THE POLICE : EPISODE SIX "AFTERMATH"
Title: The Police (Episode Six : Aftermath)
Authors: bloody_adorable and eviltwin
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/OMC (played here by Sam Worthington..see icon)
Rating: Adult.
Wordcount: 8166
Summary: AU. Jensen's way of coping with the aftermath isn't what anyone was hoping for...
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Please don't ask us to reveal the ending to you, or to tell you who's going to get it in this fic. Because we just won't. Just trust us. You know we deal in J2 and you know that we like a happy ending as much as the next person. But you ought to know by now that our methods of getting there are never smooth and that, sometimes, because we're evil, we're not always entirely truthful. (Read: if anyone is annoyed at us after reading any chapter, then they're reading the wrong authors. We love to angst and our drama llama is NOT tame...)
EPISODE SIX : AFTERMATH
Jensen was gone before any of them could even change into their civilian clothes. He hadn't changed, he hadn't packed up his stuff. He had simply come back from the street, grabbed his keys and left. He had been fast, too, because Jared had run after him. Caught only a glimpse of Jensen's back as the man sped away on the motorcycle.
The team had been given two days off, with no obligations to come in, answer any calls, or participate in any way. They were told to go home, rest. Everyone was to talk to the precinct psychiatrist at least once. Jared knew, however, that Jensen would be required to talk to her more than just once. He knew, too, that Jensen would fight it.
For two days, Jared tried to contact Jensen. He had no idea where the man had gone off to, worried about him, about where he was sleeping, if he was eating, thinking that all of the fights they'd had before seemed trivial. He wanted Jensen back with him. He wanted to be able to take care of him.
Walking down the street, Jared punched in Jensen's number on the cell phone and pressed it to his ear. The city was just as lively at night as it was during the day. He had to weave in and out of people as he walked, being careful not to spill the hot cup of java he'd purchased just moments ago.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Jensen's phone went to voicemail after a few rings. Jared sighed and waited for a chance to leave a message.
"Hey, it's me," he finally said. "I'm hoping that the city just has shitty reception, and that you're not really avoiding me." He knew it was a lie, but he wanted to let Jensen know that the avoidance was hurting his feelings. "I just want to make sure you're okay. And to see if you're going to work tomorrow. Please call me, okay?"
He waited a second more, as if Jensen could somehow pick up the call and talk to him. Or as if he had something else to say, but couldn't. Wouldn't. Flipping the phone closed, Jared placed it back in its carrier on his belt and kept on walking. It was all he'd done for the past two days and nights. Walked and walked, and walked some more, looking for any sign of Jensen.
He didn't see him until the next day.
* * *
He definitely hadn't shaved for the past two days. Jensen was scruffy, his clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like hell, to be honest. But he was at work the very next day, pretending everything was fine. As a matter of fact, he was early. Jared walked into the men's locker room and stopped short, seeing Jensen sitting on the bench that ran along the floor between the rows of lockers.
"Jen?"
Jensen turned and smiled at him. He looked tired, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants that said POLICE down the left leg. "Hey, man," he greeted.
Jared checked to make sure no one else was in the locker room. He was typically early, so he was sure they were alone. He wondered what the hell time Jensen had gotten there. "Where have you been?" he asked, stepping closer and seating himself next to Jensen.
Concentrating on getting his gear squared away, Jensen shrugged, not looking at Jared. "Around."
"Bullshit, around," Jared argued. "I've looked everywhere for you."
Jensen met his eyes. "Clearly not everywhere."
"Come on," Jared pushed. "I've been worried sick. I think I deserve to know where you were, at least."
Jensen stood from his place, reaching into the top of his locker for something, or maybe to set something up there, Jared wasn't sure. "Yeah," the man almost chuckled. He tugged off his shirt, wadded it up and threw it into the locker. He reacked back up into the top of the locker, producing the music player he used when exercising. "I'm going to go run for a while." He started to leave, intending to head to the gym.
Standing, Jared reached out and set a hand to Jensen's chest, not letting him pass. He watched Jensen set his jaw angrily, their eyes meeting. There was sadness, rage, and confusion in Jensen's gaze, tugging at Jared's heartstrings. He wanted to fix everything, but he could also see in those greenish eyes, that Jensen wasn't going to let him.
Interrupting them, someone walked into the locker room. Jared turned, his hand still set to Jensen's chest, and saw Morgan standing there.
Jeffrey looked from Jared to Jensen, and back again. "Interrupting something?" he asked, his face serious, as always.
Jared pursed his lips, dropped his hand and turned to face his Sergeant. "No, sir," he said.
"Good," Morgan returned. He nodded once to Jensen. "My office. Now."
Jensen didn't say anything in return. He watched Morgan go, the look on his face one of annoyance. He knew what was going to be said, and didn't want to hear it. He turned, placed his MP3 player back up on top of the locker and closed the door as quietly as he could.
Jared watched Jensen step past him again, moving out of the room. He had so many things he wanted to say to him, but didn't know where to begin. He wanted to take Jensen's burden from him, to free him of whatever turmoil he was going through. But Jensen was too strong, too tough for that. "Jen?"
Pausing, Jensen stopped. He didn't turn to face Jared, instead just waiting for him to say what he had to say.
"I'm sorry."
Standing there, Jensen nodded his head and spoke over his shoulder, his voice soft and scratchy. "Not as much as I am."
Jared sighed as he watched Jensen disappear around the corner. That admission might be the only thing anyone would ever get from Jensen. Yet, it still didn't make him feel any better about the situation.
Jeffrey was behind his desk when Jensen finally knocked on the door. Jeff waved him in and set aside some of the papers he'd been looking through. He motioned to a chair, and waited for the shirtless man to seat himself. "How you holding up?" he finally asked.
"I'm fine, Sarge," Jensen lied.
"I doubt that."
Sighing, Jensen leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the arms of the chair. "I just want to get back out there and do my job, Sarge," he said.
Jeff nodded. "Understandable," he agreed. "Hell, I'd feel the same way. But I can't let you do that."
Sitting up a little straighter, Jensen looked offended. "What? Why not?"
Jeffrey held up a manila folder. "Psych needs to pass you."
"Oh, come on, Sarge," Jensen complained. "That's bullshit."
"I don't like them any more than you do, Skooch," he argued, setting the folder back down. "But that's policy."
"Fuck policy."
An eyebrow raised, Morgan said nothing for a few seconds, waiting for Jensen to read him.
And read him, he did. Jensen sighed and sat back in his chair again. "Boss, they'll fucking ground me, and you know it."
He nodded again. "They might, for awhile," he agreed. "But it'll be better for you, for everyone, in the long run."
"I'm not going to go shoot another kid, if that's what you're all worried about," he snapped.
Morgan pointed a finger at him. "That's the farthest thing from my mind and you know it, Ackles," he snarled, his patience wearing thin. "This is something you need to address."
"I've had to kill people before. Why, all of a sudden, is everyone walking on eggshells around me?"
"None of them were fourteen year old kids before," he reminded him. "It wasn't your fault and I can tell just by looking at you that you think it is."
Angered, Jensen looked away.
"And if Psych doesn't clear you, you don't come back. Your teammates need to know they can count on you, that you won't freeze up."
"I won't freeze up."
"Prove it," Morgan said. "Get cleared by Psych and show those bastards that you can do it. It's Psych or suspension. Your choice."
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was from a bad past experience. Whatever the case, Jensen shook his head and stood from his chair. "Sorry, Sarge," he apologized. "I'm outta here."
"Ackles," Jeffrey said. "Ackles!"
But Jensen wouldn't listen.
* * *
It rained hard for the next three days, which made for some soggy trips for the team. They came back tired, soaked, and chilled to the bone. Even though he wouldn't admit it if you questioned him about it, Jared looked for Jensen each time they got back. They were one man short, but Morgan hadn't found a replacement yet. Jared hoped that it was because he was talking to Jensen sometimes, and knew some good news that they didn't.
Jensen disappeared again. He didn't answer Jared's calls, and he didn't come in to work. The psychiatrist, Lily O'Malley, asked Jared if he knew where Jensen was hiding. Jared shook his head and shrugged. "I wish I knew," he admitted. He stood by the briefing room, where he, Chris and Braddock were working on the dreaded paperwork they had fallen behind with. Morgan had someone in his office. Jared had no proof that the guy was there to replace Jensen, but he didn't like him already.
Lily was pretty, blonde, and Jensen had commented several times on how much he would like to have a shot with her. Regardless, Jared still liked her. She smiled gently, her blue eyes glittering in the light of the precint, and reached out to him. She squeezed his forearm as his arms lay crossed over his chest. "He'll be alright," she assured him. "We'll work this out."
Jared looked at her when she touched him. "I don't know," he said. "Jensen's really stubborn."
She just smiled brighter, winking at him, and walked away. Sighing, Jared looked back over to Morgan's office, to the man sitting before the desk. He didn't like him.
* * *
The loft was quiet. Lily stepped off the lift and looked around the place. Her heels clicked on the cement floor as she looked around. The bike she'd seen Jensen ride again and again was parked off to the left of the freight elevator. "Hello?" she called as she continued on inside.
To the right of the elevator was the kitchen and dining room. Straight ahead was the living area, accented with a wall of windows that went nearly to the ceiling. There was a gorgeous cityscape there, which she imagined was breathtaking at night. She had no idea how Jensen afforded such a place on a cop's salary, but she had a feeling that his previous military pay had something to do with that.
"Hello?" she called again. On either side of the loft, towards the wall of windows, were two doors, both leading to bedrooms, she imagined. Only one door was open, the one on the right. As she neared the open door, she could hear the sounds of a shower running. "Officer Ackles?" she called again.
Still no answer.
