angle and crook and press just right. He whines, deep in his throat.
“Can you take it?” Jeffrey asks, putting one hand on the pillow next to his head and leaning over his body, reaching for the bedside drawer with the lube. He thumbs at Jared’s lip, pulling at it before Jared draws it in and sucks, tongue chasing the salty taste of his skin. The rest of his fingers splay out across his jaw and neck, fingernails scratching at the stubble there. “Can you take me with only two fingers?” he asks, and Jared’s eyes are blown so wide, hazel slivers circling giant black orbs.
His fingers curve so they’re cupping his jaw, and he moves his thumb so he can lean forward and kiss him, filthy dirty and so, so hot. Jared falls apart underneath him, limbs turning into liquid so much that he can’t even feel the way his shoulders are screaming at the way he’s tied up.
There’s a blur that’s Jeff’s lube-slicked fingers inside him, careful despite what he’d asked moments before, and then the world tips on it’s axis and starts spinning the wrong way and time runs backwards. He has Jeffrey pushing in, way to slow, but he’s huge and hot and his hands are heavy on his hips. Jared’s legs are pushed apart, miles and miles of long Texan legs pushed obscenely wide with Jeffrey kneeling in between them, cock splitting him into millions of fragmented pieces. He doesn’t even realize that he’s making this broken gasping noise, arching up and trying to get him to go in further, harder, deeper.
Tomorrow, two days - a week from now Jeffrey’s hands will be imprinted bruises on his hips. If necessary, the police would be able to get fingerprints from the way he’s gripping them, holding them down and pulling him back and using as leverage while he fucks into him again and again. “Jeffrey, Jeff, please,” Jared pants. “Please, want to touch you.” He makes a strangled noise when he shifts forwards, changing the angle so that his cock is pressed right against his prostate on every stroke in, making him see stars and planets and whole other galaxies. “Want to feel you, please.”
Jeff slides his hands up Jared’s lean body, up his arms to wrap around where the belts are biting into his skin. He’s still moving, slower now, but deep, so deep that Jared has this suspicion that he can almost taste it. “You want to feel?” he asks, fingering the leather and the buckles that’s binding him down. Jared can only pant, gaze so hot and locked on Jeffrey’s. One of his hands trails back down, leaving wispy tails of fire on his skin. His fingers circle where he’s stretched around his cock. “Want to feel this? Where you’re splayed so wide for me, taking it so well?” Jared trembles around him, ankles crossing behind Jeffrey’s back and digging into the flesh of his ass. It’s like he’s trying to push him forwards, clench around him so that he’ll stay.
“God, still so tight.” His voice is so deep, gravelly and rough in the way it is when it’s been too long and they’re both so close. Jeffrey ducks down, scrapes his teeth along Jared’s collarbone and sucks on the same place that he’d marked oh so long ago. “So beautiful,” he says into his skin, tongue darting out to catch a bead of sweat clinging to the dip in his throat. When he comes he growls Jared into his ear, pressed up deep inside him and it’s the hot splash of his come inside him that tips him over so that he can follow, strings of white striping his chest and all the way up to his neck and jaw.
He thinks he blacks out for a few moments because when he comes to Jeffrey is mouthing at his neck, hips still moving in a slow circular motion even though Jared can feel him softening inside. “God,” he’s whispering fervently into his skin. “Christ, Jesus.”
“I didn’t think you were religious,” Jared says dryly, but his voice is wrecked so it comes out as some sort of post-life-altering sex rasp instead.
Jeffrey laughs, kisses the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth and says, “I’m not, but that was enough to convert me.” He moves to pull out and Jared bites back the noise of protest because if he had his way he’d just have Jeffrey right there between his legs all the time. It’s then that he realizes the way his shoulders are upper arms are screaming and yelling like tomorrow isn’t coming and he groans, trying not to move.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and then moves to undo one belt and then the other. He kisses the inside of Jared’s wrists where they’ve been rubbed raw, manhandles him onto his front so that he can massage the kinks out of his shoulders. He leans down and kisses the back of his neck, behind his ear and whispers, “Thank you.”
(Also partly written for checkthemargins because she is on board of this ship with me)
Jared/Jeffrey Dean Morgan | NC-17 | very very very vague spoilers for 7.08
After seeing Jared get tied to a bed in Time For A Wedding, Jeffrey has some, ah, ideas.
