[Fic] Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy (Jared/Jensen, NC-17)
For salt_burn_porn
Title: Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating:: NC-17
Summary: Jared and Jensen haven't seen each other for a decade. Then, of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, Jensen has to walk into this one. I'm sorry, this doesn't really have anything to do with the prompt at all. *cough*
Notes: SORRY, I WROTE THIS ON A TRAIN ON MY IPHONE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
"Hey, I know you," the guy says. He's thirty-something, sandy-haired, rocking the James Dean thing with his white t-shirt and jeans and casual swagger. Jared looks up from his second beer into eyes the yellow-green of malachite, and says, "Jensen," before he registers thinking it.
And it is, it is him -- Jensen, once the grad student Jared fell for one hot fall evening his first semester of college, a decade ago. They dated for two years. Formed a company and an engagement before their hot tempers dissolved both.
Jared still remembers the last time they spoke, on a crackly line from New York to Beijing, the finality in the way Jensen slammed the phone down. But now here he is, older and broader and smiling that smile Jared never expected to see again.
"You sure as hell grew up," Jensen says, and Jared laughs, because this is like a surreal dream.
"It's been ten years, Jen. What'd you expect?"
"Thought you were Peter Pan," Jensen said dryly, extracting a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. "Smoke?"
"I don't," Jared begins, and Jensen grins at him, that sly, familiar curve of lips.
"You never did, Jay, but it never stopped you."
All at once, Jared's eighteen again, hands and feet feeling puppyishly too big for his body and his stomach dipping dangerously. He hasn't smoked in years, but the look on Jensen's face silences him, makes him take the proffered cig.
"We'll have to go outside," Jared points out, and Jensen inclines his head in easy agreement.
"Or we could go back to my place," he says. "Catch up."
They look at each other. Jared feels the tension rising between them like mist. There was a reason they fell so quickly together and so explosively apart, and Jared remembers it now as he stares at Jensen's mouth and feels his stomach flare with heat, anticipating. Remembering the wet slide of that mouth on his cock and how good it always felt to make up with Jensen.
"Okay," Jared says, and Jensen smiles, as if he knew he would.
*
Jensen lives in a loft by the river; of course he does. The elevator is one of those retro affairs with a sliding inner door you have to pull across before it starts moving, and the whole building feels to Jared like something out of a horror movie, but Jensen always did like that stuff.
"Nice place," Jared says, as he follows Jensen into the apartment and watches him throw down his keys on the side table.
"I'll give you the tour," Jensen promises. He's wearing that expression again, almost a challenge, and Jared takes him up on it immediately, the two of them falling easily back into that old accord.
"Guess we should start with the bedroom."
Jensen laughs, head tipping back, all white teeth. "That's my boy."
This isn't the way Jared ever thought this would go. And he's thought about it often: calling Jensen some night after too much whisky had made him reckless, asking… But there was always too much pride between them for I miss yous and, lately, too much time, too. Jared never imagined them meeting like this, by chance in some nondescript dive bar in Austin.
But there they were, and now, here they are: Jensen stopping just inside the doorway to curl his fingers around the hem of his t-shirt, eyes holding Jared's as he pulls it over his head in that crossover way that, somehow, manages to be feline rather than girlish; Jensen's thumbs hooking into the waistband of his jeans. Jared says, "Shit," and Jensen smirks at him, says, "C'mon, then, let me see you, all grown up."
Jared doesn't need telling twice. He's not graceful like Jensen, never has been, but he's efficient, and he's dispensed with t-shirt and jeans in a matter of seconds, sneakers kicked off carelessly into the corner of the room, and Jensen whistles under his breath, appreciative.
"Grown up, indeed. What do you do with yourself these days, kid? Hard labour?"
Jared laughs. "I'm an engineer."
"Course you are." Jensen smirks. "Gym all night, then?"
Jared inclines his head. "This your idea of catching up?"
