Mystery Chapter 8
This is my wip Mystery. Finally finishing Burn and despite struggling with a bad eye infection for the past week, I've at last managed to write another chapter of this one. It's been so long since I've posted Mystery that I'm going to lead into the new part with the last paragraph of the old, hoping it will refresh your memory. Please forgive the long hiatus. I'm determined to finish this fic soon. If you're still interested in reading, here's the next part.
Title: Mystery
Author: englishblue
Pairing: AU Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jared Padalecki is a hard-boiled cop. He doesn’t have time for love in his life. So how can he fall for a dead guy, one’s whose murder he’s investigating? It doesn’t make any sense. But then, nothing does.
Jared takes the stairs three at a time, ignoring the elevator, pure instinct telling him this is the way his quarry has gone. It’s a race he’s determined to win. He bursts out into the street below in a rush that sends civilians scattering right and left to avoid him. The mystery man is nowhere in sight. Down the long canyon of tall buildings, sirens begin to wail.
Chapter 8
Returning empty-handed with Mike and a phalanx of uniforms in his wake, Jared finds Jensen on his knees beside the toppled grandfather clock. He’s picking up the debris gingerly, stacking the splintered wood in a pile beside his folded thigh. The lights in the apartment are lit, every last one of them, as though the sheer brightness will deter the killer from returning for an encore.
“It was a gift,” Jensen sighs, licking his lips. “From Jim. When I got the apartment after my first book hit it big.” He nods at the clock under his hands. “It’s one of a pair.”
Jared crouches beside him. “Doesn’t look too bad. Just the veneer along the side knocked off by the impact.” Jensen turns hopeful eyes on him and Jared smiles. “Let’s get granddad back on his feet.”
There’s both gratefulness and amusement molding Jensen’s expression. “Thanks. Any luck with the running and chasing thing?”
Jared shakes his head. “He got away.”
Eyes unlocking, they turn their attention to the fallen soldier on the floor. Between them, the two men strain, shouldering it up, the clock heavy and resisting their efforts. It lurches forward at the last minute, Jared sure it’s going to go over again. A massive push slots the beast into place, its back against the wall, the chimes clanging discordantly.
Jared cocks his head at it frowning. The front panel is slightly askew. He reaches for it, running his fingers along the damaged wood, getting a sliver for his trouble. It’s then that he sees the panel is actually the front of a concealed door that takes up the bottom half of the clock.
Sucking at the sharp burn where the wood is wedged under his nail, Jared carefully eases the door open a few inches, crouching over so he can get a look inside. What’s there knocks the wind out of his chest. A double-barreled shotgun leans in the corner, dull steel glinting as the light slips in to reveal its lethal shape.
The search for the murder weapon has been extensive. They’d tossed every garbage bin and sewer for miles around, combed every square inch of the penthouse, coming up empty-handed. Now, here it is, sinister as you please in the perfect hideaway. Under their very noses.
Jared takes a quick look around the teeming apartment for Mike. This is a break through. He’ll need to get the shotgun to the lab immediately, have it dusted for prints. It’s standard procedure. But in his belly, Jared knows the murderer is smarter than that. There won’t be any prints because the killer wore gloves. He’d not touched the door itself or the knob, wiped the doorbell clean and just stood back, waiting for Jensen to open up and have his face blown off. But maybe there’s something, some telltale clue that will give Jared the handle he needs.
Jared wants to keep the discovery under wraps, and he sure as fuck doesn’t trust Jensen’s life to the discretion of the department. Too many possibilities for leaks.
“What’s up?” Mike materializes at Jared’s shoulder, a psychic Jeeves, only not so elegant.
Jensen is crowding close against Jared’s back wanting to see what’s making Jared quiver like a hound on point.
“What is it?” he says at almost the same time Mike’s speaks.
They exchange slightly jealous glances, rivals for Jared’s immediate attention. Rather than answer, Jared unbends his huge frame from the ground up.
“Clear the place, Mike. Then I want you to get this to Carlson on the quiet. Have him run every test in the book on the damn piece. If it’s got anything to tell us, I want to know fast.”
That’s when Mike and Jensen both catch a glimpse of what has Jared so riled up. Jensen is speechless with shock. The gun that killed Tom, right here in his apartment all this time. Right here while he did normal things like brush his teeth and shower, talk on the phone. A repugnant shiver races the length of Jensen’s spine.
“Oh shit,” Mike breathes. “We’ve got the fucker now.”
Mike’s gaze darts sneakily to Jensen, but Jared quickly disabuses him of the suspicion. “Dude, forget it. I was here, and I saw the perp. Not enough to ID him, but it wasn’t Ackles. He’s the target not the doer.”
“Whatever you say, man. I was only...,” Mike licks his lips, looking a half-hearted apology in Jensen’s direction. “Okay. I’ll clear the place out. Then take this little beauty to Steve. Whoever the doer is, he’s gonna be on the inside looking out real fucking soon.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jared scrubs at his face, tiredness abruptly leaking into his bones. The case is beginning to wear him thin around the edges, his nerves kicking up. The fact he’s in love with the intended target isn’t making it any easier. “The guy’s been ahead of us all the way so far. If that’s why he came tonight, to get the shotgun back and take another crack at the intended victim, then we’ve got a chance. He’s made a bad mistake, and he’s gonna want a do-over. My guess is....”
