FIC: All In
Title: All In
Author: neros_violin
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,500
Summary: Jensen and Jared make a bet. Jensen loses but everybody wins. PWP.
Warnings: D/s elements
Author’s Notes: Written for salt_burn_porn, inspired by regala-electra's prompt, a curious slip of the tongue. Which ended up being an unfortunate slip of the tongue cause that’s just where my brain went. Thanks to zoemathemata for the speedy beta!
It’s three in the morning, Jensen’s a little drunk, and he’s about to take Jared for all he’s worth. King on the river, ding dong, Jared’s dead. Jensen’s pretty sure he manages to keep a big fat grin off his face, but it’s a close thing.
The other guys are long gone, bored by the back and forth heads up play Jensen and Jared had going on - they’d been at it for hours, a thousand bucks and bragging rights on the line, and they’re both too good and too competitive to take a stupid risk or make a bad play. Jensen started with the chip lead, Jared held it for the second hour, and they’ve been more or less even for the last twenty hands, give and take, back and forth, nothing new, talking trash, each looking for an edge or a button to push to get a psychological advantage.
Doesn’t matter now, though. Jensen’s got Jared right where he wants him - he’s just got to reel him in. The flop came king of hearts, ace of clubs, four of clubs. Jensen had checked his three of a kind, slow playing it, and Jared came out with a small bet, twice the minimum, so Jensen called. The turn was a blank, two of diamonds. Jensen checked, Jared bet, Jensen called. And now here they are, king on the river, Jensen with a full house.
Jensen looks up and meets Jared’s eyes, greener than usual, reflecting the felt. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead - he always gets overheated when he drinks - and as Jensen watches, he slicks his hair back with both hands. He’s got something. Good. Whatever he’s got, it’s not going to beat aces full over kings.
“Whatcha got there, Jay?” Jensen asks, like Jared hasn’t already given him a tell.
Jared shrugs. “Better than what you got,” he says, low and sure, and damn if that isn’t distracting, thinking about the last time he heard that tone of voice from Jared. They ended up pants around their ankles in the wardrobe trailer, Jared whispering filthy things in Jensen’s ear about being watched and getting caught while belying the whole thing by crowding Jensen against the wall, covering Jensen’s entire body with his own, hiding him from view.
“Eight thousand,” Jensen says, clearing his throat and tossing his chips into the pot, back to business.
Jared narrows his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest, stretches the thin material of the white t-shirt tight across his arms and shoulders. It’s a defensive posture, nothing like the confidence he’d shown before Jensen’s bet. “Is that supposed to look like a value bet?”
Jensen just smirks. He doesn’t need to say anything, doesn’t want to risk giving away a tell by an unfortunate slip of the tongue.
“Oh, so now you don’t wanna run your mouth? Trash talk all used up? Okay,” Jared says, a little pissy, unfolding to push the entirety of his stack of chips to the middle of the table. “All in.”
“Call,” Jensen says, so fast and eager that Jared can’t mistake it for anything other than complete certainty.
“Re-raise,” Jared says, and Jensen laughs.
“You can’t re-raise. You’re all in.”
“Point,” Jared says, leaning back in his chair, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head. “A side bet, then.”
Jensen peels up the edges of his cards, peeks at the two aces in his hand, peers at the cards on the board, and reassures himself that the only way Jared could have him beat is if he has pocket kings, and the likelihood of that is very low. Probability dictates that he’s got three of a kind, or even a queen-jack straight. Jensen pushes back from the table, and mirrors Jared’s pose, his seat-sore muscles pulling and stretching pleasantly. “What do you have in mind?”
Jared’s smile is wolf-like - toothy, dangerous, and anticipatory. “I win, your ass is mine.”
Jensen laughs again, giddy with booze and his impending victory and the simple happiness of being with Jared, never knowing what he’ll come up with. “You mean, like, literally?”
“I mean, like, literally,” Jared parrots. He’s still leaning back, outside the reach of the small circle of light over the table and his eyes are glittering slits in the darkness. “All day. Whenever I want, however I want. My ass, my rules.”
Pleasant warmth expands from the center of Jensen’s body outward at the idea of Jared’s nice, big cock sinking into him, splitting him open. It’s not something they do all that often, but it’s something Jensen enjoys when they do. Thing is, there’s no way Jared’s going to win, so it’s really not much of a bet. “What if I win?”
“You won’t,” Jared says, again with the predator’s grin. “But I’m fine with the stakes going the other way, too. My ass is yours.”
“Your ass is mine anyway,” Jensen mutters, doubt finally beginning to sink in. Jared might have kings, and Jensen knows if he doesn’t call, Jared’s not going to show his cards. Jensen really, really wants to see. Well. It’s not like it’s that much of a hardship if he loses. “I’ll take the bet.”
Jensen flips his cards over, shows the aces. “Full house,” he announces.
Jared shakes his head, slowly, disbelievingly. Jensen has a second to feel almost disappointed that he won, to begin reaching for the chips in the middle of the table before Jared puts his hand over Jensen’s, stopping him. “Shoulda believed me, Jen.”
“Kings?” Jensen asks, stupidly - that’s all it could be.
“Oh, yeah,” Jared says, flashing the two face cards and jumping out of his chair, fists pumping in the air. “I own you,” he crows.
Jensen remembers, too late, what a dick Jared can be when he wins. The owning Jensen’s ass part he can live with; the gloating, on the other hand, sucks.
*
Jensen wakes up the next morning to sunshine in his eyes, a cool breeze across his naked back, and Jared’s lips on his shoulders, sucking, wet kisses that he just trails down and down, biting here and there, paying special attention to Jensen’s ass, marking it up with his teeth before sliding his thumbs in between Jensen’s cheeks and licking him open.
Jensen buries his face in the pillow and smells Jared’s shampoo.
They fuck just like that, Jensen facedown on the mattress, Jared rolling his hips and hitting Jensen’s sweet spot every time, so unrelenting and perfect that Jensen comes with nothing but the friction of the sheets on his dick, makes a mess that he doesn’t regret at all.
Jared seems content to keep going forever, slow, deep, even thrusts that have Jensen’s cock twitching with aftershocks, pleasure with an edge of wrung-out pain that makes him wish he were ten years younger.
“Feel so good, Jen, God, so tight and wet for me,” Jared whispers into the shell of his ear, sending shivers along Jensen’s spine. “Gonna fill you up with come, get you even wetter,” he promises, and this time the shudder is completely psychological in origin, Jared’s words burrowing deep into Jensen’s brain, the idea alone enough to cause a reaction.
“You like the sound of that?” Jared asks, his breath coming in faster huffs, the movement of his hips more irregular. Jensen clenches a little inside, making himself tighter, recognizing the signs, and Jared doesn’t disappoint. He groans, a sound from deep in his chest, and buries himself as deep as he can in Jensen’s ass, balls flush against Jensen’s perineum. He comes for what feels like minutes, finally collapsing, a heavy, comforting weight on Jensen’s back.
