Fic: RPS (Jared/Jensen): Orders
Title: Orders
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Summary: Theoretically, Jared knows where he is. Theoretically, he knows that the room is the same as it was before he was tied down and the blindfold was put on.
Word Count: 1450
A/N: Written for whithertits's salt_burn_porn prompt executive order. This is not finished but I am out of time. Such is the nature of 24 hour challenges, yes? ^^ I got hung up on the "executive" part of the prompt and plot kept trying to creep into my porn. This is not those attempts.
Theoretically, Jared knows where he is. Theoretically, he knows that the room is the same as it was before he was tied down and the blindfold was put on. In his reality, however, he can't help but feel displaced. He's adrift in a sea of black and there's nothing he can do but wait for the next sign--the next sound, the next touch, the next validation of his existence. Every sound seems like the start of creation, every touch the promise of life. His senses are amplified, because he has been simplified.
His heart is hammering in his chest, excitement making it race, and it's loud as a drum. He can barely think, it's so loud. If he listens close, if he focuses, he can hear the whisper of cloth, can hear the press of feet against carpet, can hear the soft sound of someone else sharing the air with him--but it is so hard to focus. There's too many distractions.
Distractions, like the feel of the rope against his wrists, digging in and holding him tight. Distractions, like the feel of sweat dripping down his skin. Distractions, like the knowledge that Jensen is right there, waiting, watching, studying Jared as he's helpless. Jared squirms.
He swallows and it sounds louder than the world. He wants Jensen to touch him again, wants Jensen to touch with his hands, with his mouth.
Fingers skim down his arm, soft and familiar, and he jumps, surprised at the touch even though he knew it was coming. They slide along his bicep, his forearm, the palm of his hand, and then they're gone again. He leans towards where they disappeared, willing them to come back. He'd give anything to have them back; he feels alone without them.
"Jared," Jensen says and Jared's mouth drops open as he forgets what it was like when he had dignity, when he wasn't a thrumming ball of need and want, back when he could see. He pants. "Jared," Jensen repeats and Jensen's fingers are back, tracing up Jared's neck and along the line of his jaw.
Soft lips press against Jared's own and Jared leans up into the kiss. It's soft, sweet, and short, leaving Jared wanting more. He licks his lips when Jensen moves away, reliving the moment as it's all he has in the pitch black of the blindfold.
Jensen moves his hand until his fingers reach Jared's mouth and press against his lip. "Suck," Jensen says. Jared obeys. He closes his mouth around the fingers, accepting them inside of himself. His tongue laves the underside of each and then flicks between them, diligent and deliberate as he carries out the order.
He hears a sharp intake of breath and then the bed is dipping to Jared's left as he feels Jensen press up against him. "God," Jensen breathes, rocking his body against Jared's. "Good..." Jared feels a sense of pride at the word of praise and sucks harder, wanting to please. Jensen swirls his fingers around Jared's tongue, then pulls out of Jared's mouth and dips back in again in an imitation of fucking that makes Jared tug at his restraints. He wants to obey, but he wants to touch, too--take Jensen up on his unspoken offer.
When Jensen removes his fingers completely, Jared whines. "Wait," Jensen says, his voice deep and firm. Jared quiets reluctantly. He grabs on to the command and holds it close because, though he's impatient, having the order to wait makes it easier to do so. He doesn't know why; it's simpler not to think. In the darkness, his senses zero in again on the anticipation shivering along his nerves.
Jared knows that Jensen's still there. He can feel him on the bed--but Jensen is seemingly frozen, waiting to see if Jared will break. Jared bites his lip and breathes in deep, determined to wait as long as needs to, but patience has never been his strong suit. He knows that he doesn't have long. It's all he can do to not beg Jensen to touch him again, all he can do to not tug on his restraints until he's free.
The only thing to keep time is the solid rhythm of Jared's own heart and he counts the beats, trying to keep himself calm. It feels as if the next touch could make him come. He's strung tight like a rubber band, ready to snap if only Jensen would let him.
Time keeps passing and still Jensen only watches. Jared gives in. It might be minutes, it might be seconds: he can't tell in the darkness; the blindfold turns everything upside down until nothing seems right anymore. He arches upwards as he breaks, a moan stuck in his throat. Jensen's hand meets him halfway with a soothing stroke, reminding Jared of what is expected of him. Jensen runs his hand along Jared's stomach, palm flat against his skin. "Down," he says and Jared obeys.
Jensen's hand skims down Jared's belly, his fingers teasing at the possibility of touching Jared where he most wants to be touched but always shying away at the last minute. They stretch out, coming within just inches before they skate away, retreating to rub circles on Jared's chest. Once, twice, three times they tease, then again just for fun. Jared forgets himself, arches up, his hips straining to get himself closer to Jensen's hand. "Fuck," he whispers. Jensen's hand goes away.
"Don't talk," Jensen says. The order echoes in Jared's head. Jared bites his lip, anxious to obey, swallowing back everything he wants to say. Jensen's touch returns, still teasing until Jared is repeating Jensen's command in his head. He wants to plead for mercy, beg Jensen to take pity on him and touch him--but he doesn't. Jensen doesn't want him to talk. Don't talk, he tells himself. Don't talk.