The edge of the bed pushes up against the back of Jensen's thighs as he leans against it. "I'd rather catch up with other things, to be honest."
Jared doesn't hesitate. This whole evening feels crazy, but it's always felt like that with him and Jensen, too fast and too reckless and too volatile, their hands all over each other and their mouths everywhere and their thoughts racing like bullets from a gun. He's on Jensen before he can stop to think, the two of them catapulted backward onto the mattress, and then Jensen's arching up against him and clutching at his hips, and oh
"Yeah, that's it," Jensen says, and he's pushing his hips up against Jared's, the line of his cock hot and obvious through the thin cotton of his boxers. His thighs are strong and golden tanned and Jared slots between them like he always did, his hands skimming up Jensen's flanks, over his shoulders. When Jensen tugs him down, he goes without preamble, his mouth opening for Jensen's in a shiver of nostalgia and want.
God, but the way Jensen kisses. Jared had never been properly kissed before Jensen. Everything leading up to him had been fumbled and inexpert, messy awkward things behind the gym at school. And then there was Jensen, his soft lips and clever tongue, his hands roving down Jared's back and clutching at his shoulders. Jared leans into that firmness now, the certainty of it, the way Jensen sucks at his lower lip and rubs the flats of their tongues together, hard and wet and sure. They're rutting against each other already, hips rolling, and Jared can feel himself building, want crackling through him like static through an amp.
"Oh, shit," Jensen murmurs, breaking away all wet-mouthed and flushed, "c'mon, Jay; c'mon."
Jared rolls his hips, grinds down, and Jensen moans, hands sliding down the small of Jared's back to grip his ass, hauling him close by the backside. Their legs tangle, long and bare. Jensen's so hot under him, so familiar, even after all this time, and the way he sets Jared's belly fluttering has never been replicated since, never like this. He's so hard, always so hard for Jensen, so fast, and Jensen's mouth on Jared's neck is liquid-hot, tracing the tendon from jaw to clavicle with wanton intent.
"'C'mere," Jensen says, tugging, "C'mere, Jay." His hand cups the back of Jared's head, clutches at it, and then slides down, and before Jared knows it, their positions are reversed, Jared on his back and Jensen's mouth drifting down Jared's chest, catching at a nipple here, a hipbone there. Their boxers disappear in a clever sleight of Jensen's hand. Jared's aching for it, straining, and then Jensen tongues at the tip of him and Jared rears up, feeling full and eager and close.
"Ssshhh," Jensen says, pivoting on the bed, and Jared takes a deep breath, slow. Jensen straddles him easily, turning himself so his own hips are across Jared's chest, and that's easier; that's a distraction; that's Jensen's glorious ass that won't quit in Jared's face and, yeah, Jared can't help but tongue at the cleft of it, licking at the tight clench of Jensen's asshole.
"Motherfucker." Jensen jerks, and Jared laughs, feeling more confident now; smacks Jensen's ass open handed and kisses him again.
"C'mon then," he says, "get to it."
When Jensen ducks his head, it's like a switch has been flipped in Jared's brain, turning on the animal part of him to a level where nothing else can break through. Christ, he always knew Jensen was good at this, but maybe he's forgotten just how good it feels to have Jensen curling his tongue around his crown like this, dipping into the wet slit, parting his lips to go down on the shaft in an easy slide. He comes up expertly, twisting, and Jared takes a deep breath, rubs his mouth against the head of Jensen's dick and steadies himself. Return the favour, he reminds himself, and nuzzles the spine of Jensen's cock, feels him groan.
Jensen buries a gasp in Jared's crotch, his breath tickling, thrilling. Jared groans and takes just the head into his mouth, sucking, rolling it around gently, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. It's been a while since he's done this, but it's familiar, and when Jensen muffles another choked-off cry against him and tries to thrust, Jared remembers why he loves this. He takes hold of Jensen's ass in both hands, holds him still, and Jensen opens his mouth then, lets Jared slide back in, his tongue moving in a perfect imitation of the one tormenting him.
