NC-17 | the ruin of many a poor boy | J2
Title: the ruin of many a poor boy
Words: 3,000
Rating/Warning: NC-17/prostitution & infidelity, mention of physical abuse and underage prostitution
Summary: Jensen is a married man. A police officer. A husband. He shouldn't hang out near the corner where young prostitutes get picked up. But he needs to. [age difference - Jensen is late 20s, Jared is 18]
Notes: Title is a line from The Animals' "House of the Rising Sun". Betaed by quickreaver. on AO3
HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY FAVORITE CUCHARITA cherie_morte (at least until next year)
You are the loveliest, funniest, weirdest friend I have and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't give you much, but I can give you SAD bb!Jared prostitute fic :DDDD
It’s well past midnight and the flickering street lamps keep drawing Jensen’s attention. A small group is gathered beneath the light as folks come and go to hit their quotas.
In the daytime, Jensen would haul them all into the station, slap handcuffs and a solicitation misdemeanor on them. But not at night. Under this full moon, Jensen is far removed from his navy uniform. He’s plain clothes like any Tom, Dick, or Harry who drives down this alley for a cheap thrill at twenty bucks a pop.
Jensen’s not here for that.
Well.
Not exactly.
He waits in the cold confines of his car while temperatures drop into single digits and young adults put themselves up on the meat rack for quick cash. It’s not that different from the handful of cars in the area waiting to find their trick for the night.
As a police officer, Jensen sees the crime of prostitution loud and clear. As a human being, one who hides parts of himself just like they do, he sees the real injustice in their eyes, the tattered clothes, or the eagerness flitting off in waves whenever headlights flash by.
He’s all bundled up in his winter jacket, scarf, and wool cap, but he still gets a shiver when Jared’s long, coltish legs appear. The flop of chestnut hair sweeping across a broad, smooth forehead. The thin hips and broad chest that’re dying to grow into a man.
Jensen’s breathing falters and his chest heaves with stuttered puffs of warm, misty air filling the car. His window fogs up and he wipes away the condensation so he can see the boy again.
I’m all man now echoes in Jensen’s ears, back when Jared turned eighteen and did his best to prove it to him.
As if Jensen’s memories spark in Jared’s mind, too, Jared crosses the alley and heads across the road to Jensen’s car. Halfway, he starts jogging and Jensen can see the bright white of Jared’s smile in the dark.
That coat is too big, even for Jared’s tall frame. It hangs on him cartoonishly and dwarfs the sharp V of his chest down to his long, long legs. Still, he grins happily from the other side of the driver’s window, slips his bare hand out from the baggy sleeves of his coat, and presses his palm to the glass.
Jensen does the same. His heart flutters as he swears he feels the heat seeping through the glass and his glove, a quick tease of having Jared beneath him.
He’s cold and empty again for those few seconds between touching glass and having Jared seated beside him in the car. Jared’s bright voice warms him instantly.
“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”
“I wanted to be here sooner,” Jensen admits as he takes off his gloves and hat, tries to flick his hair back into place. His smile fades when he sees Jared’s eyes find the gold on Jensen’s finger. Jensen hides his hand in his jacket pocket and fights one-handed to get the ring off.
Along with Jared’s disappointed gaze, his voice loses its emotion. “How are the wife and kids?”
“Do you want to know?”
There’s a long pause and Jensen fears Jared really does want to hear about the family back home, all sleeping while Jensen sits here with a teenage prostitute. Jensen carries enough guilt for being gay, he can’t bear to vocalize what the entirety of this situation really means.
Jared finally answers, “No, not really.”
Once the ring is loose in his pocket, Jensen reaches for Jared’s face and holds tenderly at his jaw, cheek, and neck. Brings him in to kiss just as carefully, softly. Like a Disney prince catching his love for the first time. Jared easily falls into it, gently moaning as he lets Jensen lick his way inside, allows Jensen to lead him to the side while Jensen reaches even further.
Jensen dives into the hazy moment that he has to run away to find. Warmth surrounds them as the cab of the car heats up with their harsh breathing, wet pants fogging the windows again.
Then suddenly Jared winces and pulls away with a painful noise.
“What? Did I do something wro-”
“No, no, you’re fine.” Jared attempts to laugh it off while holding his hand over his mouth.
“Then what’s wrong?” Jensen draws Jared’s hand away to hold, to caress and ease away whatever the problem is.