There is a scuffle at the entryway. The two uniforms keeping out nosey tenants attracted by the commotion suddenly have their hands full with a top-coated man who is trying to force his way inside.
“Jensen! Jesus God. Jensen! I heard, and I was afraid to believe it was true. That I’d get here, and you’d still be dead and my heart broken.”
“Let him in.” Jared’s tone is flat, expressionless.
He detests the man, but knows to keep it to himself in front of Jensen, who’s already jerked to attention at Morgan’s appearance. Jeffrey Dean Morgan pushes his way past the obstructing officers, striding across the hallway to drag Jensen into his arms. His face is dead white, eyes brimming with threatening tears.
“You’re really alive. I...I didn’t believe Jim when he called. I thought it was some kind of sick joke, and I had to come and see for myself.” Kisses dot Jensen’s face. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call me? I thought you were dead.”
Jeff’s hands flutter across Jensen’s chest and along his arms as though to reassure himself that the man in his grasp is solid flesh and blood, not a ghost.
“Take it easy, Jeff.” Jensen voice is reassuring. He hugs the man, patting him gently on the back before discreetly shrugging out of his embrace. “I’m sorry I put you through that. The police found me at the cabin and refused to let me call anyone and tell them I was alive. In case the killer might try again. I didn’t keep you in the dark out of choice.”
Jensen darts a defiant look at Jared, who is scowling at him, body dangerously still. Morgan follows the silent exchange, then glances around them in apparent confusion.
“What’s going on? You’ve got forty cops on guard duty? A little late, isn’t it? It would have been a hella lot better if you’d kept him from being murdered in the first place!” A little of the color returns to Morgan’s face, his eyes sparking fire at Jared. He doesn’t appear to hear the asinine logic of his statement.
Jared can’t keep from baring his teeth in a feral grimace that’s meant to be a grin. “Well, aside from not having a psychic on the force, I don’t know how we’d have gone about doing that, pal.”
Taking a step forward, he’s only prevented from making contact by Jensen getting between the two men. “Quite a coincidence, you showing up here, right now. Why is that again?”
“Jesus. Give it a rest, Jared. Jeff said Jim called him. He came to check on me. What the hell is your fucking problem?”
Drawing himself up to his full height, shoulders straightening impressively, Jared towers over the men in front of him, each over six foot in their own right. Morgan takes a step back, but Jensen holds his ground, chin tipped defiantly upward, waiting for an answer.
Jensen can feel the weight of Jared’s gaze on his skin as though they are alone in the room. It penetrates through the cotton of his shirt and the pants he’s flung on during the turmoil when Jared had gone after the intruder. He feels naked for all the protection they afford. Laid bare under those invasive hazel eyes, and too aware, all of a sudden, of his junk, heavy between his thighs.
“My problem is somebody just tried to off you, Ackles. Again. And this dude shows up a few minutes later all sunshine and happy cakes. It’s got bells ringing in my head”
Jared moves closer, fists twitching at his sides. His desire to pull Jensen in and kiss him stupid unlimbers from the center of his gut and spills into every nerve ending under the surface of his skin. He can still taste Jensen’s mouth, slick and luscious, in the elevator’s stolen kiss. Jared thinks he’s going to do it, the crowd around them be damned, when Jensen opens up those cock-sucking lips of his and spits venom at him.
“Maybe you ought to have that bells thing checked out. Sounds painful.”
Before Jared can growl an obscene reply, he’s interrupted.
“Somebody tried to what? Just now?” Morgan’s mouth falls open. “You don’t think it was me, do you? I would never harm a hair on Jensen’s head. Never. I’m a lover not a fighter. Jesus, baby. You’ve got to believe me. That’s just sick.”
Mike, casually bumping his leg against the partially open panel of the clock to close it, takes Jared by the arm and pulls him away. It requires a bit of an effort, especially when Jensen is busily soothing the distraught Morgan’s ruffled feathers with pats and kisses on the cheek.
“Calm down, Jeff. I know it isn’t you.”
Jared, when he plays man mountain, is hard to move. It’s comparable to a tug hauling the Queen Mary into port. Mike tries to suppress the sudden urge to snicker. He’s just called Jared a big queen, if only in his own head. Luckily, he hasn’t voiced the sentiment aloud. He’s seen various smart asses pulverized for a lot less in the past.
Getting himself under control, Mike speaks in a quiet whisper meant for his partner’s ears alone. He drags Jared a few feet away from the touching tableau of the two civilians making nice with each other. Mike can’t help throwing them a contemptuous sneer.
“Look, cool it,” he hisses at Jared. “If it’s him, we’ll nail his ass with the shotgun. If it’s not, you’re just making an even bigger tool of yourself. Your little boyfriend’s giving you the evil eyeball, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Jared glances over Mike’s shoulder and gets a ferocious scowl for his trouble. Jensen is furious, doing the whole flaring nostrils and pinched lip bit. Automatically, Jared defends himself against Mike’s gibe.
