Toe-Sucking Hero
I had a dream last night. This is the result. I actually woke up with the words and the title rushing through my head. And I'm going 'what the heck is this?' I think I looked at too many pictures yesterday of Jensen's lips and goth Jared.
I'm working on the next chapter of Mystery, but you know what it's like when a bunny starts hopping around in your head. Really, this was more like a stampede! I think I should probably hide now as you're going to be looking at me with amusement and wondering what else I'm hiding inside the chaos that is my brain.
So here is a bit of stream-of-consciousness Jensen.
ETA: Look what the talented mini_moue made and said I could use! Jared Toes! Toes of Jared!! Toe Job!!!
A closer look compliments of missyjack who has an hilarious essay on her lj about a creature called the Padasloth. Go read!
Title: Toe-Sucking Hero
Author: englishblue
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Summary: Jensen gives in to his fantasy.
Word count: short
Toe-Sucking Hero
“What?”
The dark fringe of Jared’s lashes lifts. A glint of hazel, grey-green, tilts down the thinly clad length of his body to where I kneel. God. You’d do it, too, if you had wandered in unsuspecting, a little bit buzzed on beer to find Jared flung across the cushions of the couch, his feet propped up on the arm.
His toes are bare-naked. That’s the thing about toes. They’re vulnerable, the skin pale unless it’s still flushed pink from soaking muscle-deep in the bathtub, the way Jared does it-knees bent, cause he’s too damn long, feet slipping back and forth on the white enamel surface while he hums mindlessly and soaps himself. I’ve peeked before.
“Dude?”
I sneak a glance at his startled face, his chin lifted, gaze distracted. I curl my tongue warmly around the next toe. Virtuoso. There’s the flavor of Jared and soap mixed together. The pad of the toe presses heavy on my tongue. I scoot up, hand encircling his ankle, petting the round knob of bone.
He’s coming awake now, shifts in his spine, small undulations that signal an attempt to rise. My thighs quiver, my mouth sucking more deeply, takes in two wiggling toes. My other hand presses down on his shin.
“Stay,” I murmur, flashing him a lop-sided, drunken smirk.
I know how I look. I know the way people, Jared, want my mouth, think about the things it could do to them. I’ve heard him before, when I’m padding, thrist-driven across the darkened kitchen, needing juice or cold water to help me swallow my midnight lust for him back into the pit of my belly. He calls my name sometimes-in his dreams-and it wakes me, flushing my body with restlessness.
“Jensen.” His lips part on a sigh. “You’re really plastered, aren’t you?”
I nod my head, not speaking, not stopping. It’s as good an excuse as any other. I’m drunk, and I’m fellatiating my best friend’s toes. One at a time. Giving him my greatest asset, lips and... Shit. I know I’ll come soon. So will he if the swollen bulge between his legs is anything to go by. I want to touch it, but that would be crossing the line. Even though I’ve touched it before.
Once I held his cock when he pissed, a hot, bright stream between my fingers, his spine slumped against my chest, head lax on my shoulder. It was his turn to be drunk. Happened at a friend’s party. He never remembered it. At least, never said he did. I liked it too much, liked doing slightly perverted shit to him when I had the chance. Like now.
A twelve hour day. Home and Jare straight to the shower. Me guzzling warm beer down, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat arched in self-sacrifice. Somebody had to do it. He hated that shit; warm beer. I didn’t care, so I did it for him. Can’t bear to see his face knotted in disgust at the very idea.
The six pack had been forgotten on the counter this morning. And Jared liked his brew cold. So I had to drink it in one go, didn’t I? Then I had to lay down for a minute because my head was swirling in crazy loops, and yeah, I was tired, too. The small of my back ached from a stunt gone wrong, and I’d ended up with a bruise the size of a hand in the dip of my spine. Seen it by twisting in front of the mirror. Jared watching from the trailer doorway, his lips pursed, as though for a kiss. But he didn’t. Kiss me, that is. Only smiled that toothpaste smile of his.
“We’ll ice it when we get home, Jen.”
By that time, hours later, we were both too wiped to remember it. The dull ache had settled into my rib cage and hips. I drank my beer and woke later, stumbled out still muzzy and buzzy to find a soft, long puddle of a man poured over the living room couch, One arm folded across his eyes, feet uncovered, innocent-calling my name in secret, silent code. The bat signal on the ceiling.
Can you blame me? Don’t even try, bitches.
I keep sucking. Jared bundles up to a sitting position. With his long arms and massive hands, it’s no stretch for him to cradle my skull with one gentle palm, the other pushing distractedly at his crotch.
“This is....not what I was expecting,” he whimpers, twisting his ass in slinky figure eights that are very hot to watch.
I’m so freaking hard, between the taste of his toes and what he’s doing. I’m close to losing it. I want to touch myself. Feel my steel. But if I let go of his shin and ankle, I’m afraid he’ll make a run for it out of some misplaced sense of fairness. He thinks I’m too drunk to know what I’m doing. I know.
I know when I see the stain spreading across the front of his old sweat pants and smell the sea-wet brine of his release. I know when his fingers tighten in my hair and pull. I spill in my boxers, the plump, hot pulse of my cock delicious and dirty sweet, knees trembling. Resting my cheek on the arch of his foot, saliva-slick toes under my chin, I know I’ve wrecked my cover for good. A soft laugh sounds above me.