And that’s when he notices the thick bruise. Jensen’s insides crumble together as he rubs his thumb across Jared’s lower lip, first for the slickness of the touch, then slowly and softly to caress the purple plume spreading from the corner of the boy’s mouth. It’s not the first time Jared’s appeared with battle scars. Jensen sadly knows it won’t be the last.
“What happened?” he demands in a rough whisper.
“Nothing,” Jared replies breezily. “Just a little fun the other night.”
Under Jensen’s intense stare, Jared hardly moves. His eyes darting away for a quick second are the only thing to give Jared away. “Fun? Theirs or yours?”
Jared’s eyes lose a bit of their shine as he continues to watch Jensen grow tense and irate. “Does it really matter?”
“Yes.”
With a scoff, Jared tips his head forward. “To who?”
“To me,” Jensen replies without a moment of thought. Or regret, because the way Jared’s eyes widen, fully vulnerable and surprised, makes Jensen’s heart beat a little faster. He brings his thumb back to the bloom of purple and blue, pictures erasing it with every touch, as if he could erase all of Jared’s bruises and scars with the wave of his hand. “Who was it?”
Jared remains quiet, yet continues to stare back. He licks then bites the corner of his mouth, frowning when it tugs at the battered skin.
Jensen lets his hand drop and reaches for Jared’s hand. He winds their fingers together and holds tightly. He wants so much to relieve Jared of this life, the pressures of hiding away in alleys and garages to get by. Jensen needs to do it to relieve himself of the ache deep in his chest when he falls asleep in a warm home and a soft bed, while Jared never knows when his next meal or a good night’s rest will come.
“Jared,” Jensen insists. “Who did it?”
Looking down, Jared squeezes back on Jensen’s hold and tucks his index finger along the lines of Jensen’s wrist. The pad of his finger presses into Jensen’s pulse and Jensen can feel it kick even faster. “My attorney.”
“Son of a-”
“It’s okay.” Jared chuckles hollowly. “All part of the game. He did his job. And so I did … mine.”
“Did your job? What, serve as a punching bag?” flies out of Jensen’s mouth with all the anger and fire he’s stowed away for the last two years. Ever since he first picked Jared up on solicitation, but couldn’t let the poor boy go far.
It takes a grand amount of patience and understanding to not let it all get to him, at least not when they’re together. So many other men do their best to make Jared cower and beg to fulfill their fantasies; Jensen’s dreams are anything but that, and he instantly regrets the way Jared has flinched away from the roughness of Jensen’s voice.
You don’t have to do this anymore, I will help you, we’ll get you out of here runs through Jensen’s mind, just like it always does. Yet his mouth can never form the words for anyone else to hear. Instead, he murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Jared.”
“No, I am.”
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Jensen insists, shifting closer to him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. Not like they do. I don’t want to be like the others.”
Jared’s eyes shine and the healthy corner of his mouth tips up. “You’re not.” He cups Jensen’s cheek, fingers reaching back to softly play with the short edges of Jensen’s hair. “You’re nothing like them.”
Jensen loses himself in the depth of Jared’s sweet gaze and the conviction of his words. He grabs at the meat of Jared’s thigh and squeezes with care, doing his best not to be needy or demanding like all the other men in Jared’s life.
He needs, sure he does. For Jensen, though, it’s less carnal and more about the purity of what lies just beneath the surface of Jared’s street-rough edges.
“I want to take you somewhere,” Jensen blurts out.
“Lead the way,” Jared says with a quiet, trusting smile.
*
The house is so quiet, Jensen swears he can hear his nerves rattling. He thinks if the lights were on, could Jared see the thump of his heart in his chest like in Saturday morning cartoons. He’s sure Jared can feel the sweat between their palms as Jensen guides them up to the second floor; he wonders if some of it is Jared, too.
Jared moves slowly, eyes wide as he takes in every detail of Jensen’s parents’ home. Especially old pictures of Jensen through the years, parents’ vacations, and other assorted extended family. “You were so cute,” Jared gushes after a particular collage hanging in the hall, a summer picnic just before Jensen went off to college.
“Were?” Jensen asks with only a pinch of worry for Jared’s answer.
Without hesitation, Jared presses into Jensen’s side and kisses his cheek. “You’re much more than that now.”
“Oh, come on,” he replies while trying to hide his shy smile. Pointing out all the wonderful parts of Jared is easy, hearing it back from the boy is another.