“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, numb nuts. Watch your mouth.” It gives Jared his sense of perspective back to insult his partner in a normal bout of repartee. He sighs in defeat. “And yeah. You’re right. I’m taking it way too personally. Thanks for... Shit. Just thanks, Rosey.”
Mike grins at him and punches Jared’s shoulder. “My pleasure, Padadork. Don’t want to see the Captain chowing down on your crown jewels for lunch. Gross.” Mike gives a dramatic shudder. “Now what do you say to us getting this show on the road.”
Turning his back firmly on the reunion scene, Jared helps Mike clear the place, in the end sweeping Morgan out with the last of the crowd. Two uniforms take up guard duty in the hall outside, and after a curt goodbye, Jared leaves Jensen there in the emptied apartment, looking abruptly uncertain as Jared shuts the door in his face.
Of course, once they get the shotgun to the station, it’s a case of wait and wait some more. Jared throws himself tiredly into a chair, pushing papers back and forth across his desk with increasingly impatient gestures. It’s not like his being there is going to make any difference in how fast Carlson spits out the report Jared wants.
Resting his aching head on folded arms, Jared drifts in a semi-comatose state between dozing off and being aware of the slow tick of time around him. A pat on the back is Rosey’s adieu for the night. Jared lifts a questioning eye at his watch. Two a.m. His body shifts. He wonders if Jensen is asleep, maybe naked under the silky sheets that cover his bed.
It’s a disturbing thought. Jared shifts himself to his feet, striding through the nearly empty squad room before he realizes he’s made the decision. Once outside, the fresh air pours wakefulness into him with every breath. Fifteen minutes to Jensen’s penthouse clears the last of the cobwebs from his brain, and he’s thick and hard in his jeans in anticipation, because he knows he’s not going to allow himself to be put off this time.
He takes the freight elevator up. It’s too slow, but Jared’s not stupid enough to go in past the cops he’s stationed at the front door. And not unaware of why he left the back unguarded. He slips the key from his coat pocket, the one he had made at the investigation’s start so he could spend time there, mooning at that goddamn portrait that got his ass into all this trouble in the first place. The metal is cold against his hot fingers, his skin burning everywhere as he breathes in shallow gasps and slips it in the lock.
The door opens silently on a moonlight-drenched kitchen. Jared toes off his shoes, leaves them there to pad soundlessly in his socks across the tiled floor. When he steps into the bedroom doorway, Jared isn’t surprised to find Jensen awake. He’s sitting at a desk positioned in the alcove of the bay windows that flank the french doors with the terrace beyond.
He turns when Jared enters, pen in hand, only wearing a pair of soft pajama bottoms, striped and pooling over the bulge of potent flesh between his thighs. His chest is bare. Jared takes him in, noting the mussed hair, the sharp gasp of excitement as Jensen sees the intent in Jared’s eyes.
“You knew I’d come back,” Jared accuses, stalking slowly forward, ready to stop any attempt on Jensen part to escape. It’s no question, and it ends on a growl. “You’ve been waiting for me.”
screencap by animotus
Jensen’s smile is feral. In that one twist of lips, Jared recognizes Jensen is as hot for it as Jared is, and he’s not going to run.
“Took you longer than I thought, but you’re still no better than a tom cat sniffing for it. I saw the way you looked at Jeff. You were jealous of him.”
“More than that,” Jared murmurs, licking his lips. “I’m gonna shake you into little pieces. Make you scream my name. Forget he ever existed.”
“Bragging, Padalecki? I’m shocked.”
Jensen reads the deep hunger in Jared’s glittering eyes. He stumbles up from his chair, a matching passion blooming across the proud contours of his face. Wordlessly, he pushes the pajamas off his hips, watches them fall around his feet before lifting his gaze in a taunting mirror of Jared’s own challenge.
The air charges between them, full of heat and desire. Jared is on Jensen with a sleek, animal pounce, glad of his height and weight advantage as he manhandles Jensen’s strong body backwards until he hits the bed and falls gracefully onto the mattress with a low grunt.
“Tell me you want it. Want my cock up that slutty hole of yours.”
“I’m no slut,” Jensen grits out between clenched teeth. “Take it back.”
“Slut. Say it. My slut.”
They shift on the bed, the covers bunching as Jared sheds his clothes with quick, economical gestures, throwing them aside to put his hands back on Jensen’s burning skin.
“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” Jensen gloats, then chokes as Jared works a response from him.
He tries to wiggle away, but a massive finger finds the warm, pulsing ring of his pucker and probes the secret wetness there. His thighs go lax, spread wider, despite his desire to put up some sort of token resistence. He huffs and squirms. Jared touches him again, running the breaching finger in and out slowly, heating Jensen’s skin with the tight, obscene movements.
“What makes you think...,” Jensen’s pants out, then can’t go on, his head thrashing back and worth as his body responds, cock stiffening painfully at the insistent probing.
