Fic: Hush (Jensen/Jared)
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 1,911
Warnings: Covert public sex, slight exhibitionism, schmoop
Notes: For my darling paper_storm88 on this, her birthday. Ok, fine, it was originally my submission for the third round of J2_LKS, which, as far as I can tell, is never going to happen now (watch it start back up immediately after I post this). The prompt was "sensory deprivation - fluff". But hey, schmoopy, fluff boys on your birthday can't be too bad, right?
Summary - “Tell me again how this is romantic,” Jensen drawls into the blackness. Dark dining; who the hell comes up with this shit?
“Tell me again how this is romantic,” Jensen drawls into the blackness. Dark dining;who the hell comes up with this shit?
All around him he can hear the clink and rustle of flatware and table linens, people shifting in their seats and whispering their own conversations. Somewhere directly in front of him, Jared huffs out a long, exasperated sigh. Jensen wonders if it says something about them that he knows exactly what Jared’s face looks like right now without being able to see it.
“Because I said so,” Jared hisses back, “Now hush, you’re ruining the ambiance.”
“It’s pitch black, there’s no ambiance! For all you know we’re about to eat big heaping bowls of mud right now.”
“I think we would notice if we started eating mud.”
“Not until we’d tasted it and then it’s too late! They could put anything down in front of us and we’d never know, not to mention the opportunity for-“
“If you say pickpockets one more time I’m putting a blindfold on you and you can spend the rest of the night in the dark. By yourself, jackass. It’s beef consommé, by the way, and it’s delicious.”
“I just don’t think-” Jensen’s train of thought is derailed by the sound of silverware clattering on the other side of the table and the soft scrape of wood on wood - a chair being pushed out. “Jared? Where are you going? Ja-“
This time the scrape of the chair is on this side of the table because Jensen practically leaps out of it when he feels his knees suddenly shoved apart.
“I told you to hush,” Jared says simply, but this time it’s a purr; this sexed-up roll of sound painting a warm spot on the inside of Jensen’s knee through his slacks that has Jensen’s dick convinced needs to be much, much closer.
It gets its wish too, because Jensen can feel his boyfriend inching inward, his own legs falling open automatically to give Jared as much room as he wants. The next time Jared speaks it’s slightly slurred as his lips catch against Jensen’s fly.
“Now can you be a good boy and stay quiet?” His voice is condescending, but the tantalizing heat of his breath bleeding through wool makes Jensen’s balls tighten so suddenly it almost hurts. All Jensen can do in reply is nod until he realizes Jared can’t see it in this stupid gimmick restaurant and manages to choke out an “uh huh.”
The vibration of Jared’s low laugh is his reward. Some other time Jensen might bother being ashamed of the high, broken gasp that pulls out of him, but hell, it’s not like anybody here will be able to tell where it came from anyway. Well, except for Jared, but he’ll deal with the inevitable teasing over that at some point when he’s not on the brink of a public blow job.
Oh God, and he totally is because he can feel Jared’s fingers- fucking fantastic, nimble, talented fingers that drive him crazy - plucking open the catch on his pants and slowly lowering the zipper, hot breaths suddenly so much more intoxicating with only the thin layer of his boxers in the way.
Off to the right - it’s hard to judge distance with just his ears, but it could only be a table or two over - a woman sneezes just as Jared’s reaching into the split of Jensen’s underwear and easing his cock free and it just makes it all that much more obscene. There are people all around them, blithely eating dinner in the fucking dark, spooning up their consommé while Jared laps the slit of Jensen’s cock clean, tongue sharpening to a point to wiggle at the little opening until the muscles in Jensen’s thigh spasm and his knee bangs into the underside of the table. Christ, he’s going to go off embarrassingly fast.