Jensen distracts himself by opening the door to his old bedroom and motioning Jared inside. It’s been nearly a decade since he slept in this room, but some decorations remained. Like his baseball pennants and track medals.
Jared stops in the middle of the room and takes a deep breath. “Why are we here?”
I want it to be real.
Jensen knows it makes no sense, and he fears making himself out as another delusional client if he tries to explain. When it first occurred to him that the house would be empty while his parents were visiting family on the East Coast, Jensen thought it could serve as a warm, dry place for them to exist on the same plane. Where Jared could imagine them both back in high school and fumbling their way together. Maybe Jensen needs to imagine that, too. Needs to escape the facsimile of a life he has back at home and finally live for what he truly desires.
“Had to get out of the cold,” Jensen says with a quick shrug.
“To your childhood home?”
“As good as any.”
“If you insist …” Jared walks to him and puts on a sly leer that forces a flash of heat down Jensen’s spine. Just like it should. Yet that heat is quickly replaced by something icy and sour, as Jensen knows this is how Jared fights his way through every transaction.
When he’s near enough, Jensen brings Jared in between his legs and helps him out of the bulky jacket. “Don’t do that.” Then he adds, “Please. Just be you.”
“Just be me,” Jared repeats, as if he’s trying to convince himself.
He slides his hands around Jared’s tiny hips and up his back, ignoring the bump of each starving bone. “This is for you. What do you want?”
Jared bites at his lip, worries it enough that Jensen fears he’ll have another bruise to match the gift from his attorney. “Anything?”
Jensen nods. “Anything.”
“I want …” He grows quiet again, this time distracting himself by watching his fingers flicking at the hair behind Jensen’s ear and down to the nape of his neck. “What I want …”
Jensen’s heart drops to his stomach at the way Jared has to reach deep down for himself, to honor what his own wants and needs are. Jared’s faraway gaze makes him look even younger and Jensen is eager to fulfill anything Jared asks just to make the boy happy.
Jared eventually whispers, “Take care of me?”
Now his heart cracks at the hopeful way Jared spoke. He blinks a few times and answers with a firm “Absolutely.” He guides Jared down to the bed and beneath him, then moves Jared’s t-shirt up so he can drop tiny, wet kisses across the fluttering belly and up along his ribs, in between every bone.
Jared shifts nervously on the mattress, but Jensen is careful, gentle, loving with every kiss of his fingers and lips to Jared’s skin. When Jensen gets to work on Jared’s belt and zipper, Jared inhales sharply, rises on the bed to rest back on his elbows and watch. Jensen glances up and holds Jared’s stare so the boy knows that Jensen will do everything he can to make him feel safe.
Jensen leaves a kiss just above the waistband of Jared’s jeans, continuing to watch him back. “You’re safe with me,” he breathes into Jared’s skin.
When Jared closes his eyes and drops his head back with a relieved sigh, Jensen continues on his way to getting Jared out of his jeans and underwear. And when he has that young, blushing, half-hard cock in his hands, Jensen sighs for his own appreciation just before he licks over the head. He thinks back to his teenage years when he had to stow away in locker rooms and closets to get off with whoever, whenever, and he wants to relive the eagerness of boyish blow jobs with Jared. Wishes they’d fumbled through those years together. Something about Jared makes him travel back to the days, when just a look would get him half-hard and salivating.
Right now, he wants more for Jared. Wants to be more than a quick hand job in the equipment room, so he takes his time licking and sucking down Jared’s flushed-red cock, before making his way back up to the top. He swallows Jared down as far as he can go and sucks hard as he pulls up. Jared’s whines and impatient cries sink deep in Jensen’s belly with satisfaction, and Jensen gets right back at it until he can strip away every weathered layer of Jared’s being to find the tender, bright light beneath.
*
Jensen waits patiently in the waiting room. The wooden chair wobbles if he shifts even an inch and the receptionist is loudly gabbing away to someone on the phone. A small TV in the corner plays Judge Judy without sound and a mess of years-old sports and news magazines are the only decent entertainment in the room.
He doesn’t care. He’ll wait right here until his name is called. Until he can fulfill his appointment then be on his merry way.
The receptionist hurries off her call for the insistent buzzing at the phone deck. She has much less enthusiasm when she answers to the man in the office behind her and then lazily looks at Jensen. “Mr. Ross?” she drones out the fake name. “He’d like to know if you have the case file with you.”