Jeff is pinning him to the bed with his weight almost as soon as they’re in the bedroom. At first Jared struggles, pushes up against him and attempts to flip them over, six feet of pent up energy begging to be released. He straddles his hips and growls in his ear, “Don’t move.” It doesn’t occur to him not to do it. He stills underneath him, hearing the growl, the way he shifts forwards so Jeff’s hands are circled around Jared’s wrists, keeping them crossed and up above his head. The stubble on his cheeks scratches across Jared’s throat; he tips his head further back, giving easy access for lips and marks and stubble burn.
In the background he hears scratching noises, realizes that it’s the dogs scratching at the door and that Jeff managed to close it when he wasn’t looking so that they wouldn’t get in. They whine pitifully, and Jared is almost sympathetic until it occurs to him that the noise actually came from himself, his body’s (treacherous) reaction to Jeff sucking marks onto his collarbones while he tugs down the neck of his t-shirt.
“Jesus, Jay.” Jeffrey says, teeth scraping against his skin through trails of wet that his tongue leaves behind. His thumbs rub at Jared’s wrists, just above his pulse point on each. Blood races beneath his skin and he can feel it, presses down hard, hard, harder until he knows his fingerprints will be bruised into his skin. “Want you,” he whispers, kissing the skin behind his ear. “Wanna fuck you. Wanna tie you up.” Jared downright shudders, arching up into him, narrow space of empty air between the sheets and his back where his chest is pressing up into the firm solid muscle of Jeffrey’s.
“Looked so good like that,” Jeff’s tongue curves around the shell of his ear, dipping in wet and smooth and it’s ridiculously hot, one of the things that shouldn’t be but is. “Soon as I saw you like that, all tied up. Wanted you like that too.” His thumbs are still rubbing above Jared’s pulsepoints, so slowly, driving him crazy. They stretch out, Jeff’s hands tugging at his wrists until his arms are stretched above his head, at either end of the headboard. “You weren’t even naked, dressed and covered and they couldn’t see how beautiful you are.”
He takes a pause, hands smoothing down past the tendons in his arms, down his chest to the V of his hips and hooking into the hem of his t-shirt. Sitting in between Jared’s spread legs, Jeffrey edges the shirt up, lips grazing every inch of skin as it’s exposed. Even though his wrists aren’t restrained anymore, Jared doesn’t move to touch Jeffrey’s hair, curve his hands - huge, distractingly huge, hands - around the back of his skull, his neck, into curled salt-and-pepper hair. His hands stay where they are, up by the posts of the headboards as his chest jumps and trembles while under siege.
The shirt bunches up around his armpits; Jeff takes a second to pull it properly over his head because he thinks Jared might not appreciate it if he ripped one of his favorite v-necks. He pulls his own shirt off too, leaning back down to scrape his teeth across his jaw and lick into his mouth. “Stay still,” he mouths into his skin, pulling back slowly. “Don’t move.” Again it doesn’t even cross his mind to not do it, and he watches through eyes stuck at half mast as Jeff shifts backwards and kneels, pulling his belt through the loops of the dark colored jeans he was wearing.
Jeffrey Dean takes his wrist again, pulls it up until he can loop the leather around his wrist and slide it through the loops and tighten it until he can’t move, until he knows that an hour from now - two hours from now - the skin will be rubbed raw and there’ll be bruises that he needs to kiss better and Jared’ll have to to cover up with long sleeves and leather bracelets and wrist cuff. He moves back down his body, lips branding a trail down his skin. “C’mere.” Jared arches up as much as possible, one hand tied to the headboard and the other free to reach down and grab Jeffrey by the hair, tugging him up for a searing kiss that’s all wet and hot and molten lava. “God,” he starts to say, but Jared just cups his face with the one hand he has free and holds him in place so he can lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue.
The belt at his hips is tugged on, one of Jeffrey’s hands pulling on Jared’s hair and the other down at the front of his pants, undoing the buckle and tugging it out through the loops. He curls his hand around Jared’s hip, thumb pressing right underneath his hipbone, and tightening until he’s arching, lifting up off the bed in just the way that Jeff wanted but didn’t enunciate. He pulls the belt out the rest of the way, grabs his wrist in a way that’ll leave matching bruises to the ones on the opposite. Jeffrey locks his wrist to the other bedpost, arms spread wide and shoulder blades almost meeting in the center of his back.