Advancing, Lily turned the corner into the room. It was decorated simply in dark colors. The brick walls had only a few pictures hanging from them, mostly of Jensen in uniform with someone who looked like him. A brother, perhaps. Squinting her eyes just slightly, Lily leaned into one of the military photos. But, before she could get a good look at who she thought was Jensen's brother, she was interrupted.
"Jesus Christ," Jensen breathed, emerging from the en suite. He quickly ducked back into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to cover himself up, water beaded up on his skin, hair dripping wet.
"Oh, my God," Lily said, just as startled. She set a hand to her heart and tried to look away from him. Her eyes kept getting drawn back to his form, however, to the tattoo on his forearm, and the one that was mostly hidden by the towel. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," she apologized.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, pushing past her and padding towards his bed.
To keep her eyes off of him, Lily walked out of the room, stopping just outside the doorway. She pressed her back to the wall there and spoke to him from there. "The precinct gave me your case," she said. "The downstairs door was unlocked."
Without even drying, Jensen pulled on some clothes. "The precinct is full of shit," he called to her, hiking up a pair of jeans, not bothering with a pair of boxer briefs. He tugged on his T-shirt, annoyed that it stuck to his skin and was dotted with water.
"I disagree," Lily told him, shaking her head. "I think it would be good for you to talk about this."
"Of course you do," he said. He pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt to cover the T-shirt that was sticking to his skin a little too much. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have minded showing himself off to Lily. But he wasn't in the mood. "All your kind wants to do is talk. Find Pads. He'll talk your ear off. That ought to keep you happy. You can bond about saving the world, one kind act at a time." He didn't bother tugging on a pair of socks or shoes. He was just going to go downstairs, show Lily out, and come back up to do absolutely nothing anyway.
He started again when he found her just outside the doorway.
"Jeez," he complained. "Will you stop lurking?"
"I'm not lurking," she corrected, following him as he walked through the apartment. "I'm trying to get you to stop walking and talk to me."
"News flash," he said, stepping into the kitchen. "I can walk and talk at the same time, contrary to what you may have heard." He got a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself a drink from the tap.
Sighing, Lily stood before him, doing her best to not show how annoyed she really was. "Look," she said. "You don't like me. I get it."
"Oh, I like you," Jensen nodded. He pointed to the bedroom which he had just left. "As a matter of fact, if you want to come back there with me, I can show you how much I like you."
"Officer Ackles," she said, this time letting her annoyance show. "That's not going to help."
"Speak for yourself," he shrugged. He put the half-drank glass of water in the sink and crooked a finger at her. She followed him into the elevator. He closed the gates and pushed the button to go back down.
"Where are we going?" she asked, watching him work.
"You're leaving."
"Talking about what happened with Brandon Chatwood will--"
"Who?"
"Brandon Chatwood," she repeated. "The boy you shot."
Jensen's frustration with her melted away for a moment. He felt vulnerable and alone, sad and betrayed. He had a name now, to go along with the face that haunted him, where he had been trying to avoid that. It was more personal when you had a name. He quickly put his defensive wall back up and set his jaw angrily. "You tell me how talking about what I did is going to fix anything? These are my problems, nobody else's."
She tried to smile gently as the elevator came to a rather abrupt halt on the ground level. "Jensen, working through something of this magnitude is a big job. You can't do it on your own."
He nodded, smiling sarcastically as he opened the elevator door. "Watch me," he returned. He motioned for her to step out first, and then followed her, still in his bare feet.
There was a door next to the wide, electric garage door that allowed the bike into the loft. Lily turned when they reached the door. "Please, Jensen," she said, hoping one last time to reach him. "Please let me help you."
"You should be careful on your way home," he said, opening the door for her. "This side of town can get rough if you stay out too late."
"You're not even going to think about it?"
"You're wearing neutral gang colors though," he said, motioning to her skirt suit. "You should be okay."
Lily stopped talking and just sighed, staring up at him. His comments were practically dripping with sarcasm. She took several seconds to gaze up at his face, shaking her head. "Please just think about it," she said again, stepping through the doorway. "I'm not going to make you jump through hoops the way you think I am."
He smiled sarcastically, nodded and then closed the door in her face.
* * *
He didn't even hear the city sounds anymore. It used to be, when he first moved there, he couldn't sleep at night. He heard everything. Traffic. Music. People fighting. Sirens. You name it. Now, however, Jared was so used to it all, that when his head hit the pillow, he was usually out like a light.
Unless Jensen was there.
He'd stayed up much too late, until he could no longer hold his eyes open. Lately, that seemed to be the only way he could get any sleep. So, when the apartment door opened and someone crept inside, Jared didn't hear a thing. He didn't even stir when the shadowed figure stepped silently into the bedroom, nor did he make a sound when the mattress dipped underneath the weight of the dark silhouette.
What woke him up was the feel of warm skin against his own, of kisses being pressed to his shoulders, his neck, of cool hands creeping underneath the blankets to brush across his stomach and lower.
Breath hitching in his lungs, his heart skipping a beat out of surprise, Jared turned to see Jensen behind him, his arms wrapped tightly around Jared's midriff. His shirt was gone, and his pants were unbuckled; Jared could hear the man's belt jangling as he moved.
Used to having to pry himself from sleep on a moment's notice, Jared completely turned around to face Jensen, now fully awake. "What the fuck?" he mumbled as he moved. Meeting Jensen's eyes, Jared had no choice but to let the man kiss him. Jensen was moving with determination and need.
Setting his hands against Jensen's chest, Jared pushed him back slightly. "What the hell are you doing?"
Jensen didn't answer. Instead, he took Jared's hands away from his chest, holding the man's wrists, and leaned in for another kiss. Jared tried to move, but Jensen captured Jared's mouth with his own, kissing him hard, almost brutally. He moved so that he was hovering over Jared, pinning his wrists down to the pillows.
Jared mumbled, trying to move, trying to stop Jensen. He worked his wrists free of Jensen's hold, or maybe Jensen just let go of him, he couldn't tell. But either way, he set his hands at either side of Jensen's head and pushed the man back. He could only stare at Jensen for a moment. Normally, he liked that look in the man's eyes, liked that Jared brought that out in him.
But this was different.
"What are you doing here?" Jared asked.
Jensen shook his head, his eyes drifting closed for just a moment. "Don't analyze me, Jay," he warned. "I just need some company."
He leaned down for another kiss, but Jared stopped him, pushing him back again. "You're gone for how many days, not letting me know whether you're alive or dead, and you just pop back in here for a booty call?"
He was annoyed, and didn't bother to mask the emotion. "Well, now you know I'm alive," he said. "Just shut up, okay?"
When Jensen leaned into him again, Jared was rougher this time. He shoved Jensen back and rolled out from underneath him, which took some doing, considering that Jensen had been straddling him and Jared's long legs were tangled in the bedspread. He made an annoyed sound as he searched for the sweatpants he'd shed before he got into bed that night. When he turned, he saw Jensen still on the bed, face down, disappointed that he'd been turned away.
"You can't just show up like this, Jen," Jared scolded. "Not after all the shit that's been going on. And to just expect me to give in like nothing's wrong?"
"Why not?" he asked angrily, turning over onto his back. He scooted to the edge of the bed and sat there, elbows on his knees.
Jared felt bad for having scolded him. He moved to him, clicked on the bedside lamp and sat down beside him. "You need to deal with whatever you have going on in your head."
Jensen looked at him, pressing his mouth to the side of his own shoulder for a moment. "Don't you start on that crap too," he warned.
"Jensen, come on," he sighed. "This isn't something to mess around with. Go to Psych. Do all the talking and listening you have to, and then get cleared. We need you back."
He didn't want to hear anything like that. Shaking his head, Jensen stood from the bed. "I didn't come here for some lame attempt at a pep-talk, Jared," he snarled, bending down to pick up his T-shirt.
Jared stood from the bed, facing him. "No, you came here to feel good for a few minutes."
Pulling the shirt over his head, Jensen grunted with the movements, smoothing the shirt down over his belly. "Is that too much to ask?" He threaded his arms through his leather jacket, settling it over his shoulders.
"Yes," Jared shot back. "It doesn't solve anything."
That was it. Jensen lashed out, shoving Jared backwards. "And you'd know everything about solving things, wouldn't you? About saving the goddamn world."
He was a little stunned. Staring at Jensen, Jared shook his head, almost wincing. "What are you talking about?"
Jensen stomped closer. "You think this is something that can be solved with a few psycho-chats?"
For every step Jensen took closer to him, Jared took and equal step backwards. He wasn't afraid of Jensen, but he felt the need to put some distance between them. "I think you need to talk to someone, yes."
"Maybe I should," he nodded. "Get everything out in the open. Express my feelings, cry a little on the Doc's shoulder."
Jared nodded. "Might not hurt," he agreed, even though he knew Jensen was furious.
Jensen shoved him again, this time managing to knock Jared up against the bedroom wall. "It needs to be left the fuck alone," he snapped. "Ever hear that expression that time heals all wounds? Well if you fucks would leave it be, that might actually happen, did you ever think of that?"
"Jen, please..."
"No," he yelled, pointing a finger in Jared's face. "No. I am sick to death of all of you trying to get into my head. I killed a kid. I killed him. I took away the life he never got to have, because I rushed into it without thinking. I did. And I will live with that for the rest of my life. That's my fucking problem. Now everyone shut the fuck up and let's get back to business."
Jared understood, he really did. But he had his team to think about. And Jensen was not thinking clearly. He thought he could see tears in the other man's eyes, glittering softly in the amber lamplight. Sadly, he shook his head. "I can't."
Even though he understood where Jared was coming from, Jensen felt betrayed. He stared at Jared, his accusatory gaze seemingly trying to burn a hole through the man's head. After what seemed like forever, he shook his head. "Then we don't have anything left to say to each other, do we?"
Jared watched Jensen buckled up his jeans and his belt, stuff his feet into his unlaced combat boots. "Jen, wait," he said. "Wait."