It's a duet, Jared thinks, as good as any they sang together on karaoke nights in the college bar -- hell, way better. When Jared pauses, so does Jensen. When Jensen attacks, so does Jared. Suck, lick, curl, stroke, squeeze; whatever Jared does to Jensen is immediately answered in kind, every sensation echoed and shared. The heat builds, pace increasing, until action and reaction become indistinguishable: Jensen moans, and the moan makes Jared gasp and the gasp makes Jensen writhe and haul Jared closer, take him deeper, the whole gorgeous cycle beginning again.
This, Jared thinks, his mind a daze of heat and urgency, this is why they had to come back to each other, this kind of synergy.
When his orgasm hits, Jared pulls away, always their agreement, not wanting to shoot all over Jensen's face or in his perfect mouth, much as he's thought of it, dreamed of it, his come wet and slick all over Jensen's face. But when Jensen tugs back, Jared catches him, arms wrapping around his waist, sucking as hard as he can in defiance of Jensen's stammered warning. He wants this, he realises, his stomach turning over in a hot surge of certainty; wants Jensen's come in his mouth and down his throat.
He feels it a second before it comes, the last-minute surge of energy before it hits, Jensen coming and coming hard, nearly convulsing, clutching at Jared's hips and his thighs and his ass. Jensen's soft again before Jared will let go, not just his cock but his whole body, all of him, splayed out limp and boneless on the mattress. Jared's never been overjoyed by the taste, that bitter, cloying tang, but the sense of triumph over Jensen is worth it, the euphoria of crawling up over him, victorious, looking down at Jensen shattered beneath him.
Jared looks down at him, panting. The look on Jensen's face as he stares back is shaken and dazed, his eyes hot and green, wide and startled.
"Hi," Jensen says, his voice thick and raspy with sex. "I don't think we've met. Uh. Shit."
"Hi," Jared says back, and smiles. "I think we can fix that."
Title: Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating:: NC-17
Summary: Jared and Jensen haven't seen each other for a decade. Then, of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, Jensen has to walk into this one. I'm sorry, this doesn't really have anything to do with the prompt at all. *cough*
Notes: SORRY, I WROTE THIS ON A TRAIN ON MY IPHONE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
"Hey, I know you," the guy says. He's thirty-something, sandy-haired, rocking the James Dean thing with his white t-shirt and jeans and casual swagger. Jared looks up from his second beer into eyes the yellow-green of malachite, and says, "Jensen," before he registers thinking it.
And it is, it is him -- Jensen, once the grad student Jared fell for one hot fall evening his first semester of college, a decade ago. They dated for two years. Formed a company and an engagement before their hot tempers dissolved both.
Jared still remembers the last time they spoke, on a crackly line from New York to Beijing, the finality in the way Jensen slammed the phone down. But now here he is, older and broader and smiling that smile Jared never expected to see again.
"You sure as hell grew up," Jensen says, and Jared laughs, because this is like a surreal dream.
"It's been ten years, Jen. What'd you expect?"
"Thought you were Peter Pan," Jensen said dryly, extracting a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. "Smoke?"
"I don't," Jared begins, and Jensen grins at him, that sly, familiar curve of lips.
"You never did, Jay, but it never stopped you."
All at once, Jared's eighteen again, hands and feet feeling puppyishly too big for his body and his stomach dipping dangerously. He hasn't smoked in years, but the look on Jensen's face silences him, makes him take the proffered cig.
"We'll have to go outside," Jared points out, and Jensen inclines his head in easy agreement.
"Or we could go back to my place," he says. "Catch up."
They look at each other. Jared feels the tension rising between them like mist. There was a reason they fell so quickly together and so explosively apart, and Jared remembers it now as he stares at Jensen's mouth and feels his stomach flare with heat, anticipating. Remembering the wet slide of that mouth on his cock and how good it always felt to make up with Jensen.