Jensen figures that’s it, that his ass is his own again, that Jared will gather Jensen up like his own personal stuffed animal, press their sweaty, sticky bodies together, and start snoring within five minutes. He’s really on board with that plan but Jared surprises him by rolling away and off the bed.
“Where’re you goin’?” Jensen mumbles, too fucked out and relaxed to bother raising his head from the pillow. He hears fumbling noises from somewhere in the vicinity of Jared’s dresser.
“Back,” Jared says, and the bed shifts with his weight. Something hits the mattress with a dull sound and Jensen doesn’t have enough brain power to be curious about what it is. He just wants Jared to settle the fuck down and stop moving so he can go to sleep already.
He’s floating in that hazy place between awake and not when he feels one of Jared’s hands on the small of his back, pressing him down, and two fingers of the other at his hole, hesitating only briefly before pushing into the wet, loosened muscle. Jensen grunts. “Fuck, Jared, warn a guy, would you?”
Jared hums in response, and slides his fingers in deeper. They slip easily in the mix of Jared’s spit and come, almost frictionless. “So fucking hot,” Jared says, talking mostly to himself. “All puffy and swollen and shiny from taking me, full of my load.” The mattress dips again as he bends over Jensen’s torso to whisper against the skin of Jensen’s neck. “Gonna keep you full,” he says, and Jensen doesn’t know what that means until something cool and unyielding nudges at the edge of his sphincter, catching on his rim. Jensen figures it out, then, realizes that Jared intends to plug him up, keep him wet and open and stuffed, and his entire body tightens with anticipation, blood pooling fast everywhere that matters.
“This okay?” Jared asks, the first hint of uncertainty Jensen’s heard since the poker game last night.
“Ngh,” is all Jensen can say, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe, hoping Jared takes the noise for the affirmation it is. He tries to shift his hips up and back, to make Jared put it in, but Jared is holding him in place with the hand on his lower back and Jensen’s getting nowhere. He struggles anyway.
Jared spins the toy just at the edge of Jensen’s entrance, letting Jensen feel the ridges and small bumps slick with lube, teasing. “Don’t move,” he orders, and Jensen stills, embarrassed by how much he wants this. This isn’t him; he likes sex, of all kinds, but he’s never felt like this, never wanted anything remotely like this. He feels like if Jared doesn’t follow through, fill him and stretch him with the toy, keeping Jared’s come exactly where it is for as long as he wants it, he’s going to die.
He almost whines with gratitude when Jared applies pressure to the plug, giving him the first inch or two, but manages to turn the mortifying sound into a gurgle. It’s wide. Not as wide as Jared but definitely girthy, and hard, without a lot of give.
“Want more?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods, unable to speak. It feels like Jared is pushing the thing down his throat, not up his ass.
The next few inches go in like nothing - he’s still open from Jared’s cock, soaked inside with his come - but his muscles close around it instinctively and the sensation of clutching around something is making his pulse beat in his neck and at his temples, making him hyper-aware of his body, completely out of his mind.
“Should see yourself,” Jared says, and he sounds just as out of breath as Jensen is. “Your tight pink asshole stretched out around black silicone, sucking it right in.” Jensen moans, at Jared’s words and the way he’s thrusting the plug in and out, teasing little strokes that keep Jensen on edge. He doesn’t know how big this thing is, how many more inches he’s got to take, and not knowing is driving him crazy, hot and cold racing up and down his nerves.
“There we go,” Jared exhales, one last push that nudges the widest part past Jensen’s twitching hole, that aligns the ridges on the plug right up against Jensen’s prostate. Jensen feels weak, like his muscles wouldn’t hold him if he tried to stand. His cock is throbbing he’s so hard, all the blood in his body gathering below his waist, but he’s totally focused on the grip of his channel around the toy, Jared’s fingers against the base of it, just brushing the edge of his rim. “Mmm,” Jared says, sliding his slippery fingers up Jensen’s cleft, slapping his left butt cheek lightly. “Now then.”
Jensen pants, trying to get himself under control. His ass is pulsating around the solid weight of the plug, his cock is leaking against his belly, and his skin feels like it’s on fire. He wants nothing more than for Jared to wrap one of those giant hands around his dick and get him off already. It wouldn’t take much at all, just a few strokes, and he opens his mouth to ask for it when Jared pulls away, up and off the bed. Jensen manages to roll over, to see Jared doing up the draw string of his athletic pants, his cock an obvious shape under the satiny, clingy fabric.
“What,” Jensen manages, and he believes that’s enough to communicate his questions - what are you doing, where you are going, why aren’t you over here making me come?
“Breakfast,” Jared says, like it’s obvious. Jensen almost chokes.
“Breakfast?” he repeats, something akin to panic gathering in his chest. Jared just looks at him, level and calm, as though he’s not sporting a huge erection and Jensen doesn’t have an assfull. Like he doesn’t get what the confusion is all about.
“Breakfast,” Jared confirms. “You need some help?” he asks, showing he realizes that maybe breakfast isn’t the first thing that should be on his mind.
“You want me to...” Jensen starts.
“Get dressed and come down to breakfast, yeah,” Jared says, and there’s a challenge there, something dark and filthy, that Jensen can’t help but respond to. Jensen pushes up to lean on his elbows, shifts experimentally to see how the plug feels when he’s moving around. His pulse skyrockets, his libido responding to the sensation of the silicone repositioning inside of him, the slick of Jared’s come aiding the motion. He tells his dick to shut up, takes a few deep breaths, wills his body to calm down. He’s never been one to refuse a challenge, or go back on a bet.
“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says, and Jared’s smile is worth any potential discomfort.
“Excellent.”
*
By the time Jensen wrestles himself into a pair of old, loose jeans and a faded gray t-shirt, he can smell sausage cooking. He goes down the stairs gingerly, the plug shifting with every step, ceaselessly rubbing against his insides, reminding him it’s there. He’s flushed and out of breath when he enters the kitchen, his dick back to full hardness inside the confines of his jeans. Jared looks up from the stove and whatever he was going to stay stumbles on his tongue, his eyes fixed on the distorted denim, just like Jensen knew they would be - Jared has a thing for old blue jeans and cock. Upstairs, Jensen reasoned that while he might be the one getting fucked here, that doesn’t mean he can’t fuck back.
“Smells good,” he says, and Jared appears to remember he’s got a spatula in his hand.
“Thanks,” Jared says, turning back to the stove and flipping the sausage patties. “French toast okay with you?”
“Great,” Jensen says. “Coffee?”
“Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.”
Jensen can’t hold in the noise that escapes him as he sits down, and Jared’s back stiffens. Now that he’s sitting on the wood chair, the plug feels huge, like it’s almost all the way up in his guts, and there’s a merciless pressure against his prostate. He doesn’t even want to breathe because every time he expands his lungs, the goddamn thing moves, nudges against him in a new and shudder-inducing way. He’s sweating, trickles of it streaking down his temples, and his cheeks are so red he can feel them burning, with equal amounts arousal and discomfort.
