05/ 18/ 14 Believe 06
In the outside world, the people he fucked never invited him to stay more than a few nights but now he was trapped and even if he wasn't all that hap hap happy about it, he was determined to make the best of the situation. He grinned over at Jared and as he started to undress, slipping into Jared's single bed. Jensen’s wiggled his ass against Jared’s pajama covered cock, feeling the hardness grow. Jared squirmed out of his pants, shoving them down to his thighs, releasing his engorged cock from its confines.
It was quick but powerful with both reaching climax one right after the other.
Jensen was spent and it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep, content with Jared’s muscular arm wrapped around him.
Jared too was lost to the world. He lay content, absentmindedly brushing the sleeping man’s hair beneath his fingers. Placing a gentle kiss upon the short, dark hair. “Mmm. My sweet boy.” Jared murmured into the darkness.
Hearing those words, Jensen shot up, knocking Jared’s hand away. That tinge of anger curbed only moments before returned to his voice with a vengeance.
“What did you call me?” He spat.
Jared was now confronted with red faced rage. He began to shake.
“Why’d you say that?”
“What? What?”
“You called me…” He could barely get the words out. “…why? why did you say that?”
He stammered. “I don’t… I didn’t… I just… said it. I just know…things.”
Jensen was in his face now. “What else do you just know about me?”
The anger was too overwhelming for him to take. Jared sprung up from the bed and began to pace, wringing his hands and muttering. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Didn’t know. Didn’t…”
Jensen was up on him again, his green eyes dark with anger, his big hands gripping Jared’s shoulders tight enough to bruise.
“What else? What else do you know, you crazy fuck!”
Jared twisted out of the bruising grasp. His hands went to his head, rubbed his head for a moment before protectively wrapping his arms around him torso.
“Everything. I know everything about everyone! It’s such a mess up here. It’s hard to keep everything straight. You were eight when you stole a can of spaghetti o’s from the convenience store down the street from where you were living. They were nice enough people but they left you alone a lot. When you were 15 you and some of the other kids at the group home crashed a car that belonged to one of the counselors at the home. You did a stint in some juvenile offenders home for that one. I… I… know about Tom. He was handsome and shy and he loved you as much as you loved him but when... ”
“Shut up…shut up… shut up.” Jensen backed away covering his ears, in an instant his anger had melted into fear.
Tom…
There had been many men in and out of Jensen’s bed throughout the years but the loss of Tom was by far the hardest on him. He seldom allowed his mind to wander to the place that he kept Tom locked away in. Tom was his. His secret to carry and for someone else to know was unthinkable.
He was 16 when he went to live with the Welling’s in their perfect two story gingerbread home, in the kind of neighborhood that Jensen had only seen on television.
Mr. and Mrs. Welling, Marcus and Caroline, were the great white buffalo of foster families . Kind, warm and generous. The kind of family that any kid would be happy to have. The Welling’s had started taking in foster kids in after they learned they could have no more children of their own. They had a charmed life with plenty of love and resources to share. They had one son, Tom, who was away at college.
It was surprising to Jensen that such a family would willingly choose to take someone like him into their home even after they learned that he was considered a problem child. But that was just the kind of people the Welling’s were. They believed that every kid deserved a chance and wanted to give him one.
And things were going good for a few months until Tom came home one weekend and met Jensen. Tom was a shy, quiet kid with green eyes and wavy brown hair who had grown into a bookish and serious young man. But Jensen seemed to bring Tom out of his shell. While he was home the two young men as inseparable as conjoined twins.
The Welling’s were pleased with the noticeable change in their son’s demeanor. But it was so much more than what anybody knew. Somewhere along the way, the boys had fallen in love. Tom had known all his life he that liked boys but he also knew that boys kissing boys wasn’t talked about. In his story books growing up it was never two princes that lived happily ever after.
He envied that Jensen was so open, so free to explore the things that had always felt so forbidden to him. Jensen was no stranger to sex, hadn’t been since Lindsey McKeon in the 8th grade. She had a thing for troublemakers and her mother worked late all the time.
Late at night when the house grew still and everyone was safely tucked into their beds, Tom would slip into Jensen’s room and it was there that they would steal a few intimate moments. Jensen thought he had found heaven. Living at the Welling’s was everything he could ever want, a good home with nice people and finally, a boyfriend. He never imagined a better life or that the other boot was about to fall.
