Fic: The Daily Grind, Jensen/Jared, NC-17
Title: The Daily Grind
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3172
Content notes: handjob, blowjob
A/N: Written for the J2/Wincest JIBCON meme for homo_pink's excellent prompt. I'm to blame for every single pun in this. I hate myself enough for everyone.
Summary: Jensen's a grumpy barista. Jared's the protestor who uses his coffee-shop to create his banners. Glitter flies.
There were so many reasons for Jensen to dislike Jared, that it came as a faint surprise that he didn't. The first time they'd met, the coffee-shop had just opened - that was strike number one for starters - because it was seven am and no matter that Sam had insisted there would be business in that 7-9 period before classes kicked off, in practice it was two hours for Jensen to drink coffee and read his increasingly neglected course material in, before people skidded in before classes. So Jensen was mostly used to just the occasional ashen-faced all nighter sidling in the door, their outstretched hands imploring the blackest, dirtiest, grittiest coffee he could provide them, without a single spoken word marring the beauty of the age-old transaction between barista and customer.
He wasn't used to proper morning people. The ones who didn't require coffee to render them capable of speech or who dashed past his door on a morning jog without a second glance. The sort of man who banged the door open at one minute past seven and barged in with his arms full of paper, and little containers of things, and kicked it shut behind him, before tripping over a shoelace, staggering forward, catching his balance, and then landing thankfully at a table without further incident. Jensen sunk further down behind the counter and stared at Metzinger's myth of cognitive agency which seemed peculiarly appropriate in the circumstances.
Second strike came when Jared (name obtained from the back of his sports hoodie) opened his mouth in a smile that displayed what Jensen thought disapprovingly was an obscenely cheerful nature (and great teeth) and squinted at the board overhead. "Frappuccino please. With two shots of hazelnut and whipped cream."
The problem was, that while in theory, frappuccinos were on the menu, it was mostly because Sam had seen them once and thought it wouldn't hurt to list them as a possibility. In practice, it was mostly coffee. Straight coffee in large mugs. And tea because Danneel liked her caffeine in dilute doses, as apparently did other people. Starbucks they were not. Jensen had warned Sam that somebody might actually ask for one, one day, but she'd thought the risk was worth taking. "Sorry," he mumbled. "We're out of hazelnut syrup. And ice." He didn't mention that technically they'd never been in either of those items.
"Oh, no problem," Jared said, with another smile that made Jensen realize, that shit, the dude had dimples. "Can I just get a latte then. Decaf." That right there was strike number three. Jensen made it for him and handed it over, and Jared took it with a thanks, and headed right back to the table, where he set the coffee carefully on one side, and broke out the sharpies. Whatever he was drawing with careful precision was clearly taking up all of his attention, and despite himself, Jensen was kind of intrigued as to what exactly it was. When Jared got into the little pots, he propped his book on the counter and watched from around it, as Jared smeared glue over the top of what was now recognizably a poster, and then tipped another pot over it.
"Jesus fuck," Jared said, as dark red glitter poured out, not just onto the poster but over the table as well, and as he lunged in an abortive move to prevent it from spreading, the glue went over as well. He then whipped his head round to stare guiltily at Jensen as though he thought Jensen might not have noticed.
Jensen let his head meet the counter with a pleasingly solid thunk. Fucking glitter, every-fucking-where. If Jared had been less apologetic looking (and not as ridiculously good looking as a Zoolander knock-off) he might have chucked him out the door, as it was, he wet a dishcloth under the tap and threw it at him. "Every speck off," he warned him, and Jared grinned.
"Can't I plead a good cause?"
"There's literally no cause in the world good enough for me to spend hours cleaning that up," he was exaggerating, since it was actually Sam's job to run the vacuum over the place, but it was kind of worth it when Jared shuffled forward on his knees, hands pressed together.
"I'm so sorry Mr Barista," he said, and it was almost sincere, and it'd been long enough since Jensen was laid, that the kneeling on the floor thing was helping as well.
Jensen snorted, but gave in enough to wet a second cloth and come round the other side to help. He sneaked the chance to look at the poster as well. Equal Access for All it said, in bright red letters now. Jared'd drawn a thumbs up as well. "What are you protesting?" he asked, more from some dimly remembered rule of politeness from time before academia ate his life, than from real interest.