Jensen smiles, happy and carefree. “Sure do.”
Her beady eyes take all of him in, easily noticing Jensen is completely empty handed.
He smiles again while tapping at his temple. “It’s all up here.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to dial a new number, now completely bored. “He’ll see you now.”
With a thank you, Jensen rises, fixing the tug of his jeans at his waist and the hang of his leather jacket across his chest. He enters the office with a small, amused pull of his lips and crosses the room to greet the man.
“Mr. Ross.” The man acknowledges Jensen with a sweaty hand shake. His hair is a mess of gray and white tangles, and his beard is more than five o’clock shadow. It all matches the ill fit of his brown suite and cream shirt, but what really cries out are the mustard and ketchup stains on his tie.
“Mr. Anderson. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jensen continues to smile while holding tight to the handshake.
“Oh, you have, huh?” Anderson looks down to their hands then up to Jensen, narrowing his eyes along the way. “And how’s that?”
“I think we have a friend in common.”
He tries to pull his hand out of the greeting, Jensen refusing to let go. Jensen’s fingers dig in a little tighter, nails pressing into the side of the man’s hand. “And who’s that?”
“Jared Padalecki. You recently helped him get out of a public intoxication charge.”
“Yes. That I did. Sweet young boy.” Anderson pulls harder to retrieve his hand, but Jensen tugs him closer. “What are-?”
Jensen leans across the desk so they’re eye to eye, fingernails threatening to break Anderson’s skin.
“How sweet is he? How sweet a boy is Jared?” When the man’s mouth opens in recognition of the situation, Jensen grins. “You touch him again and we’re gonna have a problem.”
Anderson trains his face into something less scared and more smug and greasy. Likely his daily façade. “What kind of problem?”
He yanks on Anderson’s tie with his left hand then nails the guy right in the nose with a quick jab. Jensen yanks again and fires off two more shots to the face before letting him go with a hard push to the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” the man wails from the ground.
“Jared doesn’t feel safe around you,” Jensen explains easily, playful smile adding perverse cheer. “So I suggest you stay away.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Jensen clears his throat and stands firmly, shoulders parallel to the ground. “I’m the one that keeps him safe.”
Words: 3,000
Rating/Warning: NC-17/prostitution & infidelity, mention of physical abuse and underage prostitution
Summary: Jensen is a married man. A police officer. A husband. He shouldn't hang out near the corner where young prostitutes get picked up. But he needs to. [age difference - Jensen is late 20s, Jared is 18]
Notes: Title is a line from The Animals' "House of the Rising Sun". Betaed by quickreaver. on AO3
HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY FAVORITE CUCHARITA cherie_morte (at least until next year)
You are the loveliest, funniest, weirdest friend I have and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't give you much, but I can give you SAD bb!Jared prostitute fic :DDDD
It’s well past midnight and the flickering street lamps keep drawing Jensen’s attention. A small group is gathered beneath the light as folks come and go to hit their quotas.
In the daytime, Jensen would haul them all into the station, slap handcuffs and a solicitation misdemeanor on them. But not at night. Under this full moon, Jensen is far removed from his navy uniform. He’s plain clothes like any Tom, Dick, or Harry who drives down this alley for a cheap thrill at twenty bucks a pop.
Jensen’s not here for that.
Well.
Not exactly.
He waits in the cold confines of his car while temperatures drop into single digits and young adults put themselves up on the meat rack for quick cash. It’s not that different from the handful of cars in the area waiting to find their trick for the night.
As a police officer, Jensen sees the crime of prostitution loud and clear. As a human being, one who hides parts of himself just like they do, he sees the real injustice in their eyes, the tattered clothes, or the eagerness flitting off in waves whenever headlights flash by.
He’s all bundled up in his winter jacket, scarf, and wool cap, but he still gets a shiver when Jared’s long, coltish legs appear. The flop of chestnut hair sweeping across a broad, smooth forehead. The thin hips and broad chest that’re dying to grow into a man.
Jensen’s breathing falters and his chest heaves with stuttered puffs of warm, misty air filling the car. His window fogs up and he wipes away the condensation so he can see the boy again.
I’m all man now echoes in Jensen’s ears, back when Jared turned eighteen and did his best to prove it to him.
As if Jensen’s memories spark in Jared’s mind, too, Jared crosses the alley and heads across the road to Jensen’s car. Halfway, he starts jogging and Jensen can see the bright white of Jared’s smile in the dark.