When Tom went back to school at the end of the summer, Jensen sulked quite a bit for a while, moping around the house and his grades got increasingly worse. Tom’s weekend visits home became more frequent and by Thanksgiving Mr. Welling had grown suspicious of the two boys and the time they spent together.
One afternoon during Tom's Christmas vacation, Mr. Welling had come home early from work and went to see if the boys wanted to go out for lunch. Without knocking, he opened the door to his son’s bedroom.
And just like that Mr. Welling had caught them in the act. Jensen on his knees with Tom’s cock in his mouth.
Jensen pulled away, waiting for the yelling to begin or the familiar sting of a hand across his face but that would have been too easy. Mr. Welling didn’t say a word. There was only silence. This dreaded silence, so heavy in the air filled with anger and disappointment; you could cut through with a knife. He just turned around and walked out of the room.
“Dad!” Tom jumped up, knocking Jensen to the floor. He chased after his father, stammering and stuttering the whole time.
Jensen pushed himself back up on to the plush padding of the carpet until his ass was safely planted on it and he held his head in his hands and cried. Over the years there were certain things he had learned to be true in any home and sleeping with ones foster brother was definitely frowned upon in all of them. Most parents didn’t want to know if their son was a faggot, let alone catch him in the act. He was packed up immediately and sent on his way. Caroline had helped him pack up his things even though he didn’t have much to take with him. Jensen could tell from her eyes she was sorry. He never again saw Tom to even say good bye.
“I know how that story ends. What are you? Some kind of charlatan?”
Jared had calmed and stepped closer. He wanted to reach out and touch the man in front of him, take him into his arms and hold him. But he didn’t dare.
“I told you. I’m Santa Claus, Jensen.”
“Bullshit! There is no such thing as Santa Claus, you demented fuck.” His words stung, like salt on a wound.
“Why won’t you believe in me, Jensen?”
“What good did believing in anything ever do for me, huh, tell me that?”
Jared closed his eyes. He finally knew what this was all about. A child’s wish, A wish so simple and so full of desperation. A wish, that all the toy trucks and and GI Joe's in the world could never fill. He heard it so many of times over the years. Not being able to give that one gift broke his heart.
“Asking for parents is a pretty tall order, even for me.”
Jensen's brow furrowed and his eyes slowly filled with tears,“How…?”
“I know what all the children want, Jensen.”
“Yeah well, if you’re really Santa Claus then where the hell were you? Where were you, huh? All those times… all those fucked up families… Every time I got… Why was I always the one that got disappointed? Why was I the one that got forgotten about? Fuck it. Whatever. What does It matter anyway?”
“I wanted to give you your wish but some people just don’t deserve…”
Jensen cut him off. “So, it was me then. I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t deserve to have a real family. That’s what you’re telling me?”
Jared’s heart felt as if it were being torn out of his chest. With his eyes filling with tears, Jensen looked so much like a child. It had never occurred to him that Jensen had been blaming himself all along. It was crazy to think that this life was better for him but it truly was. Jensen’s real parents were perpetually on the naughty list. The only good thing they ever did was have Jensen and the best thing that could’ve happened to Jensen was being taken away from them. He would have been just as fucked up if they raised him, maybe more. It was better no one ever had to find out.
“No, No Jensen. It was never you. It was them. You were a gift that they didn’t deserve. None of those families were ever good enough for you."
“What about me? What did I deserve? ” His green eyes were dark and they bore into Jared, hard. “Did I deserve getting my ass kicked more times than I can count? Or why don’t you tell me what did an eleven year old kid do to deserve this?”
Jensen pulled up his shirt, exposing his back. Jared had noticed them before - three scars, about the size and shape of a quarter. Burns deliberately put there. “I’ll tell you what that kid did. That careless kid spilled juice on some fucked up cigar smoker's precious rug. So, why don’t you tell me again how I didn’t deserve parents but I deserved that?”
Temporarily speechless, Jared stared at the scars until Jensen pulled his shirt down
. “I know it’s hard to believe but sometimes the place we end up is better than any of the places we could be. Your path was always to end up here, with me, tonight.” Jared smiled slightly hoping the smile could be a small comfort.
“You’re not fucking Santa. You ain’t shit…” Jensen stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him.
Jared stood alone with his heart breaking. “I wish you’d believe me.”