"For what?" he asked, stomping through the apartment.
Frustrated, Jared pointed at the apartment door. "If you walk out that door, you can't come back," he said, immediately regretting the ultimatum the second it had left his mouth. But it was too late now.
Jensen turned and looked at him, eyes wide with anger and betrayal.
"I'm tired," Jared admitted, his shoulders falling slightly. "I'm tired of fighting with you. If you leave, don't come back. Ever."
So, there it was. Jensen nodded, realizing he'd lost his team, family, and maybe the love of his life all in one fell swoop. Because of his pride.
Fuck it.
He opened the door and walked out.
* * *
His name was Rick.
Or, perhaps it was Rod.
He didn't know, and to be honest, he didn't quite care. All he cared about was the fact that the man -- Rick or Rod -- had his hand down his pants and was stroking him like there was no tomorrow. Sat at the booth, Sam had his head leant back against the top of the bench seat, his arm around Rick or Rod, fingers twisted, probably painfully, through the man's hair. As the man stroked him, hot, biting kisses were pressed to his neck, his ear. Music pounded through the club. The lighting was shitty and someone, somewhere, had a cigarette burning.
Eyes open, Sam looked up at the ceiling, waiting, wanting that final release. Wanting to feel the chills across his skin, wanting to feel alive even when others he knew and loved were dead. Tightening his fingers in Rick's hair, Sam took a deep breath in, slowly letting it escape from his lungs. He raised his head and pulled the man up into a very wet kiss, somehow still void of any real passion. This wasn't something he was going to build a relationship on. This was merely a need being fulfilled.
With his hand pressed to the back of Rick's head, Sam pushed him down. The man went willingly, smiling as he lowered his mouth down to Sam's waiting cock.
Before Rick could get very far, Sam's attention was diverted. He saw someone walk through the front door. The man was tall, maybe just slightly taller than him, his hair cropped short. His eyes were dark, maybe brown he couldn't tell in this low light, from this distance. He carried himself like he knew what he wanted, like he put intensity into what he did, be it a fist fight or making love.
Suddenly deciding against Rick, or Rod, Sam grabbed a fistful of the man's hair as he was on his way down to blow him. Roughly, he yanked him up, ignoring the man's cries of pain.
"Get lost," he said, his voice low as he let go of the man. He reached down and hiked his trousers back up over his hips.
Stunned, Rick could only stammer for a moment. As he did, he watched Sam zip and buckle his pants, re-fastening his belt, too. "What?" he finally managed.
Sam met Rick's eyes. "I said get the fuck out of here," he growled.
"But, we were just--"
Suddenly in a rage, Sam slammed his fist down upon the table, his eyes wide. "Get out!" he screamed, knowing the pounding club music wouldn't allow his voice to carry any further than the booth. Instantly, his voice was lowered, but the mad look in his eyes remained. "Go find someone else to whore yourself out to."
Wounded, Rick stared at him, horrified. "Bitch," he finally breathed. He slid out of the booth, disappearing in the crowds of dancing gay men.
Sam didn't even watch him go. Instead, he kept his eyes on the man that had interrupted what he thought he had so badly wanted. The stranger was ordering a drink, a red-tinged beer. Sam slid out of the booth, straightened his black button-up shirt and started towards the bar.
Jensen saw the man nearing him and did a double-take. He could see the predatory air just rolling off of the man. And, apparently, he was in the crosshairs. Sighing, Jensen turned back to the bar, staring straight ahead. He watched the man's reflection in the mirror behind the bar, gazed at him as the man sat down beside him and motioned to the bartender.
He was handed a draft beer and slid it closer to himself. "Christ," the man cursed. "I don't know about you, but I'm really sick of this scene."
Surprised, Jensen turned and looked at him. The guy had a strange accent to his words, one that Jensen couldn't quite place. His longish hair was dark, a little disheveled, and he'd gathered a weeks worth of beard stubble on his face. He was dressed nicely, and the smell of cologne wafted over to Jensen's nose. He watched the newcomer take a long swig from his glass of beer.
"Every goddamn person whoring themselves out to a different partner every night," the man continued to grumble, setting the beer back down upon the bar. "Whatever happened to finding someone and really...y'know...connecting?"
Jensen shrugged, finally willing to talk to him. "I don't know," he returned. "Sometimes finding someone just for a night is a hell of a lot easier."
Sam looked at him, bobbing his head back and forth for a moment as he mulled that over. "Hmm," he mumbled.
"Saves you the fucking heartache, I'll tell you that," he continued. He looked down at his bottle of beer, remembering the fight he and Jared had had. It made him frown and shake his head.
This time, Sam took a better, longer look at him. "Your heart achin' right now, mate?"
It was. But he didn't want to talk about it. Sniffling through his nose, Jensen smiled and looked over at the man beside him. "Where you from?" he asked, conveniently avoiding the question.
The man smiled brightly. "Perth," he answered.
Jensen scrunched up one eye, pretending to really have to think. "That's..." He paused and momentarily wagged a finger in a general westerly direction. "Australia?"
"Australia," he said simultaneously, nodding his head and chuckling.
Jensen took a drink of his alcohol, scowling slightly. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.
The man shrugged. "Me and my brother followed his girlfriend here. She wanted to be in the movies."
"Is she?"
He chuckled, scowling and shaking his head. "Fuck, no. I don't know where the hell she is now."
Jensen laughed with him. After a moment of stillness, Jensen reached over and offered his hand to the man. "Jensen," he told him.
Accepting the outstretched hand, the man nodded his head this time. "Sam," he returned.
"Hey, my cousin's name is Sam," he grinned.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, small world."
"Yeah, well," Sam returned. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Jensen. "Maybe I can be Sammy to avoid confusion."
There wouldn't be any confusion. But Jensen had a feeling Sam knew that.
Smiling, Sam's eyes continued to glitter. "But only for you," he said.
He was being flirted with, and he liked it. Grinning back, Jensen nodded his head. "I like the sound of that," he returned, raising his glass to take a swig of the alcohol. He watched Sam do the same, their eyes trained on each other, words not needing to be said.
Though he didn't want to, and refused a number of times, Jensen eventually let Sammy pull him out onto the dance floor. He was glad that he had finally given in. It gave him an opportunity to get closer to Sam, to purposefully bump into him and feel the man's body against his own. The closer they got, the longer their bodies touched, the bolder both of them became with one another. Hands skated across sweat-dampened clothes, smiles came easier and leaning into one another to talk resulted in lips brushing against bare skin.
Jensen could feel the bass thumping deep inside his chest. His head pounded in time with it, painfully, from too much loud music, too much alcohol and gyrating dance. Sam must have known he was ready to go. He leaned into Jensen, speaking into his ear. When Jensen nodded at him, Sam headed for the bar. He collected his black leather jacket, paid his bill in cash and gestured with his chin towards the door.
Outside, the silence seemed more deafening than the thundering club music. Sam asked if Jensen had a place to crash for the night. Jensen wasn't really looking forward to sleeping on Jared's sofa, especially after the fight they'd had. He tried to play it off though, assuring Sam that he'd find a place.
Grabbing hold of Jensen's collar, Sam yanked him closer until their bodies gently collided. He kissed Jensen quickly, not making too much of a show in the parking lot. Giving Jensen just a hint of what was to come. He gazed at him for a moment or two, eyes scanning across Jensen's face. "Follow me," he told him, his voice soft in the seemingly deafening silence of the lot.
He couldn't really speak. Instead, he nodded his head and dug his keys out of his pocket. As he walked to his bike, he could hear Jared's voice in the back of his head, scolding him for driving while buzzed.
"It's still drunk driving, Jen, and you know it," he would say, regardless of Jensen's assurances that he felt fine.
Luckily, Sam's place wasn't too far away. Jensen followed the souped-up, but still under construction, muscle car. The finish on it was matte, Bondo decorating the body in places. Still, it sounded like sex on wheels.
Jensen parked his bike behind Sam's car and cut the engine. While Sam got out of the car and locked it, Jensen removed his helmet and gloves, stuffing the latter into the helmet, and carried both with him. He followed Sam up three flights of aged, red-painted stairs in an old apartment building.
They hadn't said a word to each other since the parking lot, but neither one of them seemed in any hurry to speak. The keys sang a jangling tune in Sam's hands as he unlocked the apartment door and pushed his way inside. While Sam set his keys on the kitchen island bar and removed his leather jacket, Jensen found a place by the door to stow his gear until morning. When he straightened, he took off his jacket and found Sam nearby, locking the front door again. Jensen met him there, resting one hand at either side of Sam's head and leaning against his arms.
With his back pressed against the old apartment door, Sam stared over at Jensen, enjoying the calm before the storm. He liked the greenish color in the man's eyes, how it seemed to magnify, intensify in color when he was aroused. He wondered if his own blue eyes seemed to do the same thing.
He didn't close his eyes when Jensen leaned in closer. He watched Jensen kiss him, watched the man's mouth open to his. His heart pounded in his chest so hard that he was sure it could be seen as well as felt. Jensen tasted of beer, just as he did, and smelled of cologne, alcohol and sweat. Sam was pretty sure he smelled the same way, and would have suggested they take a shower, take everything slowly. But when Jensen closed the distance between their bodies, pressing as much of himself up against him as he could, Sam lost any willpower to take things easy. He reached up and took Jensen's face in his hands, kissing him harder, more needful. Jensen's hips rocked agaist his, pressing his erection into Sam's hip. He pushed away from the door, turning so that Jensen was the one that would be pressed against the door.
Jensen hit the door hard, Sam's hands now at his chest, maneuvering him roughly. He broke away from the kiss long enough to look over at him, lust in his gaze. Their eyes locked, even as Sam interlocked their fingers and pushed Jensen's hands up over his head, pinning him there. Their breathing was already erratic, heavy, imitating their racing hearts. Jensen closed his eyes, his mouth falling open when he felt a scrape of Sam's teeth against his throat, his tongue wetting a trail up over Jensen's chin and to his mouth. They kissed, hungrily, as needful as new lovers, as comfortable as an established pair.