Jared brings a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice to the table, and Jensen knows he notices the way Jensen looks because his dick stirs and his respiration picks up, but he acts like he doesn’t. “Get you the paper?” he asks.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Jensen says, thinking any kind of distraction would be welcome. He feels like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating.
His hand shakes when he reaches for the coffee and it takes three tries before he successfully wills it steady. The coffee is good, prepared exactly the way Jensen likes it, and the next burst of lust he feels comes more from this - that Jared knows how he takes his drinks, knows all of his likes, is familiar with him - than any kind of sexual stimulation. He sips the warm beverage, as close to peace as he’s been since he woke up this morning.
Jensen almost drops the cup when Jared comes back with the paper, because he’s got their neighbour Sean with him.
“Look who I ran into,” Jared says, dimples popping. “He’s come to repossess his chainsaw.”
“Hey, Jensen,” Sean says, offering his hand. Jensen half rises, trying to disguise the rock hard bulge in his pants by canting his hips as they shake hands. He sinks back in relief that Sean seems not to have noticed, and a yelp escapes his lips when the plug jostles his insides. Sean raises his eyebrows, and Jared smirks over his shoulder. Sick fuck.
“Stubbed my toe,” Jensen explains with an embarrassed smile, and Sean shrugs it off. Jensen is going to kill Jared for this.
“Saw’s in the shed in the back yard,” Jared says. “You mind if I finish up breakfast before I take you out?”
“No problem,” Sean says, taking the seat across from Jensen.
The next fifteen minutes are torture. Sean is doing his best to carry their small talk, and Jensen is doing his best not to explode, the combination of being ridiculously turned on and borderline furious doing bad things to his blood pressure. He’s still sweating, can feel it running down the back of his neck, still flushed, still hard, still throbbing all over, the worst of it in his center, every inch of the plug in his ass noticeable. He’s a fucking mess, and Sean is either oblivious or being achingly polite about it.
Jared stands at the stove, flipping grilled toast, and it’s a sign of how far gone Jensen is that he lets his eyes linger too much on the play of Jared’s muscles, the shape of his ass under the flimsy pants, licking his heated lips and being entirely too obvious about his interest. If Sean notices, maybe he’ll think Jensen’s really hungry.
When Jared announces breakfast is ready and he can take Sean out back to get the chainsaw, Jensen barely hears him and doesn’t respond to Sean’s goodbye beyond a small noise of acknowledgement. He can’t do this anymore. He’s stuffed full, so full, every second a reminder of what’s in him - Jared’s come, wet and slick and so good - but all he can think about is how empty he is, how much he wants Jared to pull out the plug and replace it with his cock. It’s too much and it’s sure as hell not enough and he’s on the verge of going upstairs and calling this thing over but he can’t, because this is something Jared wants and apparently what Jared wants is what he wants, too. Goddamn it.
He leans over the table and sucks in air, laying his face against the cool, smooth wood. He spreads his fingers out flat, presses his palms to the surface, tries to get some sensory input that isn’t coming from his cock or his ass. It isn’t much, but it seems to work, having something else to focus on. He shuts his eyes and lets his fingertips feed him information about the grain of the oak, the scars in its surface.
Jared’s hand on the back of his neck doesn’t startle him but it sends intense shock waves of pleasure all out of proportion to the simplicity of the touch rolling through his nervous system. “Can you eat?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods numbly, unsure, really, but willing to try.
Jared piles up their plates with slices of French toast and sausage patties, and Jensen sits up again, sighing softly this time as the plug shifts.
“You’re doing so good,” Jared says, pouring maple syrup all over his toast. Jensen’s lips twitch in the approximation of a smile, and in that moment, watching Jared soak his food with sugar, the painfully intense dynamic swells and bursts, leaving Jensen still amped up and aroused, but comfortable. This is just them, just Jared and Jensen.
“Damn right,” Jensen says. His voice is weak and thready, but he can talk now, at least. “Better be rewarded accordingly.”
“You will be,” Jared says, and Jensen is very pleased to notice the fine tremors in Jared’s hands as he picks up his fork, happy to see that if Jensen’s got to be wrecked, Jared is well on his way to joining him.
Jensen eats - not much, maybe half a piece of toast and one sausage patty - but he eats. Jared cleans his plate, of course. By the time he’s finished, his hazel irises are swallowed up by pupil and he almost knocks his chair over backwards when he stands, apparently done with this little experiment.
“Let’s go,” he says, jerking his head toward the stairs.
“I don’t know, Jared,” Jensen drawls, feeling a lot more in control than he did half an hour ago. “Aren’t you supposed to wait thirty minutes after you eat?”
“That’s swimming,” Jared snaps, coming around the table and jerking Jensen up and into him. His dick is a hot brand against Jensen’s stomach, his body a solid wall of heat. Jared plays dirty, always has, especially when it comes to getting what he wants, so Jensen isn’t surprised when he reaches around Jensen’s waist and presses two fingers against the base of the plug, shooting sparks off behind Jensen’s eyes and weakening his knees. “Get going,” Jared growls in his ear, “Or I’m gonna carry you, swear to Christ.”
Jensen would laugh but he’s pretty sure Jared means it, so he just nods, swallows, and says, “Okay.”
The stairs are just as difficult going up as they were coming down, and the effect is the same - Jensen is a breathless, panting mess at the top, over-stimulated by the continuous rub of knotty silicone on his insides and the constant friction of denim against his dick.
Jared is on him in the hallway, his mouth hot and demanding, teeth and tongue and pent-up desire. Jensen gives it right back, shoving his tongue into Jared’s mouth, scraping it against his teeth, invading. Their hands are all over each other, Jared’s along Jensen’s back, up and down, maddening, Jensen’s at Jared’s hips, fingers gripping the cut of bone and muscle, digging in, hopefully making bruises.
“Fuck,” Jared mutters, fumbling with the button on Jensen’s jeans. “You’re so fucking hot for me, so good, can’t believe you’re doing this for me, Jen, fuck.” He doesn’t bother pulling the jeans down, just shoves his hand in and grasps Jensen’s cock, making a tight fist, just this side of too much, just the way Jensen likes.
His cock has been so neglected, so hard for so long, that just this touch is almost enough. If he just snaps his hips, maybe one or two good thrusts, the plug pressing on his sweet spot, the friction of Jared’s hand, he’ll be done, get some release.
“No, no, no, no,” Jared whispers urgently in his ear. His grip on Jensen’s dick goes from just right to fucking Christ that hurts, the pain drawing Jensen back from the bring with jarring abruptness. “Got plans.”
Jensen whines, he could give less of a shit about Jared’s plans, digs his fingernails into Jared’s hips in retaliation. “Don’t care,” he insists, his breath coming in almost-sobs.
“Promise it’ll be worth it,” Jared says, gentling and slowing his touches, nipping at Jensen’s lips with careful, playful attention. Jensen sags, recognizing he’s beat, and lets Jared lead him to the side of the bed, helps him remove Jensen’s clothes, one slow piece at a time.