Don't talk. Jensen moves tantalizing close. Don't talk. A puff of warm air hits against Jared's shoulder and Jensen's fingers trace a contour around Jared's cock. Fuck, Jared thinks and his lips start to form the words.
Jensen's hand wraps around Jared's cock, sure and tight and Jared gasps, bucking upward. The touch is sudden and shocking in the darkness and he's going to come for sure. Jensen strokes his hand upward, his thumb gently swiping over the sensitive head of Jared's cock, and Jared trembles. "Don't come," Jensen tells him as white hot stars replace the darkness in Jared's vision. The next command is a whisper. "Fuck my hand." It's followed by a kiss, hard and fast.
It's instinctive to obey and Jared gives in to the urge to thrust, pushing up into Jensen's firm grip. His hips rise and fall, pumping steadily, and he feels as if he's dying, slowly, by degrees. He can't get enough oxygen into his lungs and he thinks he might implode from the lack.
"Stop," Jensen whispers and it's sheer torture to do so but Jared does, freezing in mid-thrust. He sucks at the air, a whine starting back in his throat again that he just can't choke back. Jensen lets him get away with it. "Good," he says and Jared squirms. The praise is almost as good as Jensen's touch.
Cold, wet slick dribbles on him from above and Jared gasps. Jensen works it onto him, his hand sliding up and down Jared's cock. "Go," Jensen says and Jared pulls on his arms until the ropes cut into his wrists. The pain helping to center him, he obeys. "Don't come," Jensen reminds him and Jared takes it as his mantra. Don't come, don't come, don't come...
But it's hard--impossibly hard--because Jensen's hand is slick and tight and the wet sound of each stroke is echoing in Jared's ears. Jared feels exposed and raw, like every layer he's ever had has been peeled away, leaving him with nothing but pure, simple need. He wants to come. He needs to come. He has to.
"Oh, God, Jensen, I'm--" Jensen's free hand slaps over Jared's mouth and guilt floods through Jared's body. It just makes him squirm more.
"Don't come," Jensen tells him and Jared wants to obey--wants to but Jensen's hand feels too good and he's going to break. He knows that he is.
"Come," Jensen says and Jared's world collapses in on itself. He bucks upward into Jensen's hand, hard and fast, and stays there, suspended on the knife-edge of orgasm until he finally falls. He pulses into Jensen's hand, Jensen's grip loosening with each stroke, until there's nothing left but a light touch.
"Good," Jensen says and Jared shudders as an aftershock of pleasure rushes through him. "Real good."
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Summary: Theoretically, Jared knows where he is. Theoretically, he knows that the room is the same as it was before he was tied down and the blindfold was put on.
Word Count: 1450
A/N: Written for whithertits's salt_burn_porn prompt executive order. This is not finished but I am out of time. Such is the nature of 24 hour challenges, yes? ^^ I got hung up on the "executive" part of the prompt and plot kept trying to creep into my porn. This is not those attempts.
Theoretically, Jared knows where he is. Theoretically, he knows that the room is the same as it was before he was tied down and the blindfold was put on. In his reality, however, he can't help but feel displaced. He's adrift in a sea of black and there's nothing he can do but wait for the next sign--the next sound, the next touch, the next validation of his existence. Every sound seems like the start of creation, every touch the promise of life. His senses are amplified, because he has been simplified.
His heart is hammering in his chest, excitement making it race, and it's loud as a drum. He can barely think, it's so loud. If he listens close, if he focuses, he can hear the whisper of cloth, can hear the press of feet against carpet, can hear the soft sound of someone else sharing the air with him--but it is so hard to focus. There's too many distractions.
Distractions, like the feel of the rope against his wrists, digging in and holding him tight. Distractions, like the feel of sweat dripping down his skin. Distractions, like the knowledge that Jensen is right there, waiting, watching, studying Jared as he's helpless. Jared squirms.
He swallows and it sounds louder than the world. He wants Jensen to touch him again, wants Jensen to touch with his hands, with his mouth.
Fingers skim down his arm, soft and familiar, and he jumps, surprised at the touch even though he knew it was coming. They slide along his bicep, his forearm, the palm of his hand, and then they're gone again. He leans towards where they disappeared, willing them to come back. He'd give anything to have them back; he feels alone without them.
"Jared," Jensen says and Jared's mouth drops open as he forgets what it was like when he had dignity, when he wasn't a thrumming ball of need and want, back when he could see. He pants. "Jared," Jensen repeats and Jensen's fingers are back, tracing up Jared's neck and along the line of his jaw.
Soft lips press against Jared's own and Jared leans up into the kiss. It's soft, sweet, and short, leaving Jared wanting more. He licks his lips when Jensen moves away, reliving the moment as it's all he has in the pitch black of the blindfold.
Jensen moves his hand until his fingers reach Jared's mouth and press against his lip. "Suck," Jensen says. Jared obeys. He closes his mouth around the fingers, accepting them inside of himself. His tongue laves the underside of each and then flicks between them, diligent and deliberate as he carries out the order.