"No wheelchair access to Lecture Hall B," Jared said promptly. "They've been promising it all year and putting it off on the basis of building alterations not being in the budget. Then they claimed that the terms of the agreement don't allow them to change the building structure. But man, we are literally talking about one ramp, what is wrong with these people?" The question was clearly rhetorical.
"Cool," Jensen replied, and straightened up. "Good luck with that."
Jared grinned and picked it up. "Thanks," he called as he shouldered his way out the door. The coffee he'd bought was completely untouched, and Jensen was pretty sure that the glitter was never coming out of the carpet.
Part of him vaguely expected to see Jared again the next morning, but the time passed as usual - a couple of shaking late-nighters drifting in from the library, nerveless hands still clutching their keycards, one or two hardcore partiers who'd come straight from a club to their classes, not a sign of an overly enthusiastic dude who was hot enough to overcome Jensen's perfectly reasonable aversion to cargo shorts. It was just a coincidence really that that he suggested to Sam that they should consider a trip to Costco and the purchase of some flavored syrups.
Two days later, Jared was in again though, same protest, different banner, same tendency to last-minute creations, a cup of coffee left abandoned once again, and Jensen left cleaning glitter out of unmentionable places. Two days after that, Jared was protesting the continuing failure of the campus to provide alternate exam accommodations. Once again, he’d supplied himself with what he had promised Jensen, hand on his heart, was a properly controlled glitter gun. The merest suggestion (marking the first time Jensen had ever actively chosen to begin a conversation with a customer) that Jared consider just not using glitter had garnered him an actively hurt face that Jensen had met with a sinking heart because that shouldn’t work on him, but somehow it was.
It had been a good month later from the first time they’d met, when Jensen was face-first in the continuing adventures of Stich and Laurence, and mourning the fact that he hadn’t got more than four hours sleep the night before and that for once even the most revolting espresso didn't seem to be making a dent, that the door banged open again, and Jared swept in, arms full of cardboard and a five kilogram bag of gummy bears. Jensen might have been happier to see him, if he wasn't still finding glitter in his pubes from a twenty second exposure to the stuff last time Jared had fought the fight of the good. Jared dumped the stuff on the table and came up to the counter, fishing out his wallet as he went. "Coffee please," and Christ, there were the dimples again. Jensen wasn't awake enough for this, for any of it.
He made it and watched Jared add enough sugar to swamp it and then fill it with milk, until he was willing to bet that trading standards would no longer have called it coffee. Jared carried it back to the table and as carefully as before, put it one side and got down to the business of making what appeared to be a banner - he'd unfurled a long length of cloth over two tables, and with a surreptitious look at Jensen, fumbled in a bag.
"That'd better not be glitter," Jensen threatened.
"It's definitely not," Jared lied through his teeth, and then broke without another a word being said. "I put it in a shaker man! There is no way it's going anywhere other than this banner."
"You said that about the glitter pen applicator as well," Jensen pointed out. "Also every other way you've found to apply glitter to pieces of paper that never did you any harm at all. You know how long it took me to stop finding glitter in my shoes? Too long."
Jared shook his head in mock dismay. "Why do you hate glittery fun?" He paused, and then deliberately smiled. "Are you ground down by your job?"
"Don't start this," Jensen threatened. "I swear to God, I will end it."
Jared advanced towards the counter, shaker in one hand, glue in the other. "I've never bean in your position, it must be terrible. I bet you're foaming at the mouth to get out.”
Jensen brandished the only weapon within reach, an unthreatening spoon. "I'm warning you."
"You should take the espresso train out of here," Jared said, and then wrinkled his nose. "That one was really bad wasn't it? I guess I'll have to come back latte and finish this." He paused just outside of spoon-reach. "I'll make you a deal. I can use glitter and you can have as many gummy bears as you can eat in thirty seconds."
"A minute," Jensen replied, a lifetime of being a sibling coming to the fore. "And you drink your coffee for once or I'll start believing you hate my coffee."
Jared stuck on a thinking face, then cracked, smiled and headed back to the table. "I American’t refuse that deal. Besides I need the glitter for this one. It's traditional."