Jensen’s uncomfortable with the look on Jared’s face once he’s naked, too much intensity there, too much appreciation and admiration and love under the lust. That look makes his heart ache, makes him feel like he doesn’t deserve to be the object of those emotions for Jared.
Jared senses the shift, bringing their bodies together in a slow, sinuous slide of skin on skin. He kisses Jensen’s neck, open-mouthed, humid kisses, places them carefully along the line of Jensen’s jaw, his forehead, the lines around his eyes. Jensen is just about to call him a girl to keep the prickling sensation under his eyelids from turning into something he can’t turn off when Jared pushes at him, guiding him down on the bed.
He wastes no time letting Jensen get settled, climbing on top of him, guiding his hands to wrap around the posts in the headboard. “Gonna take care of you,” Jared says, and Jensen believes him. Eventually, they’ll get there.
Jensen watches the top of Jared’s head as he bends to bite and suckle at Jensen’s nipples, until they’re angry pink and irritated in the best possible way. Every time Jensen jerks his hips, he moans, Jared driving him nuts with his mouth, the plug shifting around in the mess of Jared’s come a tease.
Slowly, Jared bites his way down Jensen’s body and he’s not tender about it at all, ensuring that each time he sinks his teeth in to skin and muscle that it’s going to show the next day.
Jensen lets his head fall back onto the pillows when Jared gets to his inner thighs, thinking yes, fuck, yes, this is it, Jared’s going to pull out the toy and put in his big, hard dick, and he’s so sure that’s going to happen that he cries out when Jared withdraws, coming back to kneel over Jensen, to delve his tongue deep into Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen protests into the kiss but it just sounds like he’s moaning, which, he’ll never admit later, he is. Jared kisses him breathless, until they’re just mouthing at one another with tongues and teeth, before he draws back. Jared’s hair is hanging in sweaty strands, clinging to his neck, and his eyes are bright and clear, aroused and energized. His abs contract and release as he huffs for breath, and Jensen can’t believe how good his skin looks in this light, in any light, golden and smooth. Gorgeous, Jensen thinks, or maybe he said it out loud, if the way Jared smiles is any indication.
Jared reaches behind him and steadies Jensen’s cock with his fist, and Jensen’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” he gasps, just as Jared sinks down, his hole wet and stretched, so well-prepped that Jensen’s dick pops through the resistance and slides the rest of the way home easy and quick. The pressure is unbelievable, tight, rippling muscle gripping his cock, a perfect fit. He’s balls deep in Jared’s body, the plug is guts-deep in his own, and between both of those things, Jensen has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming. He wants this to last more than five seconds, damn it.
Jared has other ideas. He plants his hand in the middle of Jensen’s chest and starts rolling his hips, grinding down onto Jensen’s cock, forcing Jensen to feel every inch. Jensen groans and thrusts up, trying to bore deeper. He lets go of the headboard and grips the globes of Jared’s ass, splitting his cheeks open and getting an extra half inch.
“Fuck,” Jared shouts, and Jensen grins. He can find that spot inside Jared’s body blindfolded and tied up, and he thrusts again, hard and direct, just to make his point.
Jared looks down and actually growls at him, like they’re in some kind of competition, and Jensen guesses they are. Jared pumps his hips, his dick thwopping against his stomach on each thrust, and twists his body, finding the base of the plug with one try, pushing it in and up as his ass pushes down on Jensen’s cock. Jensen jerks and howls, every muscle tightening and straining, his orgasm hitting him like a linebacker, taking away his breath and paralyzing him. He shoots into Jared, pulse after pulse of come, erupting as his body clamps down around the toy lodged inside, and god, it feels so good, clenching and releasing around something, having so much warmth and strength gloving his cock. Jared just keeps rocking, the glide of Jensen’s dick getting easier and easier with each thrust, until Jensen can feel it leaking hot and sticky from Jared’s hole onto his thighs.
Jensen collapses against the pillows feeling hollow, like he’s been cored. Spots are dancing in his vision and he can’t catch his breath.
“You with me?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods. “Cause I really want you to be with me for this,” he says, and Jensen pauses, thinks about it.
“Gimme a minute,” he says, and Jared nods, satisfied. He pulls off of Jensen’s cock, still hard and flushed red like it’s been stiff for so long it doesn’t know how not to be anymore. Jensen is pliant as Jared spreads his legs and kneels between them, jerking his own cock slowly, almost absent-mindedly. He’s looking at Jensen’s asshole, at the base of the plug. Oh. Right.
Jensen nudges Jared with his knee when he gets it. “I’m with you,” he says, meeting Jared’s eyes.
“Good,” Jared says. Jensen splays his legs wider, letting Jared see what he wants to see. “You were so good, keeping this in you, for me,” Jared says, tapping the end of the plug. It reverberates along Jensen’s clenched muscles, and he shivers. “The thought of you filled up with my come, keeping yourself ready for me, Jesus, you don’t even know.”
Jensen thinks he does know, actually, thinks that being on the other end of that tether is just opposite sides of the same coin, and it’s fucking intense. There’s nobody else Jensen would ever do this with, because there’s no one else he would trust to handle it.
“Not even gonna lube you up,” Jared says, beginning to rotate the toy, making sure that Jensen is loose enough to let go of it. The sensation dances along Jensen’s nerves, tingling on his skin even though Jared’s not touching him anywhere.
Jensen winces as the wide part pulls at his rim on the way out, but the rest slides out so easy that his stomach swoops with how loose he is. Jared is right there, the broad head of his cock stuffing Jensen’s entrance so nothing leaks out. They both groan as he sinks inside. Usually it’s a tight fight, a slow build up to the hard, deep thrusts that Jared craves. But Jensen’s so open and slick that Jared’s dick is just delicious pressure, almost no friction between Jensen’s walls and Jared’s skin.
Jensen drives his hips forward, urging Jared to thrust, giving permission, and Jared responds, pumping wildly into Jensen’s body, slapping their skin together, slamming the headboard into the wall over and over again. Jensen wraps his legs around Jared’s lean hips and hangs on as Jared pounds into him, letting go in a way he rarely can, too powerful and too big, too much potential damage to be done. But now, Jensen’s wet and ready for it, can take whatever Jared wants to give.
Jared’s whimpering with each uncoordinated thrust of his hips, pent up need finally being met, and Jensen cups his hand on the back of his neck, soothing and encouraging at once. Jared drops his head to the meat of Jensen’s shoulder, setting his teeth and biting down as he comes, shaking and shoving his cock in deep, working it back and forth with tiny little motions, wringing it out of himself. Jensen is so full of come that it’s leaking from his hole, around the stretch of Jared’s dick and he knows he’ll get hard again later, just remembering the way it feels.
Jared recovers his breath after a few minutes, sweaty and out of it and grinning like a loon. “That was awesome,” he says. “I’m awesome. I’m the best you ever had.”
Jensen clenches a little around Jared’s dick, still lodged inside of him, can’t help but grin back. “Wanna bet?”
