Fic: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was (Jensen/Jared) NC-17
This is new for me, playing in someone else's sandpit.
Fic title: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1258
Summary: Jensen has things to do.
Notes: thenyxie asked me for a Jensen POV to accompany her amazing AU But Then My Homework Was Never Quite Like This where Jensen is Jared's high school physics teacher. If you haven't read it yet? HOMG, what are you waiting for? This is set during Part Four, but has spoilers for Part Six, so do read that first. Thanks to cormallen for the beta.
Evening, that's Jensen's favourite time of the day. Once he's shrugged off the classroom and showered away the chalk from under his fingernails, changed into 'civilian' clothing and cooked and eaten his dinner, then it's his time. His time to do whatever he wants, to relax and unwind, to read, to listen to good music and drink even better wine.
Lately though, the showers don’t seem to be making a difference. No matter what he does, he always seems itchy afterwards, still unclean. He’s never going to get rid of it by showering. Jared isn’t as easily washed away as chalkdust, and if Jensen’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want him to be.
The house seems so quiet now that he's alone, and Jensen wonders what they'd be doing now if he'd given in, if he'd asked Jared to stay like he wanted to.
His evenings lately have all been like this, Jensen sitting with his feet up, dissecting the day from a distinctly Jared-obsessed perspective. How he looked when he first walked into class that day, laughing with Chad and Sandy, head thrown back and eyes twinkling and Jensen having to dig his nails into his palms to stop himself from looking.
Jensen wants to be the one to make Jared laugh like that, but then again, those kids don't see the Jared he does. The Jared who isn't a kid at all, and at the end of the day, he's the one making Jared beg and moan. He's the one making Jared's eyes glaze over. The one who makes him so crazy with lust that Jared can't think of anything else, desperate for anything he can get from Jensen, desperate enough to make himself come in class, for God's sake.
Jensen's never met anyone like Jared in his life.
Jensen drains his glass, but instead of going to the kitchen to pour himself another, he walks over to the desk. He stands there, nibbling at his lower lip, his fingers skating over the very spot that Jared had his hands on hours earlier. He can remember exactly how Jared looked standing there, legs spread, fingers moving inside himself. Naked and so fucking beautiful it makes Jensen ache just thinking about it, the way Jared’s muscles rippled and shifted as he fucked himself on his own hand. The noises he made, the way he begged. Jensen can feel want like a fucking fist to his gut, just like he did then. Uncontrollable, frightening, intoxicating want.
He isn't used to feeling like this, and he doesn't like it. Can't let it continue, needs to stamp it out. But then he closes his eyes and sees those too-long bangs and that trusting face, and those legs that go on forever, and he's fucking gone again.
Jensen's chest aches when he remembers what it felt like, sliding into Jared for the first time; tight heat that welcomed him in. He can't help but wonder if he'll ever forget how it felt, or if he'll have to keep repressing the memory, pressing it down deep into his gut so that it only comes to the surface when he's like this, alone and safe.
Jensen was the perfect student, and he's never forgotten his own lessons in control and what they taught him about himself, what she taught him about how the world works. How he needed to steel himself, to make sure nothing, nobody got in. So he doesn't really do this. Doesn't fuck around for the sheer unbridled pleasure of it. It isn't about what he wants or because it feels good to do it.
And he doesn't believe in love.
He ends up in the bedroom, one hand inside his pants and the other gripping the headboard. The room still smells like them, strong scent of sex and want and God, underneath it all, he can smell Jared, and it's intoxicating.
When he closes his eyes he lets himself imagine what it would be like for him to touch Jared the way he really wants to, for Jared to touch him. It's dangerous to give in like this, to give into want with no hope of controlling it and no desire to, but he wants to, just this once. Resisting Jared is so fucking exhausting and Jensen's whole body aches with the strain of it.
Jensen imagines Jared on top of him, sinking down on his cock, riding him as Jensen's hands grip his hips. Jared looks... he looks beautiful, wanton, desperate, and this is why they can never do this, why Jensen can never look at him like this. It's too real, too naked and honest. It's frightening to comprehend.
And doesn't that make him a fucking coward? Jared lays himself bare every day. Every fucking day, and no matter how much Jensen takes from him, he gives even more, over and over with no questions, no complaints. Eighteen years old and he's more open, more trusting than Jensen's ever been in his entire life.
