porny porn mcporn
title: Got Ink?
word count: 4458
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content. jared/jensen.
disclaimer: mr. ackles and mr. padalecki own each other themselves. if they were mine, i would've died happy.
summary: tattoos make jared think of sex. so getting inked by a tattoo artist like jensen might not be such a great idea after all.
warning: graphic m/m sex, rimming, unexpected schmoopy ending
a/n: RPS AU. tattoo artist!jensen for the lovely
paz_; because their love is so dorky and obvious, eh, sweets? awesome beta love to
unamaga. feedbacks would be loved. :)
Got Ink?
Tattoos make you think of sex.
Yes, and not just the symbols or letters or whatnots marked on somebody’s skin, either. Just the general idea of having someone pricking you to put his mark on you - regardless of how you’re the one deciding to get a mark stamped on you and what design you wanted - makes you think of hot, brain-frying sex. Chad calls you a kinky, twisted fucker and you laugh (more like guffaw, because that’s how you are), asks why have you never jumped him for the ink on his arm, and you tell him because he’ll always be a sexless, moronic blob of meat and bones to you and he smacks the back of your head so hard you think you can feel your brain dislocating. Chad tells you the only way to cure this sickness (humping anyone and everyone with ink on any part of their bodies isn’t healthy, man) is to get a tattoo for yourself, kind of like exposure therapy (face your fear, your kink, whatever, man) and you say maybe it’s a good idea because you’re stupid that way.
Yes, you really are. You know it yourself.
You figure Saturday would be best because well, it isn’t Sunday and so when your momma call to find out if you went for church you wouldn’t have to lie. Much. How would you know that barely anyone gets a tattoo at nine in the morning (you have a dental appointment at two and secretly wonder which one would hurt more) on a Saturday? Or that the moment you push the random tattoo parlor door and step in with your patented sunny smile and Southern boy swagger you would break the international record for quickest hard-on?
The guy dropped the Sharpie he was twirling between his fingers, slipped his glasses off and sent you a rather friendly, if shaky, smile. “Can I help you?”
“God. Yes, please.”
The guy stood up, lips and eyebrow quirked adorably, and you found yourself swallowing your tongue. “Excuse me?” he asked politely, like he didn’t even think you were a weirdo or something.
Your gaze automatically traveled down from stylishly ruffled dark blonde hair to a strong, graceful neck, that lead down to smooth collarbone underneath a black wife beater that highlighted just about everything that made your cock twitch in your jeans, to a pair of jeans that hugged lean, long legs and surely a nice pair of ass and faded in all the right places to a pair of combat boots that did funny things to your insides. “I…I mean. Um.”
Nice, Padalecki. The one time you should be using your big mouth for a good use, too.
“Are you planning to get a tattoo?” the guy asked, smile amused. At least you hoped he was amused.
You felt yourself grinning like a moron, yet it didn’t stop you. “How’d you know that?”
He leaned against the counter by the entrance and smirked. “Well, that’s what most people plan to do when they enter a tattoo parlor.”
“Right,” you giggled - fucking giggled, before covering it by clearing your throat nervously. “Right. Of course. Yeah, I’m planning on getting a tattoo.”
“Great,” he grinned and then biting his plump lower lip, stared right at you. “What design do you have in mind?”
Your dick seemed to be excited at the sight of teeth worrying those pretty lips and you had to adjust yourself a little in your jeans. “I’m not really sure, actually. I mean, my buddy told me to get one but never said what I should get.”
“Oh,” he raised a perfect eyebrow, face so mischievous you anticipated him wiggling his brows instead. “Getting a tattoo because a friend dared you to is never really a good idea.”
“Oh, no. I want to get this tattoo,” you grinned and grinned, mostly at the deliberate stress in the word ‘want’. “Can you, like, help me figure out what kind of design I should get?”
He walked towards you and you caught a whiff of how delicious he smelt. In fact, you inhaled and felt his scent washed over you like pleasure waves. Your dick was protesting against your zipper and you fought the urge to plant the heel of your palm right the fuck there.
“First, you have to tell me. Where do you want to have it?”
You watched as he slipped his glasses back on, settled himself to perch on the stool right in front of you, eyebrows cocked. “Um,” you replied intelligently, grinned and lifted your t-shirt. “Right…” you pursed your lips deliberately, using your long fingers to push down your jeans, cocking your hip in his direction, “here.”
He sort of stared at the sharp angle of your hipbone and you were glad you decided not to have it on somewhere cliché like Chad because your hipbones are epic, damn it. Okay, admit it. You didn’t even know where you wanted the damn thing when you came in. You weren’t even that sure you wanted it at all. But now? Hell, now? You almost choked on your own saliva as the dude reached out and ran his palm across the smooth expanse of your hip.
“So how big do you want it to be?” he asked casually, head down and tactile hand still caressing your skin. “Because I have this idea…” he wavered off before looking slightly up into your face. Your undoubtedly slack-jawed, retarded drooling face. “How do you feel about a dragon? Suits your personality enough?”
“Huh?” you blinked, and before you knew it, he’d leaned back to reach for a pad and pencil and you were rewarded with an eyeful of lazy, spread legs and captivating groin underneath frayed jeans.
“I’ll sketch it for you,” he murmured, not looking up from the blank piece of paper and vigorous pencil-wielding hand on his lap, shoulder muscles bunching up and bicep rippling. You didn’t know how long you were ogling but the next thing you knew, he was shoving the pad to you. “Tell me what you think.”
You stared down at the sketch and your jaw dropped like a dork. “Dude. This is fucking amazing!”
