Re: Stripper Jared/Shy, Wanting Jensen Part IIrejenerationDecember 10 2009, 09:37:46 UTC
“Got something for you,” Chris says and he’s dropping a pass into Jensen’s hand. Figures his best friend would know, that he’d give Jensen the gift of a lifetime. The smirk that comes after it is all shit-eating. “Don’t want to see you back here until morning, Son.”
Jensen’s nervous as hell. There’s a girl backstage, she leads the way, knocking a few times on Jared’s door. He says “Come in,” and Jensen suddenly wonders how often this kind of thing happens. Wonders if Jared sets this up for himself-nightly, weekly. How many times he picks someone to fuck?
The girl opens the door and gives Jensen a shove in, and just like that the two of them staring at each other through the wall-wide mirror. Jared’s still coated in paint, and his eyes look a little wild. “So, hey,” he says, swiveling around in his chair.
Jensen never does this, never, never ever, but he’s on autopilot, crossing the room and dropping right there, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jared’s thigh. Jensen looks up at him, slightly mortified and surprised at himself. Jared’s probably going to throw him out, except his hands brush across Jensen’s scalp, fingers sliding down to kneed around his neck.
Jensen bites into his lower lip, leans forward again, licks the apex of Jared of Jared’s skin, nosing at the salty-sweet stench. Crowded underneath Jared’s cologne. Jensen thinks about dragging Jared to a dark room with a big bed, wonders if he’d let him. If Jared actually does this thing? His hands are gently tracing the bones of Jensen’s face, and all Jensen can think about is sex and greed.
“C’mere. Get up,” Jared commands, prying Jensen off the floor, then kissing his mouth with fast, sloppy heat. “God, yes,” Jensen groans, confused by his own reaction. Sluttiness. Shoving his tongue past Jared’s lips. Jensen tears at Jared’s skin, wanting to rake fingernail through the paint.
Jensen’s nervous as hell. There’s a girl backstage, she leads the way, knocking a few times on Jared’s door. He says “Come in,” and Jensen suddenly wonders how often this kind of thing happens. Wonders if Jared sets this up for himself-nightly, weekly. How many times he picks someone to fuck?
The girl opens the door and gives Jensen a shove in, and just like that the two of them staring at each other through the wall-wide mirror. Jared’s still coated in paint, and his eyes look a little wild. “So, hey,” he says, swiveling around in his chair.
Jensen never does this, never, never ever, but he’s on autopilot, crossing the room and dropping right there, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jared’s thigh. Jensen looks up at him, slightly mortified and surprised at himself. Jared’s probably going to throw him out, except his hands brush across Jensen’s scalp, fingers sliding down to kneed around his neck.
Jensen bites into his lower lip, leans forward again, licks the apex of Jared of Jared’s skin, nosing at the salty-sweet stench. Crowded underneath Jared’s cologne. Jensen thinks about dragging Jared to a dark room with a big bed, wonders if he’d let him. If Jared actually does this thing? His hands are gently tracing the bones of Jensen’s face, and all Jensen can think about is sex and greed.
“C’mere. Get up,” Jared commands, prying Jensen off the floor, then kissing his mouth with fast, sloppy heat. “God, yes,” Jensen groans, confused by his own reaction. Sluttiness. Shoving his tongue past Jared’s lips. Jensen tears at Jared’s skin, wanting to rake fingernail through the paint.
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