Jensen trailed over behind him, heading for the bag of gummies, and glancing over at Jared's poster as usual. LGBT representation. "Very traditional," he said, “maybe next time some sequins as well?” and Jared gave him a grin before he gulped the now probably cold coffee.
"Want to give a hand?"
"Not a chance. I've done my time in organized groups," and he wondered if that sounded as awkward a way of saying 'me too' as he thought it did.
Jared didn't seem to notice though. "Hey Jensen. Have you heard this one? Why's a froth machine like Hamlet?" He doesn't leave a second to guess. "It's full of sound and airy signifying nothing."
The only reaction possible to that joke, wrong on so many levels, was in Jensen's mind, to stop Jared from ever saying anything again. The first way to accomplish that which came to mind, made a whole lot of other things click into place. He doesn't ask if he can kiss Jared, but he pulled him in slowly enough that Jared could duck away if he wanted to. Jared didn't want any such thing though, closed the distance before Jensen does, with a muffled, "fucking finally."
Jensen didn’t stop to question that, Jared was sweet on his tongue from too sugary coffee, strong hand gripping down tight on the back of his neck, like now Jared had got him he wasn't letting go. He almost forgot that it was half seven in the morning, and that there was a chance, if not a high one, that somebody was going to walk in and see them going at it like highschoolers at the prom. Jared was too warm to lean away from though or to remember things like that, and Jensen had almost forgotten what this felt like, after months of concentrating on his Masters and filling every spare moment with working to the point where he'd almost forgotten what his dick was for. It was actually Jared who tore himself away in the end, and dropped his head onto Jensen’s shoulder - a difficult feat considering his frankly abnormal height, while he shook with silent laughter.
Jensen wasn’t as offended by that as he might have been - the combination of the early morning and unexpected caffeine had clearly hit Jared hard, and he patted him on the back for a second. Jared straightened up with a huge smile still on his face. “That was awesome and I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I think you know, but I hate coffee so damn much, I think I’d rather suck you off.”
Now that, Jensen hadn’t been expecting, and while he wasn’t going to turn it down, for the first time in history of ever, he thought his dick might actually be moving things along too fast. “It’s too early in the morning,” he said stupidly, and Jared kissed him again, hot and possessive, lips brushing Jensen’s, a pure tease, not engaging properly.
“If only you were a smoker instead,” Jared said seriously and then cracked up. “Seriously though. I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like forever, and we are technically on about our eighth date. Or we could wait for this evening and go out for dinner or something, and I could tell you about my family all over again until we've attained the minimum amount of respectability.”
Jensen thought of the neglected book behind the counter and then of Jared, standing there and giving him a way out, and thought fuck it. “As long as you’ll still respect me tonight,” he said, and Jared’s face lit up like there was nothing better he could’ve said, hands going to Jensen’s hips and pulling him flush against Jared. It was the work of a moment to crash into the backroom, because Jensen wasn’t so dead to decency that getting sucked off behind the counter sounded like a good idea (except for the embarrassing flush of heat that swept down the back of his neck at the thought, and yeah, that was something he’d never known about himself before).
As it was, Jensen’d been blown in several inappropriate places - the bathroom at a wedding, in an alley by a determined ex-boyfriend, and it had never flooded to his fingertips like this, the unnerved swoop in his belly at the sight of Jared’s easy fall to his knees, arousal hot and pooling in him, and the way Jared’s tongue flicked out to smooth over his lips like he’d genuinely been waiting for this. He wasn't exactly hard - he really never had been a morning person, but that was no deterrent at all to Jared. The first touch of Jared’s mouth to Jensen’s dick, embarrassingly almost made him jump, but Jared didn’t seem to mind, just pinned him to the wall with his ridiculously strong hands, and went to town, sucked him to full hardness with the sort of singleminded intentness that Jensen could really appreciate in a man, along with seeming to have not much need for actual air. The first sharp edge of ‘fuck, I’m getting my dick sucked’ faded, replaced by an almost surreal sensation, like tiredness had co-mingled with arousal and that week’s required reading, to form a lazy drifting state where Jared had been on his knees forever and for no time at all.
