!!!-CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS-!!! Real Person Prompt Post // September 1st - September 15th
This is a post for any REAL PERSON PROMPTS. All prompts with pairings of people under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage section. Mentions of real life people under the age of 18 is not allowed.
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks2. Please come up ( Read more... )
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks2. Please come up ( Read more... )
The circus looked smaller in the light of day. Dirtier, too. Jensen walked in as casually as he could, smiling at the woman who sold him his ticket, nodding at the man gathering trash from the night before. It was open, but there were only a few other people wandering around. Jensen found his way to Lucy’s tent easily enough, and loitered around the entrance, trying to discern if there was anyone inside. The only sound was a soft rustling, like dry leaves in the wind. Jensen ducked into the tent.
Lucy was kneeling again. His ankles were shackled, and this time, so were his wrists. There was a bowl in front of him, half full of water. Jensen approached slowly, first circling the cage to where Lucy could see him if he looked up.
“Hey,” Jensen said, as softly as he could. Lucy flinched with his entire body, chin curling further toward his chest, shoulders hunching, wings curling protectively around his body. Jensen knelt before the cage. He dug through his bag and brought out one of the sandwiches he’d brought, and slowly extended his arm through the cage bars. At first there was no response, but eventually Lucy’s wings unfurled from around his body, and his head tilted up fractionally. Jensen heard a small gasp when Lucy’s gaze must have landed on the food. A large dirty hand shot out, then stopped a foot away from the sandwich, and pulled back to drop in Lucy’s lap. Jensen’s heart ached a little.
“It’s okay. Take it, it’s for you,” Jensen whispered. Through the the curtain of brown hair between them, he swore he could almost make out a wide eyed stare. Jensen placed the sandwich as close as he could to Lucy and slowly backed away. This really was starting to feel like trying to interact with a wild animal, but Jensen had no trouble remembering that this was a person kneeling before him. Lucy finally took the sandwich with trembling hands, body visibly tensed as though awaiting a blow. Jensen held as still as he could and Lucy finally brought the food to his mouth. As soon as the sandwich touched his lips, he seemed to forget all about Jensen, and ate as though he hadn’t seen food in days. Jensen tried hard not to think that it might be true.
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“Sorry,” Jensen whispered. He stayed silent, unmoving, as the seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, just as Jensen was losing feeling in his legs, Lucy slowly stretched out his hand, the bottle held out like a peace offering. Jensen took it from him gently, resisting the urge to brush his fingers along the proffered hand. He tucked the bottle away and waited, but Lucy didn't move, aside from the fine tremor that seemed constant.
"Can you leave?" Jensen asked, almost without meaning to. Lucy didn't seem to have heard, and Jensen was tempted to repeat himself, but waited instead, not wanting to seem pushy. Finally, the man's shaggy brown head shook minutely. No. Jensen had suspected as much, but now that he was faced with the reality of the situation, it seemed overwhelmingly bleak.
Jensen sat like that, unmoving, a distorted mirror of the man before him, until he heard voices and footsteps outside the tent drawing nearer.
"I'll be back. I promise, okay. I'll come back," he whispered urgently, before getting to his feet, knees protesting, and stumbled out of the tent and back to his life.
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Jensen arrived at the circus too early the next day, and had to wait an hour before the doors opened. He had to stop himself from running directly to Lucy's cage, instead making a quick circuit of the other exhibits, trying to look like he was taking a casual Sunday stroll. When he finally let himself walk into the tent, the relief that slammed into him was almost palpable. He could feel the tension draining out of him, and he sighed before dropping to his knees before the cage.
Jensen watched Lucy consume two large cheeseburgers with avid fascination. When Lucy was done, he accepted the water bottle and gulped down its contents. Jensen tried not to stare at Lucy’s long exposed neck, throat working, draining the water in two long pulls. He expected Lucy to place the water bottle on the floor between them, but flushed with pleasure when it was extended toward him, small in Lucy’s large hand. This time, Jensen dared to sweep one finger along the edge of Lucy’s thumb, and tensed, waiting for the inevitable recoil. It never came. Instead, a long, dirty finger stroked the back of Jensen’s wrist for a moment, before slipping away. Jensen was left breathless, and feeling somewhat ridiculous for it. He was a grown man, and yet the softest brush of skin had him practically swooning.
That evening, in the shower, Jensen didn’t even bother trying not to picture Lucy as he let his hand drift down. Images of strong thighs and big hands whirled through his mind as he stroked his already hard cock. His hand was slick with soapy water and it didn’t take long before he was gasping and coming.