Each stroke is accompanied by a smothering kiss that’s full of tongue and sloppy lips, exploring him without permission-both mouth and rectum-until Jensen’s resistence slips away, and he can only dig his fingers into the spread of Jared’s bare shoulders and shudder with pleasure.
Strong legs lift and clamp on Jared’s waist. Ankles lock at the small of his back. At this point, he’s not sure which one of them is the prisoner and which the captor. Jared lifts his head, his teeth bared as the scorching muscle between Jensen’s cheeks wraps around his invading touch and bears down. Jensen works himself on the digits inside him like a pro. Each roll of his hips brings the swell of his prostate into contact with Jared’s moist fingertips. He shivers and whines, head pressed back in the pillows.
“My slut. Say it,” Jared demands, and this time Jensen answers him in a husky rumble, the words slurring from his pretty mouth and tumbling into the shell of Jared’s ear. .
“Your slut. Oh God. Just like that.”
Between their tense bellies, Jared can feel their juices mingling, his prick drenched by a steady leak of clear fluid. The smell of the ocean is thick in his lungs. A dirty, squelching sound accompanies their play fuck. Jared humps their cocks together, Jensen’s thighs clamping on his rib cage, bones creaking under the exerted pressure.
Jared finds that plush, swollen mouth again, doing with his tongue what he’s going to do with his dick very soon. Each stroke of his fingers into the warmth of Jensen’s asshole makes his hips flex hard against the rolling undulation of taut abdominal muscles. Jensen mumbles, trying to talk around the flesh that fills his mouth. The sounds are helpless and unbearably sexy, making Jared’s nipples ache.
From somewhere, Jensen is pushing a crinkle of foil and a tube of slick into Jared’s hand, the cool square making Jared’s cock jump in anticipation. He wants to roll it down the shaft throbbing so hotly on his belly, but it’s no good. He’s too close to coming just at the thought. Jared shifts to the side, pressing the protection into Jensen’s fingers.
“Do it for me,” he mumbles, feeling drunk with need, pushing his erection into Jensen’s hands.
“Hold still.”
Heat shoots from the tips of Jared’s hair to the curl of his toes as Jensen tears the packet open with his teeth and slips it into his mouth. Hands curve around the anchor of Jared’s hips, while lips glide down over the quivering length of his penis, rolling the condom on with smooth, easy practice.
Jared’s eyes flutter shut. A hand grips his root, fingers snagging in the bush of curls there, while he’s slicked up, Jensen holding Jared’s orgasm at bay with a tight grasp, even as it threatens to overtake him.
“You okay? Not gonna lose it?”
Jensen kisses Jared panting mouth. A few shaky breaths feather over his lips before he gets a nod. Satisfied, he tucks a strand of sweaty hair behind Jared’s ear, tracing the warm curl of thin flesh with his tongue.
“Fuck me now,” he whispers.
Jensen’s spine goes loose, the bones melting when Jared surges up and rolls him under, pins him to the mattress, the huge body a cage of muscle and bone, the long, slippery length of his cock pushing bluntly forward.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”
Penetrated, insides spread around the invading thickness of cock, Jensen keens and pushes up on the balls of his feet, knees wide open, to meet every thrust. Even as he feels the first splash of sperm deep inside, he’s already abandoning control to the coil of heat rushing in waves under his skin and filling his balls.
He spills in short, almost painful pulses, messily aware of coating the heaving contours of Jared’s chest and belly with his come, while Jared fills him up and holds him down, forcing a pleasure on him nearly too deep to bear.
Later, Jared lies with his head in the dip of Jensen’s spine, idly petting the plump curve of one rounded butt cheek.
“Stop it. You’re making me itch.”
“Good. I’ll be happy to scratch it for you just as soon as I can feel my dick again.
Jensen wiggles provocatively and a small grin tips up the corners of Jared’s lips. “Tell me again about the clock. You said Beaver gave it to you?”
Jared glances over his shoulder, a frown creasing the space between his eyes. “Yeah. Had ‘em shipped in from France. One for me and one for him...a sign of friendship or something, he said. Seemed to mean a lot to him. I tried to refuse. Not my style, and the damn thing’s worth a fortune. It’s an antique. I didn’t want to be beholden to him. But he got all pissy about it. Said it was a symbol of our...special relationship or words to that effect, and if I didn’t take it, he’d know I didn’t care about him. What the hell do you say to that?”
“That’s a damn good question.”
Jared leans over to where his discarded pants lay in a tangle on the floor by the foot of the bed. Patting the pockets, he finds his cigarettes and lighter. With surgeon-like precision, he taps one out and lights up, falling back to his comfortable flesh and blood pillow. Once the smoke has filled his lungs to capacity, he blows a stream at Jensen, who coughs and flings his hands about to clear the air.
“Please. You know how bad those are for you?”
“Health freak,” Jared chides, then takes another drag. “Back to what you were saying. Why would somebody of Beaver’s reputation give that much of a damn about the latest wonder kid to give him expensive presents and babble about their “special” friendship?”
Under his head, Jared feels Jensen’s back go tense. “I don’t think he meant it that way, Jay.”
