Fill - Cabin Fever 1/2rock_chick_333July 3 2012, 13:44:53 UTC
If he's honest, Jensen's been feeling odd all day. He'd tried to shrug it off; put it down to the stress he's been under lately -- not like there haven't been a whole raft of nasty little physical symptoms to underline the fact that his mind and body have really, seriously, had enough -- but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew what was coming. His head felt strange; not exactly spacey, he could concentrate well enough to feel safe driving. But just not normal. He popped a couple of headache pills at the gas station where he took a break, hoping that would do the trick, but as the afternoon wore on and he got closer to his destination, the headache was worse and his vision had started to go weird. By the time he arrived, Jeff coming out to greet him looked like a 2D cardboard cut-out, sharply outlined against the flat backdrop of his cabin.
He'd tried to pass it off to Jeff as exhaustion, and opted to snooze on the porch swing out back while Jeff fixed dinner, still trying to make himself believe that it was just a bad headache, and that those ibuprofen would start working any moment. Yeah, right.
He's woken from his doze by Jeff calling him in to dinner, and his last hope of getting over this, of slipping it past Jeff, disappears when the smell of bolognese sauce makes him turn bright green and reel back out to lean over the railing, gagging as he tries to keep his stomach contents where they are.
Fuck it all, he's been looking forward to this for weeks, he had... plans, and now he's gonna spoil it all by having a full-on migraine.
"Jensen, fuck... what's up, man?" Jeff sounds worried.
Jensen scrubs at his forehead with one hand, trying to push the pain away. He swallows against the nausea and manages to groan out something incoherent.
"Sorry, dude, I didn't get that. Say again?"
Christ, Jeff's voice is too goddamn loud. Jensen winces pathetically. "Migraine," he whispers.
Jeff hears him that time, and --thank fuck-- it looks like he has some experience of sufferers, because he stops talking beyond anything absolutely necessary, and Jensen finds himself gently but efficiently propelled into a bedroom, and left to strip down to his underwear and pull back the comforter while Jeff carefully and quietly closes the shutters.
"Pills?" Jeff asks.
Jensen is already rummaging around in his wallet for the emergency Tylenol-3, so by the time Jeff comes back with water, he's ready to swallow the pills he should've taken hours ago if he hadn't been on the road -- or so stubborn. When he lies down, the movement makes his head spin and pound, and he moans in pain.
"Anything else I can do?" Jensen can feel Jeff lean over him, a big, warm hand pressed into his shoulder. It feels good, as much as anything can feel good right now. Reassuring. For a second, he wants Jeff to lean down further, wants to feel his breath, his lips, but that's no longer on the table for tonight... if it ever was.
"No," he whispers. "Later."
Jeff squeezes his shoulder, then gets up and leaves, almost silently. Jensen burrows into the pillow and prepares to endure until the drugs kick in.
He must manage to doze a little as the pain slowly ebbs away, spaced out by the migraine and the painkillers equally, and he floats in the warm cocoon of Jeff's bed, unaware of time passing. (Definitely Jeff's bed, he can smell him in it. Not that he would usually be smushing his face into the pillow for Jeff's smell, of course. It's the drugs.) The next thing he's aware of is the sound of footsteps approaching. It's full dark outside, no thin lines of light around the edges of the shutters, and as Jeff quietly eases the door open, warm, gentle light floods in from the rest of the cabin. It doesn't hurt his eyes, so he can tell he's fully medicated; relief floods through him so strongly that it feels more like euphoria, and he has the strangest desire to giggle. Codeine, yeah. It's the shit.
"Jense," Jeff stage-whispers, "you awake?"
"Mmmm-hmmm."
Jeff creeps in and perches carefully on the edge of the bed.
"How you doin', man?"
"Better. The drugs are good."
Jeff huffs out a laugh. "I need to get the fold-out bed out of the closet in here, sorry. My couch isn't long enough to sleep on."
Re: Fill - Cabin Fever 2/2rock_chick_333July 3 2012, 13:47:57 UTC
"Izzat gonna be loud?" Jensen groans at Jeff's affirmative. "Screw that, dude. Can't take noise. Just get in here, will ya?"
Jeff snorts. "You know, if you need a cuddle, you could just say so."
Jensen worms one hand free of the cocoon and reaches over to pinch Jeff, then snuggles back down and dozes to the sound of Jeff pottering around quietly, getting ready for bed.
He carefully doesn't think about the other ways he's been wanting to get Jeff into bed with him. No good thinking about that now. Even though the dip of the bed as Jeff gets in makes him want, very badly, to roll over and curl up against him.
When Jensen is next aware --aware, not awake; he hasn't really been asleep, just floating on the codeine-- he realizes he really needs to pee. He hauls himself out of bed and aims himself at the bathroom, glad that he'd worked out its location from Jeff's earlier ablutions. His co-ordination is for shit, so there's a fair amount of banging around before he gets to his destination, and halfway through his racehorse-grade piss, it occurs to him that the door is wide open behind him, and if Jeff's awake... Uhh, whatever. His brain's not working well enough to remember why that would be a bad thing.