He hears a sharp intake of breath and then the bed is dipping to Jared's left as he feels Jensen press up against him. "God," Jensen breathes, rocking his body against Jared's. "Good..." Jared feels a sense of pride at the word of praise and sucks harder, wanting to please. Jensen swirls his fingers around Jared's tongue, then pulls out of Jared's mouth and dips back in again in an imitation of fucking that makes Jared tug at his restraints. He wants to obey, but he wants to touch, too--take Jensen up on his unspoken offer.
When Jensen removes his fingers completely, Jared whines. "Wait," Jensen says, his voice deep and firm. Jared quiets reluctantly. He grabs on to the command and holds it close because, though he's impatient, having the order to wait makes it easier to do so. He doesn't know why; it's simpler not to think. In the darkness, his senses zero in again on the anticipation shivering along his nerves.
Jared knows that Jensen's still there. He can feel him on the bed--but Jensen is seemingly frozen, waiting to see if Jared will break. Jared bites his lip and breathes in deep, determined to wait as long as needs to, but patience has never been his strong suit. He knows that he doesn't have long. It's all he can do to not beg Jensen to touch him again, all he can do to not tug on his restraints until he's free.
The only thing to keep time is the solid rhythm of Jared's own heart and he counts the beats, trying to keep himself calm. It feels as if the next touch could make him come. He's strung tight like a rubber band, ready to snap if only Jensen would let him.
Time keeps passing and still Jensen only watches. Jared gives in. It might be minutes, it might be seconds: he can't tell in the darkness; the blindfold turns everything upside down until nothing seems right anymore. He arches upwards as he breaks, a moan stuck in his throat. Jensen's hand meets him halfway with a soothing stroke, reminding Jared of what is expected of him. Jensen runs his hand along Jared's stomach, palm flat against his skin. "Down," he says and Jared obeys.
Jensen's hand skims down Jared's belly, his fingers teasing at the possibility of touching Jared where he most wants to be touched but always shying away at the last minute. They stretch out, coming within just inches before they skate away, retreating to rub circles on Jared's chest. Once, twice, three times they tease, then again just for fun. Jared forgets himself, arches up, his hips straining to get himself closer to Jensen's hand. "Fuck," he whispers. Jensen's hand goes away.
"Don't talk," Jensen says. The order echoes in Jared's head. Jared bites his lip, anxious to obey, swallowing back everything he wants to say. Jensen's touch returns, still teasing until Jared is repeating Jensen's command in his head. He wants to plead for mercy, beg Jensen to take pity on him and touch him--but he doesn't. Jensen doesn't want him to talk. Don't talk, he tells himself. Don't talk.
Don't talk. Jensen moves tantalizing close. Don't talk. A puff of warm air hits against Jared's shoulder and Jensen's fingers trace a contour around Jared's cock. Fuck, Jared thinks and his lips start to form the words.
Jensen's hand wraps around Jared's cock, sure and tight and Jared gasps, bucking upward. The touch is sudden and shocking in the darkness and he's going to come for sure. Jensen strokes his hand upward, his thumb gently swiping over the sensitive head of Jared's cock, and Jared trembles. "Don't come," Jensen tells him as white hot stars replace the darkness in Jared's vision. The next command is a whisper. "Fuck my hand." It's followed by a kiss, hard and fast.
It's instinctive to obey and Jared gives in to the urge to thrust, pushing up into Jensen's firm grip. His hips rise and fall, pumping steadily, and he feels as if he's dying, slowly, by degrees. He can't get enough oxygen into his lungs and he thinks he might implode from the lack.
"Stop," Jensen whispers and it's sheer torture to do so but Jared does, freezing in mid-thrust. He sucks at the air, a whine starting back in his throat again that he just can't choke back. Jensen lets him get away with it. "Good," he says and Jared squirms. The praise is almost as good as Jensen's touch.
Cold, wet slick dribbles on him from above and Jared gasps. Jensen works it onto him, his hand sliding up and down Jared's cock. "Go," Jensen says and Jared pulls on his arms until the ropes cut into his wrists. The pain helping to center him, he obeys. "Don't come," Jensen reminds him and Jared takes it as his mantra. Don't come, don't come, don't come...
But it's hard--impossibly hard--because Jensen's hand is slick and tight and the wet sound of each stroke is echoing in Jared's ears. Jared feels exposed and raw, like every layer he's ever had has been peeled away, leaving him with nothing but pure, simple need. He wants to come. He needs to come. He has to.
"Oh, God, Jensen, I'm--" Jensen's free hand slaps over Jared's mouth and guilt floods through Jared's body. It just makes him squirm more.
"Don't come," Jensen tells him and Jared wants to obey--wants to but Jensen's hand feels too good and he's going to break. He knows that he is.
"Come," Jensen says and Jared's world collapses in on itself. He bucks upward into Jensen's hand, hard and fast, and stays there, suspended on the knife-edge of orgasm until he finally falls. He pulses into Jensen's hand, Jensen's grip loosening with each stroke, until there's nothing left but a light touch.
"Good," Jensen says and Jared shudders as an aftershock of pleasure rushes through him. "Real good."