“Didn’t he?” Hazel eyes narrow as the nicotine curtain swirls around Jared head in a wispy garland. He runs a thumb along the softly haired muscle of Jensen’s thigh thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll ask Beaver for an answer to that question.”
Title: Mystery
Author: englishblue
Pairing: AU Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jared Padalecki is a hard-boiled cop. He doesn’t have time for love in his life. So how can he fall for a dead guy, one’s whose murder he’s investigating? It doesn’t make any sense. But then, nothing does.
Jared takes the stairs three at a time, ignoring the elevator, pure instinct telling him this is the way his quarry has gone. It’s a race he’s determined to win. He bursts out into the street below in a rush that sends civilians scattering right and left to avoid him. The mystery man is nowhere in sight. Down the long canyon of tall buildings, sirens begin to wail.
Chapter 8
Returning empty-handed with Mike and a phalanx of uniforms in his wake, Jared finds Jensen on his knees beside the toppled grandfather clock. He’s picking up the debris gingerly, stacking the splintered wood in a pile beside his folded thigh. The lights in the apartment are lit, every last one of them, as though the sheer brightness will deter the killer from returning for an encore.
“It was a gift,” Jensen sighs, licking his lips. “From Jim. When I got the apartment after my first book hit it big.” He nods at the clock under his hands. “It’s one of a pair.”
Jared crouches beside him. “Doesn’t look too bad. Just the veneer along the side knocked off by the impact.” Jensen turns hopeful eyes on him and Jared smiles. “Let’s get granddad back on his feet.”
There’s both gratefulness and amusement molding Jensen’s expression. “Thanks. Any luck with the running and chasing thing?”
Jared shakes his head. “He got away.”
Eyes unlocking, they turn their attention to the fallen soldier on the floor. Between them, the two men strain, shouldering it up, the clock heavy and resisting their efforts. It lurches forward at the last minute, Jared sure it’s going to go over again. A massive push slots the beast into place, its back against the wall, the chimes clanging discordantly.
Jared cocks his head at it frowning. The front panel is slightly askew. He reaches for it, running his fingers along the damaged wood, getting a sliver for his trouble. It’s then that he sees the panel is actually the front of a concealed door that takes up the bottom half of the clock.
Sucking at the sharp burn where the wood is wedged under his nail, Jared carefully eases the door open a few inches, crouching over so he can get a look inside. What’s there knocks the wind out of his chest. A double-barreled shotgun leans in the corner, dull steel glinting as the light slips in to reveal its lethal shape.
The search for the murder weapon has been extensive. They’d tossed every garbage bin and sewer for miles around, combed every square inch of the penthouse, coming up empty-handed. Now, here it is, sinister as you please in the perfect hideaway. Under their very noses.
Jared takes a quick look around the teeming apartment for Mike. This is a break through. He’ll need to get the shotgun to the lab immediately, have it dusted for prints. It’s standard procedure. But in his belly, Jared knows the murderer is smarter than that. There won’t be any prints because the killer wore gloves. He’d not touched the door itself or the knob, wiped the doorbell clean and just stood back, waiting for Jensen to open up and have his face blown off. But maybe there’s something, some telltale clue that will give Jared the handle he needs.
Jared wants to keep the discovery under wraps, and he sure as fuck doesn’t trust Jensen’s life to the discretion of the department. Too many possibilities for leaks.
“What’s up?” Mike materializes at Jared’s shoulder, a psychic Jeeves, only not so elegant.
Jensen is crowding close against Jared’s back wanting to see what’s making Jared quiver like a hound on point.
“What is it?” he says at almost the same time Mike’s speaks.
They exchange slightly jealous glances, rivals for Jared’s immediate attention. Rather than answer, Jared unbends his huge frame from the ground up.
“Clear the place, Mike. Then I want you to get this to Carlson on the quiet. Have him run every test in the book on the damn piece. If it’s got anything to tell us, I want to know fast.”
That’s when Mike and Jensen both catch a glimpse of what has Jared so riled up. Jensen is speechless with shock. The gun that killed Tom, right here in his apartment all this time. Right here while he did normal things like brush his teeth and shower, talk on the phone. A repugnant shiver races the length of Jensen’s spine.
“Oh shit,” Mike breathes. “We’ve got the fucker now.”
Mike’s gaze darts sneakily to Jensen, but Jared quickly disabuses him of the suspicion. “Dude, forget it. I was here, and I saw the perp. Not enough to ID him, but it wasn’t Ackles. He’s the target not the doer.”
“Whatever you say, man. I was only...,” Mike licks his lips, looking a half-hearted apology in Jensen’s direction. “Okay. I’ll clear the place out. Then take this little beauty to Steve. Whoever the doer is, he’s gonna be on the inside looking out real fucking soon.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jared scrubs at his face, tiredness abruptly leaking into his bones. The case is beginning to wear him thin around the edges, his nerves kicking up. The fact he’s in love with the intended target isn’t making it any easier. “The guy’s been ahead of us all the way so far. If that’s why he came tonight, to get the shotgun back and take another crack at the intended victim, then we’ve got a chance. He’s made a bad mistake, and he’s gonna want a do-over. My guess is....”