That coat is too big, even for Jared’s tall frame. It hangs on him cartoonishly and dwarfs the sharp V of his chest down to his long, long legs. Still, he grins happily from the other side of the driver’s window, slips his bare hand out from the baggy sleeves of his coat, and presses his palm to the glass.
Jensen does the same. His heart flutters as he swears he feels the heat seeping through the glass and his glove, a quick tease of having Jared beneath him.
He’s cold and empty again for those few seconds between touching glass and having Jared seated beside him in the car. Jared’s bright voice warms him instantly.
“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon.”
“I wanted to be here sooner,” Jensen admits as he takes off his gloves and hat, tries to flick his hair back into place. His smile fades when he sees Jared’s eyes find the gold on Jensen’s finger. Jensen hides his hand in his jacket pocket and fights one-handed to get the ring off.
Along with Jared’s disappointed gaze, his voice loses its emotion. “How are the wife and kids?”
“Do you want to know?”
There’s a long pause and Jensen fears Jared really does want to hear about the family back home, all sleeping while Jensen sits here with a teenage prostitute. Jensen carries enough guilt for being gay, he can’t bear to vocalize what the entirety of this situation really means.
Jared finally answers, “No, not really.”
Once the ring is loose in his pocket, Jensen reaches for Jared’s face and holds tenderly at his jaw, cheek, and neck. Brings him in to kiss just as carefully, softly. Like a Disney prince catching his love for the first time. Jared easily falls into it, gently moaning as he lets Jensen lick his way inside, allows Jensen to lead him to the side while Jensen reaches even further.
Jensen dives into the hazy moment that he has to run away to find. Warmth surrounds them as the cab of the car heats up with their harsh breathing, wet pants fogging the windows again.
Then suddenly Jared winces and pulls away with a painful noise.
“What? Did I do something wro-”
“No, no, you’re fine.” Jared attempts to laugh it off while holding his hand over his mouth.
“Then what’s wrong?” Jensen draws Jared’s hand away to hold, to caress and ease away whatever the problem is.
And that’s when he notices the thick bruise. Jensen’s insides crumble together as he rubs his thumb across Jared’s lower lip, first for the slickness of the touch, then slowly and softly to caress the purple plume spreading from the corner of the boy’s mouth. It’s not the first time Jared’s appeared with battle scars. Jensen sadly knows it won’t be the last.
“What happened?” he demands in a rough whisper.
“Nothing,” Jared replies breezily. “Just a little fun the other night.”
Under Jensen’s intense stare, Jared hardly moves. His eyes darting away for a quick second are the only thing to give Jared away. “Fun? Theirs or yours?”
Jared’s eyes lose a bit of their shine as he continues to watch Jensen grow tense and irate. “Does it really matter?”
“Yes.”
With a scoff, Jared tips his head forward. “To who?”
“To me,” Jensen replies without a moment of thought. Or regret, because the way Jared’s eyes widen, fully vulnerable and surprised, makes Jensen’s heart beat a little faster. He brings his thumb back to the bloom of purple and blue, pictures erasing it with every touch, as if he could erase all of Jared’s bruises and scars with the wave of his hand. “Who was it?”
Jared remains quiet, yet continues to stare back. He licks then bites the corner of his mouth, frowning when it tugs at the battered skin.
Jensen lets his hand drop and reaches for Jared’s hand. He winds their fingers together and holds tightly. He wants so much to relieve Jared of this life, the pressures of hiding away in alleys and garages to get by. Jensen needs to do it to relieve himself of the ache deep in his chest when he falls asleep in a warm home and a soft bed, while Jared never knows when his next meal or a good night’s rest will come.
“Jared,” Jensen insists. “Who did it?”
Looking down, Jared squeezes back on Jensen’s hold and tucks his index finger along the lines of Jensen’s wrist. The pad of his finger presses into Jensen’s pulse and Jensen can feel it kick even faster. “My attorney.”
“Son of a-”
“It’s okay.” Jared chuckles hollowly. “All part of the game. He did his job. And so I did … mine.”
“Did your job? What, serve as a punching bag?” flies out of Jensen’s mouth with all the anger and fire he’s stowed away for the last two years. Ever since he first picked Jared up on solicitation, but couldn’t let the poor boy go far.