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On Monday, Jensen told Danneel (and himself) he was leaving early from work because there was little to accomplish at the office, but the urgency with which he packed his laptop away didn’t escape her hawkish gaze.
“Who’s the guy?” Danneel asked, casually leaning against Jensen’s office door. When he didn’t answer, she grinned.
“That good, huh? Well, I’ll let you get to it then.” She turned her back on his sputtered denials, calling over her shoulder, “You’re lucky you can work from home. If I were you I wouldn’t even bother getting dressed tomorrow.”
Jensen tried not to blush, sure everyone in the office had heard. Danneel was right about one thing, at least: Jensen could just as well work entirely from home. He came in to the office because it was sometimes the only social interaction he’d get for days. Danneel had made Jensen promise years ago not to become, as she put it, a “fucking shut-in”. Danneel was sometimes slightly terrifying, but she always had his best interests in mind.
Jensen forced himself to walk out of the office at a normal pace. He stayed under the speed limit, didn’t tap his foot or fidget as he bought a few sandwiches. Then he pulled into the now-familiar parking lot and saw a new sign in front of the circus: “MONDAY NIGHT: LAST NIGHT IN TOWN”. Jensen felt like a bowling ball had dropped into his stomach.
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When Jensen entered the tent, Lucy seemed subdued, wings pressed in tight around his body, head dropped even lower than usual. Jensen placed the sandwich in the usual spot and waited while Lucy ate. This time, when Lucy handed Jensen the bottle, neither of them let go. Jensen slid his hand up the bottle to Lucys wrist, and let his fingers drift up along the man’s arm. A dry rustling sound startled Jensen into looking up and he realized Lucy’s wings were trembling. Jensen examined Lucy more closely and realized there were dozens of new injuries covering his body, ranging from the gashes along his collarbone to a bruise covering several ribs. Lucy’s wings had not been spared. There were feathers sticking out at the wrong angle, some stuck together by what might have been blood. Jensen shook with anger as he realized how badly Lucy was hurt. He grabbed Lucy’s wrist, hard.
“They did this to you?” It wasn’t really a question. “Why?”
Lucy’s wings started shaking in earnest now, and he tried weakly to tug his wrist away.
“Was it because of me?” Jensen demanded, sure that someone had seen him sneaking food to the tent. Lucy didn’t answer and refused to lift his head. “You have to get out of here.”
All the tension left Lucy’s body at those words, defeat written so clearly along the lines of his drooping wings and bowed head that Jensen felt his heart contract. These people had taken such a beautiful, unique person, and so thoroughly destroyed him that he wouldn’t even lift his head. Jensen wanted to scream, hit someone, do something.
“I’ll help you. I’ll get you out,” Jensen blurted out, unable to stop himself. Lucy’s head snapped up, and Jensen was hit with the full force of the most intense stare he’d ever felt. Lucy’s eyes were the strangest combination of mottled hazel, gold, and green, and Jensen could swear he saw some hope flaring to life in them. He had no idea how this escape might work, hadn’t even really considered it as an option until he said it, but he was determined now.
A loud crash, followed by exuberant laughter and voices wrenched Jensen from his revelation. He whispered a quick promise to come back that night and tore his gaze away from Lucy’s with difficulty before ducking out of the tent.
***
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As before, Lucy knelt in his cage. His wings were wrapped in leather straps, held tightly against his back. The injuries looked just as bad as they had that afternoon. Jensen crept closer and noticed a fresh cut along Lucy’s ribs. He wasted no time in pulling the bolt cutters out of his bag and opening the cage door. Lucy didn’t even look up as Jensen reached around him to cut the chains from the shackles around his ankles. Jensen hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Lucy and pulled him out of the cage and to his feet. Lucy’s knees buckled and Jensen hauled him back up, noting that Lucy didn’t even flinch at the touch anymore. Jensen, stumbling and half dragging Lucy, managed to get them to his car. He settled Lucy in the back seat and drove home, struggling to stay below the speed limit and checking his rear view mirror every few seconds.
Getting Lucy up to his apartment was ----. By the time he finally let Lucy fall face first onto his own bed, Jensen almost wanted to join him. Instead, he set about cutting off the leather straps around Lucy’s wings. The wings shot open the moment they were released. They seemed to fill the entire room, knocking Jensen against the wall and sending his bedside lamp crashing to the floor. Jensen realized with horror just how small the cage must have seemed to Lucy.