There is a scuffle at the entryway. The two uniforms keeping out nosey tenants attracted by the commotion suddenly have their hands full with a top-coated man who is trying to force his way inside.
“Jensen! Jesus God. Jensen! I heard, and I was afraid to believe it was true. That I’d get here, and you’d still be dead and my heart broken.”
“Let him in.” Jared’s tone is flat, expressionless.
He detests the man, but knows to keep it to himself in front of Jensen, who’s already jerked to attention at Morgan’s appearance. Jeffrey Dean Morgan pushes his way past the obstructing officers, striding across the hallway to drag Jensen into his arms. His face is dead white, eyes brimming with threatening tears.
“You’re really alive. I...I didn’t believe Jim when he called. I thought it was some kind of sick joke, and I had to come and see for myself.” Kisses dot Jensen’s face. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call me? I thought you were dead.”
Jeff’s hands flutter across Jensen’s chest and along his arms as though to reassure himself that the man in his grasp is solid flesh and blood, not a ghost.
“Take it easy, Jeff.” Jensen voice is reassuring. He hugs the man, patting him gently on the back before discreetly shrugging out of his embrace. “I’m sorry I put you through that. The police found me at the cabin and refused to let me call anyone and tell them I was alive. In case the killer might try again. I didn’t keep you in the dark out of choice.”
Jensen darts a defiant look at Jared, who is scowling at him, body dangerously still. Morgan follows the silent exchange, then glances around them in apparent confusion.
“What’s going on? You’ve got forty cops on guard duty? A little late, isn’t it? It would have been a hella lot better if you’d kept him from being murdered in the first place!” A little of the color returns to Morgan’s face, his eyes sparking fire at Jared. He doesn’t appear to hear the asinine logic of his statement.
Jared can’t keep from baring his teeth in a feral grimace that’s meant to be a grin. “Well, aside from not having a psychic on the force, I don’t know how we’d have gone about doing that, pal.”
Taking a step forward, he’s only prevented from making contact by Jensen getting between the two men. “Quite a coincidence, you showing up here, right now. Why is that again?”
“Jesus. Give it a rest, Jared. Jeff said Jim called him. He came to check on me. What the hell is your fucking problem?”
Drawing himself up to his full height, shoulders straightening impressively, Jared towers over the men in front of him, each over six foot in their own right. Morgan takes a step back, but Jensen holds his ground, chin tipped defiantly upward, waiting for an answer.
Jensen can feel the weight of Jared’s gaze on his skin as though they are alone in the room. It penetrates through the cotton of his shirt and the pants he’s flung on during the turmoil when Jared had gone after the intruder. He feels naked for all the protection they afford. Laid bare under those invasive hazel eyes, and too aware, all of a sudden, of his junk, heavy between his thighs.
“My problem is somebody just tried to off you, Ackles. Again. And this dude shows up a few minutes later all sunshine and happy cakes. It’s got bells ringing in my head”
Jared moves closer, fists twitching at his sides. His desire to pull Jensen in and kiss him stupid unlimbers from the center of his gut and spills into every nerve ending under the surface of his skin. He can still taste Jensen’s mouth, slick and luscious, in the elevator’s stolen kiss. Jared thinks he’s going to do it, the crowd around them be damned, when Jensen opens up those cock-sucking lips of his and spits venom at him.
“Maybe you ought to have that bells thing checked out. Sounds painful.”
Before Jared can growl an obscene reply, he’s interrupted.
“Somebody tried to what? Just now?” Morgan’s mouth falls open. “You don’t think it was me, do you? I would never harm a hair on Jensen’s head. Never. I’m a lover not a fighter. Jesus, baby. You’ve got to believe me. That’s just sick.”
Mike, casually bumping his leg against the partially open panel of the clock to close it, takes Jared by the arm and pulls him away. It requires a bit of an effort, especially when Jensen is busily soothing the distraught Morgan’s ruffled feathers with pats and kisses on the cheek.
“Calm down, Jeff. I know it isn’t you.”
Jared, when he plays man mountain, is hard to move. It’s comparable to a tug hauling the Queen Mary into port. Mike tries to suppress the sudden urge to snicker. He’s just called Jared a big queen, if only in his own head. Luckily, he hasn’t voiced the sentiment aloud. He’s seen various smart asses pulverized for a lot less in the past.
Getting himself under control, Mike speaks in a quiet whisper meant for his partner’s ears alone. He drags Jared a few feet away from the touching tableau of the two civilians making nice with each other. Mike can’t help throwing them a contemptuous sneer.
“Look, cool it,” he hisses at Jared. “If it’s him, we’ll nail his ass with the shotgun. If it’s not, you’re just making an even bigger tool of yourself. Your little boyfriend’s giving you the evil eyeball, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Jared glances over Mike’s shoulder and gets a ferocious scowl for his trouble. Jensen is furious, doing the whole flaring nostrils and pinched lip bit. Automatically, Jared defends himself against Mike’s gibe.