Gripping Sam's hands in his own, Jensen pushed away from the door, pulling Sam's arms behind the man's body. He hadn't been shown around the apartment, but he still had an idea of where the bedroom was, thanks to the simple floor plan and limited small space. And, even though he was being kept prisoner, Sam was still managing to make Jensen's knees weak, just with his kiss.
Everything was hurried. They couldn't seem to wait. They couldn't wait to undress each other, feel warm, naked skin against their own, press wet, biting kisses to places that didn't see daylight all that often. Finally letting go of Sam, Jensen pushed him back against the bed, hovering over him in a kiss. He raised his arms above his head when he felt Sam tug at the worn T-shirt. It was gone in an instant, leaving Jensen to return the favor. Sam helped him unfasten a few of the buttons on his shirt, then gave up and sat up to tug it over his head.
Jensen had wanted to push Sam back, to kiss him, map out his skin with his teeth and tongue. But when he saw Sam's eyes lock on his, saw him dip his head lower to trace with his tongue, the line of soft hair that traveled down his navel into a hidden place in his jeans, he couldn't focus. His jeans weren't even completely shed before he felt Sam's hands, his mouth, on him. Arching his back, Jensen stood by the bed while Sam wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in closer, deeper into his mouth. Jensen raked his fingers through Sam's hair, accidently pulling too hard at the strands. He thought he'd hurt him, but the pain seemed to fuel the man's actions. He moved faster, harder, the wet friction of his mouth sending chills flashing across Jensen's skin.
He had to pull him away, forcefully, else it all would have been over far too quickly. When he looked down at him, Sam had an almost crazed look in his blue eyes. Jensen took a moment, his hands at either side of the man's face, letting the quiet between them time calm the wild look in Sam's eyes. He wanted to tell Sam what he was thinking, how beautiful the man was, but it sounded ridiculous in his head. Instead, he leaned down and kissed him, slowly, gently, pushing him back against the bed again.
Sam let him. He sprawled out his arms, taking the hint that he was moving too hard, too fast. He let Jensen kiss him, closing his eyes when he felt the man's mouth on his neck, his shoulder, moving ever southward. He didn't stir until he felt Jensen tugging at the button of his trousers. He lifted his hips off the mattress and helped him slip them down over his hips. He watched Jensen lean over him again, the man's hands at either side of his head. And he stayed quiet while Jensen bowed his head to kiss him. Amidst the embrace, he breathed deep, liking how their scents mingled. He reached up and held Jensen's face, feeling his jaw work as he kissed him. Eyes closed, Sam turned his head to the side, letting Jensen nip at his throat, his shoulder, and lower still.
Jensen worked his way down Sam's chest, swiping the flat of his tongue over the man's nipple before taking it into his mouth, suckling and flicking his tongue over it until Sam was arching up against his mouth. He could hear Sam's moaning breaths, could feel the man's hands at the back of his head, trying to find purchase on the short-cropped locks there.
Tracing the line of muscle that ran down the center of Sam's stomach, Jensen raised his eyes, gazing at the man. He saw Sam lift his head to watch him in return. He smiled and wasted no time taking him into his mouth. Precome had already gathered on the head of Sam's cock, tasting slick and salty. Jensen let him slide all the way to the back of his throat before pulling back and letting him push deep again. He glanced up in time to see Sam's head fall back against the bed again, his hands reaching up to the blankets beside him. Fingers crooked into claws clutched at the covers, close to rending them with his short nails.
Jensen took his time with Sam. He liked the taste of his skin, liked the feel of the crinkly hairs against his tongue. Better yet, he liked the sounds he got Sam to make, whines and whimpers, gasps and gutteral growls. By the time he was done using his tongue, teeth and mouth, Sam had a thin sheen of sweat built up on his chest and belly. Jensen dragged his tongue back up Sam's body, pausing long enough to swirl his tongue around each nipple. Hovering over him, he looked down at Sam, his own breathing close to matching the other man's.
"Where do you keep everything?" Jensen asked. He assumed it was all in the nightstand drawer, but he didn't want to flounder around for the stuff and stumble across something he wasn't supposed to. End up looking like the fool.
Without a word, Sam sat up, pushing Jensen far enough away that he could get to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out two condoms and a small bottle of lube.
Jensen smiled down at the two foil packages. "You planning on going again?" he teased.
Sam grinned back, picking up both of the packets. He pressed one into Jensen's hand and tore open the other with his teeth. "You're not the only one going to have fun, mate," he told him.
Chuckling quietly, Jensen nodded his head at him. He shed his jeans completely, as well as his boxers, tossing them over his shoulder. He did the same as Sam, tore open the condom packet and rolled the rubber onto his cock. When he was done, he saw that Sam had the small bottle of lube in his hand, the cap flipped up, and was squeezing some of the clear, slick liquid into the palm of his hand.
He looked up at Jensen, as he flipped the cap closed and tossed the bottle back onto the mattress. He spread the lube out onto both palms and reached for Jensen's latex-coated cock. He watched Jensen grit his teeth, eyes slipping closed as Sam's slick hands stroked him, softly, easily. Jensen reached out to him, resting his hands on Sam's shoulders, holding him there while he opened his eyes to look down and see what was being done to him. He traced his fingers down one of Sam's shoulders, fingers grazing lightly up the man's arm to one of his hands. Amidst helping Sam stroke him, Jensen leaned down to him, kissing him hard, hungry. And when he couldn't take it any more, Jensen pushed Sam away, all the way down until the man's back was pressed against the mattress. Almost roughly, he pulled Sam's legs around his waist, positioned himself just right and thrust hard.
Sam closed his eyes, his mouth falling open as he gasped, feeling Jensen inside him. Jensen pulled back out and pushed in again, just as hard as before. Sam raised his hips as best he could, meeting each of Jensen's thrusts. He reached up to the covers again, bunching them in his hands to keep himself somewhat grounded.
Already, Jensen could tell that the sex was going to be amazing. Sometimes it took him until the very end to decide just that. Sometimes what he got sufficed for the moment, and afterward, he had no interest in calling on the person again. Sometimes, the performance was noteworthy and he kept that number with him for quite some time. Since he and Jared were always on shaky ground, Jensen believed that it didn't hurt him to have a good reliable few he could call upon. He and Sam hadn't been able to connect on a deep, meaningful level, and they hadn't known each other for years, like he and Jared, but something was different. He felt it the moment they started talking in the bar. He would definitely have to keep Sam's number.
Leaning down, Jensen pushed as far into Sam as he could and pressed a needful kiss to the man's mouth. The sounds of their heavy breathing, and occasional moans, filled the room. Jensen was so close, could feel himself nearly coming undone and gritted his teeth to hold off. Sam must have known, seemed to have a sixth sense about some things, because he pushed Jensen back enough to move out from underneath him. Jensen went with him, following him atop the mattress. On their knees, Jensen and Sam both took a step back from the edge of orgasm, letting their bodies calm somewhat until they were ready.
Jensen liked this. Being rough and fast, but at the same time, making it last. They kissed for a long while, tasting each other, touching each other, finding little places that, with a well-placed nipping kiss, made the other squirm in delight. Sam moved closer to the head of the bed, bringing Jensen with him. Still kissing him, Sam set both of Jensen's hands against the wall before pulling away enough to move behind him. Jensen watched him go, liking the feel of Sam's fingers grazing against his bare skin as he circled behind him. Feeling kisses pressed to his shoulders and back, Jensen closed his eyes and instead leaned his elbows against the wall. Lower and lower, Sam moved, until the last kiss was placed upon Jensen's tailbone. He thought that was it, until he felt a warm, wet tongue slither lower. Gasping, Jensen reached back with one hand while Sam pushed him open a little wider. He found the tight ring of muscle there, licking and pushing his tongue a little deeper each time, until Jensen was moaning with each panting breath he took.
Sam was quick about slicking himself up with lube. Jensen swore he could still feel the man's tongue there as Sam's cock pushed him open further and slid in as far as he could go. Mouth open, Jensen's forehead was pressed against the wall, the fingers of one hand crooked into claws against the sheetrock. Sam's hips pumped against his, strong and constant, keeping up a perfect pace. Jensen's free hand gripped at the man's backside, pulling him in deeper and harder. He felt Sam's hand sneak in between Jensen's body and the bedroom wall, curling around the soft, dusky flesh underneath his cock. As Sam squeezed gently, Jensen felt himself lose the control he had barely been keeping together. He moaned and flexed his hips with Sam's movements, his eyes shut tightly as spasms rocked his body. His mouth was open against the wall, his breath coming in short, moaning gasps.
Sam only had to thrust a few more times before he, too, came hard against Jensen. His body rocked, chills covering his skin, and his voice lowered an octave as he growled out a few unintelligible words. He leaned his solid weight against Jensen's back, unable to hold himself up any longer.
For a few moments, the world seemed to stop. The only signs of life in the room were the heaving chests of the two men pressed up against the bedroom wall. Jensen was the first to make a sound. He smiled and chuckled softly, pushing back away from the wall. Sam moved too. Jensen found a smile on the man's face when he looked at him. Turning, he leaned in for a kiss, one filled with just as much passion as the others he'd just received.
Sam reached over to Jensen, gently sliding the condom off the man's softening cock. Jensen shuddered as he did, making both of them smile and chuckle again. Sam removed his own and dropped both of them into the bin beside the bed. Naked, they climbed under the covers and flopped down upon the pillows.
"God damn," Jensen breathed, stretched out on his back.
Sam nodded. "Too right, mate."
