Drabble: Peaches and Cream (Jared/Jensen)
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 1,500
Warnings: PWP, mild foodplay, shameless indulgence of my oral kink
Notes: If this ruins peaches, it's all cheebles fault - she gave me the prompt. Hooray for something not angsty as fuck! And yes, I am truly, deeply ashamed of the pun in that title, but I'm still not changing it.
Summary - Jensen has got to be the only human being alive who could eat out a piece of produce.
Jensen is a very pornographic guy. Not that he’s constantly stripping down or licking cylindrical objects for no apparent reason, he’s not intentionally pornographic, he’s just being himself and the sex-on-tap thing just kind of happens. Before they actually started screwing around, that fact was kind of the bane of Jared’s existence, and now that they are screwing around… well, no, still pretty much the bane of his existence. The difference is now he can do something about it. Maybe. If he can make himself stop staring.
They’re sitting out back on the porch steps, sun waning slowly toward evening, casting the long shadow of the house over them. The dogs are running back and forth across the yard fighting over a toy now that they’ve decided that, no, they don’t want some of whatever Jensen’s eating. What Jensen is eating, happens to be a peach - a peach made of sin - and Jared definitely wants some, just maybe not of the peach.
Jensen sinks his teeth into another bite of the firm, orange flesh, juice seeping out around the seal of his lips, dribbling over his fingers and down his chin. Somehow or other he manages to swallow in slow-fucking-motion, an obscene suckling sound following as his tongue slips out to chase a stray tear of juice winding down the smooth, ripe flesh. He takes another bite almost immediately, eyes closed in something akin to rapture, enough of the golden nectar building up at the point of his chin to start a tantalizing trail down the column of his throat. Jensen has got to be the only human being alive who could eat out a piece of produce.
“Oh mah Gaw,” he moans wetly, chomping down the fruit in his mouth and licking the plump curve of his lips. “Mmm, I know I said that all organic thing was bullshit, but this is a fucking awesome peach!”
He proffers the fruit to Jared in a loose fist, wordlessly encouraging him to try a bite. The sugar-rich liquid has turned his hand slick, a single shining droplet clinging to the outer swell of his palm before it loses the fight with gravity and falls to the to the wooden steps with a soft pat. Jared brain suggests something vague about wet and dripping and precome and then breaks into a couple thousand tiny, irreparable pieces.
Given that, Jared feels he's not entirely at fault for the fact that his next move is to completely ignore what is no doubt a succulent and delicious member of the five food groups and skips straight to going down on Jensen's fingers like it's going out of style.
The juice is sweet and tart over the mildly salty flavor of Jensen's skin. Dimly he hears Jensen whimper but he's too busy crooking his tongue into the webbing of Jensen's fingers to actually do anything about it. Jensen's fingertips rub at the washboard roof of his mouth in what Jared can only assume is encouragement since Jensen’s other hand removes the peach from his palm, giving Jared even more room to work.
His cock is throbbing in his jeans, the feel of warm flesh sliding past his lips, the minor stretch of the knot of three fingers he's currently working at conspiring to remind his body of how much fun it can be to suck on other parts of Jensen's anatomy. A quick glance up through his lashes tells him Jensen's stuck along those same lines too, going by the glazed focus of his eyes and the way his lips are parted slightly to pant shallowly, still glossy with peach juice and that compulsive way he's licking them.
Jared moves on to the palm, slowing down just a little as he mouths his way across the uneven plain. He doesn't bother to keep the sloppy noises of it to himself - Jensen's always liked it wet and messy - as he licks and sucks up the tangy fluid from the folds of Jensen's hand. The muscles spasm ticklishly when he gets to the center, sparing an extra moment to wriggle his tongue there and make Jensen squirm where he's sitting. There's a clear bulge trapped against his thigh by his tight, worn jeans and Jared could pretty easily reach over for a little stroke to relieve some of the pressure, but honestly, where's the fun in that?
His smirk is probably covered by the motion of his mouth, but just in case, he nips gently at the thin skin of Jensen's wrist for a distraction before soothing over it with a long lick straight up his forearm to gather a few stray traces of peach flavor. By the second broad swipe of his tongue up the length of it, he earns a growl and Jensen's saliva-sticky hand fisting in his hair, tugging him upward.
Jared doesn't quite let Jensen drag him all the way up into the kiss he obviously had planned, instead stalling out at the hollow of his throat where a light sheen of clean sweat has mixed with that one errant trickle of juice from his chin. A low, almost pained moan vibrates against Jared's lips as he kisses his way up the delicate flesh, pausing to drag his teeth slightly over the jut of Jensen's Adam's apple. His name comes out gruff and shiver-worthy in Jensen's voice as Jared teases the underside of the other man's jaw with his lips, on up to bite softly at his chin, the rasp of stubble like heat on his tongue.