He grinned, looking like a pleased seven year-old, which made you feel dirtier, but screw that, because he was splaying a hand over your hipbone and speaking in a hushed tone, almost like talking to himself.
“So the head will be here,” he muttered, biting his lower lip, and skating his long fingers along the curve of your hip, “and it will trail down here and end right…” his fore and middle fingers halted at a spot dangerously near your dick and you felt Junior perking up to greet him. He noticed you squirming and smiled softly. “You’re not ticklish, are you? Because that might make this sort of hard.”
Running through your mind, there were other things that would make this hard, making you gulp. “Uh, no.”
“Good. I’ll make this into a stencil and then we can start. Just hang around and make yourself comfortable…um…”
You blinked and remembered to swallow your tongue back in. “Jared.”
He smiled and nodded. “Right. I’m Jensen. And don’t worry, I’ll make this as painless as possible.”
You didn’t think your dick would agree.
*
So. Chad noticed.
“Of course I noticed, man. You walked around half-hard for two fucking weeks, I was so afraid you’d jump my bones anytime, dude.”
You snorted. “Bitch, please.”
The dude actually looked offended, before giving way to his own version of a bitchface. Which was tricky, given the size of his eyes. “What the hell happened, Jared? I thought you getting a tattoo on your ass would turn the heat down. What? Did you get it from some hot tattoo chick? ‘Cause I didn’t take that into consideration when I suggested this whole thing, man. Did it actually make it worse? Your kink?”
You snorted again, slumping deeper into the leather couch. “First of all, it’s not on my ass. And secondly? It was a guy. The tattoo artist, I mean.”
“Yeah, well. You wouldn’t let me see where it is so I’m just assuming. And…oh my God, Jared. You’re hard for that tattoo guy, aren’t you? I would bet, what’s with all those freaking ink all over his freaking body…Jesus, he must’ve been, like, a sexgod to you or something, huh?”
You paused, chilled beer bottle against your lips. “Actually,” you marveled at the beautiful memory that was Jensen, “he was clean.”
“What?”
“He was clean. Smooth, even. At least from what I could see,” you shrugged, chugging the last drop of beer from the bottle before plunking it down onto the coffee table.
“Yeah, well,” Chad shrugged as well, slurping around his own bottle. “It’s very weird for a tattoo artist to not have any tatts of his own. Maybe they’re all in places you couldn’t see.”
You were still not used to your cock filling up with blood in 0.2 second at the mere thought of something. The blood rush made you all dizzy and you whimpered a little.
Chad turned around to look at you and frowned. “This is making you hard, isn’t it?”
“Sorta,” you groaned, pressing a palm down onto your crotch. “That’s it, Chad. I have to go back to the parlor and see this guy again. I just have to-”
“Fuck him into the floorboards?”
“Christ,” you moaned. “Yes.”
Chad perked up in his seat, eyes wide with excitement. “Can I come with?”
“Hell, no.”
Chad pouting looked a whole lot like a pug. But you were kind enough not to point it out.
*
Jensen was talking to some cute chick in a hot pink top and white cutoffs. They were laughing and looking happy and you thought about how Jensen laughed with his eyes, all blown wide and jovial. You watched through the glass door for a while, a running commentary on the girl in your head. His girlfriend? His fiancée? His wife? You decided to stop being a fucking pussy and pushed the door open, stepping inside with your hands buried in your pockets. You might’ve looked like some kind of a timid schoolboy but Jensen looked glad to see you, his expressive eyes and face lighting up like some freaking Christmas tree.
“Hey, Jared,” he greeted, beaming. “Getting another one so soon? Did I get you hooked?” he laughed, all roguish eyes and wicked smirk.
“Kinda,” you returned the smirk, making sure he caught the fiery look in your gaze.
His eyes fell halfway shut, almost hazy and he cleared his throat. “This is my sister, Mackenzie. Mac, this is my client, Jared.”
The girl grinned, teeth perfect white and eyes twinkling, and you beamed back, taking her tiny hand into yours. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” she winked and turned to her brother, smile teasing and knowing. “I’ll see you around, slugger. You don’t have too much fun now. You know mom could smell it off you when you come home.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen grunted, blushing adorably and shoving his sister out the door. “Go on, twerp.”
You weren’t sure how to react when Jensen turned around so you let your moronic mouth do the talking on its own. “You’re cute.”
Jensen blinked, red still tinting his cheeks. “Really?”
You can’t help but blushed yourself. “You two. I mean, you and your sister. You looked cute together.”
“Yeah, well,” Jensen smiled edgily, rubbing the back of his neck as he sidled up to you. “She’s a brat.”
You tried to smile back but it came out even edgier than his so you avoided his dewy, humongous eyes and walked further into the back of the parlor, pretending to check the artworks hung on every wall. “Less than I could say about my sister. She’s spoilt rotten.”
“I guess it’s a universal thing, then.” He made a face, shrugged and followed you to the back. “So, what design would you like this time? Or is there something wrong with the one we did?”
You shivered, fucking shivered at the notion of the tattooing two weeks ago. Jensen’s fingers gentle against your skin, soothing as his other hand handled the needle deftly across the stenciled dragon on your hip. He traded his glasses with a pair of contacts before starting (to avoid having to adjust the glasses while working so I don’t accidentally poke you or anything) and you remembered the way his ridiculously long eyelashes fanned against freckled cheeks as his pretty lips pursed in deep concentration. The peak of the moment was? You thought you would come right then and there in that black, plastic-wrapped recliner like a fourteen year-old when he bent down and literally blew you. Okay, blew on your skin. But, whatever. It was still hot and sexy as fuck.
