(no subject)
Title: Rope Trick
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Jeff’s rope skills put boy scouts to shame.
Pure PWP. Includes bondage and toys.
Word Count: 2,030
Disclaimer: It’s all made up.
Thank you, raynemaiden, for betaing.
Also at AO3.
Jensen takes direction well.
Maybe the tone of voice helps more than the actual words. But as soon as Jeff brushes his bristled cheek up Jensen's neck and tells him to breathe, Jensen releases the air he's been holding onto.
Doubled over, Jensen pants his way through a deeper bend until his nose slots into the narrow space between his knees, the top of his head pressing into the mattress. His muscles strain, a slow burn up his back and around his shoulders, shooting down his arms where they're stretched over his head, his wrists tied together in solid knots and secured to the middle slat of the headboard.
Jeff drapes another length of rope down Jensen's back, settling it into the dip of his spine and pulling slowly, tickling the stray fibers over him. He drags it through the crack of Jensen's raised ass. The frayed end prickles against Jensen's hole, still raw and swollen where Jeff sucked and nipped at it only minutes earlier. Jensen gasps as Jeff gathers his balls in one palm and slips the braided rope up under and around each of them, digging into the seam. Then Jeff tugs tight. Jensen bucks, his cock rubbing against his belly. His thighs begin to tremble, but Jeff's not done with him. Not even close.
Tugging again at the binding around Jensen's balls, Jeff guides the rope back and up between Jensen's cheeks. Jensen clenches uncontrollably as the light but thick weight settles into his crease, and Jeff laughs low-a rumble that mimics distant thunder, portents wet kisses, sweat-soaked skin against skin, a relentless assault on his shivering body and somewhere, at the end of it all, release.
For now, Jensen feels strung out, strung up. Hell, even hog-tied. This last proves closer to the truth when Jeff draws the rest of the rope straight up Jensen's back and loops it around his neck.
Jeff tells him to raise his head, and he does, the pressure on his balls diminishing slightly. Then Jeff lays a firm hand on the back of Jensen's neck and pushes until his face crushes against the flesh of his inner thighs, damp hairs irritating his flushed cheeks. The rope goes taut, enough to snag his balls tighter, but not enough to choke him. He lets out a whimper as Jeff tests his work, stroking his finger along the tender underside of Jensen's sac. Folded over like this, the scent of Jensen's own sweat and musk overwhelms him.
He wonders how Jeff could fuck him this way, the rope so snug inside his crack. Then Jeff spreads Jensen's legs, wrenches them back a few inches. The movement brushburns Jensen's knees against the rumpled sheets, but it loosens the rope again. Jensen feels it lift up from the small of his back. Jeff takes advantage of the slackened length, crooks two fingers between the rope and Jensen's perineum and pulls hard. Jensen's head jerks backward, his back arching almost impossibly in this caught position.
Jeff strokes his fingers down Jensen's throat, curling under the rope at the base of his neck.
"Too tight?" he asks.
Jensen's breath comes out hard and fast, but he shakes his head.
Jeff coaxes Jensen back a little, letting the balance of his weight settle over his knees. He grabs a pillow and tips Jensen forward until he rests his head on it.
With his knees farther apart, Jensen can see Jeff kneeling behind him: the thick, dark hair on his muscled thighs, the denser, longer curls of it between his legs. Jeff's cock curves up toward his stomach, bobbing heavy, veins pronounced and purple under the thin skin, the head slick and red all across its flared width. It's not just his precarious position that makes Jensen feel lightheaded. He's impatient for Jeff, wants every inch of him to stretch him open, shove inside him hard and fast, use him up until he's hanging by a thread, nothing but rope holding him together.
"You want me to fill you up," Jeff says, toying with the rope between Jensen's cheeks, teasing it up and down. He doesn't need to ask, but he plucks the rope between his fingers, lifting it up and says, "Don't you?" He lets go, and the rope snaps back, sharp against Jensen's hole, sending a shudder all through him.
"Yes," he hisses, voice worn to a rough whisper.
Jeff snaps the rope again, harder. "Please," Jensen spits out then groans when the rope vibrates, reverberating down between his legs, ending all too quickly at his balls.