Author: neros_violin
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,500
Summary: Jensen and Jared make a bet. Jensen loses but everybody wins. PWP.
Warnings: D/s elements
Author’s Notes: Written for salt_burn_porn, inspired by regala-electra's prompt, a curious slip of the tongue. Which ended up being an unfortunate slip of the tongue cause that’s just where my brain went. Thanks to zoemathemata for the speedy beta!
It’s three in the morning, Jensen’s a little drunk, and he’s about to take Jared for all he’s worth. King on the river, ding dong, Jared’s dead. Jensen’s pretty sure he manages to keep a big fat grin off his face, but it’s a close thing.
The other guys are long gone, bored by the back and forth heads up play Jensen and Jared had going on - they’d been at it for hours, a thousand bucks and bragging rights on the line, and they’re both too good and too competitive to take a stupid risk or make a bad play. Jensen started with the chip lead, Jared held it for the second hour, and they’ve been more or less even for the last twenty hands, give and take, back and forth, nothing new, talking trash, each looking for an edge or a button to push to get a psychological advantage.
Doesn’t matter now, though. Jensen’s got Jared right where he wants him - he’s just got to reel him in. The flop came king of hearts, ace of clubs, four of clubs. Jensen had checked his three of a kind, slow playing it, and Jared came out with a small bet, twice the minimum, so Jensen called. The turn was a blank, two of diamonds. Jensen checked, Jared bet, Jensen called. And now here they are, king on the river, Jensen with a full house.
Jensen looks up and meets Jared’s eyes, greener than usual, reflecting the felt. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead - he always gets overheated when he drinks - and as Jensen watches, he slicks his hair back with both hands. He’s got something. Good. Whatever he’s got, it’s not going to beat aces full over kings.
“Whatcha got there, Jay?” Jensen asks, like Jared hasn’t already given him a tell.
Jared shrugs. “Better than what you got,” he says, low and sure, and damn if that isn’t distracting, thinking about the last time he heard that tone of voice from Jared. They ended up pants around their ankles in the wardrobe trailer, Jared whispering filthy things in Jensen’s ear about being watched and getting caught while belying the whole thing by crowding Jensen against the wall, covering Jensen’s entire body with his own, hiding him from view.
“Eight thousand,” Jensen says, clearing his throat and tossing his chips into the pot, back to business.
Jared narrows his eyes, crosses his arms over his chest, stretches the thin material of the white t-shirt tight across his arms and shoulders. It’s a defensive posture, nothing like the confidence he’d shown before Jensen’s bet. “Is that supposed to look like a value bet?”
Jensen just smirks. He doesn’t need to say anything, doesn’t want to risk giving away a tell by an unfortunate slip of the tongue.
“Oh, so now you don’t wanna run your mouth? Trash talk all used up? Okay,” Jared says, a little pissy, unfolding to push the entirety of his stack of chips to the middle of the table. “All in.”
“Call,” Jensen says, so fast and eager that Jared can’t mistake it for anything other than complete certainty.
“Re-raise,” Jared says, and Jensen laughs.
“You can’t re-raise. You’re all in.”
“Point,” Jared says, leaning back in his chair, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head. “A side bet, then.”
Jensen peels up the edges of his cards, peeks at the two aces in his hand, peers at the cards on the board, and reassures himself that the only way Jared could have him beat is if he has pocket kings, and the likelihood of that is very low. Probability dictates that he’s got three of a kind, or even a queen-jack straight. Jensen pushes back from the table, and mirrors Jared’s pose, his seat-sore muscles pulling and stretching pleasantly. “What do you have in mind?”
Jared’s smile is wolf-like - toothy, dangerous, and anticipatory. “I win, your ass is mine.”
Jensen laughs again, giddy with booze and his impending victory and the simple happiness of being with Jared, never knowing what he’ll come up with. “You mean, like, literally?”
“I mean, like, literally,” Jared parrots. He’s still leaning back, outside the reach of the small circle of light over the table and his eyes are glittering slits in the darkness. “All day. Whenever I want, however I want. My ass, my rules.”
Pleasant warmth expands from the center of Jensen’s body outward at the idea of Jared’s nice, big cock sinking into him, splitting him open. It’s not something they do all that often, but it’s something Jensen enjoys when they do. Thing is, there’s no way Jared’s going to win, so it’s really not much of a bet. “What if I win?”
“You won’t,” Jared says, again with the predator’s grin. “But I’m fine with the stakes going the other way, too. My ass is yours.”
“Your ass is mine anyway,” Jensen mutters, doubt finally beginning to sink in. Jared might have kings, and Jensen knows if he doesn’t call, Jared’s not going to show his cards. Jensen really, really wants to see. Well. It’s not like it’s that much of a hardship if he loses. “I’ll take the bet.”
Jensen flips his cards over, shows the aces. “Full house,” he announces.
Jared shakes his head, slowly, disbelievingly. Jensen has a second to feel almost disappointed that he won, to begin reaching for the chips in the middle of the table before Jared puts his hand over Jensen’s, stopping him. “Shoulda believed me, Jen.”
“Kings?” Jensen asks, stupidly - that’s all it could be.
“Oh, yeah,” Jared says, flashing the two face cards and jumping out of his chair, fists pumping in the air. “I own you,” he crows.
Jensen remembers, too late, what a dick Jared can be when he wins. The owning Jensen’s ass part he can live with; the gloating, on the other hand, sucks.
*
Jensen wakes up the next morning to sunshine in his eyes, a cool breeze across his naked back, and Jared’s lips on his shoulders, sucking, wet kisses that he just trails down and down, biting here and there, paying special attention to Jensen’s ass, marking it up with his teeth before sliding his thumbs in between Jensen’s cheeks and licking him open.
Jensen buries his face in the pillow and smells Jared’s shampoo.
They fuck just like that, Jensen facedown on the mattress, Jared rolling his hips and hitting Jensen’s sweet spot every time, so unrelenting and perfect that Jensen comes with nothing but the friction of the sheets on his dick, makes a mess that he doesn’t regret at all.
Jared seems content to keep going forever, slow, deep, even thrusts that have Jensen’s cock twitching with aftershocks, pleasure with an edge of wrung-out pain that makes him wish he were ten years younger.
“Feel so good, Jen, God, so tight and wet for me,” Jared whispers into the shell of his ear, sending shivers along Jensen’s spine. “Gonna fill you up with come, get you even wetter,” he promises, and this time the shudder is completely psychological in origin, Jared’s words burrowing deep into Jensen’s brain, the idea alone enough to cause a reaction.
“You like the sound of that?” Jared asks, his breath coming in faster huffs, the movement of his hips more irregular. Jensen clenches a little inside, making himself tighter, recognizing the signs, and Jared doesn’t disappoint. He groans, a sound from deep in his chest, and buries himself as deep as he can in Jensen’s ass, balls flush against Jensen’s perineum. He comes for what feels like minutes, finally collapsing, a heavy, comforting weight on Jensen’s back.
