Ficlet for Wendy: A Mile Wide
Title: A Mile Wide
Rating/Pairing: NC-17, Jensen/Jared
Notes: Part of an unfinished bandom!J2 AU, where both Jensen and Jared are in bands on tour with each other. Both of them are bottoms. This can be read as a standalone, or else I wouldn't have posted it. There's a few mentions of drug use, but nothing too heavy or long.
Prompt: For Wendy with the prompt of 'J2, and Handcuffs', and for Kink_bingo with the prompt of 'Silence'.
Summary: Jensen's penchant for the dramatic comes in handy, every now and then. It's a good thing he likes being manhandled.
This isn't the smartest idea that Jensen's ever had, but it kinda feels like it.
Jensen's got eyes; he knows that Jared's got an ownership streak a mile wide, and intends to do something about it, goddamnit. He sees it everyday, every time that Jensen goes on stage, every time that Jensen leaves Jared behind. It's a sparkle, a grin, a silent strong word of make no mistake, you are mine. Jensen knows it exists, knows that while Jared's as much of a bottom as he is, and that Jay's not just claiming that ass, but the whole pornographic package. And while it takes a while to get everything together, Jensen knows how it will look, knows what it will do to Jared. So he'll watch and wait and lead Jared down a garden path that looks like a wild goose chase, only to end in a spectacular show of gratitude.
It's why he's sitting here, in nothing but a pair of jeans, eyeliner, lip gloss, a little bit of leather and a whole lot of metal. It's the reason why he's been staving off an orgasm that's been almost two weeks in the making, throwing mixed signals every time he's had the fortune to run into Jared privately. Chad hates him even more than usual, and has been vocal about him 'pussying out' over Jared. Just performing nowadays gives Jensen a raging boner, dirty illicit thoughts about a certain bassist from a competing band that 'hates' Jensen's kind of music.
Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he and Mike smoked up before they started, he'd be one uncomfortable motherfucker right now. He's sure he looks thoroughly put into his place, the stuck-up frontman all captured and stuck, arms cinched brutally behind his back, wrists, thumbs locked together with a rather eclectic collection of handcuffs, a metal collar closed around his throat, leather straps urging his shoulders back.
"The things I do for your kinky ass, Ackles," Mike had said, rolling his eyes as he locked Jensen in. He'd been rough, all the hardware jangling as he does it as quick as possible, pressing Jensen down into the bed, fitting the belt around his shoulders and further constricting Jensen from there. Mike tossed him over onto his front, fits the collar around his neck before closing it and putting the pin in, letting the little ring dangle from the side.
"So, how do I look?"
"How do you think you look?"
Mike had helped him up, frogmarched him over to the corner of the room, tucked him away just behind the table and chairs, and pitched him down onto his knees, leaning him against the wall. He'd splayed Jensen's jeans open, and Jensen watched with just an inkling of embarrassment as the head of his cock started to blush with blood, the metal ring just under the head already taunting him. Mike takes him in hand, pulls him all the way out and leaves him there. The second ring at the base makes this an even more awkward situation. He doesn't even know how Mike would react if he knew everything else about this scene, all the lurid details as to what's going on in Jensen's jeans.
"The junket ended about fifteen minutes ago. I'd better beat it." Mike chokes. "You gonna be comfortable, there?"
"As comfortable as I can be with seven pairs of cuffs on my arms," Jensen responds.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. You're gonna owe me for this one," Mike says. "The keys will be on the outside of the door, okay?"
"Sadist," Jensen hisses.
Mike loops a finger in one of Jensen's nipple rings, pulls until Jensen's eyes float closed, his cock standing up at attention, growling, "You know love it. Or at least you used to, if my memory serves me right."
"Missing the good ol' days, Mike?" Jensen chirps.
"I'll leave you to ponder that one."