It takes a grand amount of patience and understanding to not let it all get to him, at least not when they’re together. So many other men do their best to make Jared cower and beg to fulfill their fantasies; Jensen’s dreams are anything but that, and he instantly regrets the way Jared has flinched away from the roughness of Jensen’s voice.
You don’t have to do this anymore, I will help you, we’ll get you out of here runs through Jensen’s mind, just like it always does. Yet his mouth can never form the words for anyone else to hear. Instead, he murmurs, “I’m so sorry, Jared.”
“No, I am.”
“You have no reason to be sorry,” Jensen insists, shifting closer to him. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. Not like they do. I don’t want to be like the others.”
Jared’s eyes shine and the healthy corner of his mouth tips up. “You’re not.” He cups Jensen’s cheek, fingers reaching back to softly play with the short edges of Jensen’s hair. “You’re nothing like them.”
Jensen loses himself in the depth of Jared’s sweet gaze and the conviction of his words. He grabs at the meat of Jared’s thigh and squeezes with care, doing his best not to be needy or demanding like all the other men in Jared’s life.
He needs, sure he does. For Jensen, though, it’s less carnal and more about the purity of what lies just beneath the surface of Jared’s street-rough edges.
“I want to take you somewhere,” Jensen blurts out.
“Lead the way,” Jared says with a quiet, trusting smile.
*
The house is so quiet, Jensen swears he can hear his nerves rattling. He thinks if the lights were on, could Jared see the thump of his heart in his chest like in Saturday morning cartoons. He’s sure Jared can feel the sweat between their palms as Jensen guides them up to the second floor; he wonders if some of it is Jared, too.
Jared moves slowly, eyes wide as he takes in every detail of Jensen’s parents’ home. Especially old pictures of Jensen through the years, parents’ vacations, and other assorted extended family. “You were so cute,” Jared gushes after a particular collage hanging in the hall, a summer picnic just before Jensen went off to college.
“Were?” Jensen asks with only a pinch of worry for Jared’s answer.
Without hesitation, Jared presses into Jensen’s side and kisses his cheek. “You’re much more than that now.”
“Oh, come on,” he replies while trying to hide his shy smile. Pointing out all the wonderful parts of Jared is easy, hearing it back from the boy is another.
Jensen distracts himself by opening the door to his old bedroom and motioning Jared inside. It’s been nearly a decade since he slept in this room, but some decorations remained. Like his baseball pennants and track medals.
Jared stops in the middle of the room and takes a deep breath. “Why are we here?”
I want it to be real.
Jensen knows it makes no sense, and he fears making himself out as another delusional client if he tries to explain. When it first occurred to him that the house would be empty while his parents were visiting family on the East Coast, Jensen thought it could serve as a warm, dry place for them to exist on the same plane. Where Jared could imagine them both back in high school and fumbling their way together. Maybe Jensen needs to imagine that, too. Needs to escape the facsimile of a life he has back at home and finally live for what he truly desires.
“Had to get out of the cold,” Jensen says with a quick shrug.
“To your childhood home?”
“As good as any.”
“If you insist …” Jared walks to him and puts on a sly leer that forces a flash of heat down Jensen’s spine. Just like it should. Yet that heat is quickly replaced by something icy and sour, as Jensen knows this is how Jared fights his way through every transaction.
When he’s near enough, Jensen brings Jared in between his legs and helps him out of the bulky jacket. “Don’t do that.” Then he adds, “Please. Just be you.”
“Just be me,” Jared repeats, as if he’s trying to convince himself.
He slides his hands around Jared’s tiny hips and up his back, ignoring the bump of each starving bone. “This is for you. What do you want?”
Jared bites at his lip, worries it enough that Jensen fears he’ll have another bruise to match the gift from his attorney. “Anything?”
Jensen nods. “Anything.”
“I want …” He grows quiet again, this time distracting himself by watching his fingers flicking at the hair behind Jensen’s ear and down to the nape of his neck. “What I want …”
Jensen’s heart drops to his stomach at the way Jared has to reach deep down for himself, to honor what his own wants and needs are. Jared’s faraway gaze makes him look even younger and Jensen is eager to fulfill anything Jared asks just to make the boy happy.
Jared eventually whispers, “Take care of me?”
Now his heart cracks at the hopeful way Jared spoke. He blinks a few times and answers with a firm “Absolutely.” He guides Jared down to the bed and beneath him, then moves Jared’s t-shirt up so he can drop tiny, wet kisses across the fluttering belly and up along his ribs, in between every bone.