He’s got no control in this, can’t direct it the way he usually does without risking someone overhearing, can’t buck up into Jared’s mouth for fear of the chair making noise and attracting attention, can’t even fucking seewhat’s about to happen as Jared teases his lips around the crown like he’s using Jensen’s precome for lipbalm; no choice but to sit back and ride it out. Guess he can add that to the - by now extremely long - list of things he’d have never thought he’d get off on before he started dating Jared.
Reflexively his teeth sink into his bottom lip to hold back the sounds mountaineering up his throat when Jared finally takes the head into the silky heat of his mouth. It’s so wet, like Jared’s mouth has been watering this whole time, a little trickle of saliva escaping down the side of his cock. Even that tiny sensation seems overwhelming, every nerve alight with the ticklish crawl of it, Jensen’s entire body tuned into the inches of blood-rich flesh easing into Jared’s mouth.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” The low voice of their waiter spoken close to his ear shatters Jensen’s control like spun glass. The thunk underneath the table has to be Jared’s head rearing back since Jensen just jolted straight off the seat in shock and shoved himself past Jared’s gag reflex. He’s too high on the adrenaline flood to even wince at the scrape of teeth close to his base.
“Shit! No!” he breaks off on a short cough as he inhales a little of his own spit, “No, um, no. We’re fine, we’re great. Thanks.” Hislaugh sounds panicky to his own ears but maybe the waiter will just think he has a crippling phobia of the dark or something instead of a boyfriend who’s constantly redefining Jensen’s understanding of sexual deviance.
Against his thigh Jared’s muffled laughter is sweltering, his body shaking with it in the spread Jensen’s legs. A hand snaked down to grab him by the hair and push him off doesn’t do any good because the moment Jensen’s fingers are threaded through the soft strands, Jared’s mouth is back, bobbing and sucking with a vengeance.
And really, how’s he supposed to say no to that? He’d promised to hush, after all.
Jared’s tongue is vicious, doing this dirty little wiggle up the vein on the underside, flicking at the knot of nerves below the head and then flattening back out for long, velvet strokes that Jensen can feel in his fucking fingernails. Hitting Jensen right where he lives and probably lovingit, smug bastard.
Under his fingers Jared's scalp is tacky, damp with the first hint of sweat. Soon it's going to be all tangled, fussed out of place because Jensen can't resist fisting both hands in it, riding the way Jared's sinking down on him in these tiny, delicious corkscrews and pulling back up with slow drags of suction so intense Jensen can feel his blood moving under the skin with it.
There is a constant rhythmic brush against the swell of his calf that he knows has to be Jared jacking himself off. If he strains, he thinks he can hear it, small sticky sounds of flesh and precome to match the muffled huff of Jared's breath against his skin, hot waves of air right there at the base as his boyfriend abandons finesse and just goes deep, taking Jensen into his throat with rough swallows.
He's having a hard time keeping the volume down himself, deep noises slipping free every now and again before he can bite them off. People are bound to hear them and Jensen catches himself wondering if they realize what's going on, if they're staring out into the dark wondering who’s defiling their dining experience. If they're disgusted by it or maybe a little bit turned on, if any of them have to sneak a hand between their legs too, feeling filthy and twisted up over it but unable to help themselves all the same.
Jensen feels the moment Jared loses it, mouth gone slack around him, vibrations of his barely stifled moans shivering up Jensen's spine like a struck tuning fork. What is Jared doing with it? I she letting it go all over the floor, sick evidence of what they did left for the cleanup crew? Or is he catching it in his hand to wipe off on a napkin or,God, to lick away, drink it down after he's finished Jensen's so their tastes mingle on his tongue.
Fuck.Fuck.
Jared's hand - clean - finds Jensen's across the curve of his skull, clutches at it like Jensen needs any goading at all to manhandle him down and fuck his mouth. He stares down into the blackness as if he's going to be able to see Jared's head buried there between his legs, hair a mess around his fingers, cheeks flushed with arousal and the need for more air that Jensen's giving him a chance to suck in between the rough pushes Jared's not bothering to fight. One more thrust, one more tight knead from Jared's throat and he's lost, the tie-dyed white bursting across the back of his eyelids the first thing he's seen in close to an hour.
