RPS: The Internet Is For...
thehighwaywoman: *SMISHES* Thank You for the pretty, pretty rose!
Title: Internet is for...
Rating: R
Characters: Jared
Warnings: masturbation; misuse of (jailbait) photographs of a co-star; fantasizing; Jared's potty-brain; severe overuse of 'and'; RPS
Disclaimer: None you know are belong to us.
Summary: Jared learns Internet's purpose and RPS ensues.
A/N: Written for tj_smartz, sort of. I'm not sure how she talked me into RPS, either, but my Muse is in cahoots with her. She also beta'ed this. *smishes the girl*
Length: About seve- oh, um, words? Roughly 635.
It wasn't a good idea. But he was bored and maybe just a little bit tired or tipsy. As if those couple of beers could really have that kind of an effect. Besides, it begun innocently enough, cruising the web in search of the most ridiculous photos of Jensen to print and copy and use in the next wave of that prank war...
And there wasn't anything (much) to get hard over in the pictures of a teenaged Jensen. Sure, he'd been effeminate. He'd had the lips and the eyes and the whole jailbait-thing going on for him, skin smoother than Dean could ever have and those eyes...
Jared clicked to another set of pictures quickly. Older Jensen, eyes half-closed, lips parted, head leaned back slightly. Freshly fucked.
And that wasn't what that photo shoot had been about. Jared remembered it, that bright, bubbly green backdrop, that car, but damn it, he hadn't seen that picture before.
The Jensen in the photo was looking straight at him, come on written on his face like an invitation, just for him.
Hurriedly, trying to ignore his groin, Jared closed the tab, went to another. Jensen looked at him from under his lashes, freckles drawing attention to his eyes, the stubble on his jaw not managing to completely hide that slight femininity to his features.
Fuck me, said that look.
And fuck, Jared was really not supposed to get hard over his co-star (teenage crush). He backpedalled as fast as he could, clicked elsewhere.
He was supposed to be looking for photos of a younger Jensen, not the latest promos for Supernatural, anyway. Besides, it was Jensen for fuck's sake. The man he played pranks with, the man he went to bars with and spend most of the year with...
Apparently his body thought all that was just a better reason to want to hump the living daylights out of Jensen.
So, younger Jensen. Nothing to get excited about.
Fuck.
Somehow, he stumbled upon that promo from all the way back when they were just gathering material for Season One. He remembered the dust of it all, the way it billowed up with every step they took. The sun and the spotlights and the damned photographer asking Jensen to put the shotgun shell in his mouth.
Between those lips, soft in the middle of the stubble.
Jared's breath hitched.
Fuck.
But no one would know. Hell, he was alone and it wasn't like there were cameras, or anything, really. The studio might be paranoid, but not that much, and no one could really see what he did in the privacy of his home, right?
Because the little fellow wasn't going to stand down.
Hesitantly, Jared cupped his groin.
Lightning didn't strike him down.
No one would know. And it had been a while, what with their schedules and all and he might have been neglecting that specific part of his anatomy a little.
A muffled voice inside his head was murmuring that he'd be better off looking for boobs, or ass, or lips of female nobodies, but his hands had a mind of their own. The pointer refused to leave the site he was surfing, the pressure sweet on his cock.
Jensen, his tongue wetting his lips.
It felt good, rubbing, stroking through the cotton.
Jensen looking up, like he was on his knees.
Jared imagined how Sandy had felt like that, what Jensen could feel like, the rasp of stubble against the skin of his thighs.
Jensen, smug, with the guns.
What the metal might feel like, shot of cold behind his balls.
That photo from earlier again, fuck me, now.
The strokes swift, thinking of coming on those lips, on the freckles, of Jensen's tongue flicking out to lick Jared's spunk, Jared's dick, and oh, fuck.
All because of this conversation.
Next: trying to figure out Multiple Dean Orgy. Otherwise, it'll be Sam and/or Dean's Adventures in the AngstLand. And one of those was inspired by tigriswolf.
