LOVE seeing all the green.
So we had a good time wandering the mall. There were people in big ol hats, some guy in shamrock pants. I didn't buy anything there, but I do have Dark Angel Season 2 now - so Wen, Kate will be watching 'Gill Girl' later :)
Now we're listening to Irish music and drinking Midori sours.
And I wrote this for Kate's Multifandom Snowed In Weekend Challenge and killerweasel's birthday.
Solabharthact | J2 | PG-13 | 670 words | Jared returns from his trip abroad.
Jensen doesn't breathe, doesn't move a muscle. Bright flashes of color dance behind his lids, a private firework show for him alone.
The clover dances over his skin, Jared twirling the stem between his fingers. "You know, it’s not just four-leaf clovers that bring luck,” he murmurs. Jared’s voice is husky and whisky-rough. A month abroad and Jared had returned with skin flush and tanned, face rounded from ethnic cuisine and mouth full of legends and lore.
Jensen had barely let him through the threshold of his apartment before Jared pounced.
Now Jensen’s stretched out on his bed, Jared leaning over him like a sun-soaked statue, chiseled and emanating heat that Jensen can not - would not want to - evade.
The leaves brush over the back of Jensen’s eye lids, an unfathomably light touch that has him gasping for breath. Jared drags the clover over the bridge of Jensen’s nose; traces the contour of his cheek. “They say freckles are really marks left behind by a fairy’s kiss. A constant reminder of the luck bestowed upon you.”
Jensen can feel Jared’s breath hot upon his skin, his soft words curling up his neck. The clover passes over his lips and Jared pauses.
“Must be a pretty lucky guy, Jen.”
With Jared here, in his bed, Jensen can’t say he disagrees. He lets his eyes flutter open slowly, dragging his gaze up Jared’s naked torso. The leaves continue their journey downward, Jared tracking their progress. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes slanted and dark.
“Jared,” Jensen says. Flip of hair and then Jared’s eyes meet his own.
“Hmm,” Jared says innocently, lips pink and pursed. He twirls the stem of the clover directly over Jensen’s flat nipple and it pebbles under the faint kiss of leaves. Jensen lets out a quiet hiss.
“Enough…enough with the history lesson.” It’s a pant, a plea, but Jared ignores Jensen completely and continues trailing the clover over his skin, moving to give Jensen’s other nipple the same treatment. The column of Jensen’s spine lights aflame. “Jared,” he tries again.
“Went to this castle when we were there, saw the Blarney Stone.” The clover twirls over Jensen’s hipbone. Jared drags the bright green leaves over the thin skin connecting hip and thigh and Jensen arches towards the touch. “They say once you kiss it you’re endowed with the eternal gift of eloquence.”
“Please Jared,” Jensen gasps, desperately trying to reign in the control of his vocal chords. “Tell me you didn’t. You’re the,” hitch of breath, roll of hips, “the last person who needs the gift of gab.” Jared chuckles against Jensen’s breastbone and Jensen tenses up. Groans when Jared’s lips close around his right nipple and teeth gently scrape the flesh.
“Didn’t kiss it,” he mumbles against Jensen’s skin. Jared’s tongue darts out, tracing aimless patterns between the moles on Jensen’s collarbone. Jensen threads his hand through the mop of Jared’s hair, strands of silk and shine between the webbing of his fingers, and tilts Jared’s face up. “Was dirty.”
“Good,” Jensen whispers. Jared’s hand has stilled over Jensen’s stomach, the clover tracing tight circles around the rim of his bellybutton. Clutching his wrist, Jensen slides Jared’s palm lower, presses it to his cock. Bucks his hips once and flattens his voice in an attempt to hide the strands of desperation fighting to bleed through. “Got something better for you to kiss right there.”
The slow spread of Jared’s smile across his face is like sunshine breaking out from behind the cloud of longing that had hung over Jensen the entire time he was away. The heat of it spreads through Jensen’s gut, all the way to his toes, and he can’t help but smile back. Jared nips at Jensen’s chin; slides his lips up higher and licks his way past Jensen’s teeth.