"Jesus," Jeff says so quietly Jensen can barely hear him past the rushing sound in his ears. "Look at you." Jeff runs his hands over Jensen's ass, fingers digging into his hips, thumbs kneading then dipping in, drawing rough lines along the rope. "You're all pink here," he mutters. "Fuck, Jensen." He rubs his hands up Jensen's back, draping himself over him, reaching down toward Jensen's bound wrists. Tucked so close, Jeff's cock slides between Jensen’s legs and against his balls. Jensen cries out, knows he could have come right then and there if it wasn't for the rope holding him back.
"Jeff," he pants. "Jeff, come on, man." He doesn't mean to sound so desperate, but he'll take whatever works.
Still, Jeff takes his time, slowly sitting back on his heels, sucking kisses all along Jensen's exposed skin, stroking down his shoulders, under his arms and down his sides as he goes. He latches onto one cheek and bites quickly and playfully. Jensen can feel him grin around it. Jeff slaps the same spot and says, "Patience, kid."
Jensen's whole body is on fire. He shuts his eyes to center himself, but barely manages one deep breath before he hears the pop of a plastic lid.
It's completely ridiculous, this upside down view between his legs. But that only distracts him momentarily as he watches Jeff drizzle lube over his cock, stroking down and up. Beads of liquid cling to Jeff's pubes, and Jensen stretches his fingers toward the wall behind the bed, wishing he could run them through that thatch of hair, disperse those tiny beads until his hands are wet and smear them up Jeff's abdomen to where the hair tapers away around his navel. Instead, Jeff smears lube over Jensen, up the insides of his cheeks, coating the rope just as much as his skin.
Something hard and slick wriggles past the ring of Jensen's hole. But it's not what Jensen wants, not Jeff's cock or his fingers. It's almost as thick as Jeff. But the dildo Jeff feeds into him has none of the warmth, none of the give, that push and pull he gets from flesh in flesh.
The dildo rubs against the rope until it digs into Jensen's left cheek. He'll probably be sore there tomorrow, but he'll be sore everywhere, so it doesn't matter. Besides, he likes the sore spots, likes pressing his fingers into them, remembering how Jeff put them there. He likes stretching in the shower stall until his muscles re-ignite with the renewed strain. He likes it even better when Jeff joins him, pins him to the wall and works each muscle, kisses each raw inch of him until he's lax and limp and spent in Jeff's mouth and hands.
Jensen's just starting to lose himself to the slow, methodical motion of the dildo inside him when Jeff withdraws it. There's an emptiness, a greater need than Jensen's felt yet. And then, then Jeff grabs onto the top of Jensen's thigh, nudges the rope aside, and pushes right into him in one, long thrust. He bottoms out, balls tight up against Jensen's. He gives Jensen a moment to adjust before he's pulling back out and slamming back in. The pace he sets is punishing-fast, even strokes in short circles.
Jeff pounds into him so hard, Jensen feels himself moving up the bed. The rope tightens around his throat. Suddenly, Jeff yanks at his hips, fitting them together, his outer thighs sticking to Jensen's inner thighs. The rope slackens and Jensen has enough room to buck back into Jeff, meet each thrust hard and relentless. He feels Jeff lose his rhythm for a second. Then Jeff's raising himself higher on his knees, changing the angle so that he's over Jensen instead of flush behind him. He rolls his hips and hits Jensen's prostate dead on, head catching and stroking, catching and stroking, not letting up once he's found it.
Jensen's legs shake. Sweat trickles down the curve of his back, down his neck, soaking the sheets. Everywhere that the rope bites into him, his flesh sings with sweet burning. But it's nothing compared to the burn below him, that slow fire starting at the base of his spine, sparking hotter each time Jeff fucks into him.
When Jeff drags back out of Jensen, he stutters out a pained cry. He stills, the head of his cock catching the rim of Jensen's hole. Then Jensen feels the tremor up Jeff's thighs through his own, and Jeff's coming, hot and spilling out past the thin stretch of skin, down onto Jensen's balls.
He stays that way for what seems like a long time, breathing so hard it chills the sweat on Jensen's back. Jensen waits, overcome with want, new waves of shivers running through him.
Jensen fails to hold back the whine in his throat when Jeff finally pulls out.
Jeff laughs. "Fucking rope," he says, tracing it with his finger, tip slipping underneath into the mess around Jensen's hole. "Between that damn thing rubbing me. And you." He pushes his own come back into Jensen and Jensen moans openly. "Shit, it just about killed me."