Jared didn’t seem to mind that Jensen was taking it slow and easy because he slowed down accordingly, like he wanted nothing more than to make it amazing, sucked him slow and deep, and he was actually kind of messy about it, pulling off to chase precome from the head of Jensen’s dick, with an enthusiasm that couldn’t be faked, and then getting back in, down and dirty, and Jensen rocked forward just a little, just for the visual of Jared opening wider and swallowing him down, and he couldn’t resist getting his hands into Jared’s absurd hair, which brought Jared even closer in an instant, a muffled moan slipping from his occupied mouth, and that felt even better. Jensen closed his eyes and sped up, a renewed urgency in his motion - or at least as much as he was given leave by Jared’s grasp, and Jared compensated, moving with him, hot, eager mouth taking everything it was given.
It could have been any amount of time really from start to finish, and when Jensen finally came, an almost languorous final thrust emptying him down Jared’s throat, it shook him all the way through, the build up culminating in an orgasm that felt like it almost knocked him out. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d have stayed on his feet if it wasn’t for Jared, who surged up to brace him for the moment, before he wiped his mouth carelessly with a stray napkin.
Jared was still hot and hard in his jeans, solid and thick through the fabric, and Jensen couldn’t wait to actually get to touch him, skated his fingers across the heavy bulk, before Jared unzipped himself, making short work of his jeans before Jensen wormed his fingers in, to stroke him hard and fast, squeezing him through his fingers as Jared panted in his ear, braced on and around him, hips thrusting towards Jensen. There was something unreal about the whole situation Jensen thought, looking down to see the fast snap of Jared’s hips and the thickness of his dick sliding through Jensen’s fingers, a combination of lack of sleep and whatever this was, but it was honestly pretty amazing at the same time. He jerked Jared faster and harder, wrapped his other arm around his back, to return the balancing favor, listened to the sounds Jared made, and worked him through the final moments of him coming thick and wet over Jensen’s fingers, bit down hard on his own lip, as the thought crossed his mind of getting fucked by that dick, and he hadn't expected that sudden sharp strike of arousal at the thought.
They stood there for a few minutes, slumped against the wall, and just at the moment when it could have started being awkward enough that they’d have gone their mutual ways and written it off as a temporary monday morning madness, Jared snorted into Jensen’s neck. “So much better than coffee, I’m telling you.”
"I could get used to that,” Jensen said, " but for our first next time we're fucking in a bed."
"That's pretty fancy stuff," was Jared's reply. "You sure about that?"
"Never surer of anything in my life. You finish your poster, I'm having another coffee." Jensen grabbed a handful of the napkins and wiped his hand off. Then, looking down, he stilled. “Jared, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Jared glanced down as well. “Your dick’s kind of sparkly,” he said slowly. “I fucked Edward Cullen didn’t I?”
“No, I got sucked off by a dude with glitter on his hands. Shit, this is never coming off is it?”
“I kind of like it,”Jared said consideringly. “You should come to the protest, it’d have real impact.”
"Don't make me brew the day I started this," Jensen said, and resigned himself to the inevitable.
Feedback is always a joy so comments are appreciated (including crit).
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3172
Content notes: handjob, blowjob
A/N: Written for the J2/Wincest JIBCON meme for homo_pink's excellent prompt. I'm to blame for every single pun in this. I hate myself enough for everyone.
Summary: Jensen's a grumpy barista. Jared's the protestor who uses his coffee-shop to create his banners. Glitter flies.
There were so many reasons for Jensen to dislike Jared, that it came as a faint surprise that he didn't. The first time they'd met, the coffee-shop had just opened - that was strike number one for starters - because it was seven am and no matter that Sam had insisted there would be business in that 7-9 period before classes kicked off, in practice it was two hours for Jensen to drink coffee and read his increasingly neglected course material in, before people skidded in before classes. So Jensen was mostly used to just the occasional ashen-faced all nighter sidling in the door, their outstretched hands imploring the blackest, dirtiest, grittiest coffee he could provide them, without a single spoken word marring the beauty of the age-old transaction between barista and customer.