“Christ, Jay,” Jeffrey says fervently, fingers unbuttoning his jeans slowly, tugging them down Jared’s narrow hips. He worships them - the V - with his lips and tongue, teeth scraping along sensitive skin. His nose presses into his lower stomach, brushes past his treasure trail in a way that makes Jared suck in and bite his lip in anticipation. Black boxer briefs cling to his skin, stretched tight around the way his cock is almost obscenely hard and curving upwards towards his stomach. Jeffrey presses his face to the front of the material, breathing in the scent: musky and masculine and almost a hundred percent Jared, something that he’s intimately familiar with.
Mouth working at the front of his briefs, his tongue presses to black fabric as he does his best to taste. He closes around the head and Jared makes an incredibly unmanly noise, hips pressing up in search of something more that Jeffrey clearly doesn’t want to give him - not yet. His tongue circles around, presses up under the crown and even through the material it’s like a shock, only slightly dulled by the barrier between body parts. Jeffrey pulls back when the fabric is damp, wet with spit and slick and pre-come.
He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand, dips the other past the waistband and curls his fingers around Jared’s cock with the other. The hand that isn’t refamiliarizing himself with the more private parts of his boyfriend grabs his hair, pulls him up and forwards in a way that has to kill his shoulders and kisses him until he can’t even remember his name. When he draws back Jared follows him, slow whimper from his mouth as he tries to follow his lips.
Palms spread out across his chest, thumbing at Jared’s nipples and collarbones, pressing just a little too hard to his throat so that he can’t breathe for just a few seconds, just long enough. It makes him dizzy, tiny black spots dancing across his vision. Jared strains at the belts for the first time, pulling because he wants to grab Jeffrey and pull him down and rut against him until he comes, push him down and onto his back and ride him slow and long and hard. Instead he’s got Jeff laughing into his skin, tongue drawing a slow wet trail across his pecs, moving down and down and down until he’s taking him deep into his mouth.
Even more than he wanted to rut against him, ride him - fuck him, get fucked - Jared wants to slide his fingers through Jeffrey’s hair and push him down and further and harder and faster. The worst part is that he seems to know it, takes him deep but does it slow, achingly slow, too much tongue and not enough suction.
Jared’s eyes are a little crazy when he pulls off, teeth digging harshly into his bottom lip. Jeff grins at him, loose and teasing, lips slick with spit and pre-come. He leans back down, licks a stripe across the head of Jared’s cock and then again and again and again, fucking tasting him like his dick was a piece of candy. He pushes one of his legs up so it’s bent at the knee, foot planted against the bed. Jeffrey moves lower, tip of his nose brushing the base of his cock as he mouths at the soft skin of his balls. “Jeff - Jeff, please - Jeffrey I can’t,” Jared pleads, tipping his head back further into the pillows.
“Yes you can,” Jeffrey promises, voice rough and only just above a growl. He looks up at Jared, eyes dark with intent and he smirks, makes sure that he knows what it is that he’s doing before he goes down, his hands circling Jared’s slim hips and lifting them as he licks the smooth stretch of skin behind his balls and up towards his entrance. Jared shakes, bites his lip to stop from crying out as wethotslick slides in, not enough and again with the fucking tasting. Deeper inside and truth be told Jeffrey fucking loves this, making him shake and fall apart on his tongue.
He pulls back a little, blows cool air that makes Jared clench and moan low. Two fingers go in without theatrics, and Jeffrey knows that it has to burn, hurt at least a little but Jared just tips his hips up and begs silently for more. Scissoring his fingers slowly he leans back down and then pulls his fingers out, using his thumbs instead to spread him open and press his tongue back inside. The thing is that Jared is a very hands-on kind of person, touchy with everyone and especially during sex. Right now he wants absolutely nothing more than to twist his fingers into Jeffrey’s hair, pull him up and kiss him, scratch red lines down his back. He wants to flip them over and ride his face because he can.