Next episode airs Friday 6th November
Authors: bloody_adorable and eviltwin
Fandoms: Supernatural RPS
Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/OMC (played here by Sam Worthington..see icon)
Rating: Adult.
Wordcount: 8166
Summary: AU. Jensen's way of coping with the aftermath isn't what anyone was hoping for...
Disclaimer: None of the following is true in any way, and no profit is made from this work of fiction.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Please don't ask us to reveal the ending to you, or to tell you who's going to get it in this fic. Because we just won't. Just trust us. You know we deal in J2 and you know that we like a happy ending as much as the next person. But you ought to know by now that our methods of getting there are never smooth and that, sometimes, because we're evil, we're not always entirely truthful. (Read: if anyone is annoyed at us after reading any chapter, then they're reading the wrong authors. We love to angst and our drama llama is NOT tame...)
EPISODE SIX : AFTERMATH
Jensen was gone before any of them could even change into their civilian clothes. He hadn't changed, he hadn't packed up his stuff. He had simply come back from the street, grabbed his keys and left. He had been fast, too, because Jared had run after him. Caught only a glimpse of Jensen's back as the man sped away on the motorcycle.
The team had been given two days off, with no obligations to come in, answer any calls, or participate in any way. They were told to go home, rest. Everyone was to talk to the precinct psychiatrist at least once. Jared knew, however, that Jensen would be required to talk to her more than just once. He knew, too, that Jensen would fight it.
For two days, Jared tried to contact Jensen. He had no idea where the man had gone off to, worried about him, about where he was sleeping, if he was eating, thinking that all of the fights they'd had before seemed trivial. He wanted Jensen back with him. He wanted to be able to take care of him.
Walking down the street, Jared punched in Jensen's number on the cell phone and pressed it to his ear. The city was just as lively at night as it was during the day. He had to weave in and out of people as he walked, being careful not to spill the hot cup of java he'd purchased just moments ago.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Jensen's phone went to voicemail after a few rings. Jared sighed and waited for a chance to leave a message.
"Hey, it's me," he finally said. "I'm hoping that the city just has shitty reception, and that you're not really avoiding me." He knew it was a lie, but he wanted to let Jensen know that the avoidance was hurting his feelings. "I just want to make sure you're okay. And to see if you're going to work tomorrow. Please call me, okay?"
He waited a second more, as if Jensen could somehow pick up the call and talk to him. Or as if he had something else to say, but couldn't. Wouldn't. Flipping the phone closed, Jared placed it back in its carrier on his belt and kept on walking. It was all he'd done for the past two days and nights. Walked and walked, and walked some more, looking for any sign of Jensen.
He didn't see him until the next day.
* * *
He definitely hadn't shaved for the past two days. Jensen was scruffy, his clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like hell, to be honest. But he was at work the very next day, pretending everything was fine. As a matter of fact, he was early. Jared walked into the men's locker room and stopped short, seeing Jensen sitting on the bench that ran along the floor between the rows of lockers.
"Jen?"
Jensen turned and smiled at him. He looked tired, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants that said POLICE down the left leg. "Hey, man," he greeted.
Jared checked to make sure no one else was in the locker room. He was typically early, so he was sure they were alone. He wondered what the hell time Jensen had gotten there. "Where have you been?" he asked, stepping closer and seating himself next to Jensen.
Concentrating on getting his gear squared away, Jensen shrugged, not looking at Jared. "Around."
"Bullshit, around," Jared argued. "I've looked everywhere for you."
Jensen met his eyes. "Clearly not everywhere."
"Come on," Jared pushed. "I've been worried sick. I think I deserve to know where you were, at least."
Jensen stood from his place, reaching into the top of his locker for something, or maybe to set something up there, Jared wasn't sure. "Yeah," the man almost chuckled. He tugged off his shirt, wadded it up and threw it into the locker. He reacked back up into the top of the locker, producing the music player he used when exercising. "I'm going to go run for a while." He started to leave, intending to head to the gym.
Standing, Jared reached out and set a hand to Jensen's chest, not letting him pass. He watched Jensen set his jaw angrily, their eyes meeting. There was sadness, rage, and confusion in Jensen's gaze, tugging at Jared's heartstrings. He wanted to fix everything, but he could also see in those greenish eyes, that Jensen wasn't going to let him.
Interrupting them, someone walked into the locker room. Jared turned, his hand still set to Jensen's chest, and saw Morgan standing there.
Jeffrey looked from Jared to Jensen, and back again. "Interrupting something?" he asked, his face serious, as always.
Jared pursed his lips, dropped his hand and turned to face his Sergeant. "No, sir," he said.
"Good," Morgan returned. He nodded once to Jensen. "My office. Now."
Jensen didn't say anything in return. He watched Morgan go, the look on his face one of annoyance. He knew what was going to be said, and didn't want to hear it. He turned, placed his MP3 player back up on top of the locker and closed the door as quietly as he could.
Jared watched Jensen step past him again, moving out of the room. He had so many things he wanted to say to him, but didn't know where to begin. He wanted to take Jensen's burden from him, to free him of whatever turmoil he was going through. But Jensen was too strong, too tough for that. "Jen?"
Pausing, Jensen stopped. He didn't turn to face Jared, instead just waiting for him to say what he had to say.
"I'm sorry."
Standing there, Jensen nodded his head and spoke over his shoulder, his voice soft and scratchy. "Not as much as I am."
Jared sighed as he watched Jensen disappear around the corner. That admission might be the only thing anyone would ever get from Jensen. Yet, it still didn't make him feel any better about the situation.
Jeffrey was behind his desk when Jensen finally knocked on the door. Jeff waved him in and set aside some of the papers he'd been looking through. He motioned to a chair, and waited for the shirtless man to seat himself. "How you holding up?" he finally asked.
"I'm fine, Sarge," Jensen lied.
"I doubt that."
Sighing, Jensen leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the arms of the chair. "I just want to get back out there and do my job, Sarge," he said.
Jeff nodded. "Understandable," he agreed. "Hell, I'd feel the same way. But I can't let you do that."
Sitting up a little straighter, Jensen looked offended. "What? Why not?"
Jeffrey held up a manila folder. "Psych needs to pass you."
"Oh, come on, Sarge," Jensen complained. "That's bullshit."
"I don't like them any more than you do, Skooch," he argued, setting the folder back down. "But that's policy."
"Fuck policy."
An eyebrow raised, Morgan said nothing for a few seconds, waiting for Jensen to read him.
And read him, he did. Jensen sighed and sat back in his chair again. "Boss, they'll fucking ground me, and you know it."
He nodded again. "They might, for awhile," he agreed. "But it'll be better for you, for everyone, in the long run."
"I'm not going to go shoot another kid, if that's what you're all worried about," he snapped.
Morgan pointed a finger at him. "That's the farthest thing from my mind and you know it, Ackles," he snarled, his patience wearing thin. "This is something you need to address."
"I've had to kill people before. Why, all of a sudden, is everyone walking on eggshells around me?"
"None of them were fourteen year old kids before," he reminded him. "It wasn't your fault and I can tell just by looking at you that you think it is."
Angered, Jensen looked away.
"And if Psych doesn't clear you, you don't come back. Your teammates need to know they can count on you, that you won't freeze up."
"I won't freeze up."
"Prove it," Morgan said. "Get cleared by Psych and show those bastards that you can do it. It's Psych or suspension. Your choice."
Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was from a bad past experience. Whatever the case, Jensen shook his head and stood from his chair. "Sorry, Sarge," he apologized. "I'm outta here."
"Ackles," Jeffrey said. "Ackles!"
But Jensen wouldn't listen.
* * *
It rained hard for the next three days, which made for some soggy trips for the team. They came back tired, soaked, and chilled to the bone. Even though he wouldn't admit it if you questioned him about it, Jared looked for Jensen each time they got back. They were one man short, but Morgan hadn't found a replacement yet. Jared hoped that it was because he was talking to Jensen sometimes, and knew some good news that they didn't.
Jensen disappeared again. He didn't answer Jared's calls, and he didn't come in to work. The psychiatrist, Lily O'Malley, asked Jared if he knew where Jensen was hiding. Jared shook his head and shrugged. "I wish I knew," he admitted. He stood by the briefing room, where he, Chris and Braddock were working on the dreaded paperwork they had fallen behind with. Morgan had someone in his office. Jared had no proof that the guy was there to replace Jensen, but he didn't like him already.
Lily was pretty, blonde, and Jensen had commented several times on how much he would like to have a shot with her. Regardless, Jared still liked her. She smiled gently, her blue eyes glittering in the light of the precint, and reached out to him. She squeezed his forearm as his arms lay crossed over his chest. "He'll be alright," she assured him. "We'll work this out."
Jared looked at her when she touched him. "I don't know," he said. "Jensen's really stubborn."
She just smiled brighter, winking at him, and walked away. Sighing, Jared looked back over to Morgan's office, to the man sitting before the desk. He didn't like him.
* * *
The loft was quiet. Lily stepped off the lift and looked around the place. Her heels clicked on the cement floor as she looked around. The bike she'd seen Jensen ride again and again was parked off to the left of the freight elevator. "Hello?" she called as she continued on inside.
To the right of the elevator was the kitchen and dining room. Straight ahead was the living area, accented with a wall of windows that went nearly to the ceiling. There was a gorgeous cityscape there, which she imagined was breathtaking at night. She had no idea how Jensen afforded such a place on a cop's salary, but she had a feeling that his previous military pay had something to do with that.
"Hello?" she called again. On either side of the loft, towards the wall of windows, were two doors, both leading to bedrooms, she imagined. Only one door was open, the one on the right. As she neared the open door, she could hear the sounds of a shower running. "Officer Ackles?" she called again.
Still no answer.