It's been a while since then, Jensen sighs. He lets himself sag, a little bit, head down and hair falling over his eyes. The piercings on his back feel warm against the skin of his arms; the ribbon connecting them together almost gets in the way of his elbows bending perfectly into the curve of his spine, the ends of the bow tied at the bottom tickling his fingertips as the thumb cuffs fit on tight. He doesn't think about anything, just waits for Jared to come back from the bullshit the label set up for everybody to berate them with questions on their new album, how it feels to finally cross into the emo-mainstream and how it feels to be on a major tour. Jensen figures it's better to be thinking about that, remembering how it was back when Echelon hit it big, instead of wondering whether Jared's room has already been cleaned or if housekeeping's gonna find him there or counting all the ways this could go horribly wrong.
Jensen doesn't sink into subspace. He doesn't sink anywhere, just sits and waits, refrains from fantasizing as he breathes slow, measured breaths and doesn't think about the pain in his calves, his crotch, or running up and down his arms.
The door unlocks, and Jensen's resolve collapses as he watches through his eyelashes as Jared walks in, putting his stuff down, taking his coat off, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door. He's furniture, now, something stuck by the tables, the chairs, Jared's suitcase and the bureau. He's there for Jared's pleasure, not for his own, and if it takes hours for Jared to notice him, then it will just take hours.
"What the?"
Or maybe not. Jensen closes his eyes, feeling the weight of Jared's glance on him. His cock gives a sympathetic twitch, and the tension in the room swells, even though Jared's pretty far away.
"Jen?" Jared asks.
Jensen fumbles for words, decides to keep his mouth shut.
"Why are you in the corner?" Jared asks. Jensen wonders if he's caught on yet, and decides not to answer. He tries to separate his arms, take some of the strain off but can't, can't budge without making noise. Jared stops in his tracks, pressing his lips together, taking in the sight. There, tucked away behind the chair in a hotel room just outside St. Louis, Jensen's just become property. He's higher than he thought he was, a wave of steady euphoria passing over him, complacency in the warmth of Jared's approving gaze.
Jared moves the chair aside, crouches down in front of Jensen to get a better look. Jensen makes sure to keep his eyes down, but the rest of his body can't slouch due to everything else from the collar to the corset piercing to the belt that's pushing his shoulders back. Jared presses his fingers to the metal of the collar, still in a state of disbelief.
"You know how hot you look right now?" Jared asks, and Jensen exhales in relief. "I wish you could see yourself like this. You'd never forget it, would you?"
Jensen stays still, bites his tongue. Jared stands up after that, linking his finger in the hook of Jensen's collar, raising him up by the neck. Jensen's head falls back, chest arching in a show of unquestioned submission, and before he knows it, Jared's pressing against him, making out with him, playing with him and this perfect display. Hand in Jensen's hair, Jared's all power, intensity.
Jared slides his lips down the side of Jensen's face, down his chin, down to his neck. Jensen shifts again, and the rattle of chains becomes a curious distraction for him; Jared slides off to the side, pushing Jensen down to the floor, and Jensen can feel Jared's hands pause when they see what's behind Jensen's back.
A cold silence settles over the room, and Jensen almost feels worried, like Jared's going to take the keys and run, or never look at him again after this. The black ribbon tying his piercings together has to look lewd on his skin, but he knows how much it turns Jared on. Jared's touch floats over the irons at his biceps, the Prison cuffs that cinch his elbows. The thick weighted cuffs at his forearms and the Smith& Wessons at his wrists burn where they touch his skin, as he floods with embarrassment. The touch descends from there, into the small of his back, down into the back of his pants, teasing the rim of Jensen's hole, drenched in lube and already stretched.
"Well, you've been a busy bee lately, haven't you? Fuckin' slut," Jared remarks, a cautious finger slipping just inside. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jensen thinks to himself, letting out a shaky breath. Jared pulls him back up by the belt around his shoulders, sparks of pain skittering down his back and to his cock. "How long do you think you can keep this little game up, huh? After all, the position your arms are in will become uncomfortable, that erection unbearable. What if I kept you like this, huh? How wild would you go? How quiet would you be? Have you seen yourself, like this, huh? Do you think you can understand how much of a turn on all this is?"