He wasn't used to proper morning people. The ones who didn't require coffee to render them capable of speech or who dashed past his door on a morning jog without a second glance. The sort of man who banged the door open at one minute past seven and barged in with his arms full of paper, and little containers of things, and kicked it shut behind him, before tripping over a shoelace, staggering forward, catching his balance, and then landing thankfully at a table without further incident. Jensen sunk further down behind the counter and stared at Metzinger's myth of cognitive agency which seemed peculiarly appropriate in the circumstances.
Second strike came when Jared (name obtained from the back of his sports hoodie) opened his mouth in a smile that displayed what Jensen thought disapprovingly was an obscenely cheerful nature (and great teeth) and squinted at the board overhead. "Frappuccino please. With two shots of hazelnut and whipped cream."
The problem was, that while in theory, frappuccinos were on the menu, it was mostly because Sam had seen them once and thought it wouldn't hurt to list them as a possibility. In practice, it was mostly coffee. Straight coffee in large mugs. And tea because Danneel liked her caffeine in dilute doses, as apparently did other people. Starbucks they were not. Jensen had warned Sam that somebody might actually ask for one, one day, but she'd thought the risk was worth taking. "Sorry," he mumbled. "We're out of hazelnut syrup. And ice." He didn't mention that technically they'd never been in either of those items.
"Oh, no problem," Jared said, with another smile that made Jensen realize, that shit, the dude had dimples. "Can I just get a latte then. Decaf." That right there was strike number three. Jensen made it for him and handed it over, and Jared took it with a thanks, and headed right back to the table, where he set the coffee carefully on one side, and broke out the sharpies. Whatever he was drawing with careful precision was clearly taking up all of his attention, and despite himself, Jensen was kind of intrigued as to what exactly it was. When Jared got into the little pots, he propped his book on the counter and watched from around it, as Jared smeared glue over the top of what was now recognizably a poster, and then tipped another pot over it.
"Jesus fuck," Jared said, as dark red glitter poured out, not just onto the poster but over the table as well, and as he lunged in an abortive move to prevent it from spreading, the glue went over as well. He then whipped his head round to stare guiltily at Jensen as though he thought Jensen might not have noticed.
Jensen let his head meet the counter with a pleasingly solid thunk. Fucking glitter, every-fucking-where. If Jared had been less apologetic looking (and not as ridiculously good looking as a Zoolander knock-off) he might have chucked him out the door, as it was, he wet a dishcloth under the tap and threw it at him. "Every speck off," he warned him, and Jared grinned.
"Can't I plead a good cause?"
"There's literally no cause in the world good enough for me to spend hours cleaning that up," he was exaggerating, since it was actually Sam's job to run the vacuum over the place, but it was kind of worth it when Jared shuffled forward on his knees, hands pressed together.
"I'm so sorry Mr Barista," he said, and it was almost sincere, and it'd been long enough since Jensen was laid, that the kneeling on the floor thing was helping as well.
Jensen snorted, but gave in enough to wet a second cloth and come round the other side to help. He sneaked the chance to look at the poster as well. Equal Access for All it said, in bright red letters now. Jared'd drawn a thumbs up as well. "What are you protesting?" he asked, more from some dimly remembered rule of politeness from time before academia ate his life, than from real interest.
"No wheelchair access to Lecture Hall B," Jared said promptly. "They've been promising it all year and putting it off on the basis of building alterations not being in the budget. Then they claimed that the terms of the agreement don't allow them to change the building structure. But man, we are literally talking about one ramp, what is wrong with these people?" The question was clearly rhetorical.
"Cool," Jensen replied, and straightened up. "Good luck with that."
Jared grinned and picked it up. "Thanks," he called as he shouldered his way out the door. The coffee he'd bought was completely untouched, and Jensen was pretty sure that the glitter was never coming out of the carpet.
Part of him vaguely expected to see Jared again the next morning, but the time passed as usual - a couple of shaking late-nighters drifting in from the library, nerveless hands still clutching their keycards, one or two hardcore partiers who'd come straight from a club to their classes, not a sign of an overly enthusiastic dude who was hot enough to overcome Jensen's perfectly reasonable aversion to cargo shorts. It was just a coincidence really that that he suggested to Sam that they should consider a trip to Costco and the purchase of some flavored syrups.