Jared shifts nervously on the mattress, but Jensen is careful, gentle, loving with every kiss of his fingers and lips to Jared’s skin. When Jensen gets to work on Jared’s belt and zipper, Jared inhales sharply, rises on the bed to rest back on his elbows and watch. Jensen glances up and holds Jared’s stare so the boy knows that Jensen will do everything he can to make him feel safe.
Jensen leaves a kiss just above the waistband of Jared’s jeans, continuing to watch him back. “You’re safe with me,” he breathes into Jared’s skin.
When Jared closes his eyes and drops his head back with a relieved sigh, Jensen continues on his way to getting Jared out of his jeans and underwear. And when he has that young, blushing, half-hard cock in his hands, Jensen sighs for his own appreciation just before he licks over the head. He thinks back to his teenage years when he had to stow away in locker rooms and closets to get off with whoever, whenever, and he wants to relive the eagerness of boyish blow jobs with Jared. Wishes they’d fumbled through those years together. Something about Jared makes him travel back to the days, when just a look would get him half-hard and salivating.
Right now, he wants more for Jared. Wants to be more than a quick hand job in the equipment room, so he takes his time licking and sucking down Jared’s flushed-red cock, before making his way back up to the top. He swallows Jared down as far as he can go and sucks hard as he pulls up. Jared’s whines and impatient cries sink deep in Jensen’s belly with satisfaction, and Jensen gets right back at it until he can strip away every weathered layer of Jared’s being to find the tender, bright light beneath.
*
Jensen waits patiently in the waiting room. The wooden chair wobbles if he shifts even an inch and the receptionist is loudly gabbing away to someone on the phone. A small TV in the corner plays Judge Judy without sound and a mess of years-old sports and news magazines are the only decent entertainment in the room.
He doesn’t care. He’ll wait right here until his name is called. Until he can fulfill his appointment then be on his merry way.
The receptionist hurries off her call for the insistent buzzing at the phone deck. She has much less enthusiasm when she answers to the man in the office behind her and then lazily looks at Jensen. “Mr. Ross?” she drones out the fake name. “He’d like to know if you have the case file with you.”
Jensen smiles, happy and carefree. “Sure do.”
Her beady eyes take all of him in, easily noticing Jensen is completely empty handed.
He smiles again while tapping at his temple. “It’s all up here.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to dial a new number, now completely bored. “He’ll see you now.”
With a thank you, Jensen rises, fixing the tug of his jeans at his waist and the hang of his leather jacket across his chest. He enters the office with a small, amused pull of his lips and crosses the room to greet the man.
“Mr. Ross.” The man acknowledges Jensen with a sweaty hand shake. His hair is a mess of gray and white tangles, and his beard is more than five o’clock shadow. It all matches the ill fit of his brown suite and cream shirt, but what really cries out are the mustard and ketchup stains on his tie.
“Mr. Anderson. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jensen continues to smile while holding tight to the handshake.
“Oh, you have, huh?” Anderson looks down to their hands then up to Jensen, narrowing his eyes along the way. “And how’s that?”
“I think we have a friend in common.”
He tries to pull his hand out of the greeting, Jensen refusing to let go. Jensen’s fingers dig in a little tighter, nails pressing into the side of the man’s hand. “And who’s that?”
“Jared Padalecki. You recently helped him get out of a public intoxication charge.”
“Yes. That I did. Sweet young boy.” Anderson pulls harder to retrieve his hand, but Jensen tugs him closer. “What are-?”
Jensen leans across the desk so they’re eye to eye, fingernails threatening to break Anderson’s skin.
“How sweet is he? How sweet a boy is Jared?” When the man’s mouth opens in recognition of the situation, Jensen grins. “You touch him again and we’re gonna have a problem.”
Anderson trains his face into something less scared and more smug and greasy. Likely his daily façade. “What kind of problem?”
He yanks on Anderson’s tie with his left hand then nails the guy right in the nose with a quick jab. Jensen yanks again and fires off two more shots to the face before letting him go with a hard push to the ground.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” the man wails from the ground.
“Jared doesn’t feel safe around you,” Jensen explains easily, playful smile adding perverse cheer. “So I suggest you stay away.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Jensen clears his throat and stands firmly, shoulders parallel to the ground. “I’m the one that keeps him safe.”