Jensen licks his lips, averts his eyes. Jared turns his head, lets his hand wander down Jensen's chest to grasp at Jensen's cock. Jensen lets out a shaky, nervous silence.
"How long you been ready to go?" he asks. "That pretty little cock is begging, just begging for it, isn't it?"
Jensen looks down at his cock, all bundled up as Jared pumps at it, stripping layer after layer of Jensen's resolve away. Jensen sighs in disbelief, toes curling and body rocking into Jared's hand, mouth opening to Jared's kiss, letting his tongue slide in. All Jensen wants is to breathe his pleas into Jared's mouth, fold under Jared's touch after detoxifying from it, but there's silence all around them, and tension between them too.
Jared presses his hand back to Jensen's entrance again, casually, still teasing. "I wonder if you could take my fist in this position. Wanna see you writhing on my hand, Jen. Wanna see you come even with that metal around your dick, after putting me through all that stress."
It's all talk, Jensen knows. They've been there and back, know how far to take each other after the last time, and Jensen trusts that Jared wouldn't take him there again without making it clear that this was a two way street. Jared pushes three fingers in, a smile on his face as Jensen keens while he pushes them directly to Jensen's prostate.
"Could do this to you all day, couldn't I?" Jared says. "Could keep you coming, keep you on edge, right? I'll tell you what. I'm gonna bring you off, and then you're gonna suck my cock and if you're really, really obedient? I'll let you out of all this metal and mercifully let you go. I'll watch you as you bring yourself off, how about that?"
There's little skitters of pleasure all over, Jensen can't handle it, and given how Jared feels about physically topping, that's not gonna happen any time soon. So yeah, this is the most frustrating high ever, but damn, Jensen couldn't bear not having it just like this.
Best. Idea. Ever.
Rating/Pairing: NC-17, Jensen/Jared
Notes: Part of an unfinished bandom!J2 AU, where both Jensen and Jared are in bands on tour with each other. Both of them are bottoms. This can be read as a standalone, or else I wouldn't have posted it. There's a few mentions of drug use, but nothing too heavy or long.
Prompt: For Wendy with the prompt of 'J2, and Handcuffs', and for Kink_bingo with the prompt of 'Silence'.
Summary: Jensen's penchant for the dramatic comes in handy, every now and then. It's a good thing he likes being manhandled.
This isn't the smartest idea that Jensen's ever had, but it kinda feels like it.
Jensen's got eyes; he knows that Jared's got an ownership streak a mile wide, and intends to do something about it, goddamnit. He sees it everyday, every time that Jensen goes on stage, every time that Jensen leaves Jared behind. It's a sparkle, a grin, a silent strong word of make no mistake, you are mine. Jensen knows it exists, knows that while Jared's as much of a bottom as he is, and that Jay's not just claiming that ass, but the whole pornographic package. And while it takes a while to get everything together, Jensen knows how it will look, knows what it will do to Jared. So he'll watch and wait and lead Jared down a garden path that looks like a wild goose chase, only to end in a spectacular show of gratitude.
It's why he's sitting here, in nothing but a pair of jeans, eyeliner, lip gloss, a little bit of leather and a whole lot of metal. It's the reason why he's been staving off an orgasm that's been almost two weeks in the making, throwing mixed signals every time he's had the fortune to run into Jared privately. Chad hates him even more than usual, and has been vocal about him 'pussying out' over Jared. Just performing nowadays gives Jensen a raging boner, dirty illicit thoughts about a certain bassist from a competing band that 'hates' Jensen's kind of music.
Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he and Mike smoked up before they started, he'd be one uncomfortable motherfucker right now. He's sure he looks thoroughly put into his place, the stuck-up frontman all captured and stuck, arms cinched brutally behind his back, wrists, thumbs locked together with a rather eclectic collection of handcuffs, a metal collar closed around his throat, leather straps urging his shoulders back.
"The things I do for your kinky ass, Ackles," Mike had said, rolling his eyes as he locked Jensen in. He'd been rough, all the hardware jangling as he does it as quick as possible, pressing Jensen down into the bed, fitting the belt around his shoulders and further constricting Jensen from there. Mike tossed him over onto his front, fits the collar around his neck before closing it and putting the pin in, letting the little ring dangle from the side.
"So, how do I look?"
"How do you think you look?"
Mike had helped him up, frogmarched him over to the corner of the room, tucked him away just behind the table and chairs, and pitched him down onto his knees, leaning him against the wall. He'd splayed Jensen's jeans open, and Jensen watched with just an inkling of embarrassment as the head of his cock started to blush with blood, the metal ring just under the head already taunting him. Mike takes him in hand, pulls him all the way out and leaves him there. The second ring at the base makes this an even more awkward situation. He doesn't even know how Mike would react if he knew everything else about this scene, all the lurid details as to what's going on in Jensen's jeans.
"The junket ended about fifteen minutes ago. I'd better beat it." Mike chokes. "You gonna be comfortable, there?"
"As comfortable as I can be with seven pairs of cuffs on my arms," Jensen responds.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. You're gonna owe me for this one," Mike says. "The keys will be on the outside of the door, okay?"
"Sadist," Jensen hisses.
Mike loops a finger in one of Jensen's nipple rings, pulls until Jensen's eyes float closed, his cock standing up at attention, growling, "You know love it. Or at least you used to, if my memory serves me right."
"Missing the good ol' days, Mike?" Jensen chirps.
"I'll leave you to ponder that one."
It's been a while since then, Jensen sighs. He lets himself sag, a little bit, head down and hair falling over his eyes. The piercings on his back feel warm against the skin of his arms; the ribbon connecting them together almost gets in the way of his elbows bending perfectly into the curve of his spine, the ends of the bow tied at the bottom tickling his fingertips as the thumb cuffs fit on tight. He doesn't think about anything, just waits for Jared to come back from the bullshit the label set up for everybody to berate them with questions on their new album, how it feels to finally cross into the emo-mainstream and how it feels to be on a major tour. Jensen figures it's better to be thinking about that, remembering how it was back when Echelon hit it big, instead of wondering whether Jared's room has already been cleaned or if housekeeping's gonna find him there or counting all the ways this could go horribly wrong.
Jensen doesn't sink into subspace. He doesn't sink anywhere, just sits and waits, refrains from fantasizing as he breathes slow, measured breaths and doesn't think about the pain in his calves, his crotch, or running up and down his arms.
The door unlocks, and Jensen's resolve collapses as he watches through his eyelashes as Jared walks in, putting his stuff down, taking his coat off, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door. He's furniture, now, something stuck by the tables, the chairs, Jared's suitcase and the bureau. He's there for Jared's pleasure, not for his own, and if it takes hours for Jared to notice him, then it will just take hours.
"What the?"
Or maybe not. Jensen closes his eyes, feeling the weight of Jared's glance on him. His cock gives a sympathetic twitch, and the tension in the room swells, even though Jared's pretty far away.
"Jen?" Jared asks.
Jensen fumbles for words, decides to keep his mouth shut.
"Why are you in the corner?" Jared asks. Jensen wonders if he's caught on yet, and decides not to answer. He tries to separate his arms, take some of the strain off but can't, can't budge without making noise. Jared stops in his tracks, pressing his lips together, taking in the sight. There, tucked away behind the chair in a hotel room just outside St. Louis, Jensen's just become property. He's higher than he thought he was, a wave of steady euphoria passing over him, complacency in the warmth of Jared's approving gaze.