Jensen grunts in frustration, fucks himself on Jeff's finger. "If you don't let me come." He pauses to catch his breath. "I'm gonna kill you."
As Jeff removes his finger, Jensen can feel the rumble of silent laughter. "Tough words, from someone all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."
Jensen bites his tongue, literally, around a comeback. But then, Jeff pries at the knots at Jensen’s wrists, eases the rope off, the ends dangling from the headboard. Jeff hauls Jensen back against his chest, smoothing his hands up and down Jensen arms, squeezing the muscles until the blood tingles under Jensen's skin. He massages Jensen's shoulders, guides them in slow circles. He unknots the rope at Jensen's throat, lets it fall, then kneads out the kinks in Jensen's neck.
The pressure on Jensen's balls decreases, but the rope there is wound too tightly. He wants to come, needs to come, with an urgency bordering on pain.
Then Jeff's arms slide around him and he unties the last of the rope.
The release leaves Jensen throbbing, a demanding pulse. It’s almost too much when Jeff’s hand closes over him, thumb brushing the barest touch over the slit of Jensen's cock.
"Now," Jeff says against his ear, and Jensen's done, shooting strings of come over Jeff's fingers, up onto his own stomach. It seems endless. Jensen's wrung raw and still coming, fat drops landing on the pillow. One last bead bubbles up out of his cock, and Jeff spreads it over the head, making Jensen jerk in his hands. All the tension in Jensen's body snaps loose and he slumps back against Jeff's chest, head cradled in the curve of Jeff's shoulder.
"So fucking beautiful," Jeff says, dragging his lips over Jensen's cheekbone, planting soft kisses along his hairline.
It's the only time Jensen will let him get away with calling him that. Even now, Jensen swats lazily at Jeff's stomach. It simply makes him laugh some more.
"Sleep now, retaliation later," Jeff says, nipping at his ear.
Taking Jensen with him, Jeff lowers himself, untangles their legs and shifts until Jensen's slipping over his side and into the crook of his arm. He kicks the wet pillow onto the floor, and wads up a clump of comforter from the foot of the bed as a makeshift pillow instead. They fall asleep like that, upside down on the bed, the lights still on and one end of the rope hooked lightly over Jensen's ankle.
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In which Jeff’s rope skills put boy scouts to shame.
Pure PWP. Includes bondage and toys.
Word Count: 2,030
Disclaimer: It’s all made up.
Thank you, raynemaiden, for betaing.
Also at AO3.
Jensen takes direction well.
Maybe the tone of voice helps more than the actual words. But as soon as Jeff brushes his bristled cheek up Jensen's neck and tells him to breathe, Jensen releases the air he's been holding onto.
Doubled over, Jensen pants his way through a deeper bend until his nose slots into the narrow space between his knees, the top of his head pressing into the mattress. His muscles strain, a slow burn up his back and around his shoulders, shooting down his arms where they're stretched over his head, his wrists tied together in solid knots and secured to the middle slat of the headboard.
Jeff drapes another length of rope down Jensen's back, settling it into the dip of his spine and pulling slowly, tickling the stray fibers over him. He drags it through the crack of Jensen's raised ass. The frayed end prickles against Jensen's hole, still raw and swollen where Jeff sucked and nipped at it only minutes earlier. Jensen gasps as Jeff gathers his balls in one palm and slips the braided rope up under and around each of them, digging into the seam. Then Jeff tugs tight. Jensen bucks, his cock rubbing against his belly. His thighs begin to tremble, but Jeff's not done with him. Not even close.
Tugging again at the binding around Jensen's balls, Jeff guides the rope back and up between Jensen's cheeks. Jensen clenches uncontrollably as the light but thick weight settles into his crease, and Jeff laughs low-a rumble that mimics distant thunder, portents wet kisses, sweat-soaked skin against skin, a relentless assault on his shivering body and somewhere, at the end of it all, release.
For now, Jensen feels strung out, strung up. Hell, even hog-tied. This last proves closer to the truth when Jeff draws the rest of the rope straight up Jensen's back and loops it around his neck.
Jeff tells him to raise his head, and he does, the pressure on his balls diminishing slightly. Then Jeff lays a firm hand on the back of Jensen's neck and pushes until his face crushes against the flesh of his inner thighs, damp hairs irritating his flushed cheeks. The rope goes taut, enough to snag his balls tighter, but not enough to choke him. He lets out a whimper as Jeff tests his work, stroking his finger along the tender underside of Jensen's sac. Folded over like this, the scent of Jensen's own sweat and musk overwhelms him.