"Okay," Jared says, and Jensen smiles, as if he knew he would.
*
Jensen lives in a loft by the river; of course he does. The elevator is one of those retro affairs with a sliding inner door you have to pull across before it starts moving, and the whole building feels to Jared like something out of a horror movie, but Jensen always did like that stuff.
"Nice place," Jared says, as he follows Jensen into the apartment and watches him throw down his keys on the side table.
"I'll give you the tour," Jensen promises. He's wearing that expression again, almost a challenge, and Jared takes him up on it immediately, the two of them falling easily back into that old accord.
"Guess we should start with the bedroom."
Jensen laughs, head tipping back, all white teeth. "That's my boy."
This isn't the way Jared ever thought this would go. And he's thought about it often: calling Jensen some night after too much whisky had made him reckless, asking… But there was always too much pride between them for I miss yous and, lately, too much time, too. Jared never imagined them meeting like this, by chance in some nondescript dive bar in Austin.
But there they were, and now, here they are: Jensen stopping just inside the doorway to curl his fingers around the hem of his t-shirt, eyes holding Jared's as he pulls it over his head in that crossover way that, somehow, manages to be feline rather than girlish; Jensen's thumbs hooking into the waistband of his jeans. Jared says, "Shit," and Jensen smirks at him, says, "C'mon, then, let me see you, all grown up."
Jared doesn't need telling twice. He's not graceful like Jensen, never has been, but he's efficient, and he's dispensed with t-shirt and jeans in a matter of seconds, sneakers kicked off carelessly into the corner of the room, and Jensen whistles under his breath, appreciative.
"Grown up, indeed. What do you do with yourself these days, kid? Hard labour?"
Jared laughs. "I'm an engineer."
"Course you are." Jensen smirks. "Gym all night, then?"
Jared inclines his head. "This your idea of catching up?"
The edge of the bed pushes up against the back of Jensen's thighs as he leans against it. "I'd rather catch up with other things, to be honest."
Jared doesn't hesitate. This whole evening feels crazy, but it's always felt like that with him and Jensen, too fast and too reckless and too volatile, their hands all over each other and their mouths everywhere and their thoughts racing like bullets from a gun. He's on Jensen before he can stop to think, the two of them catapulted backward onto the mattress, and then Jensen's arching up against him and clutching at his hips, and oh
"Yeah, that's it," Jensen says, and he's pushing his hips up against Jared's, the line of his cock hot and obvious through the thin cotton of his boxers. His thighs are strong and golden tanned and Jared slots between them like he always did, his hands skimming up Jensen's flanks, over his shoulders. When Jensen tugs him down, he goes without preamble, his mouth opening for Jensen's in a shiver of nostalgia and want.
God, but the way Jensen kisses. Jared had never been properly kissed before Jensen. Everything leading up to him had been fumbled and inexpert, messy awkward things behind the gym at school. And then there was Jensen, his soft lips and clever tongue, his hands roving down Jared's back and clutching at his shoulders. Jared leans into that firmness now, the certainty of it, the way Jensen sucks at his lower lip and rubs the flats of their tongues together, hard and wet and sure. They're rutting against each other already, hips rolling, and Jared can feel himself building, want crackling through him like static through an amp.
"Oh, shit," Jensen murmurs, breaking away all wet-mouthed and flushed, "c'mon, Jay; c'mon."
Jared rolls his hips, grinds down, and Jensen moans, hands sliding down the small of Jared's back to grip his ass, hauling him close by the backside. Their legs tangle, long and bare. Jensen's so hot under him, so familiar, even after all this time, and the way he sets Jared's belly fluttering has never been replicated since, never like this. He's so hard, always so hard for Jensen, so fast, and Jensen's mouth on Jared's neck is liquid-hot, tracing the tendon from jaw to clavicle with wanton intent.