Jensen figures that’s it, that his ass is his own again, that Jared will gather Jensen up like his own personal stuffed animal, press their sweaty, sticky bodies together, and start snoring within five minutes. He’s really on board with that plan but Jared surprises him by rolling away and off the bed.
“Where’re you goin’?” Jensen mumbles, too fucked out and relaxed to bother raising his head from the pillow. He hears fumbling noises from somewhere in the vicinity of Jared’s dresser.
“Back,” Jared says, and the bed shifts with his weight. Something hits the mattress with a dull sound and Jensen doesn’t have enough brain power to be curious about what it is. He just wants Jared to settle the fuck down and stop moving so he can go to sleep already.
He’s floating in that hazy place between awake and not when he feels one of Jared’s hands on the small of his back, pressing him down, and two fingers of the other at his hole, hesitating only briefly before pushing into the wet, loosened muscle. Jensen grunts. “Fuck, Jared, warn a guy, would you?”
Jared hums in response, and slides his fingers in deeper. They slip easily in the mix of Jared’s spit and come, almost frictionless. “So fucking hot,” Jared says, talking mostly to himself. “All puffy and swollen and shiny from taking me, full of my load.” The mattress dips again as he bends over Jensen’s torso to whisper against the skin of Jensen’s neck. “Gonna keep you full,” he says, and Jensen doesn’t know what that means until something cool and unyielding nudges at the edge of his sphincter, catching on his rim. Jensen figures it out, then, realizes that Jared intends to plug him up, keep him wet and open and stuffed, and his entire body tightens with anticipation, blood pooling fast everywhere that matters.
“This okay?” Jared asks, the first hint of uncertainty Jensen’s heard since the poker game last night.
“Ngh,” is all Jensen can say, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe, hoping Jared takes the noise for the affirmation it is. He tries to shift his hips up and back, to make Jared put it in, but Jared is holding him in place with the hand on his lower back and Jensen’s getting nowhere. He struggles anyway.
Jared spins the toy just at the edge of Jensen’s entrance, letting Jensen feel the ridges and small bumps slick with lube, teasing. “Don’t move,” he orders, and Jensen stills, embarrassed by how much he wants this. This isn’t him; he likes sex, of all kinds, but he’s never felt like this, never wanted anything remotely like this. He feels like if Jared doesn’t follow through, fill him and stretch him with the toy, keeping Jared’s come exactly where it is for as long as he wants it, he’s going to die.
He almost whines with gratitude when Jared applies pressure to the plug, giving him the first inch or two, but manages to turn the mortifying sound into a gurgle. It’s wide. Not as wide as Jared but definitely girthy, and hard, without a lot of give.
“Want more?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods, unable to speak. It feels like Jared is pushing the thing down his throat, not up his ass.
The next few inches go in like nothing - he’s still open from Jared’s cock, soaked inside with his come - but his muscles close around it instinctively and the sensation of clutching around something is making his pulse beat in his neck and at his temples, making him hyper-aware of his body, completely out of his mind.
“Should see yourself,” Jared says, and he sounds just as out of breath as Jensen is. “Your tight pink asshole stretched out around black silicone, sucking it right in.” Jensen moans, at Jared’s words and the way he’s thrusting the plug in and out, teasing little strokes that keep Jensen on edge. He doesn’t know how big this thing is, how many more inches he’s got to take, and not knowing is driving him crazy, hot and cold racing up and down his nerves.
“There we go,” Jared exhales, one last push that nudges the widest part past Jensen’s twitching hole, that aligns the ridges on the plug right up against Jensen’s prostate. Jensen feels weak, like his muscles wouldn’t hold him if he tried to stand. His cock is throbbing he’s so hard, all the blood in his body gathering below his waist, but he’s totally focused on the grip of his channel around the toy, Jared’s fingers against the base of it, just brushing the edge of his rim. “Mmm,” Jared says, sliding his slippery fingers up Jensen’s cleft, slapping his left butt cheek lightly. “Now then.”
Jensen pants, trying to get himself under control. His ass is pulsating around the solid weight of the plug, his cock is leaking against his belly, and his skin feels like it’s on fire. He wants nothing more than for Jared to wrap one of those giant hands around his dick and get him off already. It wouldn’t take much at all, just a few strokes, and he opens his mouth to ask for it when Jared pulls away, up and off the bed. Jensen manages to roll over, to see Jared doing up the draw string of his athletic pants, his cock an obvious shape under the satiny, clingy fabric.
“What,” Jensen manages, and he believes that’s enough to communicate his questions - what are you doing, where you are going, why aren’t you over here making me come?
“Breakfast,” Jared says, like it’s obvious. Jensen almost chokes.
“Breakfast?” he repeats, something akin to panic gathering in his chest. Jared just looks at him, level and calm, as though he’s not sporting a huge erection and Jensen doesn’t have an assfull. Like he doesn’t get what the confusion is all about.
“Breakfast,” Jared confirms. “You need some help?” he asks, showing he realizes that maybe breakfast isn’t the first thing that should be on his mind.
“You want me to...” Jensen starts.
“Get dressed and come down to breakfast, yeah,” Jared says, and there’s a challenge there, something dark and filthy, that Jensen can’t help but respond to. Jensen pushes up to lean on his elbows, shifts experimentally to see how the plug feels when he’s moving around. His pulse skyrockets, his libido responding to the sensation of the silicone repositioning inside of him, the slick of Jared’s come aiding the motion. He tells his dick to shut up, takes a few deep breaths, wills his body to calm down. He’s never been one to refuse a challenge, or go back on a bet.
“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says, and Jared’s smile is worth any potential discomfort.
“Excellent.”
*
By the time Jensen wrestles himself into a pair of old, loose jeans and a faded gray t-shirt, he can smell sausage cooking. He goes down the stairs gingerly, the plug shifting with every step, ceaselessly rubbing against his insides, reminding him it’s there. He’s flushed and out of breath when he enters the kitchen, his dick back to full hardness inside the confines of his jeans. Jared looks up from the stove and whatever he was going to stay stumbles on his tongue, his eyes fixed on the distorted denim, just like Jensen knew they would be - Jared has a thing for old blue jeans and cock. Upstairs, Jensen reasoned that while he might be the one getting fucked here, that doesn’t mean he can’t fuck back.
“Smells good,” he says, and Jared appears to remember he’s got a spatula in his hand.
“Thanks,” Jared says, turning back to the stove and flipping the sausage patties. “French toast okay with you?”
“Great,” Jensen says. “Coffee?”
“Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.”
Jensen can’t hold in the noise that escapes him as he sits down, and Jared’s back stiffens. Now that he’s sitting on the wood chair, the plug feels huge, like it’s almost all the way up in his guts, and there’s a merciless pressure against his prostate. He doesn’t even want to breathe because every time he expands his lungs, the goddamn thing moves, nudges against him in a new and shudder-inducing way. He’s sweating, trickles of it streaking down his temples, and his cheeks are so red he can feel them burning, with equal amounts arousal and discomfort.