Advancing, Lily turned the corner into the room. It was decorated simply in dark colors. The brick walls had only a few pictures hanging from them, mostly of Jensen in uniform with someone who looked like him. A brother, perhaps. Squinting her eyes just slightly, Lily leaned into one of the military photos. But, before she could get a good look at who she thought was Jensen's brother, she was interrupted.
"Jesus Christ," Jensen breathed, emerging from the en suite. He quickly ducked back into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to cover himself up, water beaded up on his skin, hair dripping wet.
"Oh, my God," Lily said, just as startled. She set a hand to her heart and tried to look away from him. Her eyes kept getting drawn back to his form, however, to the tattoo on his forearm, and the one that was mostly hidden by the towel. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," she apologized.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, pushing past her and padding towards his bed.
To keep her eyes off of him, Lily walked out of the room, stopping just outside the doorway. She pressed her back to the wall there and spoke to him from there. "The precinct gave me your case," she said. "The downstairs door was unlocked."
Without even drying, Jensen pulled on some clothes. "The precinct is full of shit," he called to her, hiking up a pair of jeans, not bothering with a pair of boxer briefs. He tugged on his T-shirt, annoyed that it stuck to his skin and was dotted with water.
"I disagree," Lily told him, shaking her head. "I think it would be good for you to talk about this."
"Of course you do," he said. He pulled on a hoodie sweatshirt to cover the T-shirt that was sticking to his skin a little too much. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have minded showing himself off to Lily. But he wasn't in the mood. "All your kind wants to do is talk. Find Pads. He'll talk your ear off. That ought to keep you happy. You can bond about saving the world, one kind act at a time." He didn't bother tugging on a pair of socks or shoes. He was just going to go downstairs, show Lily out, and come back up to do absolutely nothing anyway.
He started again when he found her just outside the doorway.
"Jeez," he complained. "Will you stop lurking?"
"I'm not lurking," she corrected, following him as he walked through the apartment. "I'm trying to get you to stop walking and talk to me."
"News flash," he said, stepping into the kitchen. "I can walk and talk at the same time, contrary to what you may have heard." He got a glass out of the cupboard and poured himself a drink from the tap.
Sighing, Lily stood before him, doing her best to not show how annoyed she really was. "Look," she said. "You don't like me. I get it."
"Oh, I like you," Jensen nodded. He pointed to the bedroom which he had just left. "As a matter of fact, if you want to come back there with me, I can show you how much I like you."
"Officer Ackles," she said, this time letting her annoyance show. "That's not going to help."
"Speak for yourself," he shrugged. He put the half-drank glass of water in the sink and crooked a finger at her. She followed him into the elevator. He closed the gates and pushed the button to go back down.
"Where are we going?" she asked, watching him work.
"You're leaving."
"Talking about what happened with Brandon Chatwood will--"
"Who?"
"Brandon Chatwood," she repeated. "The boy you shot."
Jensen's frustration with her melted away for a moment. He felt vulnerable and alone, sad and betrayed. He had a name now, to go along with the face that haunted him, where he had been trying to avoid that. It was more personal when you had a name. He quickly put his defensive wall back up and set his jaw angrily. "You tell me how talking about what I did is going to fix anything? These are my problems, nobody else's."
She tried to smile gently as the elevator came to a rather abrupt halt on the ground level. "Jensen, working through something of this magnitude is a big job. You can't do it on your own."
He nodded, smiling sarcastically as he opened the elevator door. "Watch me," he returned. He motioned for her to step out first, and then followed her, still in his bare feet.
There was a door next to the wide, electric garage door that allowed the bike into the loft. Lily turned when they reached the door. "Please, Jensen," she said, hoping one last time to reach him. "Please let me help you."
"You should be careful on your way home," he said, opening the door for her. "This side of town can get rough if you stay out too late."
"You're not even going to think about it?"
"You're wearing neutral gang colors though," he said, motioning to her skirt suit. "You should be okay."
Lily stopped talking and just sighed, staring up at him. His comments were practically dripping with sarcasm. She took several seconds to gaze up at his face, shaking her head. "Please just think about it," she said again, stepping through the doorway. "I'm not going to make you jump through hoops the way you think I am."
He smiled sarcastically, nodded and then closed the door in her face.
* * *
He didn't even hear the city sounds anymore. It used to be, when he first moved there, he couldn't sleep at night. He heard everything. Traffic. Music. People fighting. Sirens. You name it. Now, however, Jared was so used to it all, that when his head hit the pillow, he was usually out like a light.
Unless Jensen was there.
He'd stayed up much too late, until he could no longer hold his eyes open. Lately, that seemed to be the only way he could get any sleep. So, when the apartment door opened and someone crept inside, Jared didn't hear a thing. He didn't even stir when the shadowed figure stepped silently into the bedroom, nor did he make a sound when the mattress dipped underneath the weight of the dark silhouette.
What woke him up was the feel of warm skin against his own, of kisses being pressed to his shoulders, his neck, of cool hands creeping underneath the blankets to brush across his stomach and lower.
Breath hitching in his lungs, his heart skipping a beat out of surprise, Jared turned to see Jensen behind him, his arms wrapped tightly around Jared's midriff. His shirt was gone, and his pants were unbuckled; Jared could hear the man's belt jangling as he moved.
Used to having to pry himself from sleep on a moment's notice, Jared completely turned around to face Jensen, now fully awake. "What the fuck?" he mumbled as he moved. Meeting Jensen's eyes, Jared had no choice but to let the man kiss him. Jensen was moving with determination and need.
Setting his hands against Jensen's chest, Jared pushed him back slightly. "What the hell are you doing?"
Jensen didn't answer. Instead, he took Jared's hands away from his chest, holding the man's wrists, and leaned in for another kiss. Jared tried to move, but Jensen captured Jared's mouth with his own, kissing him hard, almost brutally. He moved so that he was hovering over Jared, pinning his wrists down to the pillows.
Jared mumbled, trying to move, trying to stop Jensen. He worked his wrists free of Jensen's hold, or maybe Jensen just let go of him, he couldn't tell. But either way, he set his hands at either side of Jensen's head and pushed the man back. He could only stare at Jensen for a moment. Normally, he liked that look in the man's eyes, liked that Jared brought that out in him.
But this was different.
"What are you doing here?" Jared asked.
Jensen shook his head, his eyes drifting closed for just a moment. "Don't analyze me, Jay," he warned. "I just need some company."
He leaned down for another kiss, but Jared stopped him, pushing him back again. "You're gone for how many days, not letting me know whether you're alive or dead, and you just pop back in here for a booty call?"
He was annoyed, and didn't bother to mask the emotion. "Well, now you know I'm alive," he said. "Just shut up, okay?"
When Jensen leaned into him again, Jared was rougher this time. He shoved Jensen back and rolled out from underneath him, which took some doing, considering that Jensen had been straddling him and Jared's long legs were tangled in the bedspread. He made an annoyed sound as he searched for the sweatpants he'd shed before he got into bed that night. When he turned, he saw Jensen still on the bed, face down, disappointed that he'd been turned away.
"You can't just show up like this, Jen," Jared scolded. "Not after all the shit that's been going on. And to just expect me to give in like nothing's wrong?"
"Why not?" he asked angrily, turning over onto his back. He scooted to the edge of the bed and sat there, elbows on his knees.
Jared felt bad for having scolded him. He moved to him, clicked on the bedside lamp and sat down beside him. "You need to deal with whatever you have going on in your head."
Jensen looked at him, pressing his mouth to the side of his own shoulder for a moment. "Don't you start on that crap too," he warned.
"Jensen, come on," he sighed. "This isn't something to mess around with. Go to Psych. Do all the talking and listening you have to, and then get cleared. We need you back."
He didn't want to hear anything like that. Shaking his head, Jensen stood from the bed. "I didn't come here for some lame attempt at a pep-talk, Jared," he snarled, bending down to pick up his T-shirt.
Jared stood from the bed, facing him. "No, you came here to feel good for a few minutes."
Pulling the shirt over his head, Jensen grunted with the movements, smoothing the shirt down over his belly. "Is that too much to ask?" He threaded his arms through his leather jacket, settling it over his shoulders.
"Yes," Jared shot back. "It doesn't solve anything."
That was it. Jensen lashed out, shoving Jared backwards. "And you'd know everything about solving things, wouldn't you? About saving the goddamn world."
He was a little stunned. Staring at Jensen, Jared shook his head, almost wincing. "What are you talking about?"
Jensen stomped closer. "You think this is something that can be solved with a few psycho-chats?"
For every step Jensen took closer to him, Jared took and equal step backwards. He wasn't afraid of Jensen, but he felt the need to put some distance between them. "I think you need to talk to someone, yes."
"Maybe I should," he nodded. "Get everything out in the open. Express my feelings, cry a little on the Doc's shoulder."
Jared nodded. "Might not hurt," he agreed, even though he knew Jensen was furious.
Jensen shoved him again, this time managing to knock Jared up against the bedroom wall. "It needs to be left the fuck alone," he snapped. "Ever hear that expression that time heals all wounds? Well if you fucks would leave it be, that might actually happen, did you ever think of that?"
"Jen, please..."
"No," he yelled, pointing a finger in Jared's face. "No. I am sick to death of all of you trying to get into my head. I killed a kid. I killed him. I took away the life he never got to have, because I rushed into it without thinking. I did. And I will live with that for the rest of my life. That's my fucking problem. Now everyone shut the fuck up and let's get back to business."
Jared understood, he really did. But he had his team to think about. And Jensen was not thinking clearly. He thought he could see tears in the other man's eyes, glittering softly in the amber lamplight. Sadly, he shook his head. "I can't."
Even though he understood where Jared was coming from, Jensen felt betrayed. He stared at Jared, his accusatory gaze seemingly trying to burn a hole through the man's head. After what seemed like forever, he shook his head. "Then we don't have anything left to say to each other, do we?"
Jared watched Jensen buckled up his jeans and his belt, stuff his feet into his unlaced combat boots. "Jen, wait," he said. "Wait."