Wanted to see you... I like you.
Jensen wonders if that would still be true if Jared could see inside Jensen's head, if the sex-shine wore off, and Jared could see for himself just how cold and dead Jensen's insides are.
Maybe Jensen should show him. It'd stop Jared expecting too much, stop him thinking that he has the power to change Jensen, to make him something he's not.
No matter how much Jensen wants him to.
Jensen growls at the thought, strokes himself just the way he likes it, long, rough pulls with his fist, thumb skating across the head of his cock. Visualises flipping Jared onto his back with his long, long legs over Jensen's shoulders. Fucking him harder and faster, much rougher than he should, making it hurt. Making him pay for turning Jensen's carefully-ordered life upside down like this and for making Jensen feel things he can't allow himself to feel.
He fucks his hand harder, faster, driving his cock into his fist. He's close, so close already and he shuts his eyes tight, sees Jared's face; open and trusting. Jared's head is thrown back, and his neck bared and he looks like sin, his teeth biting down on that full and perfect bottom lip, and begging Jensen to fuck him harder.
Jensen comes with Jared's name on his lips and his fingers gripping the headboard so tight it hurts.
He allows himself a few minutes to recover, then he's on his feet, grabbing a flannel and wiping his chest and cock and stomach clean and throwing his pyjama pants on.
Jensen has things to do.
He starts in the bedroom; puts the CD away in its empty spot in the bookcase, strips the bedsheets and pillowcases that smell of Jared, and doesn't inhale deeply until he throws them in the washing machine.
The bedroom's clean now, but the kitchen has reminders of Jared, still. Dirty chopping board, the smell of onions, stray tomato seeds. Jensen scrubs the board till his hands ache, cleans the kitchen with bleach until it's gleaming, and pours himself another glass of wine.
The house is as it was. Like Jared was never there.
Jensen feels like he can relax now, so he settles in his chair again, opens up his briefcase and starts reviewing the lesson plans for the following week, while thinking about what he's going to do to Jared after class, behind locked doors. Something new, he thinks, something... fun. Something that can't be construed as intimate.
He's ready for Monday.
the end
Fic title: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1258
Summary: Jensen has things to do.
Notes: thenyxie asked me for a Jensen POV to accompany her amazing AU But Then My Homework Was Never Quite Like This where Jensen is Jared's high school physics teacher. If you haven't read it yet? HOMG, what are you waiting for? This is set during Part Four, but has spoilers for Part Six, so do read that first. Thanks to cormallen for the beta.
Evening, that's Jensen's favourite time of the day. Once he's shrugged off the classroom and showered away the chalk from under his fingernails, changed into 'civilian' clothing and cooked and eaten his dinner, then it's his time. His time to do whatever he wants, to relax and unwind, to read, to listen to good music and drink even better wine.
Lately though, the showers don’t seem to be making a difference. No matter what he does, he always seems itchy afterwards, still unclean. He’s never going to get rid of it by showering. Jared isn’t as easily washed away as chalkdust, and if Jensen’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want him to be.
The house seems so quiet now that he's alone, and Jensen wonders what they'd be doing now if he'd given in, if he'd asked Jared to stay like he wanted to.
His evenings lately have all been like this, Jensen sitting with his feet up, dissecting the day from a distinctly Jared-obsessed perspective. How he looked when he first walked into class that day, laughing with Chad and Sandy, head thrown back and eyes twinkling and Jensen having to dig his nails into his palms to stop himself from looking.
Jensen wants to be the one to make Jared laugh like that, but then again, those kids don't see the Jared he does. The Jared who isn't a kid at all, and at the end of the day, he's the one making Jared beg and moan. He's the one making Jared's eyes glaze over. The one who makes him so crazy with lust that Jared can't think of anything else, desperate for anything he can get from Jensen, desperate enough to make himself come in class, for God's sake.
Jensen's never met anyone like Jared in his life.
Jensen drains his glass, but instead of going to the kitchen to pour himself another, he walks over to the desk. He stands there, nibbling at his lower lip, his fingers skating over the very spot that Jared had his hands on hours earlier. He can remember exactly how Jared looked standing there, legs spread, fingers moving inside himself. Naked and so fucking beautiful it makes Jensen ache just thinking about it, the way Jared’s muscles rippled and shifted as he fucked himself on his own hand. The noises he made, the way he begged. Jensen can feel want like a fucking fist to his gut, just like he did then. Uncontrollable, frightening, intoxicating want.