Jared brings a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice to the table, and Jensen knows he notices the way Jensen looks because his dick stirs and his respiration picks up, but he acts like he doesn’t. “Get you the paper?” he asks.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Jensen says, thinking any kind of distraction would be welcome. He feels like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating.
His hand shakes when he reaches for the coffee and it takes three tries before he successfully wills it steady. The coffee is good, prepared exactly the way Jensen likes it, and the next burst of lust he feels comes more from this - that Jared knows how he takes his drinks, knows all of his likes, is familiar with him - than any kind of sexual stimulation. He sips the warm beverage, as close to peace as he’s been since he woke up this morning.
Jensen almost drops the cup when Jared comes back with the paper, because he’s got their neighbour Sean with him.
“Look who I ran into,” Jared says, dimples popping. “He’s come to repossess his chainsaw.”
“Hey, Jensen,” Sean says, offering his hand. Jensen half rises, trying to disguise the rock hard bulge in his pants by canting his hips as they shake hands. He sinks back in relief that Sean seems not to have noticed, and a yelp escapes his lips when the plug jostles his insides. Sean raises his eyebrows, and Jared smirks over his shoulder. Sick fuck.
“Stubbed my toe,” Jensen explains with an embarrassed smile, and Sean shrugs it off. Jensen is going to kill Jared for this.
“Saw’s in the shed in the back yard,” Jared says. “You mind if I finish up breakfast before I take you out?”
“No problem,” Sean says, taking the seat across from Jensen.
The next fifteen minutes are torture. Sean is doing his best to carry their small talk, and Jensen is doing his best not to explode, the combination of being ridiculously turned on and borderline furious doing bad things to his blood pressure. He’s still sweating, can feel it running down the back of his neck, still flushed, still hard, still throbbing all over, the worst of it in his center, every inch of the plug in his ass noticeable. He’s a fucking mess, and Sean is either oblivious or being achingly polite about it.
Jared stands at the stove, flipping grilled toast, and it’s a sign of how far gone Jensen is that he lets his eyes linger too much on the play of Jared’s muscles, the shape of his ass under the flimsy pants, licking his heated lips and being entirely too obvious about his interest. If Sean notices, maybe he’ll think Jensen’s really hungry.
When Jared announces breakfast is ready and he can take Sean out back to get the chainsaw, Jensen barely hears him and doesn’t respond to Sean’s goodbye beyond a small noise of acknowledgement. He can’t do this anymore. He’s stuffed full, so full, every second a reminder of what’s in him - Jared’s come, wet and slick and so good - but all he can think about is how empty he is, how much he wants Jared to pull out the plug and replace it with his cock. It’s too much and it’s sure as hell not enough and he’s on the verge of going upstairs and calling this thing over but he can’t, because this is something Jared wants and apparently what Jared wants is what he wants, too. Goddamn it.
He leans over the table and sucks in air, laying his face against the cool, smooth wood. He spreads his fingers out flat, presses his palms to the surface, tries to get some sensory input that isn’t coming from his cock or his ass. It isn’t much, but it seems to work, having something else to focus on. He shuts his eyes and lets his fingertips feed him information about the grain of the oak, the scars in its surface.
Jared’s hand on the back of his neck doesn’t startle him but it sends intense shock waves of pleasure all out of proportion to the simplicity of the touch rolling through his nervous system. “Can you eat?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods numbly, unsure, really, but willing to try.
Jared piles up their plates with slices of French toast and sausage patties, and Jensen sits up again, sighing softly this time as the plug shifts.
“You’re doing so good,” Jared says, pouring maple syrup all over his toast. Jensen’s lips twitch in the approximation of a smile, and in that moment, watching Jared soak his food with sugar, the painfully intense dynamic swells and bursts, leaving Jensen still amped up and aroused, but comfortable. This is just them, just Jared and Jensen.
“Damn right,” Jensen says. His voice is weak and thready, but he can talk now, at least. “Better be rewarded accordingly.”
“You will be,” Jared says, and Jensen is very pleased to notice the fine tremors in Jared’s hands as he picks up his fork, happy to see that if Jensen’s got to be wrecked, Jared is well on his way to joining him.
Jensen eats - not much, maybe half a piece of toast and one sausage patty - but he eats. Jared cleans his plate, of course. By the time he’s finished, his hazel irises are swallowed up by pupil and he almost knocks his chair over backwards when he stands, apparently done with this little experiment.
“Let’s go,” he says, jerking his head toward the stairs.
“I don’t know, Jared,” Jensen drawls, feeling a lot more in control than he did half an hour ago. “Aren’t you supposed to wait thirty minutes after you eat?”
“That’s swimming,” Jared snaps, coming around the table and jerking Jensen up and into him. His dick is a hot brand against Jensen’s stomach, his body a solid wall of heat. Jared plays dirty, always has, especially when it comes to getting what he wants, so Jensen isn’t surprised when he reaches around Jensen’s waist and presses two fingers against the base of the plug, shooting sparks off behind Jensen’s eyes and weakening his knees. “Get going,” Jared growls in his ear, “Or I’m gonna carry you, swear to Christ.”
Jensen would laugh but he’s pretty sure Jared means it, so he just nods, swallows, and says, “Okay.”
The stairs are just as difficult going up as they were coming down, and the effect is the same - Jensen is a breathless, panting mess at the top, over-stimulated by the continuous rub of knotty silicone on his insides and the constant friction of denim against his dick.
Jared is on him in the hallway, his mouth hot and demanding, teeth and tongue and pent-up desire. Jensen gives it right back, shoving his tongue into Jared’s mouth, scraping it against his teeth, invading. Their hands are all over each other, Jared’s along Jensen’s back, up and down, maddening, Jensen’s at Jared’s hips, fingers gripping the cut of bone and muscle, digging in, hopefully making bruises.
“Fuck,” Jared mutters, fumbling with the button on Jensen’s jeans. “You’re so fucking hot for me, so good, can’t believe you’re doing this for me, Jen, fuck.” He doesn’t bother pulling the jeans down, just shoves his hand in and grasps Jensen’s cock, making a tight fist, just this side of too much, just the way Jensen likes.
His cock has been so neglected, so hard for so long, that just this touch is almost enough. If he just snaps his hips, maybe one or two good thrusts, the plug pressing on his sweet spot, the friction of Jared’s hand, he’ll be done, get some release.
“No, no, no, no,” Jared whispers urgently in his ear. His grip on Jensen’s dick goes from just right to fucking Christ that hurts, the pain drawing Jensen back from the bring with jarring abruptness. “Got plans.”
Jensen whines, he could give less of a shit about Jared’s plans, digs his fingernails into Jared’s hips in retaliation. “Don’t care,” he insists, his breath coming in almost-sobs.
“Promise it’ll be worth it,” Jared says, gentling and slowing his touches, nipping at Jensen’s lips with careful, playful attention. Jensen sags, recognizing he’s beat, and lets Jared lead him to the side of the bed, helps him remove Jensen’s clothes, one slow piece at a time.