"For what?" he asked, stomping through the apartment.
Frustrated, Jared pointed at the apartment door. "If you walk out that door, you can't come back," he said, immediately regretting the ultimatum the second it had left his mouth. But it was too late now.
Jensen turned and looked at him, eyes wide with anger and betrayal.
"I'm tired," Jared admitted, his shoulders falling slightly. "I'm tired of fighting with you. If you leave, don't come back. Ever."
So, there it was. Jensen nodded, realizing he'd lost his team, family, and maybe the love of his life all in one fell swoop. Because of his pride.
Fuck it.
He opened the door and walked out.
* * *
His name was Rick.
Or, perhaps it was Rod.
He didn't know, and to be honest, he didn't quite care. All he cared about was the fact that the man -- Rick or Rod -- had his hand down his pants and was stroking him like there was no tomorrow. Sat at the booth, Sam had his head leant back against the top of the bench seat, his arm around Rick or Rod, fingers twisted, probably painfully, through the man's hair. As the man stroked him, hot, biting kisses were pressed to his neck, his ear. Music pounded through the club. The lighting was shitty and someone, somewhere, had a cigarette burning.
Eyes open, Sam looked up at the ceiling, waiting, wanting that final release. Wanting to feel the chills across his skin, wanting to feel alive even when others he knew and loved were dead. Tightening his fingers in Rick's hair, Sam took a deep breath in, slowly letting it escape from his lungs. He raised his head and pulled the man up into a very wet kiss, somehow still void of any real passion. This wasn't something he was going to build a relationship on. This was merely a need being fulfilled.
With his hand pressed to the back of Rick's head, Sam pushed him down. The man went willingly, smiling as he lowered his mouth down to Sam's waiting cock.
Before Rick could get very far, Sam's attention was diverted. He saw someone walk through the front door. The man was tall, maybe just slightly taller than him, his hair cropped short. His eyes were dark, maybe brown he couldn't tell in this low light, from this distance. He carried himself like he knew what he wanted, like he put intensity into what he did, be it a fist fight or making love.
Suddenly deciding against Rick, or Rod, Sam grabbed a fistful of the man's hair as he was on his way down to blow him. Roughly, he yanked him up, ignoring the man's cries of pain.
"Get lost," he said, his voice low as he let go of the man. He reached down and hiked his trousers back up over his hips.
Stunned, Rick could only stammer for a moment. As he did, he watched Sam zip and buckle his pants, re-fastening his belt, too. "What?" he finally managed.
Sam met Rick's eyes. "I said get the fuck out of here," he growled.
"But, we were just--"
Suddenly in a rage, Sam slammed his fist down upon the table, his eyes wide. "Get out!" he screamed, knowing the pounding club music wouldn't allow his voice to carry any further than the booth. Instantly, his voice was lowered, but the mad look in his eyes remained. "Go find someone else to whore yourself out to."
Wounded, Rick stared at him, horrified. "Bitch," he finally breathed. He slid out of the booth, disappearing in the crowds of dancing gay men.
Sam didn't even watch him go. Instead, he kept his eyes on the man that had interrupted what he thought he had so badly wanted. The stranger was ordering a drink, a red-tinged beer. Sam slid out of the booth, straightened his black button-up shirt and started towards the bar.
Jensen saw the man nearing him and did a double-take. He could see the predatory air just rolling off of the man. And, apparently, he was in the crosshairs. Sighing, Jensen turned back to the bar, staring straight ahead. He watched the man's reflection in the mirror behind the bar, gazed at him as the man sat down beside him and motioned to the bartender.
He was handed a draft beer and slid it closer to himself. "Christ," the man cursed. "I don't know about you, but I'm really sick of this scene."
Surprised, Jensen turned and looked at him. The guy had a strange accent to his words, one that Jensen couldn't quite place. His longish hair was dark, a little disheveled, and he'd gathered a weeks worth of beard stubble on his face. He was dressed nicely, and the smell of cologne wafted over to Jensen's nose. He watched the newcomer take a long swig from his glass of beer.
"Every goddamn person whoring themselves out to a different partner every night," the man continued to grumble, setting the beer back down upon the bar. "Whatever happened to finding someone and really...y'know...connecting?"
Jensen shrugged, finally willing to talk to him. "I don't know," he returned. "Sometimes finding someone just for a night is a hell of a lot easier."
Sam looked at him, bobbing his head back and forth for a moment as he mulled that over. "Hmm," he mumbled.
"Saves you the fucking heartache, I'll tell you that," he continued. He looked down at his bottle of beer, remembering the fight he and Jared had had. It made him frown and shake his head.
This time, Sam took a better, longer look at him. "Your heart achin' right now, mate?"
It was. But he didn't want to talk about it. Sniffling through his nose, Jensen smiled and looked over at the man beside him. "Where you from?" he asked, conveniently avoiding the question.
The man smiled brightly. "Perth," he answered.
Jensen scrunched up one eye, pretending to really have to think. "That's..." He paused and momentarily wagged a finger in a general westerly direction. "Australia?"
"Australia," he said simultaneously, nodding his head and chuckling.
Jensen took a drink of his alcohol, scowling slightly. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.
The man shrugged. "Me and my brother followed his girlfriend here. She wanted to be in the movies."
"Is she?"
He chuckled, scowling and shaking his head. "Fuck, no. I don't know where the hell she is now."
Jensen laughed with him. After a moment of stillness, Jensen reached over and offered his hand to the man. "Jensen," he told him.
Accepting the outstretched hand, the man nodded his head this time. "Sam," he returned.
"Hey, my cousin's name is Sam," he grinned.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, small world."
"Yeah, well," Sam returned. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Jensen. "Maybe I can be Sammy to avoid confusion."
There wouldn't be any confusion. But Jensen had a feeling Sam knew that.
Smiling, Sam's eyes continued to glitter. "But only for you," he said.
He was being flirted with, and he liked it. Grinning back, Jensen nodded his head. "I like the sound of that," he returned, raising his glass to take a swig of the alcohol. He watched Sam do the same, their eyes trained on each other, words not needing to be said.
Though he didn't want to, and refused a number of times, Jensen eventually let Sammy pull him out onto the dance floor. He was glad that he had finally given in. It gave him an opportunity to get closer to Sam, to purposefully bump into him and feel the man's body against his own. The closer they got, the longer their bodies touched, the bolder both of them became with one another. Hands skated across sweat-dampened clothes, smiles came easier and leaning into one another to talk resulted in lips brushing against bare skin.
Jensen could feel the bass thumping deep inside his chest. His head pounded in time with it, painfully, from too much loud music, too much alcohol and gyrating dance. Sam must have known he was ready to go. He leaned into Jensen, speaking into his ear. When Jensen nodded at him, Sam headed for the bar. He collected his black leather jacket, paid his bill in cash and gestured with his chin towards the door.
Outside, the silence seemed more deafening than the thundering club music. Sam asked if Jensen had a place to crash for the night. Jensen wasn't really looking forward to sleeping on Jared's sofa, especially after the fight they'd had. He tried to play it off though, assuring Sam that he'd find a place.
Grabbing hold of Jensen's collar, Sam yanked him closer until their bodies gently collided. He kissed Jensen quickly, not making too much of a show in the parking lot. Giving Jensen just a hint of what was to come. He gazed at him for a moment or two, eyes scanning across Jensen's face. "Follow me," he told him, his voice soft in the seemingly deafening silence of the lot.
He couldn't really speak. Instead, he nodded his head and dug his keys out of his pocket. As he walked to his bike, he could hear Jared's voice in the back of his head, scolding him for driving while buzzed.
"It's still drunk driving, Jen, and you know it," he would say, regardless of Jensen's assurances that he felt fine.
Luckily, Sam's place wasn't too far away. Jensen followed the souped-up, but still under construction, muscle car. The finish on it was matte, Bondo decorating the body in places. Still, it sounded like sex on wheels.
Jensen parked his bike behind Sam's car and cut the engine. While Sam got out of the car and locked it, Jensen removed his helmet and gloves, stuffing the latter into the helmet, and carried both with him. He followed Sam up three flights of aged, red-painted stairs in an old apartment building.
They hadn't said a word to each other since the parking lot, but neither one of them seemed in any hurry to speak. The keys sang a jangling tune in Sam's hands as he unlocked the apartment door and pushed his way inside. While Sam set his keys on the kitchen island bar and removed his leather jacket, Jensen found a place by the door to stow his gear until morning. When he straightened, he took off his jacket and found Sam nearby, locking the front door again. Jensen met him there, resting one hand at either side of Sam's head and leaning against his arms.
With his back pressed against the old apartment door, Sam stared over at Jensen, enjoying the calm before the storm. He liked the greenish color in the man's eyes, how it seemed to magnify, intensify in color when he was aroused. He wondered if his own blue eyes seemed to do the same thing.
He didn't close his eyes when Jensen leaned in closer. He watched Jensen kiss him, watched the man's mouth open to his. His heart pounded in his chest so hard that he was sure it could be seen as well as felt. Jensen tasted of beer, just as he did, and smelled of cologne, alcohol and sweat. Sam was pretty sure he smelled the same way, and would have suggested they take a shower, take everything slowly. But when Jensen closed the distance between their bodies, pressing as much of himself up against him as he could, Sam lost any willpower to take things easy. He reached up and took Jensen's face in his hands, kissing him harder, more needful. Jensen's hips rocked agaist his, pressing his erection into Sam's hip. He pushed away from the door, turning so that Jensen was the one that would be pressed against the door.