He staggers back to bed, a little woozy from all the movement, and crawls in face-first until he meets up with a big, warm, good-smelling heap of Jeff, and wraps himself around it. Jeff makes a surprised, groggy noise that might be Jensen's name, but doesn't protest being mauled, and Jensen lets himself fall into a real sleep.
It feels like the early hours when Jensen wakes up, and he's got to the stage where the codeine is buzzing through him, fizzing under his skin, prickling almost. His cock is fully hard and squashed against Jeff's hip, and his brain is floating somewhere around Jupiter. At some point, Jeff has turned towards him in his sleep, and is now holding on to him. Jensen can't lie still, lies twitching antsily in Jeff's arms until he stirs. He's vaguely aware, half-guilty, that he doesn't have the right to be squirming his hard cock against Jeff, no matter how good it feels, but there's a disconnect between his brain and his body, and he can't seem to make himself stop. Everything feels fuzzy and amazing, and when Jeff rolls up and over him, he makes a desperate, needy little noise. He hears Jeff's voice like it's coming from miles away, and the words don't make any sense; but the big hand on his ass is real and immediate, urging his hips to move faster and harder until the buzzing under his skin shakes him all the way apart, and the last thing he takes down with him is the feeling of his nails digging into the meat of Jeff's shoulders, with his own cry ringing too loud in his ears.
The next time Jensen wakes, the sun is creeping in around the shutters, and his brain seems to be mostly back from its interplanetary expedition. He feels safe and warm and ridiculously happy, the latter being apparently related to a thick hairy arm wrapped securely around his middle and a beard tickling the back of his neck. He luxuriates in the feeling until he realizes that the inside of his shorts is a flaky, itchy mess, glued to his dick. it all comes back to him, in flashes; rubbing off against Jeff in the middle of the night. He goes cold all over. Jesus Christ, what has he done? They're not together. And probably never will be, now. Jeff didn't consent. Oh, fuck, how could he have done that?
He jolts, horrified, and tries to climb out of the bed, which only makes the arms around him hold on tighter.
"That freak-out you're trying to have? Unnecessary."
"But..."
"No buts." Jeff hauls Jensen tighter into his body. "You had needs, and I was more than happy to help."
"I... But I didn't ask you, I just..."
"I didn't need asking, sweetheart, we were already on the same page. Why do you think I invited you up here for the weekend?" Jeff nibbles the back of his neck. "Now settle the fuck down. 'M on holiday. Get ta lie-in."
Jensen relaxes back into Jeff's arms, bemused, and ponders sending a fruit-basket to whoever invented Tylenol.
Re: Fill - Cabin Fever 2/2rock_chick_333July 3 2012, 14:40:26 UTC
You're very welcome! This is my first attempt at hurt/comfort - but I kept it within my comfort zone by shoe-horning a little touch of porn in there...!
He'd tried to pass it off to Jeff as exhaustion, and opted to snooze on the porch swing out back while Jeff fixed dinner, still trying to make himself believe that it was just a bad headache, and that those ibuprofen would start working any moment. Yeah, right.
He's woken from his doze by Jeff calling him in to dinner, and his last hope of getting over this, of slipping it past Jeff, disappears when the smell of bolognese sauce makes him turn bright green and reel back out to lean over the railing, gagging as he tries to keep his stomach contents where they are.
Fuck it all, he's been looking forward to this for weeks, he had... plans, and now he's gonna spoil it all by having a full-on migraine.
"Jensen, fuck... what's up, man?" Jeff sounds worried.
Jensen scrubs at his forehead with one hand, trying to push the pain away. He swallows against the nausea and manages to groan out something incoherent.
"Sorry, dude, I didn't get that. Say again?"
Christ, Jeff's voice is too goddamn loud. Jensen winces pathetically. "Migraine," he whispers.
Jeff hears him that time, and --thank fuck-- it looks like he has some experience of sufferers, because he stops talking beyond anything absolutely necessary, and Jensen finds himself gently but efficiently propelled into a bedroom, and left to strip down to his underwear and pull back the comforter while Jeff carefully and quietly closes the shutters.
"Pills?" Jeff asks.
Jensen is already rummaging around in his wallet for the emergency Tylenol-3, so by the time Jeff comes back with water, he's ready to swallow the pills he should've taken hours ago if he hadn't been on the road -- or so stubborn. When he lies down, the movement makes his head spin and pound, and he moans in pain.
"Anything else I can do?" Jensen can feel Jeff lean over him, a big, warm hand pressed into his shoulder. It feels good, as much as anything can feel good right now. Reassuring. For a second, he wants Jeff to lean down further, wants to feel his breath, his lips, but that's no longer on the table for tonight... if it ever was.