Jensen’s uncomfortable with the look on Jared’s face once he’s naked, too much intensity there, too much appreciation and admiration and love under the lust. That look makes his heart ache, makes him feel like he doesn’t deserve to be the object of those emotions for Jared.
Jared senses the shift, bringing their bodies together in a slow, sinuous slide of skin on skin. He kisses Jensen’s neck, open-mouthed, humid kisses, places them carefully along the line of Jensen’s jaw, his forehead, the lines around his eyes. Jensen is just about to call him a girl to keep the prickling sensation under his eyelids from turning into something he can’t turn off when Jared pushes at him, guiding him down on the bed.
He wastes no time letting Jensen get settled, climbing on top of him, guiding his hands to wrap around the posts in the headboard. “Gonna take care of you,” Jared says, and Jensen believes him. Eventually, they’ll get there.
Jensen watches the top of Jared’s head as he bends to bite and suckle at Jensen’s nipples, until they’re angry pink and irritated in the best possible way. Every time Jensen jerks his hips, he moans, Jared driving him nuts with his mouth, the plug shifting around in the mess of Jared’s come a tease.
Slowly, Jared bites his way down Jensen’s body and he’s not tender about it at all, ensuring that each time he sinks his teeth in to skin and muscle that it’s going to show the next day.
Jensen lets his head fall back onto the pillows when Jared gets to his inner thighs, thinking yes, fuck, yes, this is it, Jared’s going to pull out the toy and put in his big, hard dick, and he’s so sure that’s going to happen that he cries out when Jared withdraws, coming back to kneel over Jensen, to delve his tongue deep into Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen protests into the kiss but it just sounds like he’s moaning, which, he’ll never admit later, he is. Jared kisses him breathless, until they’re just mouthing at one another with tongues and teeth, before he draws back. Jared’s hair is hanging in sweaty strands, clinging to his neck, and his eyes are bright and clear, aroused and energized. His abs contract and release as he huffs for breath, and Jensen can’t believe how good his skin looks in this light, in any light, golden and smooth. Gorgeous, Jensen thinks, or maybe he said it out loud, if the way Jared smiles is any indication.
Jared reaches behind him and steadies Jensen’s cock with his fist, and Jensen’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” he gasps, just as Jared sinks down, his hole wet and stretched, so well-prepped that Jensen’s dick pops through the resistance and slides the rest of the way home easy and quick. The pressure is unbelievable, tight, rippling muscle gripping his cock, a perfect fit. He’s balls deep in Jared’s body, the plug is guts-deep in his own, and between both of those things, Jensen has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming. He wants this to last more than five seconds, damn it.
Jared has other ideas. He plants his hand in the middle of Jensen’s chest and starts rolling his hips, grinding down onto Jensen’s cock, forcing Jensen to feel every inch. Jensen groans and thrusts up, trying to bore deeper. He lets go of the headboard and grips the globes of Jared’s ass, splitting his cheeks open and getting an extra half inch.
“Fuck,” Jared shouts, and Jensen grins. He can find that spot inside Jared’s body blindfolded and tied up, and he thrusts again, hard and direct, just to make his point.
Jared looks down and actually growls at him, like they’re in some kind of competition, and Jensen guesses they are. Jared pumps his hips, his dick thwopping against his stomach on each thrust, and twists his body, finding the base of the plug with one try, pushing it in and up as his ass pushes down on Jensen’s cock. Jensen jerks and howls, every muscle tightening and straining, his orgasm hitting him like a linebacker, taking away his breath and paralyzing him. He shoots into Jared, pulse after pulse of come, erupting as his body clamps down around the toy lodged inside, and god, it feels so good, clenching and releasing around something, having so much warmth and strength gloving his cock. Jared just keeps rocking, the glide of Jensen’s dick getting easier and easier with each thrust, until Jensen can feel it leaking hot and sticky from Jared’s hole onto his thighs.
Jensen collapses against the pillows feeling hollow, like he’s been cored. Spots are dancing in his vision and he can’t catch his breath.
“You with me?” Jared asks, and Jensen nods. “Cause I really want you to be with me for this,” he says, and Jensen pauses, thinks about it.
“Gimme a minute,” he says, and Jared nods, satisfied. He pulls off of Jensen’s cock, still hard and flushed red like it’s been stiff for so long it doesn’t know how not to be anymore. Jensen is pliant as Jared spreads his legs and kneels between them, jerking his own cock slowly, almost absent-mindedly. He’s looking at Jensen’s asshole, at the base of the plug. Oh. Right.
Jensen nudges Jared with his knee when he gets it. “I’m with you,” he says, meeting Jared’s eyes.
“Good,” Jared says. Jensen splays his legs wider, letting Jared see what he wants to see. “You were so good, keeping this in you, for me,” Jared says, tapping the end of the plug. It reverberates along Jensen’s clenched muscles, and he shivers. “The thought of you filled up with my come, keeping yourself ready for me, Jesus, you don’t even know.”
Jensen thinks he does know, actually, thinks that being on the other end of that tether is just opposite sides of the same coin, and it’s fucking intense. There’s nobody else Jensen would ever do this with, because there’s no one else he would trust to handle it.
“Not even gonna lube you up,” Jared says, beginning to rotate the toy, making sure that Jensen is loose enough to let go of it. The sensation dances along Jensen’s nerves, tingling on his skin even though Jared’s not touching him anywhere.
Jensen winces as the wide part pulls at his rim on the way out, but the rest slides out so easy that his stomach swoops with how loose he is. Jared is right there, the broad head of his cock stuffing Jensen’s entrance so nothing leaks out. They both groan as he sinks inside. Usually it’s a tight fight, a slow build up to the hard, deep thrusts that Jared craves. But Jensen’s so open and slick that Jared’s dick is just delicious pressure, almost no friction between Jensen’s walls and Jared’s skin.
Jensen drives his hips forward, urging Jared to thrust, giving permission, and Jared responds, pumping wildly into Jensen’s body, slapping their skin together, slamming the headboard into the wall over and over again. Jensen wraps his legs around Jared’s lean hips and hangs on as Jared pounds into him, letting go in a way he rarely can, too powerful and too big, too much potential damage to be done. But now, Jensen’s wet and ready for it, can take whatever Jared wants to give.
Jared’s whimpering with each uncoordinated thrust of his hips, pent up need finally being met, and Jensen cups his hand on the back of his neck, soothing and encouraging at once. Jared drops his head to the meat of Jensen’s shoulder, setting his teeth and biting down as he comes, shaking and shoving his cock in deep, working it back and forth with tiny little motions, wringing it out of himself. Jensen is so full of come that it’s leaking from his hole, around the stretch of Jared’s dick and he knows he’ll get hard again later, just remembering the way it feels.
Jared recovers his breath after a few minutes, sweaty and out of it and grinning like a loon. “That was awesome,” he says. “I’m awesome. I’m the best you ever had.”
Jensen clenches a little around Jared’s dick, still lodged inside of him, can’t help but grin back. “Wanna bet?”