“No,” you finally found a working cell brain, blinking at the stray strand of hair entering your eye. “I…actually…yeah. I’m not sure if it’s anything but it’s a little puffy.”
You noticed him staring at the way you raked your hair away from your face but his gaze was indecipherable. “Puffy? Like, swollen? Let me see.”
You pushed yourself against the wall, trying to prop yourself up because your feet sure can’t hold you up as Jensen knelt and expertly got both your shirt and jeans out of the way to reveal the nearly healed skin you claimed to be puffy. But not before flashing you a roguish smirk and suave wink that unraveled just about any inhibition you had in you. Not that you had much in the first place when it came to a sexy cocktease like Jensen, but, yeah. That was the last straw.
Jensen’s lips were tilted as he traced a finger all over the jut of your hipbone before snaking down to the tapered tail of the dragon conveniently pointing in the direction of your hardened cock. From the way he was smirking, lips and eyebrows slanted at a mischievous angle, you knew he realized how hard you were. Fuck, why wouldn’t he when your cock was curving, straining against the denim right at the level of his chin. You figured if he would’ve leaned a little bit forward, you could whip him with it.
“Well,” Jensen huffed against your bare skin, “I see it’s healing well. In fact, I think it looks great,” he grinned and ran his thumb across the jut of your hip. “Although, while I’m down here…would you like me to help take care of Jared Junior?”
“God. Jesus, yes. Fuck.” See? No inhibitions whatsoever.
But then Jensen was slipping his hand underneath your shirt, climbing up your length until your eyes were leveled and he was staring you down with darkened moss eyes. “Don’t I at least get a kiss first?”
You weren’t ashamed to admit that you attacked his luscious lips, practically sucking on the bottom half like your life depended on it. His tongue teased at the corner of your lips and you sucked it in too, letting it worm into your open mouth and tangled with your own, tasting sweet tea and a hint of candy. In the middle of all the heavy breathing and tongue dueling, you managed to get rid of your shirt and Jensen’s deft fingers casually unbuttoned, unzipped and shirked you out of your jeans and boxers. Then, of course, there were desperate groping of Jensen’s clothing. On your part, at least. You alternated between lifting up his thin t-shirt and yanking his pants down like a maniac, unable to decide which one should go first. Jensen? Well, he was cupping you in a way that could probably torch the top of your head if it wasn’t for the wet stripes he was licking along your neck and shoulder and collarbone.
Just when you thought you could die of too much pleasure, he knelt down before you again and mouthed against the head of your cock, eyes all heavy-lidded. “So fucking pretty,” he whispered and ran a flat tongue over the slit before swallowing you in, whole. Even with his mouth full, his fucking clever tongue was still so mobile, driving you to the edge faster than you can spell your family name. You keened and moaned and whined but nothing could get him to stop his ministrations. Not that you want him to stop, of course. You just need to-
“Need to…” you gasped as he slurped and moaned sensuously around your girth, throat closing in around you with a sucking motion that seemed to draw your fucking brain down your dick. “Need to come. Jensen, please. God, yes. Fuck, Jensen. I need to…need to come in your mouth. Come on, please. God.”
He was stroking you with his lips and tongue and teeth, making sure to pay more attention on the bunch of nerves on the underside and the ridge of the crown. He reached over and fingered your balls, weighing and feeling them tighten, sucklicksucking and waiting for the inevitable. Which was coming right about-
“Jesus fuck!”
He managed to pull away with a slick, wet pop and you came anyway, spurting all over his cheeks and jaw and neck and pretty, pretty mouth. Even with come dripping all over his face, he looked gorgeous, all doe-eyed and lips curling into a wicked smile, a prominent dent on the side that you noticed appear only when he was smiling wide enough.
You jammed a hand through his hair, tilting his head slightly up. “You’re evil,” you rasped.
He chuckled, wiping some come off the bridge of his nose. “You just got spunk all over my face and I’m the evil one?”
You had to grin, seeing the look on his face. “Your pretty face,” you said, swiping your thumb across the angle of his jaw and pressing against the cushion of his lower lip.
Jensen smiled and took your thumb in between his teeth, suckling and wriggling his tongue all around it. “My place is just a couple of blocks away. You want to do this properly?”
So you broke another world record. Shortest recovery period.
*
“So,” you breathed against Jensen’s pulse point as his fingers nudged your thighs apart. “How come you don’t have any tattoos? Aren’t you tattoo artists supposed to, like, be covered with them?”
He grinned against your skin, nipped at the point beneath your earlobe. “I’m not really a tattoo artist,” he whispered hotly. “Was just taking a break from my usual gig and helping out at my friend’s parlor since I love sketching and I’m pretty good with the machine.”
You laughed despite yourself, pressing a kiss at the sharp edge of his shoulder. “You’re not an artist? Should I be worried about my tattoo not being done right?”
Jensen smiled, slow and languid, hovering over you like a chimera before he slid lower down your length. Your breath hitched. “Don’t worry,” he puffed hot air onto the spot right under your navel and grinned as your cock twitched. “Told you it looks great,” he murmured before sticking his tongue out tauntingly and lapping at the tattooed dragon, making you buck off the bed.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen. Would you fuck me already?”
His eyebrows went up, his lips curled. “Whatever you want, baby,” his voice was honeyed and rough all at the same time as he straddled your thighs, rewarding you with a very nice view of flushed red cock curving against smooth, defined stomach muscles. “Although,” he purred, curling a strong hand around both of you and tugging lightly, “I was thinking about me riding you until you black out from coming so hard.”
The slow strokes on your dick were distracting but you managed to sit up straighter, balancing yourself on sharp elbows and searching Jensen’s eyes underneath the hazy, lustful orbs set on your face. “What?”