"No," he whispers. "Later."
Jeff squeezes his shoulder, then gets up and leaves, almost silently. Jensen burrows into the pillow and prepares to endure until the drugs kick in.
He must manage to doze a little as the pain slowly ebbs away, spaced out by the migraine and the painkillers equally, and he floats in the warm cocoon of Jeff's bed, unaware of time passing. (Definitely Jeff's bed, he can smell him in it. Not that he would usually be smushing his face into the pillow for Jeff's smell, of course. It's the drugs.) The next thing he's aware of is the sound of footsteps approaching. It's full dark outside, no thin lines of light around the edges of the shutters, and as Jeff quietly eases the door open, warm, gentle light floods in from the rest of the cabin. It doesn't hurt his eyes, so he can tell he's fully medicated; relief floods through him so strongly that it feels more like euphoria, and he has the strangest desire to giggle. Codeine, yeah. It's the shit.
"Jense," Jeff stage-whispers, "you awake?"
"Mmmm-hmmm."
Jeff creeps in and perches carefully on the edge of the bed.
"How you doin', man?"
"Better. The drugs are good."
Jeff huffs out a laugh. "I need to get the fold-out bed out of the closet in here, sorry. My couch isn't long enough to sleep on."
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Jeff snorts. "You know, if you need a cuddle, you could just say so."
Jensen worms one hand free of the cocoon and reaches over to pinch Jeff, then snuggles back down and dozes to the sound of Jeff pottering around quietly, getting ready for bed.
He carefully doesn't think about the other ways he's been wanting to get Jeff into bed with him. No good thinking about that now. Even though the dip of the bed as Jeff gets in makes him want, very badly, to roll over and curl up against him.
When Jensen is next aware --aware, not awake; he hasn't really been asleep, just floating on the codeine-- he realizes he really needs to pee. He hauls himself out of bed and aims himself at the bathroom, glad that he'd worked out its location from Jeff's earlier ablutions. His co-ordination is for shit, so there's a fair amount of banging around before he gets to his destination, and halfway through his racehorse-grade piss, it occurs to him that the door is wide open behind him, and if Jeff's awake... Uhh, whatever. His brain's not working well enough to remember why that would be a bad thing.
He staggers back to bed, a little woozy from all the movement, and crawls in face-first until he meets up with a big, warm, good-smelling heap of Jeff, and wraps himself around it. Jeff makes a surprised, groggy noise that might be Jensen's name, but doesn't protest being mauled, and Jensen lets himself fall into a real sleep.
It feels like the early hours when Jensen wakes up, and he's got to the stage where the codeine is buzzing through him, fizzing under his skin, prickling almost. His cock is fully hard and squashed against Jeff's hip, and his brain is floating somewhere around Jupiter. At some point, Jeff has turned towards him in his sleep, and is now holding on to him. Jensen can't lie still, lies twitching antsily in Jeff's arms until he stirs. He's vaguely aware, half-guilty, that he doesn't have the right to be squirming his hard cock against Jeff, no matter how good it feels, but there's a disconnect between his brain and his body, and he can't seem to make himself stop. Everything feels fuzzy and amazing, and when Jeff rolls up and over him, he makes a desperate, needy little noise. He hears Jeff's voice like it's coming from miles away, and the words don't make any sense; but the big hand on his ass is real and immediate, urging his hips to move faster and harder until the buzzing under his skin shakes him all the way apart, and the last thing he takes down with him is the feeling of his nails digging into the meat of Jeff's shoulders, with his own cry ringing too loud in his ears.
The next time Jensen wakes, the sun is creeping in around the shutters, and his brain seems to be mostly back from its interplanetary expedition. He feels safe and warm and ridiculously happy, the latter being apparently related to a thick hairy arm wrapped securely around his middle and a beard tickling the back of his neck. He luxuriates in the feeling until he realizes that the inside of his shorts is a flaky, itchy mess, glued to his dick. it all comes back to him, in flashes; rubbing off against Jeff in the middle of the night. He goes cold all over. Jesus Christ, what has he done? They're not together. And probably never will be, now. Jeff didn't consent. Oh, fuck, how could he have done that?
He jolts, horrified, and tries to climb out of the bed, which only makes the arms around him hold on tighter.
"That freak-out you're trying to have? Unnecessary."
"But..."
"No buts." Jeff hauls Jensen tighter into his body. "You had needs, and I was more than happy to help."
"I... But I didn't ask you, I just..."
"I didn't need asking, sweetheart, we were already on the same page. Why do you think I invited you up here for the weekend?" Jeff nibbles the back of his neck. "Now settle the fuck down. 'M on holiday. Get ta lie-in."
Jensen relaxes back into Jeff's arms, bemused, and ponders sending a fruit-basket to whoever invented Tylenol.
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Codeine, man. *smirks*
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