RPS Fic: A Kiss to Make it Better -- J²
Title: A Kiss to Make it Better
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Summary: Jensen's worn out after a long day of shooting.
Author's Notes: For marishna, who wrote me nostril!lickage on command. This was going to be her return challenge, but it mutated. It's my first foray into WB RPS, w00t! Thanks to fiareynne for the super-speedy beta.
A KISS TO MAKE IT BETTER
Jensen's sore and a little grumpy because he's been flung at the wall about seven times too many today, and the shot still isn't right. He thinks some of the blood on his face might be real, and sure it'll make for a great dramatic effect, but the makeup team will kill him tomorrow morning. All he wants to do is go home and sleep today off, and the director doesn't seem to care that they've been shooting nonstop since five this morning and it's long gone dark.
"Dean!" Jared shouts as the harness yanks Jensen back again.
He hits the wall hard, thumps onto the floor, and wishes for body armor. Getting to his knees is trickier than it was for the first three takes, but he manages well enough and bats Jared's hand away and stands, then glances around. "Where'd it go?" he asks, looking for the ball on a stick that is this week's CG monster.
"It disappeared," Jared says, and he looks just as ragged as Jensen's feeling. Difference is, Jared's roughness is pure acting.
"Werewolves don't just disappear, Sammy." He swipes at the cut above his eye.
"Cut!" shouts the director.
Jensen reaches under his shirt to poke at a spot where the harness is rubbing. He glances at the director and thinks maybe he's not famous enough to throw a major tantrum on set, but he's on the brink of one, anyway.
Jared saunters up, all Texas swagger and easy smile now that he's not Sam. "We're done. Director says to go home," he says, and Jensen thinks those might be the sweetest words he's ever heard.
Twenty minutes later he's changed out of Dean's clothes and his face is scrubbed clean of makeup and blood. He's dabbing at the cut on his forehead with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball, cursing under his breath at the sting. Times like these he hates being an adult, because right now all he wants is a hug from his mama and a kiss to make it better.
There's a rattly knock on his trailer door, and then it opens. Jensen sticks a Band-Aid on the cut and turns to see Jared coming in, a six-pack in one hand and a pizza box in the other. "Thought you could use some dinner," he says, and he flops down on the couch and cracks open a beer.
Jensen watches as Jared lifts the lid of the pizza box, then snags a beer and sits down next to him. He chugs half the bottle without thinking, then sets it down and pulls out a slice, cheese stretching in a gooey strand connected to the rest.
He's on his second slice when Jared leans in, breathing warm and beer-scented against his cheek, and mutters, "I wanna suck you, man," and his hands are suddenly shaking so badly he almost drops the pizza on himself, then the couch before tossing it back in the box.
"Jare -- " he begins, but Jared's way ahead of him, licking into his mouth and pushing up his shirt.
Jared hasn't had enough beer for this to be a drunken overture.
Jensen clings to Jared's back, his shoulders, as he wonders vaguely where Jared learned about thatspotrightthere, but he doesn't care anymore when Jared keeps right at it until Jensen's seeing spots of color behind his tightly-closed eyes.
His jeans are off before he can recover from that almost-orgasm, and now Jared's mouthing him through his underwear like a porn star would, keeping his brain function at a minimum while he works the waistband lower and lower.
And then he stops.
Jensen opens his eyes, a complaint forming, but then he looks at Jared and Jared looks up at him and grins, big and blinding. Jared's on his knees licking his lips, and he tugs Jensen's underwear down to his knees, then sucks down his cock with an obscene slurp.
His mind is in a million fragments, all of which are focused on the hot suction of Jared's mouth and that tongue licking him up and down while too-long hair brushes against his belly. His toes flex and curl on the carpet as one big hand leaves his hips and slides up under his shirt to pull and twist at his nipples while the other rolls his balls between careful fingers.
It's all he can do to shove a fist in his mouth to muffle his scream as he comes.
Jensen's head flops back against the back of the couch as he comes down, panting hard and licking the sweat away from his top lip. His shirt is rucked up and his jeans are across the room, hanging haphazardly from the arm of a chair. His underwear's half-off, his cock's softening against his thigh and wet from Jared's mouth, and he feels better than he has all day.
He pulls at Jared's shoulder until he's back up on the couch, and when they kiss Jared tastes like pizza and come and beer.