Two days later, Jared was in again though, same protest, different banner, same tendency to last-minute creations, a cup of coffee left abandoned once again, and Jensen left cleaning glitter out of unmentionable places. Two days after that, Jared was protesting the continuing failure of the campus to provide alternate exam accommodations. Once again, he’d supplied himself with what he had promised Jensen, hand on his heart, was a properly controlled glitter gun. The merest suggestion (marking the first time Jensen had ever actively chosen to begin a conversation with a customer) that Jared consider just not using glitter had garnered him an actively hurt face that Jensen had met with a sinking heart because that shouldn’t work on him, but somehow it was.
It had been a good month later from the first time they’d met, when Jensen was face-first in the continuing adventures of Stich and Laurence, and mourning the fact that he hadn’t got more than four hours sleep the night before and that for once even the most revolting espresso didn't seem to be making a dent, that the door banged open again, and Jared swept in, arms full of cardboard and a five kilogram bag of gummy bears. Jensen might have been happier to see him, if he wasn't still finding glitter in his pubes from a twenty second exposure to the stuff last time Jared had fought the fight of the good. Jared dumped the stuff on the table and came up to the counter, fishing out his wallet as he went. "Coffee please," and Christ, there were the dimples again. Jensen wasn't awake enough for this, for any of it.
He made it and watched Jared add enough sugar to swamp it and then fill it with milk, until he was willing to bet that trading standards would no longer have called it coffee. Jared carried it back to the table and as carefully as before, put it one side and got down to the business of making what appeared to be a banner - he'd unfurled a long length of cloth over two tables, and with a surreptitious look at Jensen, fumbled in a bag.
"That'd better not be glitter," Jensen threatened.
"It's definitely not," Jared lied through his teeth, and then broke without another a word being said. "I put it in a shaker man! There is no way it's going anywhere other than this banner."
"You said that about the glitter pen applicator as well," Jensen pointed out. "Also every other way you've found to apply glitter to pieces of paper that never did you any harm at all. You know how long it took me to stop finding glitter in my shoes? Too long."
Jared shook his head in mock dismay. "Why do you hate glittery fun?" He paused, and then deliberately smiled. "Are you ground down by your job?"
"Don't start this," Jensen threatened. "I swear to God, I will end it."
Jared advanced towards the counter, shaker in one hand, glue in the other. "I've never bean in your position, it must be terrible. I bet you're foaming at the mouth to get out.”
Jensen brandished the only weapon within reach, an unthreatening spoon. "I'm warning you."
"You should take the espresso train out of here," Jared said, and then wrinkled his nose. "That one was really bad wasn't it? I guess I'll have to come back latte and finish this." He paused just outside of spoon-reach. "I'll make you a deal. I can use glitter and you can have as many gummy bears as you can eat in thirty seconds."
"A minute," Jensen replied, a lifetime of being a sibling coming to the fore. "And you drink your coffee for once or I'll start believing you hate my coffee."
Jared stuck on a thinking face, then cracked, smiled and headed back to the table. "I American’t refuse that deal. Besides I need the glitter for this one. It's traditional."
Jensen trailed over behind him, heading for the bag of gummies, and glancing over at Jared's poster as usual. LGBT representation. "Very traditional," he said, “maybe next time some sequins as well?” and Jared gave him a grin before he gulped the now probably cold coffee.
"Want to give a hand?"
"Not a chance. I've done my time in organized groups," and he wondered if that sounded as awkward a way of saying 'me too' as he thought it did.
Jared didn't seem to notice though. "Hey Jensen. Have you heard this one? Why's a froth machine like Hamlet?" He doesn't leave a second to guess. "It's full of sound and airy signifying nothing."
The only reaction possible to that joke, wrong on so many levels, was in Jensen's mind, to stop Jared from ever saying anything again. The first way to accomplish that which came to mind, made a whole lot of other things click into place. He doesn't ask if he can kiss Jared, but he pulled him in slowly enough that Jared could duck away if he wanted to. Jared didn't want any such thing though, closed the distance before Jensen does, with a muffled, "fucking finally."
