J2 birthday fic for pez_gurl!
Title: sorry I’m breaking you open [it’s just what you want me to do]
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: 15+
AN: a little something for pez_gurl on the occasion of her birthday. The prompt was: Jsquared, post hiatus schmoop. So, be warned, there is schmoop! Hope you like the story, pez_gurl and I hope your birthday was a great one ♥
Normally. They tell each other everything.
Dude, my mouth tastes like dog’s ass. I swear to god, as big as a cow prod. You can’t sing, stop it. No, seriously. Stop it. That shirt is ugly go change. You smell like feet, go shower.
I’ve never had better, you’re the best.
Except. Jensen draws the line at pathetic. He will not admit to being pathetic.
“Tell me, Jensen,” Jared drawls, his tongue and teeth and stubble grazing Jensen’s neck, cheek, ear; tasting him, as if he’s dinner. Scratch that. It’s 2am. He’s breakfast.
“Fuck off, m’sleeping,” Jensen protests, but he has his hands around Jared and he doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. It’s been too long, too fucking long, and even though he’s having trouble with sentences, his dick is rising to the occasion just fine.
“Tell me or I’ll tie you up and leave you here and Kripke will fire your ass and you’ll be poor and hungry and no-one will love you.”
Jensen can’t help but chuckle. “That’s some story. How long you work on that?” He’d been around Chris far too much.
“Not as long as I’ll work on you if you tell me.”
Jared’s always been a persistent son of a bitch. That’s basically the reason why they started this thing [and Jensen loves to tell their friends about the roses, the schmuck]. Now, here he is, breaking into Jensen’s apartment and crawling into bed with him; without the decency of being naked while he did so.
Jensen shifts, their elbows, arms, groins, legs, all locking into place. Right key, right door. “Are we talking blowjobs?”
“You won’t know til you tell me.”
“Dog.”
“Pussy.”
“Ok, ok, what was the question again?”
Jensen doesn’t need to ask, but he does. He’s stalling. Trying to think of something to say, a nice little story that will be just enough; take pride of place on Jared’s Ego-Shelf without emasculating Jensen in the process. Think. Think. Think.
Jared huffs into Jensen’s neck, and when he speaks it’s warm against jawbone, soaking into skin and quickly trickling south. “How much did you miss me, Jen? Tell me.”
Think. Think. Think.
“A lot.”
Jared pretends to move away, and he may be bigger and stronger and have the upper hand, but Jensen keeps hold anyway. “Fine I won’t tie you up. I’ll lock you up. In the closet. While the stereo plays Ashlee Simpson.”
“Jackass.”
“Tell me.”
“Christ, Jared, what do you want to know?”
Jared moves back in, there, where their noses touch; eyes so close Jensen can swear he sees right through him. Jared doesn’t need to ask, or know, he has his answers; he has more of Jensen than anyone else ever will. Jensen licks his lips and Jared catches Jensen’s tongue in his mouth; quick and sharp and numbing.
“I want to know that I was the last thing you thought of when you went to sleep.”
Jensen kisses Jared’s neck, silencing himself, the ‘of course, always, every time’ that’s sure to bubble up from his throat.
“I want to know that I was there when you woke up and showered and had your morning cup of coffee - black and one - and even though you were Mr. Charm Your Pants Off all day long, you weren’t the same without me.”
Jensen lets out a breath that had been caught, clawing at Jared’s skin, blunt nails; relearning him, even if he does have it memorised already. Never the same. Never again.
“I want to know that every time you came, you came alone, and it was with my name on your lips.” He leans down to taste those lips, looking for traces of lust and desperation; looking for a sign that this is still his. All his. “Can you tell me that?”
When Jensen speaks it’s so broken [beautiful] he can barely hear it himself. “Yeah.”
“And what else? What else can you tell me?”
“I-” Jared sinks down onto him, so far in it feels like maybe they’re melting together and God. God. Pathetic. Who is Jensen trying to kid? When it comes to Jared, he’s always been pathetic. “I played your old messages, just to hear your voice.” Jared chuckled into Jensen’s neck, hand groping at the tender flesh of Jensen’s breastbone. “I bought that chocolate milk shit you like just to put it in the fridge. I listened to your stupid music and played Two Player PSP alone and … and … you know that green t-shirt you love and I always give you shit for?”
Jared laughed, shrill, leg digging in between Jensen’s. “Don’t tell me you …?”
“Stole it, yeah. Took it with me.”
Jared digs his knee into the mattress, so it dips, takes top position again, kisses Jensen again [again, again] mouth, no tongue, not lust, but maybe. Maybe that other four letter word. “Okay, okay, enough.”