"'C'mere," Jensen says, tugging, "C'mere, Jay." His hand cups the back of Jared's head, clutches at it, and then slides down, and before Jared knows it, their positions are reversed, Jared on his back and Jensen's mouth drifting down Jared's chest, catching at a nipple here, a hipbone there. Their boxers disappear in a clever sleight of Jensen's hand. Jared's aching for it, straining, and then Jensen tongues at the tip of him and Jared rears up, feeling full and eager and close.
"Ssshhh," Jensen says, pivoting on the bed, and Jared takes a deep breath, slow. Jensen straddles him easily, turning himself so his own hips are across Jared's chest, and that's easier; that's a distraction; that's Jensen's glorious ass that won't quit in Jared's face and, yeah, Jared can't help but tongue at the cleft of it, licking at the tight clench of Jensen's asshole.
"Motherfucker." Jensen jerks, and Jared laughs, feeling more confident now; smacks Jensen's ass open handed and kisses him again.
"C'mon then," he says, "get to it."
When Jensen ducks his head, it's like a switch has been flipped in Jared's brain, turning on the animal part of him to a level where nothing else can break through. Christ, he always knew Jensen was good at this, but maybe he's forgotten just how good it feels to have Jensen curling his tongue around his crown like this, dipping into the wet slit, parting his lips to go down on the shaft in an easy slide. He comes up expertly, twisting, and Jared takes a deep breath, rubs his mouth against the head of Jensen's dick and steadies himself. Return the favour, he reminds himself, and nuzzles the spine of Jensen's cock, feels him groan.
Jensen buries a gasp in Jared's crotch, his breath tickling, thrilling. Jared groans and takes just the head into his mouth, sucking, rolling it around gently, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. It's been a while since he's done this, but it's familiar, and when Jensen muffles another choked-off cry against him and tries to thrust, Jared remembers why he loves this. He takes hold of Jensen's ass in both hands, holds him still, and Jensen opens his mouth then, lets Jared slide back in, his tongue moving in a perfect imitation of the one tormenting him.
It's a duet, Jared thinks, as good as any they sang together on karaoke nights in the college bar -- hell, way better. When Jared pauses, so does Jensen. When Jensen attacks, so does Jared. Suck, lick, curl, stroke, squeeze; whatever Jared does to Jensen is immediately answered in kind, every sensation echoed and shared. The heat builds, pace increasing, until action and reaction become indistinguishable: Jensen moans, and the moan makes Jared gasp and the gasp makes Jensen writhe and haul Jared closer, take him deeper, the whole gorgeous cycle beginning again.
This, Jared thinks, his mind a daze of heat and urgency, this is why they had to come back to each other, this kind of synergy.
When his orgasm hits, Jared pulls away, always their agreement, not wanting to shoot all over Jensen's face or in his perfect mouth, much as he's thought of it, dreamed of it, his come wet and slick all over Jensen's face. But when Jensen tugs back, Jared catches him, arms wrapping around his waist, sucking as hard as he can in defiance of Jensen's stammered warning. He wants this, he realises, his stomach turning over in a hot surge of certainty; wants Jensen's come in his mouth and down his throat.
He feels it a second before it comes, the last-minute surge of energy before it hits, Jensen coming and coming hard, nearly convulsing, clutching at Jared's hips and his thighs and his ass. Jensen's soft again before Jared will let go, not just his cock but his whole body, all of him, splayed out limp and boneless on the mattress. Jared's never been overjoyed by the taste, that bitter, cloying tang, but the sense of triumph over Jensen is worth it, the euphoria of crawling up over him, victorious, looking down at Jensen shattered beneath him.
Jared looks down at him, panting. The look on Jensen's face as he stares back is shaken and dazed, his eyes hot and green, wide and startled.
"Hi," Jensen says, his voice thick and raspy with sex. "I don't think we've met. Uh. Shit."
"Hi," Jared says back, and smiles. "I think we can fix that."