He wonders how Jeff could fuck him this way, the rope so snug inside his crack. Then Jeff spreads Jensen's legs, wrenches them back a few inches. The movement brushburns Jensen's knees against the rumpled sheets, but it loosens the rope again. Jensen feels it lift up from the small of his back. Jeff takes advantage of the slackened length, crooks two fingers between the rope and Jensen's perineum and pulls hard. Jensen's head jerks backward, his back arching almost impossibly in this caught position.
Jeff strokes his fingers down Jensen's throat, curling under the rope at the base of his neck.
"Too tight?" he asks.
Jensen's breath comes out hard and fast, but he shakes his head.
Jeff coaxes Jensen back a little, letting the balance of his weight settle over his knees. He grabs a pillow and tips Jensen forward until he rests his head on it.
With his knees farther apart, Jensen can see Jeff kneeling behind him: the thick, dark hair on his muscled thighs, the denser, longer curls of it between his legs. Jeff's cock curves up toward his stomach, bobbing heavy, veins pronounced and purple under the thin skin, the head slick and red all across its flared width. It's not just his precarious position that makes Jensen feel lightheaded. He's impatient for Jeff, wants every inch of him to stretch him open, shove inside him hard and fast, use him up until he's hanging by a thread, nothing but rope holding him together.
"You want me to fill you up," Jeff says, toying with the rope between Jensen's cheeks, teasing it up and down. He doesn't need to ask, but he plucks the rope between his fingers, lifting it up and says, "Don't you?" He lets go, and the rope snaps back, sharp against Jensen's hole, sending a shudder all through him.
"Yes," he hisses, voice worn to a rough whisper.
Jeff snaps the rope again, harder. "Please," Jensen spits out then groans when the rope vibrates, reverberating down between his legs, ending all too quickly at his balls.
"Jesus," Jeff says so quietly Jensen can barely hear him past the rushing sound in his ears. "Look at you." Jeff runs his hands over Jensen's ass, fingers digging into his hips, thumbs kneading then dipping in, drawing rough lines along the rope. "You're all pink here," he mutters. "Fuck, Jensen." He rubs his hands up Jensen's back, draping himself over him, reaching down toward Jensen's bound wrists. Tucked so close, Jeff's cock slides between Jensen’s legs and against his balls. Jensen cries out, knows he could have come right then and there if it wasn't for the rope holding him back.
"Jeff," he pants. "Jeff, come on, man." He doesn't mean to sound so desperate, but he'll take whatever works.
Still, Jeff takes his time, slowly sitting back on his heels, sucking kisses all along Jensen's exposed skin, stroking down his shoulders, under his arms and down his sides as he goes. He latches onto one cheek and bites quickly and playfully. Jensen can feel him grin around it. Jeff slaps the same spot and says, "Patience, kid."
Jensen's whole body is on fire. He shuts his eyes to center himself, but barely manages one deep breath before he hears the pop of a plastic lid.
It's completely ridiculous, this upside down view between his legs. But that only distracts him momentarily as he watches Jeff drizzle lube over his cock, stroking down and up. Beads of liquid cling to Jeff's pubes, and Jensen stretches his fingers toward the wall behind the bed, wishing he could run them through that thatch of hair, disperse those tiny beads until his hands are wet and smear them up Jeff's abdomen to where the hair tapers away around his navel. Instead, Jeff smears lube over Jensen, up the insides of his cheeks, coating the rope just as much as his skin.
Something hard and slick wriggles past the ring of Jensen's hole. But it's not what Jensen wants, not Jeff's cock or his fingers. It's almost as thick as Jeff. But the dildo Jeff feeds into him has none of the warmth, none of the give, that push and pull he gets from flesh in flesh.
The dildo rubs against the rope until it digs into Jensen's left cheek. He'll probably be sore there tomorrow, but he'll be sore everywhere, so it doesn't matter. Besides, he likes the sore spots, likes pressing his fingers into them, remembering how Jeff put them there. He likes stretching in the shower stall until his muscles re-ignite with the renewed strain. He likes it even better when Jeff joins him, pins him to the wall and works each muscle, kisses each raw inch of him until he's lax and limp and spent in Jeff's mouth and hands.