So Jensen keeps right on kissing him.
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Summary: Jensen's worn out after a long day of shooting.
Author's Notes: For marishna, who wrote me nostril!lickage on command. This was going to be her return challenge, but it mutated. It's my first foray into WB RPS, w00t! Thanks to fiareynne for the super-speedy beta.
A KISS TO MAKE IT BETTER
Jensen's sore and a little grumpy because he's been flung at the wall about seven times too many today, and the shot still isn't right. He thinks some of the blood on his face might be real, and sure it'll make for a great dramatic effect, but the makeup team will kill him tomorrow morning. All he wants to do is go home and sleep today off, and the director doesn't seem to care that they've been shooting nonstop since five this morning and it's long gone dark.
"Dean!" Jared shouts as the harness yanks Jensen back again.
He hits the wall hard, thumps onto the floor, and wishes for body armor. Getting to his knees is trickier than it was for the first three takes, but he manages well enough and bats Jared's hand away and stands, then glances around. "Where'd it go?" he asks, looking for the ball on a stick that is this week's CG monster.
"It disappeared," Jared says, and he looks just as ragged as Jensen's feeling. Difference is, Jared's roughness is pure acting.
"Werewolves don't just disappear, Sammy." He swipes at the cut above his eye.
"Cut!" shouts the director.
Jensen reaches under his shirt to poke at a spot where the harness is rubbing. He glances at the director and thinks maybe he's not famous enough to throw a major tantrum on set, but he's on the brink of one, anyway.
Jared saunters up, all Texas swagger and easy smile now that he's not Sam. "We're done. Director says to go home," he says, and Jensen thinks those might be the sweetest words he's ever heard.
Twenty minutes later he's changed out of Dean's clothes and his face is scrubbed clean of makeup and blood. He's dabbing at the cut on his forehead with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball, cursing under his breath at the sting. Times like these he hates being an adult, because right now all he wants is a hug from his mama and a kiss to make it better.
There's a rattly knock on his trailer door, and then it opens. Jensen sticks a Band-Aid on the cut and turns to see Jared coming in, a six-pack in one hand and a pizza box in the other. "Thought you could use some dinner," he says, and he flops down on the couch and cracks open a beer.
Jensen watches as Jared lifts the lid of the pizza box, then snags a beer and sits down next to him. He chugs half the bottle without thinking, then sets it down and pulls out a slice, cheese stretching in a gooey strand connected to the rest.
He's on his second slice when Jared leans in, breathing warm and beer-scented against his cheek, and mutters, "I wanna suck you, man," and his hands are suddenly shaking so badly he almost drops the pizza on himself, then the couch before tossing it back in the box.
"Jare -- " he begins, but Jared's way ahead of him, licking into his mouth and pushing up his shirt.
Jared hasn't had enough beer for this to be a drunken overture.
Jensen clings to Jared's back, his shoulders, as he wonders vaguely where Jared learned about thatspotrightthere, but he doesn't care anymore when Jared keeps right at it until Jensen's seeing spots of color behind his tightly-closed eyes.
His jeans are off before he can recover from that almost-orgasm, and now Jared's mouthing him through his underwear like a porn star would, keeping his brain function at a minimum while he works the waistband lower and lower.
And then he stops.
Jensen opens his eyes, a complaint forming, but then he looks at Jared and Jared looks up at him and grins, big and blinding. Jared's on his knees licking his lips, and he tugs Jensen's underwear down to his knees, then sucks down his cock with an obscene slurp.
His mind is in a million fragments, all of which are focused on the hot suction of Jared's mouth and that tongue licking him up and down while too-long hair brushes against his belly. His toes flex and curl on the carpet as one big hand leaves his hips and slides up under his shirt to pull and twist at his nipples while the other rolls his balls between careful fingers.
It's all he can do to shove a fist in his mouth to muffle his scream as he comes.
Jensen's head flops back against the back of the couch as he comes down, panting hard and licking the sweat away from his top lip. His shirt is rucked up and his jeans are across the room, hanging haphazardly from the arm of a chair. His underwear's half-off, his cock's softening against his thigh and wet from Jared's mouth, and he feels better than he has all day.
He pulls at Jared's shoulder until he's back up on the couch, and when they kiss Jared tastes like pizza and come and beer.
So Jensen keeps right on kissing him.