Jensen’s right eyebrow rose and he snagged his bottom lip with his teeth, bright green eyes blinking at you in a cross between innocent and enticing. You watched, eyelids drooping at the sudden rush of arousal, as he sucked in two fingers, swirling his tongue and covering them with spit before reaching down and behind and burying them inside himself, a husky whimper escaping his slacked mouth. You thought this must be what it’s like to experience a stroke, your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygenated blood, all pooling in your painfully hard cock. Jensen shifted, thrusting himself up and down on his fingers, mouth spilling filth and sensual moans and your name.
“Jared,” he whimpered, nose buried in the crook of your neck and teeth marking you eagerly. “Need you to touch me. Please. Just…touch me.”
You might’ve mewled at his words but it was just because they were possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “Can I…can I just,” you whispered, running your hands along his flanks and you didn’t know how, but he understood, his lips swollen pink and wet when he mouthed yes. He shifted, leaning at an angle to give you full access. You squeezed the thighs braced on either side of you and leaned in. A lick at the entrance and Jensen made a soft, sexy noise that got your dick jumping against his chest. He licked a hot, wet stripe along the vein underneath as you licksucklekissed his hole, both of you making sounds that you certainly wouldn’t admit doing later.
You got a few thrusts in before Jensen moved, scrambling to straddle you again. He was sexily biting on his lower lip as he positioned himself, skewed, so he was practically sitting on your tummy, and lowered himself onto you, all the while watching your face with lidded eyes. He moaned and you moved, arching up into him and feeling warm, tight muscles clenching you. Jensen’s groans were muffled as he skated a palm across the plane of your stomach in lazy circles, the other arm propping him up. You can’t wait, the heat and the feel of Jensen all around you overwhelming, so you arched higher and deeper and you knew you hit something when Jensen keened, neck arching and cock flushed purple, bobbing against his belly as you moved in rhythm. Not stopping or slowing down until Jensen repeated your name like a mantra and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, balls tightening against Jensen’s ass.
“Fuck, Jared. Yes, God, Jared. Christ, yes. Jared, Jared. Jared, yes, oh my God, Jared, yes. Jared, Jared.”
You shut your eyes at the earth-shattering sensation of your release, bright white light dancing behind your eyelids and Jensen’s moans caressing your ears like a lullaby. You opened your eyes to possibly the most gorgeous vision, Jensen laid out on your belly, face flushed pink and hair ruffled, green eyes glinting with mirth and hard, long cock curving and waiting.
“So you really don’t have a tattoo, huh?” you chuckled, tugging him by his arm against your chest.
Jensen grinned. “Actually, I do,” he winked and lifted his left hand and proceeded to undo the wrist cuff you didn’t even noticed he kept on (but who can blame you, really?) and revealed a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “It’s a phoenix,” he said. “Wouldn’t want my momma to see this. She still thinks I’m practicing law and that tattoos are for gang members and bikers.”
You felt your eyes widen. “You’re a lawyer?” you gasped and then felt silly because of course he’s some kind of a professional. Now the posh condo you were fucking in made a lot of sense. “And now you’re running a tattoo parlor, why?”
He smirked and bowed down to suck at your neck. “I’m only helping my friend on the weekends. Feed my muse, you know? Now, are you gonna help me out here or what?” he grinned, gnawed his lower lip and ground your hips together, his hardened cock trailing pre-come on your leg. “I believe you wanted me to fuck you not five minutes ago.”
You scrunched up your face exaggeratedly, nipping at the corner of his lips. “Uh. More like ten, thank you very much. And, yes. I would very much like that.”
He laughed, clear and warm, and nudged you so you were lying on your stomach on the bed. He trailed a hand down your back, tracing shapes in the dip of your spine and then you felt it. And almost came, again: His velvet rough tongue against your hole, already snaking in. His tongue was fucking articulate, for sure and it wasn’t long before you were humping the mattress for the friction you desperately needed. He pulled out just when you were about to arrive there, spreading your cheeks with steady fingers and entering you in one long, hot stroke. You might’ve muttered something embarrassing or girly but you didn’t care because his dick was ramming some bundle of nerves deep inside you that made you see stars and rainbows and screamed like a porn star with each thrust. His hands were braced on the sides of your head and you stuck a tongue out and ran it over the tiny phoenix, sucking the pale skin to redness. Jensen breathed hard against your back and kissed the space in between your shoulders wetly as he pushed higher and deeper and mumbled your name.
“God, I’m so close.” He bit the back of your neck and reached around to circle your dick. You plunged into his fist in tandem with his thrusts. “Jesus, Jared. Jared, I’m so close. I…” you spilled into his palm howling as you felt his release deep inside you and you rode the sensation together, jabbering each other’s names and Gods and fucks and yes.
Jensen slumped onto his back next to you, exhaling a pleased breath. You turned and kissed him squarely on the lips and buried your face deeper into the sheet, inhaling the clean smell and sweat and sex and Jensen.
“You know,” he smiled, twisting your sweat-dampened hair between his fingers, “in Chinese culture, dragons and phoenixes complete each other. Like yin and yang. They’re a part of each other.”
You felt a smile crept up your face as realization dawned and Jensen blushed a little. “So you picked dragon on purpose, huh?”
He grinned, dipped his head to hide his eyes beneath long eyelashes. “Did I pick right?”
You laughed, something in your chest unraveling as you claimed his lips, sweet and open and long. “Yeah, I think you did.”