Honestly, he’s not completely sure how well he does with the whole keeping silent thing, but it doesn’t sound like anyone’s rushing over tokick out the perverts at table six, so he figures it’s ok. As shivery-pleased as he feels right now, he's not sure he could work up the energy to be embarrassed even if they did.
Across the table he hears Jared’s chair move as he resettles himself, can just imagine the self-satisfied smirk on that pretty mouth of his, all swollen and red from Jensen’s cock. How many more courses are on the damn tasting menu? Because skipping to dessert back at the house is starting to sound like a damn fine idea to Jensen.
His tongue sticks dryly against the roof of his mouth as he tries to swallow, breathe, breathe some more because he's heard it's like, important or something. Man Jared can do a number on him.
It’s the tiny click as he closes his hand around his water glass that clues him in, too much of his focus still dedicated to the dopey buzz in his blood to have noticed the foreign pressure around his ring finger. Then it’s the only thing he can feel.
His right hand darts up to check it, feel blindly around at the smooth curve of metal, not yet warm from his body. His heartbeat was starting to slow back down again and just that fast it’s back in overdrive.
They’ve talked about this, sure, basically agreed this was the direction things were heading but… he hadn’t really thought… certainly hadn’t expected…
“Jay,” he breathes because his ability to form coherent thought clocked out a couple of minutes ago.
Over there in the dark he can hear Jared’s small, pleased hum, can feel the warmth of that smile that never fails to make him melt breaking against his skin. There’s a quiet shuff of cloth and then Jared’s fingers are finding Jensen’s on the tabletop, tangling them together.
“That’s how it’s romantic. Jackass,” he murmurs. With a small tug he brings Jensen's hand up to his lips, kisses the new band around his fingers with the curve of a smile pressed soft against Jensen's palm. And for the first time all night, Jensen agrees.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 1,911
Warnings: Covert public sex, slight exhibitionism, schmoop
Notes: For my darling paper_storm88 on this, her birthday. Ok, fine, it was originally my submission for the third round of J2_LKS, which, as far as I can tell, is never going to happen now (watch it start back up immediately after I post this). The prompt was "sensory deprivation - fluff". But hey, schmoopy, fluff boys on your birthday can't be too bad, right?
Summary - “Tell me again how this is romantic,” Jensen drawls into the blackness. Dark dining; who the hell comes up with this shit?
“Tell me again how this is romantic,” Jensen drawls into the blackness. Dark dining;who the hell comes up with this shit?
All around him he can hear the clink and rustle of flatware and table linens, people shifting in their seats and whispering their own conversations. Somewhere directly in front of him, Jared huffs out a long, exasperated sigh. Jensen wonders if it says something about them that he knows exactly what Jared’s face looks like right now without being able to see it.
“Because I said so,” Jared hisses back, “Now hush, you’re ruining the ambiance.”
“It’s pitch black, there’s no ambiance! For all you know we’re about to eat big heaping bowls of mud right now.”
“I think we would notice if we started eating mud.”
“Not until we’d tasted it and then it’s too late! They could put anything down in front of us and we’d never know, not to mention the opportunity for-“
“If you say pickpockets one more time I’m putting a blindfold on you and you can spend the rest of the night in the dark. By yourself, jackass. It’s beef consommé, by the way, and it’s delicious.”
“I just don’t think-” Jensen’s train of thought is derailed by the sound of silverware clattering on the other side of the table and the soft scrape of wood on wood - a chair being pushed out. “Jared? Where are you going? Ja-“
This time the scrape of the chair is on this side of the table because Jensen practically leaps out of it when he feels his knees suddenly shoved apart.
“I told you to hush,” Jared says simply, but this time it’s a purr; this sexed-up roll of sound painting a warm spot on the inside of Jensen’s knee through his slacks that has Jensen’s dick convinced needs to be much, much closer.