He isn't used to feeling like this, and he doesn't like it. Can't let it continue, needs to stamp it out. But then he closes his eyes and sees those too-long bangs and that trusting face, and those legs that go on forever, and he's fucking gone again.
Jensen's chest aches when he remembers what it felt like, sliding into Jared for the first time; tight heat that welcomed him in. He can't help but wonder if he'll ever forget how it felt, or if he'll have to keep repressing the memory, pressing it down deep into his gut so that it only comes to the surface when he's like this, alone and safe.
Jensen was the perfect student, and he's never forgotten his own lessons in control and what they taught him about himself, what she taught him about how the world works. How he needed to steel himself, to make sure nothing, nobody got in. So he doesn't really do this. Doesn't fuck around for the sheer unbridled pleasure of it. It isn't about what he wants or because it feels good to do it.
And he doesn't believe in love.
He ends up in the bedroom, one hand inside his pants and the other gripping the headboard. The room still smells like them, strong scent of sex and want and God, underneath it all, he can smell Jared, and it's intoxicating.
When he closes his eyes he lets himself imagine what it would be like for him to touch Jared the way he really wants to, for Jared to touch him. It's dangerous to give in like this, to give into want with no hope of controlling it and no desire to, but he wants to, just this once. Resisting Jared is so fucking exhausting and Jensen's whole body aches with the strain of it.
Jensen imagines Jared on top of him, sinking down on his cock, riding him as Jensen's hands grip his hips. Jared looks... he looks beautiful, wanton, desperate, and this is why they can never do this, why Jensen can never look at him like this. It's too real, too naked and honest. It's frightening to comprehend.
And doesn't that make him a fucking coward? Jared lays himself bare every day. Every fucking day, and no matter how much Jensen takes from him, he gives even more, over and over with no questions, no complaints. Eighteen years old and he's more open, more trusting than Jensen's ever been in his entire life.
Wanted to see you... I like you.
Jensen wonders if that would still be true if Jared could see inside Jensen's head, if the sex-shine wore off, and Jared could see for himself just how cold and dead Jensen's insides are.
Maybe Jensen should show him. It'd stop Jared expecting too much, stop him thinking that he has the power to change Jensen, to make him something he's not.
No matter how much Jensen wants him to.
Jensen growls at the thought, strokes himself just the way he likes it, long, rough pulls with his fist, thumb skating across the head of his cock. Visualises flipping Jared onto his back with his long, long legs over Jensen's shoulders. Fucking him harder and faster, much rougher than he should, making it hurt. Making him pay for turning Jensen's carefully-ordered life upside down like this and for making Jensen feel things he can't allow himself to feel.
He fucks his hand harder, faster, driving his cock into his fist. He's close, so close already and he shuts his eyes tight, sees Jared's face; open and trusting. Jared's head is thrown back, and his neck bared and he looks like sin, his teeth biting down on that full and perfect bottom lip, and begging Jensen to fuck him harder.
Jensen comes with Jared's name on his lips and his fingers gripping the headboard so tight it hurts.
He allows himself a few minutes to recover, then he's on his feet, grabbing a flannel and wiping his chest and cock and stomach clean and throwing his pyjama pants on.
Jensen has things to do.
He starts in the bedroom; puts the CD away in its empty spot in the bookcase, strips the bedsheets and pillowcases that smell of Jared, and doesn't inhale deeply until he throws them in the washing machine.
The bedroom's clean now, but the kitchen has reminders of Jared, still. Dirty chopping board, the smell of onions, stray tomato seeds. Jensen scrubs the board till his hands ache, cleans the kitchen with bleach until it's gleaming, and pours himself another glass of wine.
The house is as it was. Like Jared was never there.
Jensen feels like he can relax now, so he settles in his chair again, opens up his briefcase and starts reviewing the lesson plans for the following week, while thinking about what he's going to do to Jared after class, behind locked doors. Something new, he thinks, something... fun. Something that can't be construed as intimate.
He's ready for Monday.
the end