He could, should, even wants to end this now, the urge to push Jensen flat to the porch and rut up against him through their clothes like a couple of horny teenagers almost overwhelming. But goddamn he loves getting Jen worked up and crazy for it and he really does owe Jensen just a little bit of payback for that whole forbidden fruit sex show.
What he does is cup one hand to the back of Jensen's head, the fingers of the other just feathering over the hot press of Jensen’s cock through denim, and dodges just a little to the side when Jensen tries to capture his lips. Instead he licks at the sweetness just beginning to turn sticky at the border of Jensen's mouth, laving over it slowly but refusing to go deeper when Jensen spreads his jaw like an invitation. He worms his tongue into the corner of those full lips, clearing away any lingering traces of sugar and detours briefly to give one taunting lick to the inside of Jensen's cheek.
At some point Jensen must have ditched the fruit because both of his hands are on Jared now, one bunching up his shirt at the small of his back, the other splayed across the back of his neck to make sure he doesn't go anywhere. He can't pay too much attention to that, though, because he suddenly feels the slick, hot wriggle of Jensen's tongue against the side of his own. Fucking cheater.
Jared can't resist anymore, not when Jensen winds his clever tongue around Jared's and coaxes - practically pulls - it into the waiting cavern of his mouth. From there it's a short trip from making out to humping like wild animals, the slats of the porch digging into Jared's knees and arms in ways that are going to leave some awkward bruises come tomorrow. Their sugar-tacky mouths catch at each other, sweet breath huffed back and forth like that one little scrap is all the oxygen either of them is going to get.
Jensen's hand slides down the back of Jared's jeans, one finger finding its way to apply tempting pressure against the curl of his hole. Less than a dozen sharp jabs of his hips later, Jared gives into the irresistible pull and comes, slick heat coating the inside of his boxers. Jensen hardly makes it two strokes longer, pressing a sharp, choked-off sound that might have been Jared's name against his cheek.
It takes what seems like a long while before either of them can get their breathing back under control, sprawled out side by side, staring up at the darkening evening sky. They should really probably get up before their bodies try to convince them the wooden planks are a lot more comfortable for napping than they actually are, but Jared can't quite work up the will to do it just yet.
Jensen’s hand - still sticky; they are both going to need a serious shower - finds his twining their fingers together. It’s a soft gesture, the kind of thing Jensen seems to need after they mess around even though he likes to pretend he hates it when Jared cuddles him. There’s banked heat in his voice though, along with no little bit of mischief when he lolls his head Jared’s direction and grins, “You know, I bought a whole bag of those peaches.”
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 1,500
Warnings: PWP, mild foodplay, shameless indulgence of my oral kink
Notes: If this ruins peaches, it's all cheebles fault - she gave me the prompt. Hooray for something not angsty as fuck! And yes, I am truly, deeply ashamed of the pun in that title, but I'm still not changing it.
Summary - Jensen has got to be the only human being alive who could eat out a piece of produce.
Jensen is a very pornographic guy. Not that he’s constantly stripping down or licking cylindrical objects for no apparent reason, he’s not intentionally pornographic, he’s just being himself and the sex-on-tap thing just kind of happens. Before they actually started screwing around, that fact was kind of the bane of Jared’s existence, and now that they are screwing around… well, no, still pretty much the bane of his existence. The difference is now he can do something about it. Maybe. If he can make himself stop staring.
They’re sitting out back on the porch steps, sun waning slowly toward evening, casting the long shadow of the house over them. The dogs are running back and forth across the yard fighting over a toy now that they’ve decided that, no, they don’t want some of whatever Jensen’s eating. What Jensen is eating, happens to be a peach - a peach made of sin - and Jared definitely wants some, just maybe not of the peach.
Jensen sinks his teeth into another bite of the firm, orange flesh, juice seeping out around the seal of his lips, dribbling over his fingers and down his chin. Somehow or other he manages to swallow in slow-fucking-motion, an obscene suckling sound following as his tongue slips out to chase a stray tear of juice winding down the smooth, ripe flesh. He takes another bite almost immediately, eyes closed in something akin to rapture, enough of the golden nectar building up at the point of his chin to start a tantalizing trail down the column of his throat. Jensen has got to be the only human being alive who could eat out a piece of produce.
“Oh mah Gaw,” he moans wetly, chomping down the fruit in his mouth and licking the plump curve of his lips. “Mmm, I know I said that all organic thing was bullshit, but this is a fucking awesome peach!”
He proffers the fruit to Jared in a loose fist, wordlessly encouraging him to try a bite. The sugar-rich liquid has turned his hand slick, a single shining droplet clinging to the outer swell of his palm before it loses the fight with gravity and falls to the to the wooden steps with a soft pat. Jared brain suggests something vague about wet and dripping and precome and then breaks into a couple thousand tiny, irreparable pieces.
Given that, Jared feels he's not entirely at fault for the fact that his next move is to completely ignore what is no doubt a succulent and delicious member of the five food groups and skips straight to going down on Jensen's fingers like it's going out of style.