Tattoos still make you think of sex. Only, now? You can’t possibly imagine sex with anyone other than Jensen.
word count: 4458
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content. jared/jensen.
disclaimer: mr. ackles and mr. padalecki own each other themselves. if they were mine, i would've died happy.
summary: tattoos make jared think of sex. so getting inked by a tattoo artist like jensen might not be such a great idea after all.
warning: graphic m/m sex, rimming, unexpected schmoopy ending
a/n: RPS AU. tattoo artist!jensen for the lovely
paz_; because their love is so dorky and obvious, eh, sweets? awesome beta love to
unamaga. feedbacks would be loved. :)
Got Ink?
Tattoos make you think of sex.
Yes, and not just the symbols or letters or whatnots marked on somebody’s skin, either. Just the general idea of having someone pricking you to put his mark on you - regardless of how you’re the one deciding to get a mark stamped on you and what design you wanted - makes you think of hot, brain-frying sex. Chad calls you a kinky, twisted fucker and you laugh (more like guffaw, because that’s how you are), asks why have you never jumped him for the ink on his arm, and you tell him because he’ll always be a sexless, moronic blob of meat and bones to you and he smacks the back of your head so hard you think you can feel your brain dislocating. Chad tells you the only way to cure this sickness (humping anyone and everyone with ink on any part of their bodies isn’t healthy, man) is to get a tattoo for yourself, kind of like exposure therapy (face your fear, your kink, whatever, man) and you say maybe it’s a good idea because you’re stupid that way.
Yes, you really are. You know it yourself.
You figure Saturday would be best because well, it isn’t Sunday and so when your momma call to find out if you went for church you wouldn’t have to lie. Much. How would you know that barely anyone gets a tattoo at nine in the morning (you have a dental appointment at two and secretly wonder which one would hurt more) on a Saturday? Or that the moment you push the random tattoo parlor door and step in with your patented sunny smile and Southern boy swagger you would break the international record for quickest hard-on?
The guy dropped the Sharpie he was twirling between his fingers, slipped his glasses off and sent you a rather friendly, if shaky, smile. “Can I help you?”
“God. Yes, please.”
The guy stood up, lips and eyebrow quirked adorably, and you found yourself swallowing your tongue. “Excuse me?” he asked politely, like he didn’t even think you were a weirdo or something.
Your gaze automatically traveled down from stylishly ruffled dark blonde hair to a strong, graceful neck, that lead down to smooth collarbone underneath a black wife beater that highlighted just about everything that made your cock twitch in your jeans, to a pair of jeans that hugged lean, long legs and surely a nice pair of ass and faded in all the right places to a pair of combat boots that did funny things to your insides. “I…I mean. Um.”
Nice, Padalecki. The one time you should be using your big mouth for a good use, too.
“Are you planning to get a tattoo?” the guy asked, smile amused. At least you hoped he was amused.
You felt yourself grinning like a moron, yet it didn’t stop you. “How’d you know that?”
He leaned against the counter by the entrance and smirked. “Well, that’s what most people plan to do when they enter a tattoo parlor.”
“Right,” you giggled - fucking giggled, before covering it by clearing your throat nervously. “Right. Of course. Yeah, I’m planning on getting a tattoo.”
“Great,” he grinned and then biting his plump lower lip, stared right at you. “What design do you have in mind?”
Your dick seemed to be excited at the sight of teeth worrying those pretty lips and you had to adjust yourself a little in your jeans. “I’m not really sure, actually. I mean, my buddy told me to get one but never said what I should get.”
“Oh,” he raised a perfect eyebrow, face so mischievous you anticipated him wiggling his brows instead. “Getting a tattoo because a friend dared you to is never really a good idea.”
“Oh, no. I want to get this tattoo,” you grinned and grinned, mostly at the deliberate stress in the word ‘want’. “Can you, like, help me figure out what kind of design I should get?”
He walked towards you and you caught a whiff of how delicious he smelt. In fact, you inhaled and felt his scent washed over you like pleasure waves. Your dick was protesting against your zipper and you fought the urge to plant the heel of your palm right the fuck there.
“First, you have to tell me. Where do you want to have it?”
You watched as he slipped his glasses back on, settled himself to perch on the stool right in front of you, eyebrows cocked. “Um,” you replied intelligently, grinned and lifted your t-shirt. “Right…” you pursed your lips deliberately, using your long fingers to push down your jeans, cocking your hip in his direction, “here.”
He sort of stared at the sharp angle of your hipbone and you were glad you decided not to have it on somewhere cliché like Chad because your hipbones are epic, damn it. Okay, admit it. You didn’t even know where you wanted the damn thing when you came in. You weren’t even that sure you wanted it at all. But now? Hell, now? You almost choked on your own saliva as the dude reached out and ran his palm across the smooth expanse of your hip.
“So how big do you want it to be?” he asked casually, head down and tactile hand still caressing your skin. “Because I have this idea…” he wavered off before looking slightly up into your face. Your undoubtedly slack-jawed, retarded drooling face. “How do you feel about a dragon? Suits your personality enough?”
“Huh?” you blinked, and before you knew it, he’d leaned back to reach for a pad and pencil and you were rewarded with an eyeful of lazy, spread legs and captivating groin underneath frayed jeans.
“I’ll sketch it for you,” he murmured, not looking up from the blank piece of paper and vigorous pencil-wielding hand on his lap, shoulder muscles bunching up and bicep rippling. You didn’t know how long you were ogling but the next thing you knew, he was shoving the pad to you. “Tell me what you think.”
You stared down at the sketch and your jaw dropped like a dork. “Dude. This is fucking amazing!”