“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, numb nuts. Watch your mouth.” It gives Jared his sense of perspective back to insult his partner in a normal bout of repartee. He sighs in defeat. “And yeah. You’re right. I’m taking it way too personally. Thanks for... Shit. Just thanks, Rosey.”
Mike grins at him and punches Jared’s shoulder. “My pleasure, Padadork. Don’t want to see the Captain chowing down on your crown jewels for lunch. Gross.” Mike gives a dramatic shudder. “Now what do you say to us getting this show on the road.”
Turning his back firmly on the reunion scene, Jared helps Mike clear the place, in the end sweeping Morgan out with the last of the crowd. Two uniforms take up guard duty in the hall outside, and after a curt goodbye, Jared leaves Jensen there in the emptied apartment, looking abruptly uncertain as Jared shuts the door in his face.
Of course, once they get the shotgun to the station, it’s a case of wait and wait some more. Jared throws himself tiredly into a chair, pushing papers back and forth across his desk with increasingly impatient gestures. It’s not like his being there is going to make any difference in how fast Carlson spits out the report Jared wants.
Resting his aching head on folded arms, Jared drifts in a semi-comatose state between dozing off and being aware of the slow tick of time around him. A pat on the back is Rosey’s adieu for the night. Jared lifts a questioning eye at his watch. Two a.m. His body shifts. He wonders if Jensen is asleep, maybe naked under the silky sheets that cover his bed.
It’s a disturbing thought. Jared shifts himself to his feet, striding through the nearly empty squad room before he realizes he’s made the decision. Once outside, the fresh air pours wakefulness into him with every breath. Fifteen minutes to Jensen’s penthouse clears the last of the cobwebs from his brain, and he’s thick and hard in his jeans in anticipation, because he knows he’s not going to allow himself to be put off this time.
He takes the freight elevator up. It’s too slow, but Jared’s not stupid enough to go in past the cops he’s stationed at the front door. And not unaware of why he left the back unguarded. He slips the key from his coat pocket, the one he had made at the investigation’s start so he could spend time there, mooning at that goddamn portrait that got his ass into all this trouble in the first place. The metal is cold against his hot fingers, his skin burning everywhere as he breathes in shallow gasps and slips it in the lock.
The door opens silently on a moonlight-drenched kitchen. Jared toes off his shoes, leaves them there to pad soundlessly in his socks across the tiled floor. When he steps into the bedroom doorway, Jared isn’t surprised to find Jensen awake. He’s sitting at a desk positioned in the alcove of the bay windows that flank the french doors with the terrace beyond.
He turns when Jared enters, pen in hand, only wearing a pair of soft pajama bottoms, striped and pooling over the bulge of potent flesh between his thighs. His chest is bare. Jared takes him in, noting the mussed hair, the sharp gasp of excitement as Jensen sees the intent in Jared’s eyes.
“You knew I’d come back,” Jared accuses, stalking slowly forward, ready to stop any attempt on Jensen part to escape. It’s no question, and it ends on a growl. “You’ve been waiting for me.”
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Jensen’s smile is feral. In that one twist of lips, Jared recognizes Jensen is as hot for it as Jared is, and he’s not going to run.
“Took you longer than I thought, but you’re still no better than a tom cat sniffing for it. I saw the way you looked at Jeff. You were jealous of him.”
“More than that,” Jared murmurs, licking his lips. “I’m gonna shake you into little pieces. Make you scream my name. Forget he ever existed.”
“Bragging, Padalecki? I’m shocked.”
Jensen reads the deep hunger in Jared’s glittering eyes. He stumbles up from his chair, a matching passion blooming across the proud contours of his face. Wordlessly, he pushes the pajamas off his hips, watches them fall around his feet before lifting his gaze in a taunting mirror of Jared’s own challenge.
The air charges between them, full of heat and desire. Jared is on Jensen with a sleek, animal pounce, glad of his height and weight advantage as he manhandles Jensen’s strong body backwards until he hits the bed and falls gracefully onto the mattress with a low grunt.
“Tell me you want it. Want my cock up that slutty hole of yours.”
“I’m no slut,” Jensen grits out between clenched teeth. “Take it back.”
“Slut. Say it. My slut.”
They shift on the bed, the covers bunching as Jared sheds his clothes with quick, economical gestures, throwing them aside to put his hands back on Jensen’s burning skin.
“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” Jensen gloats, then chokes as Jared works a response from him.
He tries to wiggle away, but a massive finger finds the warm, pulsing ring of his pucker and probes the secret wetness there. His thighs go lax, spread wider, despite his desire to put up some sort of token resistence. He huffs and squirms. Jared touches him again, running the breaching finger in and out slowly, heating Jensen’s skin with the tight, obscene movements.
“What makes you think...,” Jensen’s pants out, then can’t go on, his head thrashing back and worth as his body responds, cock stiffening painfully at the insistent probing.
Each stroke is accompanied by a smothering kiss that’s full of tongue and sloppy lips, exploring him without permission-both mouth and rectum-until Jensen’s resistence slips away, and he can only dig his fingers into the spread of Jared’s bare shoulders and shudder with pleasure.