Jared moves the chair aside, crouches down in front of Jensen to get a better look. Jensen makes sure to keep his eyes down, but the rest of his body can't slouch due to everything else from the collar to the corset piercing to the belt that's pushing his shoulders back. Jared presses his fingers to the metal of the collar, still in a state of disbelief.
"You know how hot you look right now?" Jared asks, and Jensen exhales in relief. "I wish you could see yourself like this. You'd never forget it, would you?"
Jensen stays still, bites his tongue. Jared stands up after that, linking his finger in the hook of Jensen's collar, raising him up by the neck. Jensen's head falls back, chest arching in a show of unquestioned submission, and before he knows it, Jared's pressing against him, making out with him, playing with him and this perfect display. Hand in Jensen's hair, Jared's all power, intensity.
Jared slides his lips down the side of Jensen's face, down his chin, down to his neck. Jensen shifts again, and the rattle of chains becomes a curious distraction for him; Jared slides off to the side, pushing Jensen down to the floor, and Jensen can feel Jared's hands pause when they see what's behind Jensen's back.
A cold silence settles over the room, and Jensen almost feels worried, like Jared's going to take the keys and run, or never look at him again after this. The black ribbon tying his piercings together has to look lewd on his skin, but he knows how much it turns Jared on. Jared's touch floats over the irons at his biceps, the Prison cuffs that cinch his elbows. The thick weighted cuffs at his forearms and the Smith& Wessons at his wrists burn where they touch his skin, as he floods with embarrassment. The touch descends from there, into the small of his back, down into the back of his pants, teasing the rim of Jensen's hole, drenched in lube and already stretched.
"Well, you've been a busy bee lately, haven't you? Fuckin' slut," Jared remarks, a cautious finger slipping just inside. In for a penny, in for a pound, Jensen thinks to himself, letting out a shaky breath. Jared pulls him back up by the belt around his shoulders, sparks of pain skittering down his back and to his cock. "How long do you think you can keep this little game up, huh? After all, the position your arms are in will become uncomfortable, that erection unbearable. What if I kept you like this, huh? How wild would you go? How quiet would you be? Have you seen yourself, like this, huh? Do you think you can understand how much of a turn on all this is?"
Jensen licks his lips, averts his eyes. Jared turns his head, lets his hand wander down Jensen's chest to grasp at Jensen's cock. Jensen lets out a shaky, nervous silence.
"How long you been ready to go?" he asks. "That pretty little cock is begging, just begging for it, isn't it?"
Jensen looks down at his cock, all bundled up as Jared pumps at it, stripping layer after layer of Jensen's resolve away. Jensen sighs in disbelief, toes curling and body rocking into Jared's hand, mouth opening to Jared's kiss, letting his tongue slide in. All Jensen wants is to breathe his pleas into Jared's mouth, fold under Jared's touch after detoxifying from it, but there's silence all around them, and tension between them too.
Jared presses his hand back to Jensen's entrance again, casually, still teasing. "I wonder if you could take my fist in this position. Wanna see you writhing on my hand, Jen. Wanna see you come even with that metal around your dick, after putting me through all that stress."
It's all talk, Jensen knows. They've been there and back, know how far to take each other after the last time, and Jensen trusts that Jared wouldn't take him there again without making it clear that this was a two way street. Jared pushes three fingers in, a smile on his face as Jensen keens while he pushes them directly to Jensen's prostate.
"Could do this to you all day, couldn't I?" Jared says. "Could keep you coming, keep you on edge, right? I'll tell you what. I'm gonna bring you off, and then you're gonna suck my cock and if you're really, really obedient? I'll let you out of all this metal and mercifully let you go. I'll watch you as you bring yourself off, how about that?"
There's little skitters of pleasure all over, Jensen can't handle it, and given how Jared feels about physically topping, that's not gonna happen any time soon. So yeah, this is the most frustrating high ever, but damn, Jensen couldn't bear not having it just like this.
Best. Idea. Ever.