A whimper brought Jensen’s attention back to the motionless man lying on his bed. He considered trying to get Lucy into the bathtub, before dismissing the idea and fetching a warm, wet washcloth. When Jensen returned to the bedroom the wings were half folded, seemingly relaxed around Lucy, who appeared to be asleep. Jensen tentatively slid the washcloth along one muscular shoulder and sighed in relief when Lucy didn’t flinch or move away. He cleaned the worst of the wounds and tried to cover Lucy with the bedsheet before finally allowing himself to pass out on the couch.
Jensen woke with a crick in his neck and felt a moment of confusion about why he was on the couch before remembering the previous night’s excursion. He scrambled to his room, unnamed fear gnawing at his insides, but Lucy was exactly where Jensen had left him, wings spread softly across the bed, tips just brushing the floor. Jensen padded to the kitchen and started breakfast. After two strong coffees and some toast, he heard a soft rustling coming from his bedroom and crept down the hall to investigate. Lucy was shifting and kicking slightly in his sleep. Jensen caught a whimper, but it wasn’t until he heard the soft, muffled moan that he realized Lucy was having a nightmare.
Jensen carefully ducked under one wing and gently tapped Lucy’s shoulder. The wings immediately folded to press against Lucy’s broad back as he twisted away from Jensen’s hand. Jensen held perfectly still as Lucy rolled away, pulling himself into a kneeling position on the bed, head down, hands in his lap.
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Jared was deep in his usual nightmare - struggling to escape, to spread his wings, only to find them tangled in chains and ropes, holding him down - when a tap on his shoulder woke him. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was, why there was soft bedding under him instead of straw and metal, why he was being awoken with a soft tap instead of a sharp jab or an outright blow. When he felt his wings were spread wide around him, he realized he was finally out of the cage. The previous night came back to him in a rush of elation and trepidation. He didn’t actually remember anything after getting into the man’s car, but he assumed this was where the man planned to keep him. Jared quickly rolled into his usual position, bowing his head to show his obedience.
***
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“Do you think you can manage this alone?” Jensen asked. Another pause. Lucy finally shook his head, skin flushing pink under the dirt.
“Okay,” Jensen sighed. He pulled Lucy to his feet and gestured at the scrap of cloth covering him. “You’ll probably want to...” Jensen looked quickly away as Lucy’s fingertips slid under the cloth, pushing it down and off. Jensen made a valiant attempt not to look down while helping Lucy into the tub.
Jensen had managed to remove the worst of the dirt and dust on Lucy’s skin with the washcloth the night before, but it was clear the man hadn’t bathed in a weeks, if not months. Jensen handed him a washcloth and soap and turned away. He turned back to Lucy when he heard a pained groan and found the man trying to wash his shoulder, the twist of his body pulling at a partially healed cut on his ribs. Without thinking, Jensen dropped to kneel beside the tub and took the washcloth back.
“Here, let me do that,” he said, and slid the soapy cloth over one well-muscled shoulder, then the other. He washed Lucy’s neck and chest as gently as possible, wincing each time Lucy let out a gasp or groan, knowing he was hitting a bruise or a cut. Jensen nearly asphyxiated himself with brown feathers trying to wash Lucy’s back. When he came back around to Lucy’s front, the man was peering up at him from under a mop of dirty brown hair. Jensen considered Lucy’s hair for a moment. His wings wouldn’t allow him to tip his head back into the water, but tipping forward seemed like it might require a certain flexibility surpassing that of someone confined to a cage for an indeterminately long period of time. Jensen finally fetched a plastic basin and filled it with water. As he ran his fingers through the long, silky brown hair, Jensen felt Lucy relax. The tension seemed to seep out of him the more Jensen touched him. The last traces of conditioner having been rinsed from Lucy’s hair, Jensen handed the soap and washcloth back to him and said, “I’ll let you do your lower half, okay?” Jensen didn’t even blush. Danneel would have been proud.
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A loud thud and a crash sent Jensen charging back down the hallway and into the bathroom, where Lucy was crumpled on the floor, Jensen’s framed print of The View of Arles beside him, glass shattered. Lucy was scrambling pick up as many pieces of glass as he could fit in one hand, and Jensen didn’t think before shouting “Stop!” Lucy immediately dropped both his hands to his lap and bowed his head. Jensen was about to tell Lucy to put the glass down, that he was going to cut himself, and demand what had happened when he noticed the fine tremor running along Lucy’s shoulders.