Jensen blinks up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jared smiles and burrows in. “I’ve got everything I need.”
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: 15+
AN: a little something for pez_gurl on the occasion of her birthday. The prompt was: Jsquared, post hiatus schmoop. So, be warned, there is schmoop! Hope you like the story, pez_gurl and I hope your birthday was a great one ♥
Normally. They tell each other everything.
Dude, my mouth tastes like dog’s ass. I swear to god, as big as a cow prod. You can’t sing, stop it. No, seriously. Stop it. That shirt is ugly go change. You smell like feet, go shower.
I’ve never had better, you’re the best.
Except. Jensen draws the line at pathetic. He will not admit to being pathetic.
“Tell me, Jensen,” Jared drawls, his tongue and teeth and stubble grazing Jensen’s neck, cheek, ear; tasting him, as if he’s dinner. Scratch that. It’s 2am. He’s breakfast.
“Fuck off, m’sleeping,” Jensen protests, but he has his hands around Jared and he doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. It’s been too long, too fucking long, and even though he’s having trouble with sentences, his dick is rising to the occasion just fine.
“Tell me or I’ll tie you up and leave you here and Kripke will fire your ass and you’ll be poor and hungry and no-one will love you.”
Jensen can’t help but chuckle. “That’s some story. How long you work on that?” He’d been around Chris far too much.
“Not as long as I’ll work on you if you tell me.”
Jared’s always been a persistent son of a bitch. That’s basically the reason why they started this thing [and Jensen loves to tell their friends about the roses, the schmuck]. Now, here he is, breaking into Jensen’s apartment and crawling into bed with him; without the decency of being naked while he did so.
Jensen shifts, their elbows, arms, groins, legs, all locking into place. Right key, right door. “Are we talking blowjobs?”
“You won’t know til you tell me.”
“Dog.”
“Pussy.”
“Ok, ok, what was the question again?”
Jensen doesn’t need to ask, but he does. He’s stalling. Trying to think of something to say, a nice little story that will be just enough; take pride of place on Jared’s Ego-Shelf without emasculating Jensen in the process. Think. Think. Think.
Jared huffs into Jensen’s neck, and when he speaks it’s warm against jawbone, soaking into skin and quickly trickling south. “How much did you miss me, Jen? Tell me.”
Think. Think. Think.
“A lot.”
Jared pretends to move away, and he may be bigger and stronger and have the upper hand, but Jensen keeps hold anyway. “Fine I won’t tie you up. I’ll lock you up. In the closet. While the stereo plays Ashlee Simpson.”
“Jackass.”
“Tell me.”
“Christ, Jared, what do you want to know?”
Jared moves back in, there, where their noses touch; eyes so close Jensen can swear he sees right through him. Jared doesn’t need to ask, or know, he has his answers; he has more of Jensen than anyone else ever will. Jensen licks his lips and Jared catches Jensen’s tongue in his mouth; quick and sharp and numbing.
“I want to know that I was the last thing you thought of when you went to sleep.”
Jensen kisses Jared’s neck, silencing himself, the ‘of course, always, every time’ that’s sure to bubble up from his throat.
“I want to know that I was there when you woke up and showered and had your morning cup of coffee - black and one - and even though you were Mr. Charm Your Pants Off all day long, you weren’t the same without me.”
Jensen lets out a breath that had been caught, clawing at Jared’s skin, blunt nails; relearning him, even if he does have it memorised already. Never the same. Never again.
“I want to know that every time you came, you came alone, and it was with my name on your lips.” He leans down to taste those lips, looking for traces of lust and desperation; looking for a sign that this is still his. All his. “Can you tell me that?”
When Jensen speaks it’s so broken [beautiful] he can barely hear it himself. “Yeah.”
“And what else? What else can you tell me?”
“I-” Jared sinks down onto him, so far in it feels like maybe they’re melting together and God. God. Pathetic. Who is Jensen trying to kid? When it comes to Jared, he’s always been pathetic. “I played your old messages, just to hear your voice.” Jared chuckled into Jensen’s neck, hand groping at the tender flesh of Jensen’s breastbone. “I bought that chocolate milk shit you like just to put it in the fridge. I listened to your stupid music and played Two Player PSP alone and … and … you know that green t-shirt you love and I always give you shit for?”
Jared laughed, shrill, leg digging in between Jensen’s. “Don’t tell me you …?”
“Stole it, yeah. Took it with me.”
Jared digs his knee into the mattress, so it dips, takes top position again, kisses Jensen again [again, again] mouth, no tongue, not lust, but maybe. Maybe that other four letter word. “Okay, okay, enough.”
Jensen blinks up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jared smiles and burrows in. “I’ve got everything I need.”