“We’ll get there,” he promises, drawing back and shifting on his heels before resuming his quiet reclamation of Jensen’s body. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Now we're listening to Irish music and drinking Midori sours.
And I wrote this for Kate's Multifandom Snowed In Weekend Challenge and killerweasel's birthday.
Solabharthact | J2 | PG-13 | 670 words | Jared returns from his trip abroad.
Jensen doesn't breathe, doesn't move a muscle. Bright flashes of color dance behind his lids, a private firework show for him alone.
The clover dances over his skin, Jared twirling the stem between his fingers. "You know, it’s not just four-leaf clovers that bring luck,” he murmurs. Jared’s voice is husky and whisky-rough. A month abroad and Jared had returned with skin flush and tanned, face rounded from ethnic cuisine and mouth full of legends and lore.
Jensen had barely let him through the threshold of his apartment before Jared pounced.
Now Jensen’s stretched out on his bed, Jared leaning over him like a sun-soaked statue, chiseled and emanating heat that Jensen can not - would not want to - evade.
The leaves brush over the back of Jensen’s eye lids, an unfathomably light touch that has him gasping for breath. Jared drags the clover over the bridge of Jensen’s nose; traces the contour of his cheek. “They say freckles are really marks left behind by a fairy’s kiss. A constant reminder of the luck bestowed upon you.”
Jensen can feel Jared’s breath hot upon his skin, his soft words curling up his neck. The clover passes over his lips and Jared pauses.
“Must be a pretty lucky guy, Jen.”
With Jared here, in his bed, Jensen can’t say he disagrees. He lets his eyes flutter open slowly, dragging his gaze up Jared’s naked torso. The leaves continue their journey downward, Jared tracking their progress. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes slanted and dark.
“Jared,” Jensen says. Flip of hair and then Jared’s eyes meet his own.
“Hmm,” Jared says innocently, lips pink and pursed. He twirls the stem of the clover directly over Jensen’s flat nipple and it pebbles under the faint kiss of leaves. Jensen lets out a quiet hiss.
“Enough…enough with the history lesson.” It’s a pant, a plea, but Jared ignores Jensen completely and continues trailing the clover over his skin, moving to give Jensen’s other nipple the same treatment. The column of Jensen’s spine lights aflame. “Jared,” he tries again.
“Went to this castle when we were there, saw the Blarney Stone.” The clover twirls over Jensen’s hipbone. Jared drags the bright green leaves over the thin skin connecting hip and thigh and Jensen arches towards the touch. “They say once you kiss it you’re endowed with the eternal gift of eloquence.”
“Please Jared,” Jensen gasps, desperately trying to reign in the control of his vocal chords. “Tell me you didn’t. You’re the,” hitch of breath, roll of hips, “the last person who needs the gift of gab.” Jared chuckles against Jensen’s breastbone and Jensen tenses up. Groans when Jared’s lips close around his right nipple and teeth gently scrape the flesh.
“Didn’t kiss it,” he mumbles against Jensen’s skin. Jared’s tongue darts out, tracing aimless patterns between the moles on Jensen’s collarbone. Jensen threads his hand through the mop of Jared’s hair, strands of silk and shine between the webbing of his fingers, and tilts Jared’s face up. “Was dirty.”
“Good,” Jensen whispers. Jared’s hand has stilled over Jensen’s stomach, the clover tracing tight circles around the rim of his bellybutton. Clutching his wrist, Jensen slides Jared’s palm lower, presses it to his cock. Bucks his hips once and flattens his voice in an attempt to hide the strands of desperation fighting to bleed through. “Got something better for you to kiss right there.”
The slow spread of Jared’s smile across his face is like sunshine breaking out from behind the cloud of longing that had hung over Jensen the entire time he was away. The heat of it spreads through Jensen’s gut, all the way to his toes, and he can’t help but smile back. Jared nips at Jensen’s chin; slides his lips up higher and licks his way past Jensen’s teeth.
“We’ll get there,” he promises, drawing back and shifting on his heels before resuming his quiet reclamation of Jensen’s body. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”