Jensen hit the door hard, Sam's hands now at his chest, maneuvering him roughly. He broke away from the kiss long enough to look over at him, lust in his gaze. Their eyes locked, even as Sam interlocked their fingers and pushed Jensen's hands up over his head, pinning him there. Their breathing was already erratic, heavy, imitating their racing hearts. Jensen closed his eyes, his mouth falling open when he felt a scrape of Sam's teeth against his throat, his tongue wetting a trail up over Jensen's chin and to his mouth. They kissed, hungrily, as needful as new lovers, as comfortable as an established pair.
Gripping Sam's hands in his own, Jensen pushed away from the door, pulling Sam's arms behind the man's body. He hadn't been shown around the apartment, but he still had an idea of where the bedroom was, thanks to the simple floor plan and limited small space. And, even though he was being kept prisoner, Sam was still managing to make Jensen's knees weak, just with his kiss.
Everything was hurried. They couldn't seem to wait. They couldn't wait to undress each other, feel warm, naked skin against their own, press wet, biting kisses to places that didn't see daylight all that often. Finally letting go of Sam, Jensen pushed him back against the bed, hovering over him in a kiss. He raised his arms above his head when he felt Sam tug at the worn T-shirt. It was gone in an instant, leaving Jensen to return the favor. Sam helped him unfasten a few of the buttons on his shirt, then gave up and sat up to tug it over his head.
Jensen had wanted to push Sam back, to kiss him, map out his skin with his teeth and tongue. But when he saw Sam's eyes lock on his, saw him dip his head lower to trace with his tongue, the line of soft hair that traveled down his navel into a hidden place in his jeans, he couldn't focus. His jeans weren't even completely shed before he felt Sam's hands, his mouth, on him. Arching his back, Jensen stood by the bed while Sam wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in closer, deeper into his mouth. Jensen raked his fingers through Sam's hair, accidently pulling too hard at the strands. He thought he'd hurt him, but the pain seemed to fuel the man's actions. He moved faster, harder, the wet friction of his mouth sending chills flashing across Jensen's skin.
He had to pull him away, forcefully, else it all would have been over far too quickly. When he looked down at him, Sam had an almost crazed look in his blue eyes. Jensen took a moment, his hands at either side of the man's face, letting the quiet between them time calm the wild look in Sam's eyes. He wanted to tell Sam what he was thinking, how beautiful the man was, but it sounded ridiculous in his head. Instead, he leaned down and kissed him, slowly, gently, pushing him back against the bed again.
Sam let him. He sprawled out his arms, taking the hint that he was moving too hard, too fast. He let Jensen kiss him, closing his eyes when he felt the man's mouth on his neck, his shoulder, moving ever southward. He didn't stir until he felt Jensen tugging at the button of his trousers. He lifted his hips off the mattress and helped him slip them down over his hips. He watched Jensen lean over him again, the man's hands at either side of his head. And he stayed quiet while Jensen bowed his head to kiss him. Amidst the embrace, he breathed deep, liking how their scents mingled. He reached up and held Jensen's face, feeling his jaw work as he kissed him. Eyes closed, Sam turned his head to the side, letting Jensen nip at his throat, his shoulder, and lower still.
Jensen worked his way down Sam's chest, swiping the flat of his tongue over the man's nipple before taking it into his mouth, suckling and flicking his tongue over it until Sam was arching up against his mouth. He could hear Sam's moaning breaths, could feel the man's hands at the back of his head, trying to find purchase on the short-cropped locks there.
Tracing the line of muscle that ran down the center of Sam's stomach, Jensen raised his eyes, gazing at the man. He saw Sam lift his head to watch him in return. He smiled and wasted no time taking him into his mouth. Precome had already gathered on the head of Sam's cock, tasting slick and salty. Jensen let him slide all the way to the back of his throat before pulling back and letting him push deep again. He glanced up in time to see Sam's head fall back against the bed again, his hands reaching up to the blankets beside him. Fingers crooked into claws clutched at the covers, close to rending them with his short nails.
Jensen took his time with Sam. He liked the taste of his skin, liked the feel of the crinkly hairs against his tongue. Better yet, he liked the sounds he got Sam to make, whines and whimpers, gasps and gutteral growls. By the time he was done using his tongue, teeth and mouth, Sam had a thin sheen of sweat built up on his chest and belly. Jensen dragged his tongue back up Sam's body, pausing long enough to swirl his tongue around each nipple. Hovering over him, he looked down at Sam, his own breathing close to matching the other man's.
"Where do you keep everything?" Jensen asked. He assumed it was all in the nightstand drawer, but he didn't want to flounder around for the stuff and stumble across something he wasn't supposed to. End up looking like the fool.
Without a word, Sam sat up, pushing Jensen far enough away that he could get to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out two condoms and a small bottle of lube.
Jensen smiled down at the two foil packages. "You planning on going again?" he teased.
Sam grinned back, picking up both of the packets. He pressed one into Jensen's hand and tore open the other with his teeth. "You're not the only one going to have fun, mate," he told him.
Chuckling quietly, Jensen nodded his head at him. He shed his jeans completely, as well as his boxers, tossing them over his shoulder. He did the same as Sam, tore open the condom packet and rolled the rubber onto his cock. When he was done, he saw that Sam had the small bottle of lube in his hand, the cap flipped up, and was squeezing some of the clear, slick liquid into the palm of his hand.
He looked up at Jensen, as he flipped the cap closed and tossed the bottle back onto the mattress. He spread the lube out onto both palms and reached for Jensen's latex-coated cock. He watched Jensen grit his teeth, eyes slipping closed as Sam's slick hands stroked him, softly, easily. Jensen reached out to him, resting his hands on Sam's shoulders, holding him there while he opened his eyes to look down and see what was being done to him. He traced his fingers down one of Sam's shoulders, fingers grazing lightly up the man's arm to one of his hands. Amidst helping Sam stroke him, Jensen leaned down to him, kissing him hard, hungry. And when he couldn't take it any more, Jensen pushed Sam away, all the way down until the man's back was pressed against the mattress. Almost roughly, he pulled Sam's legs around his waist, positioned himself just right and thrust hard.
Sam closed his eyes, his mouth falling open as he gasped, feeling Jensen inside him. Jensen pulled back out and pushed in again, just as hard as before. Sam raised his hips as best he could, meeting each of Jensen's thrusts. He reached up to the covers again, bunching them in his hands to keep himself somewhat grounded.
Already, Jensen could tell that the sex was going to be amazing. Sometimes it took him until the very end to decide just that. Sometimes what he got sufficed for the moment, and afterward, he had no interest in calling on the person again. Sometimes, the performance was noteworthy and he kept that number with him for quite some time. Since he and Jared were always on shaky ground, Jensen believed that it didn't hurt him to have a good reliable few he could call upon. He and Sam hadn't been able to connect on a deep, meaningful level, and they hadn't known each other for years, like he and Jared, but something was different. He felt it the moment they started talking in the bar. He would definitely have to keep Sam's number.
Leaning down, Jensen pushed as far into Sam as he could and pressed a needful kiss to the man's mouth. The sounds of their heavy breathing, and occasional moans, filled the room. Jensen was so close, could feel himself nearly coming undone and gritted his teeth to hold off. Sam must have known, seemed to have a sixth sense about some things, because he pushed Jensen back enough to move out from underneath him. Jensen went with him, following him atop the mattress. On their knees, Jensen and Sam both took a step back from the edge of orgasm, letting their bodies calm somewhat until they were ready.
Jensen liked this. Being rough and fast, but at the same time, making it last. They kissed for a long while, tasting each other, touching each other, finding little places that, with a well-placed nipping kiss, made the other squirm in delight. Sam moved closer to the head of the bed, bringing Jensen with him. Still kissing him, Sam set both of Jensen's hands against the wall before pulling away enough to move behind him. Jensen watched him go, liking the feel of Sam's fingers grazing against his bare skin as he circled behind him. Feeling kisses pressed to his shoulders and back, Jensen closed his eyes and instead leaned his elbows against the wall. Lower and lower, Sam moved, until the last kiss was placed upon Jensen's tailbone. He thought that was it, until he felt a warm, wet tongue slither lower. Gasping, Jensen reached back with one hand while Sam pushed him open a little wider. He found the tight ring of muscle there, licking and pushing his tongue a little deeper each time, until Jensen was moaning with each panting breath he took.
Sam was quick about slicking himself up with lube. Jensen swore he could still feel the man's tongue there as Sam's cock pushed him open further and slid in as far as he could go. Mouth open, Jensen's forehead was pressed against the wall, the fingers of one hand crooked into claws against the sheetrock. Sam's hips pumped against his, strong and constant, keeping up a perfect pace. Jensen's free hand gripped at the man's backside, pulling him in deeper and harder. He felt Sam's hand sneak in between Jensen's body and the bedroom wall, curling around the soft, dusky flesh underneath his cock. As Sam squeezed gently, Jensen felt himself lose the control he had barely been keeping together. He moaned and flexed his hips with Sam's movements, his eyes shut tightly as spasms rocked his body. His mouth was open against the wall, his breath coming in short, moaning gasps.
Sam only had to thrust a few more times before he, too, came hard against Jensen. His body rocked, chills covering his skin, and his voice lowered an octave as he growled out a few unintelligible words. He leaned his solid weight against Jensen's back, unable to hold himself up any longer.
For a few moments, the world seemed to stop. The only signs of life in the room were the heaving chests of the two men pressed up against the bedroom wall. Jensen was the first to make a sound. He smiled and chuckled softly, pushing back away from the wall. Sam moved too. Jensen found a smile on the man's face when he looked at him. Turning, he leaned in for a kiss, one filled with just as much passion as the others he'd just received.
Sam reached over to Jensen, gently sliding the condom off the man's softening cock. Jensen shuddered as he did, making both of them smile and chuckle again. Sam removed his own and dropped both of them into the bin beside the bed. Naked, they climbed under the covers and flopped down upon the pillows.
"God damn," Jensen breathed, stretched out on his back.
Sam nodded. "Too right, mate."
Next episode airs Friday 6th November