Strong legs lift and clamp on Jared’s waist. Ankles lock at the small of his back. At this point, he’s not sure which one of them is the prisoner and which the captor. Jared lifts his head, his teeth bared as the scorching muscle between Jensen’s cheeks wraps around his invading touch and bears down. Jensen works himself on the digits inside him like a pro. Each roll of his hips brings the swell of his prostate into contact with Jared’s moist fingertips. He shivers and whines, head pressed back in the pillows.
“My slut. Say it,” Jared demands, and this time Jensen answers him in a husky rumble, the words slurring from his pretty mouth and tumbling into the shell of Jared’s ear. .
“Your slut. Oh God. Just like that.”
Between their tense bellies, Jared can feel their juices mingling, his prick drenched by a steady leak of clear fluid. The smell of the ocean is thick in his lungs. A dirty, squelching sound accompanies their play fuck. Jared humps their cocks together, Jensen’s thighs clamping on his rib cage, bones creaking under the exerted pressure.
Jared finds that plush, swollen mouth again, doing with his tongue what he’s going to do with his dick very soon. Each stroke of his fingers into the warmth of Jensen’s asshole makes his hips flex hard against the rolling undulation of taut abdominal muscles. Jensen mumbles, trying to talk around the flesh that fills his mouth. The sounds are helpless and unbearably sexy, making Jared’s nipples ache.
From somewhere, Jensen is pushing a crinkle of foil and a tube of slick into Jared’s hand, the cool square making Jared’s cock jump in anticipation. He wants to roll it down the shaft throbbing so hotly on his belly, but it’s no good. He’s too close to coming just at the thought. Jared shifts to the side, pressing the protection into Jensen’s fingers.
“Do it for me,” he mumbles, feeling drunk with need, pushing his erection into Jensen’s hands.
“Hold still.”
Heat shoots from the tips of Jared’s hair to the curl of his toes as Jensen tears the packet open with his teeth and slips it into his mouth. Hands curve around the anchor of Jared’s hips, while lips glide down over the quivering length of his penis, rolling the condom on with smooth, easy practice.
Jared’s eyes flutter shut. A hand grips his root, fingers snagging in the bush of curls there, while he’s slicked up, Jensen holding Jared’s orgasm at bay with a tight grasp, even as it threatens to overtake him.
“You okay? Not gonna lose it?”
Jensen kisses Jared panting mouth. A few shaky breaths feather over his lips before he gets a nod. Satisfied, he tucks a strand of sweaty hair behind Jared’s ear, tracing the warm curl of thin flesh with his tongue.
“Fuck me now,” he whispers.
Jensen’s spine goes loose, the bones melting when Jared surges up and rolls him under, pins him to the mattress, the huge body a cage of muscle and bone, the long, slippery length of his cock pushing bluntly forward.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”
Penetrated, insides spread around the invading thickness of cock, Jensen keens and pushes up on the balls of his feet, knees wide open, to meet every thrust. Even as he feels the first splash of sperm deep inside, he’s already abandoning control to the coil of heat rushing in waves under his skin and filling his balls.
He spills in short, almost painful pulses, messily aware of coating the heaving contours of Jared’s chest and belly with his come, while Jared fills him up and holds him down, forcing a pleasure on him nearly too deep to bear.
Later, Jared lies with his head in the dip of Jensen’s spine, idly petting the plump curve of one rounded butt cheek.
“Stop it. You’re making me itch.”
“Good. I’ll be happy to scratch it for you just as soon as I can feel my dick again.
Jensen wiggles provocatively and a small grin tips up the corners of Jared’s lips. “Tell me again about the clock. You said Beaver gave it to you?”
Jared glances over his shoulder, a frown creasing the space between his eyes. “Yeah. Had ‘em shipped in from France. One for me and one for him...a sign of friendship or something, he said. Seemed to mean a lot to him. I tried to refuse. Not my style, and the damn thing’s worth a fortune. It’s an antique. I didn’t want to be beholden to him. But he got all pissy about it. Said it was a symbol of our...special relationship or words to that effect, and if I didn’t take it, he’d know I didn’t care about him. What the hell do you say to that?”
“That’s a damn good question.”
Jared leans over to where his discarded pants lay in a tangle on the floor by the foot of the bed. Patting the pockets, he finds his cigarettes and lighter. With surgeon-like precision, he taps one out and lights up, falling back to his comfortable flesh and blood pillow. Once the smoke has filled his lungs to capacity, he blows a stream at Jensen, who coughs and flings his hands about to clear the air.
“Please. You know how bad those are for you?”
“Health freak,” Jared chides, then takes another drag. “Back to what you were saying. Why would somebody of Beaver’s reputation give that much of a damn about the latest wonder kid to give him expensive presents and babble about their “special” friendship?”
Under his head, Jared feels Jensen’s back go tense. “I don’t think he meant it that way, Jay.”
“Didn’t he?” Hazel eyes narrow as the nicotine curtain swirls around Jared head in a wispy garland. He runs a thumb along the softly haired muscle of Jensen’s thigh thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll ask Beaver for an answer to that question.”