Jensen's just starting to lose himself to the slow, methodical motion of the dildo inside him when Jeff withdraws it. There's an emptiness, a greater need than Jensen's felt yet. And then, then Jeff grabs onto the top of Jensen's thigh, nudges the rope aside, and pushes right into him in one, long thrust. He bottoms out, balls tight up against Jensen's. He gives Jensen a moment to adjust before he's pulling back out and slamming back in. The pace he sets is punishing-fast, even strokes in short circles.
Jeff pounds into him so hard, Jensen feels himself moving up the bed. The rope tightens around his throat. Suddenly, Jeff yanks at his hips, fitting them together, his outer thighs sticking to Jensen's inner thighs. The rope slackens and Jensen has enough room to buck back into Jeff, meet each thrust hard and relentless. He feels Jeff lose his rhythm for a second. Then Jeff's raising himself higher on his knees, changing the angle so that he's over Jensen instead of flush behind him. He rolls his hips and hits Jensen's prostate dead on, head catching and stroking, catching and stroking, not letting up once he's found it.
Jensen's legs shake. Sweat trickles down the curve of his back, down his neck, soaking the sheets. Everywhere that the rope bites into him, his flesh sings with sweet burning. But it's nothing compared to the burn below him, that slow fire starting at the base of his spine, sparking hotter each time Jeff fucks into him.
When Jeff drags back out of Jensen, he stutters out a pained cry. He stills, the head of his cock catching the rim of Jensen's hole. Then Jensen feels the tremor up Jeff's thighs through his own, and Jeff's coming, hot and spilling out past the thin stretch of skin, down onto Jensen's balls.
He stays that way for what seems like a long time, breathing so hard it chills the sweat on Jensen's back. Jensen waits, overcome with want, new waves of shivers running through him.
Jensen fails to hold back the whine in his throat when Jeff finally pulls out.
Jeff laughs. "Fucking rope," he says, tracing it with his finger, tip slipping underneath into the mess around Jensen's hole. "Between that damn thing rubbing me. And you." He pushes his own come back into Jensen and Jensen moans openly. "Shit, it just about killed me."
Jensen grunts in frustration, fucks himself on Jeff's finger. "If you don't let me come." He pauses to catch his breath. "I'm gonna kill you."
As Jeff removes his finger, Jensen can feel the rumble of silent laughter. "Tough words, from someone all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."
Jensen bites his tongue, literally, around a comeback. But then, Jeff pries at the knots at Jensen’s wrists, eases the rope off, the ends dangling from the headboard. Jeff hauls Jensen back against his chest, smoothing his hands up and down Jensen arms, squeezing the muscles until the blood tingles under Jensen's skin. He massages Jensen's shoulders, guides them in slow circles. He unknots the rope at Jensen's throat, lets it fall, then kneads out the kinks in Jensen's neck.
The pressure on Jensen's balls decreases, but the rope there is wound too tightly. He wants to come, needs to come, with an urgency bordering on pain.
Then Jeff's arms slide around him and he unties the last of the rope.
The release leaves Jensen throbbing, a demanding pulse. It’s almost too much when Jeff’s hand closes over him, thumb brushing the barest touch over the slit of Jensen's cock.
"Now," Jeff says against his ear, and Jensen's done, shooting strings of come over Jeff's fingers, up onto his own stomach. It seems endless. Jensen's wrung raw and still coming, fat drops landing on the pillow. One last bead bubbles up out of his cock, and Jeff spreads it over the head, making Jensen jerk in his hands. All the tension in Jensen's body snaps loose and he slumps back against Jeff's chest, head cradled in the curve of Jeff's shoulder.
"So fucking beautiful," Jeff says, dragging his lips over Jensen's cheekbone, planting soft kisses along his hairline.
It's the only time Jensen will let him get away with calling him that. Even now, Jensen swats lazily at Jeff's stomach. It simply makes him laugh some more.
"Sleep now, retaliation later," Jeff says, nipping at his ear.
Taking Jensen with him, Jeff lowers himself, untangles their legs and shifts until Jensen's slipping over his side and into the crook of his arm. He kicks the wet pillow onto the floor, and wads up a clump of comforter from the foot of the bed as a makeshift pillow instead. They fall asleep like that, upside down on the bed, the lights still on and one end of the rope hooked lightly over Jensen's ankle.