*feels a little bad about all the things she's putting the boys through*
Title: Internet is for...
Rating: R
Characters: Jared
Warnings: masturbation; misuse of (jailbait) photographs of a co-star; fantasizing; Jared's potty-brain; severe overuse of 'and'; RPS
Disclaimer: None you know are belong to us.
Summary: Jared learns Internet's purpose and RPS ensues.
A/N: Written for tj_smartz, sort of. I'm not sure how she talked me into RPS, either, but my Muse is in cahoots with her. She also beta'ed this. *smishes the girl*
Length: About seve- oh, um, words? Roughly 635.
It wasn't a good idea. But he was bored and maybe just a little bit tired or tipsy. As if those couple of beers could really have that kind of an effect. Besides, it begun innocently enough, cruising the web in search of the most ridiculous photos of Jensen to print and copy and use in the next wave of that prank war...
And there wasn't anything (much) to get hard over in the pictures of a teenaged Jensen. Sure, he'd been effeminate. He'd had the lips and the eyes and the whole jailbait-thing going on for him, skin smoother than Dean could ever have and those eyes...
Jared clicked to another set of pictures quickly. Older Jensen, eyes half-closed, lips parted, head leaned back slightly. Freshly fucked.
And that wasn't what that photo shoot had been about. Jared remembered it, that bright, bubbly green backdrop, that car, but damn it, he hadn't seen that picture before.
The Jensen in the photo was looking straight at him, come on written on his face like an invitation, just for him.
Hurriedly, trying to ignore his groin, Jared closed the tab, went to another. Jensen looked at him from under his lashes, freckles drawing attention to his eyes, the stubble on his jaw not managing to completely hide that slight femininity to his features.
Fuck me, said that look.
And fuck, Jared was really not supposed to get hard over his co-star (teenage crush). He backpedalled as fast as he could, clicked elsewhere.
He was supposed to be looking for photos of a younger Jensen, not the latest promos for Supernatural, anyway. Besides, it was Jensen for fuck's sake. The man he played pranks with, the man he went to bars with and spend most of the year with...
Apparently his body thought all that was just a better reason to want to hump the living daylights out of Jensen.
So, younger Jensen. Nothing to get excited about.
Fuck.
Somehow, he stumbled upon that promo from all the way back when they were just gathering material for Season One. He remembered the dust of it all, the way it billowed up with every step they took. The sun and the spotlights and the damned photographer asking Jensen to put the shotgun shell in his mouth.
Between those lips, soft in the middle of the stubble.
Jared's breath hitched.
Fuck.
But no one would know. Hell, he was alone and it wasn't like there were cameras, or anything, really. The studio might be paranoid, but not that much, and no one could really see what he did in the privacy of his home, right?
Because the little fellow wasn't going to stand down.
Hesitantly, Jared cupped his groin.
Lightning didn't strike him down.
No one would know. And it had been a while, what with their schedules and all and he might have been neglecting that specific part of his anatomy a little.
A muffled voice inside his head was murmuring that he'd be better off looking for boobs, or ass, or lips of female nobodies, but his hands had a mind of their own. The pointer refused to leave the site he was surfing, the pressure sweet on his cock.
Jensen, his tongue wetting his lips.
It felt good, rubbing, stroking through the cotton.
Jensen looking up, like he was on his knees.
Jared imagined how Sandy had felt like that, what Jensen could feel like, the rasp of stubble against the skin of his thighs.
Jensen, smug, with the guns.
What the metal might feel like, shot of cold behind his balls.
That photo from earlier again, fuck me, now.
The strokes swift, thinking of coming on those lips, on the freckles, of Jensen's tongue flicking out to lick Jared's spunk, Jared's dick, and oh, fuck.
All because of this conversation.
Next: trying to figure out Multiple Dean Orgy. Otherwise, it'll be Sam and/or Dean's Adventures in the AngstLand. And one of those was inspired by tigriswolf.
*feels a little bad about all the things she's putting the boys through*