“Jen.” He leans down, lips moving in the bristle of my hair, a thumb stroking my bottom lip seductively. “You’re a star.”
I'm working on the next chapter of Mystery, but you know what it's like when a bunny starts hopping around in your head. Really, this was more like a stampede! I think I should probably hide now as you're going to be looking at me with amusement and wondering what else I'm hiding inside the chaos that is my brain.
So here is a bit of stream-of-consciousness Jensen.
ETA: Look what the talented mini_moue made and said I could use! Jared Toes! Toes of Jared!! Toe Job!!!
A closer look compliments of missyjack who has an hilarious essay on her lj about a creature called the Padasloth. Go read!
Title: Toe-Sucking Hero
Author: englishblue
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Summary: Jensen gives in to his fantasy.
Word count: short
Toe-Sucking Hero
“What?”
The dark fringe of Jared’s lashes lifts. A glint of hazel, grey-green, tilts down the thinly clad length of his body to where I kneel. God. You’d do it, too, if you had wandered in unsuspecting, a little bit buzzed on beer to find Jared flung across the cushions of the couch, his feet propped up on the arm.
His toes are bare-naked. That’s the thing about toes. They’re vulnerable, the skin pale unless it’s still flushed pink from soaking muscle-deep in the bathtub, the way Jared does it-knees bent, cause he’s too damn long, feet slipping back and forth on the white enamel surface while he hums mindlessly and soaps himself. I’ve peeked before.
“Dude?”
I sneak a glance at his startled face, his chin lifted, gaze distracted. I curl my tongue warmly around the next toe. Virtuoso. There’s the flavor of Jared and soap mixed together. The pad of the toe presses heavy on my tongue. I scoot up, hand encircling his ankle, petting the round knob of bone.
He’s coming awake now, shifts in his spine, small undulations that signal an attempt to rise. My thighs quiver, my mouth sucking more deeply, takes in two wiggling toes. My other hand presses down on his shin.
“Stay,” I murmur, flashing him a lop-sided, drunken smirk.
I know how I look. I know the way people, Jared, want my mouth, think about the things it could do to them. I’ve heard him before, when I’m padding, thrist-driven across the darkened kitchen, needing juice or cold water to help me swallow my midnight lust for him back into the pit of my belly. He calls my name sometimes-in his dreams-and it wakes me, flushing my body with restlessness.
“Jensen.” His lips part on a sigh. “You’re really plastered, aren’t you?”
I nod my head, not speaking, not stopping. It’s as good an excuse as any other. I’m drunk, and I’m fellatiating my best friend’s toes. One at a time. Giving him my greatest asset, lips and... Shit. I know I’ll come soon. So will he if the swollen bulge between his legs is anything to go by. I want to touch it, but that would be crossing the line. Even though I’ve touched it before.
Once I held his cock when he pissed, a hot, bright stream between my fingers, his spine slumped against my chest, head lax on my shoulder. It was his turn to be drunk. Happened at a friend’s party. He never remembered it. At least, never said he did. I liked it too much, liked doing slightly perverted shit to him when I had the chance. Like now.
A twelve hour day. Home and Jare straight to the shower. Me guzzling warm beer down, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat arched in self-sacrifice. Somebody had to do it. He hated that shit; warm beer. I didn’t care, so I did it for him. Can’t bear to see his face knotted in disgust at the very idea.
The six pack had been forgotten on the counter this morning. And Jared liked his brew cold. So I had to drink it in one go, didn’t I? Then I had to lay down for a minute because my head was swirling in crazy loops, and yeah, I was tired, too. The small of my back ached from a stunt gone wrong, and I’d ended up with a bruise the size of a hand in the dip of my spine. Seen it by twisting in front of the mirror. Jared watching from the trailer doorway, his lips pursed, as though for a kiss. But he didn’t. Kiss me, that is. Only smiled that toothpaste smile of his.
“We’ll ice it when we get home, Jen.”
By that time, hours later, we were both too wiped to remember it. The dull ache had settled into my rib cage and hips. I drank my beer and woke later, stumbled out still muzzy and buzzy to find a soft, long puddle of a man poured over the living room couch, One arm folded across his eyes, feet uncovered, innocent-calling my name in secret, silent code. The bat signal on the ceiling.
Can you blame me? Don’t even try, bitches.
I keep sucking. Jared bundles up to a sitting position. With his long arms and massive hands, it’s no stretch for him to cradle my skull with one gentle palm, the other pushing distractedly at his crotch.
“This is....not what I was expecting,” he whimpers, twisting his ass in slinky figure eights that are very hot to watch.
I’m so freaking hard, between the taste of his toes and what he’s doing. I’m close to losing it. I want to touch myself. Feel my steel. But if I let go of his shin and ankle, I’m afraid he’ll make a run for it out of some misplaced sense of fairness. He thinks I’m too drunk to know what I’m doing. I know.
I know when I see the stain spreading across the front of his old sweat pants and smell the sea-wet brine of his release. I know when his fingers tighten in my hair and pull. I spill in my boxers, the plump, hot pulse of my cock delicious and dirty sweet, knees trembling. Resting my cheek on the arch of his foot, saliva-slick toes under my chin, I know I’ve wrecked my cover for good. A soft laugh sounds above me.
“Jen.” He leans down, lips moving in the bristle of my hair, a thumb stroking my bottom lip seductively. “You’re a star.”