It gets its wish too, because Jensen can feel his boyfriend inching inward, his own legs falling open automatically to give Jared as much room as he wants. The next time Jared speaks it’s slightly slurred as his lips catch against Jensen’s fly.
“Now can you be a good boy and stay quiet?” His voice is condescending, but the tantalizing heat of his breath bleeding through wool makes Jensen’s balls tighten so suddenly it almost hurts. All Jensen can do in reply is nod until he realizes Jared can’t see it in this stupid gimmick restaurant and manages to choke out an “uh huh.”
The vibration of Jared’s low laugh is his reward. Some other time Jensen might bother being ashamed of the high, broken gasp that pulls out of him, but hell, it’s not like anybody here will be able to tell where it came from anyway. Well, except for Jared, but he’ll deal with the inevitable teasing over that at some point when he’s not on the brink of a public blow job.
Oh God, and he totally is because he can feel Jared’s fingers- fucking fantastic, nimble, talented fingers that drive him crazy - plucking open the catch on his pants and slowly lowering the zipper, hot breaths suddenly so much more intoxicating with only the thin layer of his boxers in the way.
Off to the right - it’s hard to judge distance with just his ears, but it could only be a table or two over - a woman sneezes just as Jared’s reaching into the split of Jensen’s underwear and easing his cock free and it just makes it all that much more obscene. There are people all around them, blithely eating dinner in the fucking dark, spooning up their consommé while Jared laps the slit of Jensen’s cock clean, tongue sharpening to a point to wiggle at the little opening until the muscles in Jensen’s thigh spasm and his knee bangs into the underside of the table. Christ, he’s going to go off embarrassingly fast.
He’s got no control in this, can’t direct it the way he usually does without risking someone overhearing, can’t buck up into Jared’s mouth for fear of the chair making noise and attracting attention, can’t even fucking seewhat’s about to happen as Jared teases his lips around the crown like he’s using Jensen’s precome for lipbalm; no choice but to sit back and ride it out. Guess he can add that to the - by now extremely long - list of things he’d have never thought he’d get off on before he started dating Jared.
Reflexively his teeth sink into his bottom lip to hold back the sounds mountaineering up his throat when Jared finally takes the head into the silky heat of his mouth. It’s so wet, like Jared’s mouth has been watering this whole time, a little trickle of saliva escaping down the side of his cock. Even that tiny sensation seems overwhelming, every nerve alight with the ticklish crawl of it, Jensen’s entire body tuned into the inches of blood-rich flesh easing into Jared’s mouth.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” The low voice of their waiter spoken close to his ear shatters Jensen’s control like spun glass. The thunk underneath the table has to be Jared’s head rearing back since Jensen just jolted straight off the seat in shock and shoved himself past Jared’s gag reflex. He’s too high on the adrenaline flood to even wince at the scrape of teeth close to his base.
“Shit! No!” he breaks off on a short cough as he inhales a little of his own spit, “No, um, no. We’re fine, we’re great. Thanks.” Hislaugh sounds panicky to his own ears but maybe the waiter will just think he has a crippling phobia of the dark or something instead of a boyfriend who’s constantly redefining Jensen’s understanding of sexual deviance.
Against his thigh Jared’s muffled laughter is sweltering, his body shaking with it in the spread Jensen’s legs. A hand snaked down to grab him by the hair and push him off doesn’t do any good because the moment Jensen’s fingers are threaded through the soft strands, Jared’s mouth is back, bobbing and sucking with a vengeance.
And really, how’s he supposed to say no to that? He’d promised to hush, after all.
Jared’s tongue is vicious, doing this dirty little wiggle up the vein on the underside, flicking at the knot of nerves below the head and then flattening back out for long, velvet strokes that Jensen can feel in his fucking fingernails. Hitting Jensen right where he lives and probably lovingit, smug bastard.