The juice is sweet and tart over the mildly salty flavor of Jensen's skin. Dimly he hears Jensen whimper but he's too busy crooking his tongue into the webbing of Jensen's fingers to actually do anything about it. Jensen's fingertips rub at the washboard roof of his mouth in what Jared can only assume is encouragement since Jensen’s other hand removes the peach from his palm, giving Jared even more room to work.
His cock is throbbing in his jeans, the feel of warm flesh sliding past his lips, the minor stretch of the knot of three fingers he's currently working at conspiring to remind his body of how much fun it can be to suck on other parts of Jensen's anatomy. A quick glance up through his lashes tells him Jensen's stuck along those same lines too, going by the glazed focus of his eyes and the way his lips are parted slightly to pant shallowly, still glossy with peach juice and that compulsive way he's licking them.
Jared moves on to the palm, slowing down just a little as he mouths his way across the uneven plain. He doesn't bother to keep the sloppy noises of it to himself - Jensen's always liked it wet and messy - as he licks and sucks up the tangy fluid from the folds of Jensen's hand. The muscles spasm ticklishly when he gets to the center, sparing an extra moment to wriggle his tongue there and make Jensen squirm where he's sitting. There's a clear bulge trapped against his thigh by his tight, worn jeans and Jared could pretty easily reach over for a little stroke to relieve some of the pressure, but honestly, where's the fun in that?
His smirk is probably covered by the motion of his mouth, but just in case, he nips gently at the thin skin of Jensen's wrist for a distraction before soothing over it with a long lick straight up his forearm to gather a few stray traces of peach flavor. By the second broad swipe of his tongue up the length of it, he earns a growl and Jensen's saliva-sticky hand fisting in his hair, tugging him upward.
Jared doesn't quite let Jensen drag him all the way up into the kiss he obviously had planned, instead stalling out at the hollow of his throat where a light sheen of clean sweat has mixed with that one errant trickle of juice from his chin. A low, almost pained moan vibrates against Jared's lips as he kisses his way up the delicate flesh, pausing to drag his teeth slightly over the jut of Jensen's Adam's apple. His name comes out gruff and shiver-worthy in Jensen's voice as Jared teases the underside of the other man's jaw with his lips, on up to bite softly at his chin, the rasp of stubble like heat on his tongue.
He could, should, even wants to end this now, the urge to push Jensen flat to the porch and rut up against him through their clothes like a couple of horny teenagers almost overwhelming. But goddamn he loves getting Jen worked up and crazy for it and he really does owe Jensen just a little bit of payback for that whole forbidden fruit sex show.
What he does is cup one hand to the back of Jensen's head, the fingers of the other just feathering over the hot press of Jensen’s cock through denim, and dodges just a little to the side when Jensen tries to capture his lips. Instead he licks at the sweetness just beginning to turn sticky at the border of Jensen's mouth, laving over it slowly but refusing to go deeper when Jensen spreads his jaw like an invitation. He worms his tongue into the corner of those full lips, clearing away any lingering traces of sugar and detours briefly to give one taunting lick to the inside of Jensen's cheek.
At some point Jensen must have ditched the fruit because both of his hands are on Jared now, one bunching up his shirt at the small of his back, the other splayed across the back of his neck to make sure he doesn't go anywhere. He can't pay too much attention to that, though, because he suddenly feels the slick, hot wriggle of Jensen's tongue against the side of his own. Fucking cheater.
Jared can't resist anymore, not when Jensen winds his clever tongue around Jared's and coaxes - practically pulls - it into the waiting cavern of his mouth. From there it's a short trip from making out to humping like wild animals, the slats of the porch digging into Jared's knees and arms in ways that are going to leave some awkward bruises come tomorrow. Their sugar-tacky mouths catch at each other, sweet breath huffed back and forth like that one little scrap is all the oxygen either of them is going to get.
Jensen's hand slides down the back of Jared's jeans, one finger finding its way to apply tempting pressure against the curl of his hole. Less than a dozen sharp jabs of his hips later, Jared gives into the irresistible pull and comes, slick heat coating the inside of his boxers. Jensen hardly makes it two strokes longer, pressing a sharp, choked-off sound that might have been Jared's name against his cheek.
It takes what seems like a long while before either of them can get their breathing back under control, sprawled out side by side, staring up at the darkening evening sky. They should really probably get up before their bodies try to convince them the wooden planks are a lot more comfortable for napping than they actually are, but Jared can't quite work up the will to do it just yet.
Jensen’s hand - still sticky; they are both going to need a serious shower - finds his twining their fingers together. It’s a soft gesture, the kind of thing Jensen seems to need after they mess around even though he likes to pretend he hates it when Jared cuddles him. There’s banked heat in his voice though, along with no little bit of mischief when he lolls his head Jared’s direction and grins, “You know, I bought a whole bag of those peaches.”