“Hey, it’s okay. Here, look, you’re okay. I’m not mad,” Jensen said, in the same soft voice he’d used at the circus. Remembering the cage gave him an idea, and he dropped to his knees before Lucy and stretched out one hand. Lucy hesitated, seeming confused, and Jensen said, “Give me the glass, I’ll clean this up.” Lucy carefully placed the glass into Jensen’s hand and Jensen threw it away. He quickly picked up all the remaining shards and swept the bathroom, trying not to step too close to Lucy because every time he did, Lucy gave a full-body flinch, as though expecting a blow. By the time he was finished, Lucy was completely dry and shivering slightly. Jensen hauled him to his feet and half carried him back to his bedroom, where he began to help Lucy into a pair of boxers, blushing furiously. Lucy seemed to take pity on him and pulled the boxers on himself, as well as the sweatpants Jensen handed him next.
“I don’t think my shirts will fit you,” Jensen said, eyeing wings resting gently against the bed. To his surprise, Lucy gave a soft snort of amusement. Jensen smiled, and asked, “Are you hungry? I made soup.” The loud gurgle from Lucy’s stomach was answer enough, and Jensen ignored the man’s cringe of embarrassment and helped him to his feet. They made their way to the living room, Lucy still leaned heavily against Jensen. Jensen settled Lucy on the couch with a blanket and served him a bowl of soup. He tried not to stare as Lucy practically inhaled the meal, accepting seconds and thirds. When he finally seemed sated, Jensen worked up the courage to ask what he’d wanted to know since he first laid eyes on this strange, beautiful man.
“What’s your name?”
Lucy’s eyes flew up to meet Jensen’s, and Jensen felt a rush of heat. He was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, of the tingling warmth where their knees touched. Lucy’s mouth moved, as if he were trying to answer, but no sound came out. He coughed and cleared his throat, then spoke.
“Jared.”
Lucy’s (no, Jared’s) voice was gravelly and broken, and was the sweetest sound Jensen had ever heard. He wondered how long it had been since Jared had last spoken. Jensen realized he’d been staring at Jared’s mouth and quickly looked away, though there was little hope that Jared hadn’t noticed.
“Do you want to sleep more? Watch TV? We could watch a movie. You wanna watch a movie?”
Jared’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t answer. Jensen chose a movie at random and slid the DVD in, settling himself back on the couch before pressing play. He tried not to be too aware of the long, warm body beside him, but Jared kept shifting and arching his wings, as if uncomfortable. Finally, Jensen hit pause and turned to Jared, who shrank back slightly.
“Are you okay? Do you need something?” Jensen asked, trying hard not to sound demanding or impatient. Jared flushed crimson and lowered his eyes.
“I need,” Jared started, voice barely above a whisper. “I need.... My wings need to be groomed,” he finished apologetically.
“So groom them. It’s okay with me,” Jensen said, confused. Jared looked as though he’d committed some terrible crime.
“I can’t. It’s.... Someone else has to do it,” Jared said, color on his cheeks deepening.
“Oh.” Jensen wasn’t sure what else to say. He assumed Jared wanted him to do it, since he was telling him.
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Jared nodded quickly, then fell to his knees in front of the couch, turning his back to Jensen. Jensen tentatively ran his fingers through the feathers nearest to Jared’s back, revelling in the smooth glossiness of the feathers on top, contrasting with the soft downy feathers underneath. He found himself straightening them almost by instinct, carefully rearranging and combing. The feathers weren’t a uniform brown, he noticed, but a myriad of shades, some a light chestnut, some a deep gold, some a ruddy maroon. As Jensen reached the the joint, he noticed that Jared was pressing back slightly, arching his back and his wings. Jensen applied just a little more pressure on his next stroke, and was rewarded by a slight shudder from Jared. When he did it again, the soft gasp that escaped Jared’s lips was enough to send a shot of heat through Jensen.