He grinned, looking like a pleased seven year-old, which made you feel dirtier, but screw that, because he was splaying a hand over your hipbone and speaking in a hushed tone, almost like talking to himself.
“So the head will be here,” he muttered, biting his lower lip, and skating his long fingers along the curve of your hip, “and it will trail down here and end right…” his fore and middle fingers halted at a spot dangerously near your dick and you felt Junior perking up to greet him. He noticed you squirming and smiled softly. “You’re not ticklish, are you? Because that might make this sort of hard.”
Running through your mind, there were other things that would make this hard, making you gulp. “Uh, no.”
“Good. I’ll make this into a stencil and then we can start. Just hang around and make yourself comfortable…um…”
You blinked and remembered to swallow your tongue back in. “Jared.”
He smiled and nodded. “Right. I’m Jensen. And don’t worry, I’ll make this as painless as possible.”
You didn’t think your dick would agree.
*
So. Chad noticed.
“Of course I noticed, man. You walked around half-hard for two fucking weeks, I was so afraid you’d jump my bones anytime, dude.”
You snorted. “Bitch, please.”
The dude actually looked offended, before giving way to his own version of a bitchface. Which was tricky, given the size of his eyes. “What the hell happened, Jared? I thought you getting a tattoo on your ass would turn the heat down. What? Did you get it from some hot tattoo chick? ‘Cause I didn’t take that into consideration when I suggested this whole thing, man. Did it actually make it worse? Your kink?”
You snorted again, slumping deeper into the leather couch. “First of all, it’s not on my ass. And secondly? It was a guy. The tattoo artist, I mean.”
“Yeah, well. You wouldn’t let me see where it is so I’m just assuming. And…oh my God, Jared. You’re hard for that tattoo guy, aren’t you? I would bet, what’s with all those freaking ink all over his freaking body…Jesus, he must’ve been, like, a sexgod to you or something, huh?”
You paused, chilled beer bottle against your lips. “Actually,” you marveled at the beautiful memory that was Jensen, “he was clean.”
“What?”
“He was clean. Smooth, even. At least from what I could see,” you shrugged, chugging the last drop of beer from the bottle before plunking it down onto the coffee table.
“Yeah, well,” Chad shrugged as well, slurping around his own bottle. “It’s very weird for a tattoo artist to not have any tatts of his own. Maybe they’re all in places you couldn’t see.”
You were still not used to your cock filling up with blood in 0.2 second at the mere thought of something. The blood rush made you all dizzy and you whimpered a little.
Chad turned around to look at you and frowned. “This is making you hard, isn’t it?”
“Sorta,” you groaned, pressing a palm down onto your crotch. “That’s it, Chad. I have to go back to the parlor and see this guy again. I just have to-”
“Fuck him into the floorboards?”
“Christ,” you moaned. “Yes.”
Chad perked up in his seat, eyes wide with excitement. “Can I come with?”
“Hell, no.”
Chad pouting looked a whole lot like a pug. But you were kind enough not to point it out.
*
Jensen was talking to some cute chick in a hot pink top and white cutoffs. They were laughing and looking happy and you thought about how Jensen laughed with his eyes, all blown wide and jovial. You watched through the glass door for a while, a running commentary on the girl in your head. His girlfriend? His fiancée? His wife? You decided to stop being a fucking pussy and pushed the door open, stepping inside with your hands buried in your pockets. You might’ve looked like some kind of a timid schoolboy but Jensen looked glad to see you, his expressive eyes and face lighting up like some freaking Christmas tree.
“Hey, Jared,” he greeted, beaming. “Getting another one so soon? Did I get you hooked?” he laughed, all roguish eyes and wicked smirk.
“Kinda,” you returned the smirk, making sure he caught the fiery look in your gaze.
His eyes fell halfway shut, almost hazy and he cleared his throat. “This is my sister, Mackenzie. Mac, this is my client, Jared.”
The girl grinned, teeth perfect white and eyes twinkling, and you beamed back, taking her tiny hand into yours. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s mine,” she winked and turned to her brother, smile teasing and knowing. “I’ll see you around, slugger. You don’t have too much fun now. You know mom could smell it off you when you come home.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen grunted, blushing adorably and shoving his sister out the door. “Go on, twerp.”
You weren’t sure how to react when Jensen turned around so you let your moronic mouth do the talking on its own. “You’re cute.”
Jensen blinked, red still tinting his cheeks. “Really?”
You can’t help but blushed yourself. “You two. I mean, you and your sister. You looked cute together.”
“Yeah, well,” Jensen smiled edgily, rubbing the back of his neck as he sidled up to you. “She’s a brat.”
You tried to smile back but it came out even edgier than his so you avoided his dewy, humongous eyes and walked further into the back of the parlor, pretending to check the artworks hung on every wall. “Less than I could say about my sister. She’s spoilt rotten.”
“I guess it’s a universal thing, then.” He made a face, shrugged and followed you to the back. “So, what design would you like this time? Or is there something wrong with the one we did?”
You shivered, fucking shivered at the notion of the tattooing two weeks ago. Jensen’s fingers gentle against your skin, soothing as his other hand handled the needle deftly across the stenciled dragon on your hip. He traded his glasses with a pair of contacts before starting (to avoid having to adjust the glasses while working so I don’t accidentally poke you or anything) and you remembered the way his ridiculously long eyelashes fanned against freckled cheeks as his pretty lips pursed in deep concentration. The peak of the moment was? You thought you would come right then and there in that black, plastic-wrapped recliner like a fourteen year-old when he bent down and literally blew you. Okay, blew on your skin. But, whatever. It was still hot and sexy as fuck.