Worst of all, Jeffrey knows it, judging from the way his eyes are crinkling as he pulls back and wipes off his mouth and smirks smugly at him. “You want more or do you think you’re okay?” he asks, twisting his fingers back inside of him. Jared arches back against his fingers, a soundless cry escaping his parted lips. “Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he says in one breath, eyes rolling back in his head as Jeffrey’s fingers angle and crook and press just right. He whines, deep in his throat.
“Can you take it?” Jeffrey asks, putting one hand on the pillow next to his head and leaning over his body, reaching for the bedside drawer with the lube. He thumbs at Jared’s lip, pulling at it before Jared draws it in and sucks, tongue chasing the salty taste of his skin. The rest of his fingers splay out across his jaw and neck, fingernails scratching at the stubble there. “Can you take me with only two fingers?” he asks, and Jared’s eyes are blown so wide, hazel slivers circling giant black orbs.
His fingers curve so they’re cupping his jaw, and he moves his thumb so he can lean forward and kiss him, filthy dirty and so, so hot. Jared falls apart underneath him, limbs turning into liquid so much that he can’t even feel the way his shoulders are screaming at the way he’s tied up.
There’s a blur that’s Jeff’s lube-slicked fingers inside him, careful despite what he’d asked moments before, and then the world tips on it’s axis and starts spinning the wrong way and time runs backwards. He has Jeffrey pushing in, way to slow, but he’s huge and hot and his hands are heavy on his hips. Jared’s legs are pushed apart, miles and miles of long Texan legs pushed obscenely wide with Jeffrey kneeling in between them, cock splitting him into millions of fragmented pieces. He doesn’t even realize that he’s making this broken gasping noise, arching up and trying to get him to go in further, harder, deeper.
Tomorrow, two days - a week from now Jeffrey’s hands will be imprinted bruises on his hips. If necessary, the police would be able to get fingerprints from the way he’s gripping them, holding them down and pulling him back and using as leverage while he fucks into him again and again. “Jeffrey, Jeff, please,” Jared pants. “Please, want to touch you.” He makes a strangled noise when he shifts forwards, changing the angle so that his cock is pressed right against his prostate on every stroke in, making him see stars and planets and whole other galaxies. “Want to feel you, please.”
Jeff slides his hands up Jared’s lean body, up his arms to wrap around where the belts are biting into his skin. He’s still moving, slower now, but deep, so deep that Jared has this suspicion that he can almost taste it. “You want to feel?” he asks, fingering the leather and the buckles that’s binding him down. Jared can only pant, gaze so hot and locked on Jeffrey’s. One of his hands trails back down, leaving wispy tails of fire on his skin. His fingers circle where he’s stretched around his cock. “Want to feel this? Where you’re splayed so wide for me, taking it so well?” Jared trembles around him, ankles crossing behind Jeffrey’s back and digging into the flesh of his ass. It’s like he’s trying to push him forwards, clench around him so that he’ll stay.
“God, still so tight.” His voice is so deep, gravelly and rough in the way it is when it’s been too long and they’re both so close. Jeffrey ducks down, scrapes his teeth along Jared’s collarbone and sucks on the same place that he’d marked oh so long ago. “So beautiful,” he says into his skin, tongue darting out to catch a bead of sweat clinging to the dip in his throat. When he comes he growls Jared into his ear, pressed up deep inside him and it’s the hot splash of his come inside him that tips him over so that he can follow, strings of white striping his chest and all the way up to his neck and jaw.
He thinks he blacks out for a few moments because when he comes to Jeffrey is mouthing at his neck, hips still moving in a slow circular motion even though Jared can feel him softening inside. “God,” he’s whispering fervently into his skin. “Christ, Jesus.”
“I didn’t think you were religious,” Jared says dryly, but his voice is wrecked so it comes out as some sort of post-life-altering sex rasp instead.
Jeffrey laughs, kisses the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth and says, “I’m not, but that was enough to convert me.” He moves to pull out and Jared bites back the noise of protest because if he had his way he’d just have Jeffrey right there between his legs all the time. It’s then that he realizes the way his shoulders are upper arms are screaming and yelling like tomorrow isn’t coming and he groans, trying not to move.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and then moves to undo one belt and then the other. He kisses the inside of Jared’s wrists where they’ve been rubbed raw, manhandles him onto his front so that he can massage the kinks out of his shoulders. He leans down and kisses the back of his neck, behind his ear and whispers, “Thank you.”