Under his fingers Jared's scalp is tacky, damp with the first hint of sweat. Soon it's going to be all tangled, fussed out of place because Jensen can't resist fisting both hands in it, riding the way Jared's sinking down on him in these tiny, delicious corkscrews and pulling back up with slow drags of suction so intense Jensen can feel his blood moving under the skin with it.
There is a constant rhythmic brush against the swell of his calf that he knows has to be Jared jacking himself off. If he strains, he thinks he can hear it, small sticky sounds of flesh and precome to match the muffled huff of Jared's breath against his skin, hot waves of air right there at the base as his boyfriend abandons finesse and just goes deep, taking Jensen into his throat with rough swallows.
He's having a hard time keeping the volume down himself, deep noises slipping free every now and again before he can bite them off. People are bound to hear them and Jensen catches himself wondering if they realize what's going on, if they're staring out into the dark wondering who’s defiling their dining experience. If they're disgusted by it or maybe a little bit turned on, if any of them have to sneak a hand between their legs too, feeling filthy and twisted up over it but unable to help themselves all the same.
Jensen feels the moment Jared loses it, mouth gone slack around him, vibrations of his barely stifled moans shivering up Jensen's spine like a struck tuning fork. What is Jared doing with it? I she letting it go all over the floor, sick evidence of what they did left for the cleanup crew? Or is he catching it in his hand to wipe off on a napkin or,God, to lick away, drink it down after he's finished Jensen's so their tastes mingle on his tongue.
Fuck.Fuck.
Jared's hand - clean - finds Jensen's across the curve of his skull, clutches at it like Jensen needs any goading at all to manhandle him down and fuck his mouth. He stares down into the blackness as if he's going to be able to see Jared's head buried there between his legs, hair a mess around his fingers, cheeks flushed with arousal and the need for more air that Jensen's giving him a chance to suck in between the rough pushes Jared's not bothering to fight. One more thrust, one more tight knead from Jared's throat and he's lost, the tie-dyed white bursting across the back of his eyelids the first thing he's seen in close to an hour.
Honestly, he’s not completely sure how well he does with the whole keeping silent thing, but it doesn’t sound like anyone’s rushing over tokick out the perverts at table six, so he figures it’s ok. As shivery-pleased as he feels right now, he's not sure he could work up the energy to be embarrassed even if they did.
Across the table he hears Jared’s chair move as he resettles himself, can just imagine the self-satisfied smirk on that pretty mouth of his, all swollen and red from Jensen’s cock. How many more courses are on the damn tasting menu? Because skipping to dessert back at the house is starting to sound like a damn fine idea to Jensen.
His tongue sticks dryly against the roof of his mouth as he tries to swallow, breathe, breathe some more because he's heard it's like, important or something. Man Jared can do a number on him.
It’s the tiny click as he closes his hand around his water glass that clues him in, too much of his focus still dedicated to the dopey buzz in his blood to have noticed the foreign pressure around his ring finger. Then it’s the only thing he can feel.
His right hand darts up to check it, feel blindly around at the smooth curve of metal, not yet warm from his body. His heartbeat was starting to slow back down again and just that fast it’s back in overdrive.
They’ve talked about this, sure, basically agreed this was the direction things were heading but… he hadn’t really thought… certainly hadn’t expected…
“Jay,” he breathes because his ability to form coherent thought clocked out a couple of minutes ago.
Over there in the dark he can hear Jared’s small, pleased hum, can feel the warmth of that smile that never fails to make him melt breaking against his skin. There’s a quiet shuff of cloth and then Jared’s fingers are finding Jensen’s on the tabletop, tangling them together.
“That’s how it’s romantic. Jackass,” he murmurs. With a small tug he brings Jensen's hand up to his lips, kisses the new band around his fingers with the curve of a smile pressed soft against Jensen's palm. And for the first time all night, Jensen agrees.