“No,” you finally found a working cell brain, blinking at the stray strand of hair entering your eye. “I…actually…yeah. I’m not sure if it’s anything but it’s a little puffy.”
You noticed him staring at the way you raked your hair away from your face but his gaze was indecipherable. “Puffy? Like, swollen? Let me see.”
You pushed yourself against the wall, trying to prop yourself up because your feet sure can’t hold you up as Jensen knelt and expertly got both your shirt and jeans out of the way to reveal the nearly healed skin you claimed to be puffy. But not before flashing you a roguish smirk and suave wink that unraveled just about any inhibition you had in you. Not that you had much in the first place when it came to a sexy cocktease like Jensen, but, yeah. That was the last straw.
Jensen’s lips were tilted as he traced a finger all over the jut of your hipbone before snaking down to the tapered tail of the dragon conveniently pointing in the direction of your hardened cock. From the way he was smirking, lips and eyebrows slanted at a mischievous angle, you knew he realized how hard you were. Fuck, why wouldn’t he when your cock was curving, straining against the denim right at the level of his chin. You figured if he would’ve leaned a little bit forward, you could whip him with it.
“Well,” Jensen huffed against your bare skin, “I see it’s healing well. In fact, I think it looks great,” he grinned and ran his thumb across the jut of your hip. “Although, while I’m down here…would you like me to help take care of Jared Junior?”
“God. Jesus, yes. Fuck.” See? No inhibitions whatsoever.
But then Jensen was slipping his hand underneath your shirt, climbing up your length until your eyes were leveled and he was staring you down with darkened moss eyes. “Don’t I at least get a kiss first?”
You weren’t ashamed to admit that you attacked his luscious lips, practically sucking on the bottom half like your life depended on it. His tongue teased at the corner of your lips and you sucked it in too, letting it worm into your open mouth and tangled with your own, tasting sweet tea and a hint of candy. In the middle of all the heavy breathing and tongue dueling, you managed to get rid of your shirt and Jensen’s deft fingers casually unbuttoned, unzipped and shirked you out of your jeans and boxers. Then, of course, there were desperate groping of Jensen’s clothing. On your part, at least. You alternated between lifting up his thin t-shirt and yanking his pants down like a maniac, unable to decide which one should go first. Jensen? Well, he was cupping you in a way that could probably torch the top of your head if it wasn’t for the wet stripes he was licking along your neck and shoulder and collarbone.
Just when you thought you could die of too much pleasure, he knelt down before you again and mouthed against the head of your cock, eyes all heavy-lidded. “So fucking pretty,” he whispered and ran a flat tongue over the slit before swallowing you in, whole. Even with his mouth full, his fucking clever tongue was still so mobile, driving you to the edge faster than you can spell your family name. You keened and moaned and whined but nothing could get him to stop his ministrations. Not that you want him to stop, of course. You just need to-
“Need to…” you gasped as he slurped and moaned sensuously around your girth, throat closing in around you with a sucking motion that seemed to draw your fucking brain down your dick. “Need to come. Jensen, please. God, yes. Fuck, Jensen. I need to…need to come in your mouth. Come on, please. God.”
He was stroking you with his lips and tongue and teeth, making sure to pay more attention on the bunch of nerves on the underside and the ridge of the crown. He reached over and fingered your balls, weighing and feeling them tighten, sucklicksucking and waiting for the inevitable. Which was coming right about-
“Jesus fuck!”
He managed to pull away with a slick, wet pop and you came anyway, spurting all over his cheeks and jaw and neck and pretty, pretty mouth. Even with come dripping all over his face, he looked gorgeous, all doe-eyed and lips curling into a wicked smile, a prominent dent on the side that you noticed appear only when he was smiling wide enough.
You jammed a hand through his hair, tilting his head slightly up. “You’re evil,” you rasped.
He chuckled, wiping some come off the bridge of his nose. “You just got spunk all over my face and I’m the evil one?”
You had to grin, seeing the look on his face. “Your pretty face,” you said, swiping your thumb across the angle of his jaw and pressing against the cushion of his lower lip.
Jensen smiled and took your thumb in between his teeth, suckling and wriggling his tongue all around it. “My place is just a couple of blocks away. You want to do this properly?”
So you broke another world record. Shortest recovery period.
*
“So,” you breathed against Jensen’s pulse point as his fingers nudged your thighs apart. “How come you don’t have any tattoos? Aren’t you tattoo artists supposed to, like, be covered with them?”
He grinned against your skin, nipped at the point beneath your earlobe. “I’m not really a tattoo artist,” he whispered hotly. “Was just taking a break from my usual gig and helping out at my friend’s parlor since I love sketching and I’m pretty good with the machine.”
You laughed despite yourself, pressing a kiss at the sharp edge of his shoulder. “You’re not an artist? Should I be worried about my tattoo not being done right?”
Jensen smiled, slow and languid, hovering over you like a chimera before he slid lower down your length. Your breath hitched. “Don’t worry,” he puffed hot air onto the spot right under your navel and grinned as your cock twitched. “Told you it looks great,” he murmured before sticking his tongue out tauntingly and lapping at the tattooed dragon, making you buck off the bed.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen. Would you fuck me already?”
His eyebrows went up, his lips curled. “Whatever you want, baby,” his voice was honeyed and rough all at the same time as he straddled your thighs, rewarding you with a very nice view of flushed red cock curving against smooth, defined stomach muscles. “Although,” he purred, curling a strong hand around both of you and tugging lightly, “I was thinking about me riding you until you black out from coming so hard.”
The slow strokes on your dick were distracting but you managed to sit up straighter, balancing yourself on sharp elbows and searching Jensen’s eyes underneath the hazy, lustful orbs set on your face. “What?”