By the time Jensen switched to the other wing, they were both breathing hard. This time, Jensen started at the tip of the wing, progressively lengthening his strokes to reach closer and closer to Jared’s back. When he had to press harder and harder to smooth a particularly unruly clump of feathers, Jared gave a groan and spread his knees slightly. Jensen desperately wanted to see his face, to see if this really was affecting him as much as it seemed, but he tried to retain some semblance of control. Jensen’s fingers reached the point where feathers ended and smooth, tan skin began, and he couldn’t seem to drag his hands away. He ran his fingers along Jared’s back, down his spine and back up to his shoulders, before settling heavy on his neck. He gave a gentle squeeze to the tense muscle where neck met shoulder, then another, harder one when Jared sighed. Jensen kneaded the knots out of Jensen’s shoulders, neck, and upper back, and every sigh and groan pushed him closer to the edge. Jensen slid his hands back to Jared’s wings and raked his fingers through the feathers, hard, and Jared’s knees spread further, his back arching almost obscenely. Jensen repeated the motion, and his finger caught momentarily on one feather, giving it a small tug. Jared’s reaction was almost instantaneous: his hips jerked forward, his hands curled, fingers digging into his thighs, and a sharp cry tore from his throat. Jensen paused, then slipped his hands through the feathers and tugged gently. Jared’s hips jerked again, the moan falling from his lips unmistakably pornographic. Jensen couldn’t have stopped himself from taking the next large handful of feathers if he’d tried, and he really wasn’t inclined to try. He pulled on the feathers, softly and repeatedly this time, and was knocked back into the couch when Jared’s wings flared open.
They filled the room; Jared’s wingspan must have been at least 20 feet. Jensen barely registered the sound of something crashing to the floor, too busy admiring the way the freshly-groomed wings gleamed. He noticed, however, when Jared quickly folded his wings and tried to scramble to his feet stumbling toward the broken dish. Jensen rushed to help Jared up, and Jared backed away from him quickly, falling to his knees and bowing his head. Jensen froze.
“Hey. Look at me,” Jensen said, and cringed when Jared flinched. “Please. Look at me, Jared.”
Jared looked up at the sound of his name, and Jensen saw nothing but fear in his eyes. He was immediately filled with revulsion at his own behavior. He’d taken this broken, battered man into his home, and instead of helping him heal, he’d essentially hit on him. Jensen knew he couldn’t expect Jared to trust him instantaneously, but he hoped that with time Jared would learn that Jensen wouldn’t hurt him. Jensen promised himself then and there that he wouldn’t take advantage of Jared, that he’d do whatever it took to ensure the man had a chance to recover from whatever nightmare he’d been living up till now.
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Jared hadn’t had his wings groomed in years. He sometimes wondered why his keepers never bothered, since his wings were the only reason people came to stare at him, but he was grateful. They may have forced him to accept thousands of strangers’ hands pulling, prodding, and petting him, but they hadn’t managed to invade that one intimate moment. He’d forgotten how good it felt, how safe and well-cared for he felt under gentle and wanted hands.
Then he’d had to go and ruin it. Jared hadn’t meant to open his wings; it just happened. Of course, he’d broken something, and he knew what that meant. He knelt before his new keeper, ready to accept whatever punishment he deserved. He couldn’t stop the pit of cold fear growing in his belly though, and when his keeper asked him to look up, Jared found he couldn’t do it. Then the man had said Jared’s name, and out of sheer surprise at being thus addressed, Jared looked up.
The disgust on the man’s face tore at something within Jared, and he ached to put it right. He itched to lower his eyes and show how good he could be, but the man had told him to look up, so Jared held his gaze. Trembling, he forced himself to speak.
“I’m...” he started, voice breaking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I promise. Please.” His voice started to take on a desperate edge and he stopped himself before he started begging not to be sent back.
***
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The guilty weight in the pit of Jensen’s stomach grew. The man was practically begging not to be beaten. Jensen couldn’t believe he inspired this level of fear in Jared and felt another stab of guilt, swiftly followed by a rush of anger at himself. He turned away, unable to face the evidence of his mistake.
“It’s okay. Listen, I need to go run some errands. Are you okay here by yourself?” Jensen asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jared nod. Jensen grabbed his coat and practically ran out of the apartment.
***
The man turned away from him. Jared flushed. He was so bad, his own keeper couldn’t stand to look at him. The knot of worry in his stomach tightened, and he waited to hear his punishment. Instead, Jared’s keeper announced he was leaving, and asked if Jared could be alone. Jared nodded, careful to keep his hair in his face to hide the tears forming in his eyes.
As soon as Jared was alone, he started to clean the mess his wings had made. It was difficult to move around the apartment without help, but he was determined to show his new keeper just how good he could be. Jared started straightening up the rest of the room and found a pile of mail on the table. Unable to stop himself, he read the addressee’s name. Jensen Ackles. Jared tried it out under his breath, and felt warmth curl in his belly. He knew he wouldn’t dare call his keeper by name to his face, but Jared liked the sound of it anyway.
***
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Fantastic update - and so MUCH, too, it's glorious! - and I am eating the H/C up with a spoon. Loving this.
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I LOVE IT. I do so hope you continue this lovely work.
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OP sends much love! <3
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