Jensen’s right eyebrow rose and he snagged his bottom lip with his teeth, bright green eyes blinking at you in a cross between innocent and enticing. You watched, eyelids drooping at the sudden rush of arousal, as he sucked in two fingers, swirling his tongue and covering them with spit before reaching down and behind and burying them inside himself, a husky whimper escaping his slacked mouth. You thought this must be what it’s like to experience a stroke, your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygenated blood, all pooling in your painfully hard cock. Jensen shifted, thrusting himself up and down on his fingers, mouth spilling filth and sensual moans and your name.
“Jared,” he whimpered, nose buried in the crook of your neck and teeth marking you eagerly. “Need you to touch me. Please. Just…touch me.”
You might’ve mewled at his words but it was just because they were possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “Can I…can I just,” you whispered, running your hands along his flanks and you didn’t know how, but he understood, his lips swollen pink and wet when he mouthed yes. He shifted, leaning at an angle to give you full access. You squeezed the thighs braced on either side of you and leaned in. A lick at the entrance and Jensen made a soft, sexy noise that got your dick jumping against his chest. He licked a hot, wet stripe along the vein underneath as you licksucklekissed his hole, both of you making sounds that you certainly wouldn’t admit doing later.
You got a few thrusts in before Jensen moved, scrambling to straddle you again. He was sexily biting on his lower lip as he positioned himself, skewed, so he was practically sitting on your tummy, and lowered himself onto you, all the while watching your face with lidded eyes. He moaned and you moved, arching up into him and feeling warm, tight muscles clenching you. Jensen’s groans were muffled as he skated a palm across the plane of your stomach in lazy circles, the other arm propping him up. You can’t wait, the heat and the feel of Jensen all around you overwhelming, so you arched higher and deeper and you knew you hit something when Jensen keened, neck arching and cock flushed purple, bobbing against his belly as you moved in rhythm. Not stopping or slowing down until Jensen repeated your name like a mantra and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, balls tightening against Jensen’s ass.
“Fuck, Jared. Yes, God, Jared. Christ, yes. Jared, Jared. Jared, yes, oh my God, Jared, yes. Jared, Jared.”
You shut your eyes at the earth-shattering sensation of your release, bright white light dancing behind your eyelids and Jensen’s moans caressing your ears like a lullaby. You opened your eyes to possibly the most gorgeous vision, Jensen laid out on your belly, face flushed pink and hair ruffled, green eyes glinting with mirth and hard, long cock curving and waiting.
“So you really don’t have a tattoo, huh?” you chuckled, tugging him by his arm against your chest.
Jensen grinned. “Actually, I do,” he winked and lifted his left hand and proceeded to undo the wrist cuff you didn’t even noticed he kept on (but who can blame you, really?) and revealed a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “It’s a phoenix,” he said. “Wouldn’t want my momma to see this. She still thinks I’m practicing law and that tattoos are for gang members and bikers.”
You felt your eyes widen. “You’re a lawyer?” you gasped and then felt silly because of course he’s some kind of a professional. Now the posh condo you were fucking in made a lot of sense. “And now you’re running a tattoo parlor, why?”
He smirked and bowed down to suck at your neck. “I’m only helping my friend on the weekends. Feed my muse, you know? Now, are you gonna help me out here or what?” he grinned, gnawed his lower lip and ground your hips together, his hardened cock trailing pre-come on your leg. “I believe you wanted me to fuck you not five minutes ago.”
You scrunched up your face exaggeratedly, nipping at the corner of his lips. “Uh. More like ten, thank you very much. And, yes. I would very much like that.”
He laughed, clear and warm, and nudged you so you were lying on your stomach on the bed. He trailed a hand down your back, tracing shapes in the dip of your spine and then you felt it. And almost came, again: His velvet rough tongue against your hole, already snaking in. His tongue was fucking articulate, for sure and it wasn’t long before you were humping the mattress for the friction you desperately needed. He pulled out just when you were about to arrive there, spreading your cheeks with steady fingers and entering you in one long, hot stroke. You might’ve muttered something embarrassing or girly but you didn’t care because his dick was ramming some bundle of nerves deep inside you that made you see stars and rainbows and screamed like a porn star with each thrust. His hands were braced on the sides of your head and you stuck a tongue out and ran it over the tiny phoenix, sucking the pale skin to redness. Jensen breathed hard against your back and kissed the space in between your shoulders wetly as he pushed higher and deeper and mumbled your name.
“God, I’m so close.” He bit the back of your neck and reached around to circle your dick. You plunged into his fist in tandem with his thrusts. “Jesus, Jared. Jared, I’m so close. I…” you spilled into his palm howling as you felt his release deep inside you and you rode the sensation together, jabbering each other’s names and Gods and fucks and yes.
Jensen slumped onto his back next to you, exhaling a pleased breath. You turned and kissed him squarely on the lips and buried your face deeper into the sheet, inhaling the clean smell and sweat and sex and Jensen.
“You know,” he smiled, twisting your sweat-dampened hair between his fingers, “in Chinese culture, dragons and phoenixes complete each other. Like yin and yang. They’re a part of each other.”
You felt a smile crept up your face as realization dawned and Jensen blushed a little. “So you picked dragon on purpose, huh?”
He grinned, dipped his head to hide his eyes beneath long eyelashes. “Did I pick right?”
You laughed, something in your chest unraveling as you claimed his lips, sweet and open and long. “Yeah, I think you did.”
Tattoos still make you think of sex. Only, now? You can’t possibly imagine sex with anyone other than Jensen.