Jensen didn’t stop to question that, Jared was sweet on his tongue from too sugary coffee, strong hand gripping down tight on the back of his neck, like now Jared had got him he wasn't letting go. He almost forgot that it was half seven in the morning, and that there was a chance, if not a high one, that somebody was going to walk in and see them going at it like highschoolers at the prom. Jared was too warm to lean away from though or to remember things like that, and Jensen had almost forgotten what this felt like, after months of concentrating on his Masters and filling every spare moment with working to the point where he'd almost forgotten what his dick was for. It was actually Jared who tore himself away in the end, and dropped his head onto Jensen’s shoulder - a difficult feat considering his frankly abnormal height, while he shook with silent laughter.
Jensen wasn’t as offended by that as he might have been - the combination of the early morning and unexpected caffeine had clearly hit Jared hard, and he patted him on the back for a second. Jared straightened up with a huge smile still on his face. “That was awesome and I’ve been wanting to do that for longer than I think you know, but I hate coffee so damn much, I think I’d rather suck you off.”
Now that, Jensen hadn’t been expecting, and while he wasn’t going to turn it down, for the first time in history of ever, he thought his dick might actually be moving things along too fast. “It’s too early in the morning,” he said stupidly, and Jared kissed him again, hot and possessive, lips brushing Jensen’s, a pure tease, not engaging properly.
“If only you were a smoker instead,” Jared said seriously and then cracked up. “Seriously though. I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like forever, and we are technically on about our eighth date. Or we could wait for this evening and go out for dinner or something, and I could tell you about my family all over again until we've attained the minimum amount of respectability.”
Jensen thought of the neglected book behind the counter and then of Jared, standing there and giving him a way out, and thought fuck it. “As long as you’ll still respect me tonight,” he said, and Jared’s face lit up like there was nothing better he could’ve said, hands going to Jensen’s hips and pulling him flush against Jared. It was the work of a moment to crash into the backroom, because Jensen wasn’t so dead to decency that getting sucked off behind the counter sounded like a good idea (except for the embarrassing flush of heat that swept down the back of his neck at the thought, and yeah, that was something he’d never known about himself before).
As it was, Jensen’d been blown in several inappropriate places - the bathroom at a wedding, in an alley by a determined ex-boyfriend, and it had never flooded to his fingertips like this, the unnerved swoop in his belly at the sight of Jared’s easy fall to his knees, arousal hot and pooling in him, and the way Jared’s tongue flicked out to smooth over his lips like he’d genuinely been waiting for this. He wasn't exactly hard - he really never had been a morning person, but that was no deterrent at all to Jared. The first touch of Jared’s mouth to Jensen’s dick, embarrassingly almost made him jump, but Jared didn’t seem to mind, just pinned him to the wall with his ridiculously strong hands, and went to town, sucked him to full hardness with the sort of singleminded intentness that Jensen could really appreciate in a man, along with seeming to have not much need for actual air. The first sharp edge of ‘fuck, I’m getting my dick sucked’ faded, replaced by an almost surreal sensation, like tiredness had co-mingled with arousal and that week’s required reading, to form a lazy drifting state where Jared had been on his knees forever and for no time at all.
Jared didn’t seem to mind that Jensen was taking it slow and easy because he slowed down accordingly, like he wanted nothing more than to make it amazing, sucked him slow and deep, and he was actually kind of messy about it, pulling off to chase precome from the head of Jensen’s dick, with an enthusiasm that couldn’t be faked, and then getting back in, down and dirty, and Jensen rocked forward just a little, just for the visual of Jared opening wider and swallowing him down, and he couldn’t resist getting his hands into Jared’s absurd hair, which brought Jared even closer in an instant, a muffled moan slipping from his occupied mouth, and that felt even better. Jensen closed his eyes and sped up, a renewed urgency in his motion - or at least as much as he was given leave by Jared’s grasp, and Jared compensated, moving with him, hot, eager mouth taking everything it was given.
It could have been any amount of time really from start to finish, and when Jensen finally came, an almost languorous final thrust emptying him down Jared’s throat, it shook him all the way through, the build up culminating in an orgasm that felt like it almost knocked him out. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d have stayed on his feet if it wasn’t for Jared, who surged up to brace him for the moment, before he wiped his mouth carelessly with a stray napkin.
Jared was still hot and hard in his jeans, solid and thick through the fabric, and Jensen couldn’t wait to actually get to touch him, skated his fingers across the heavy bulk, before Jared unzipped himself, making short work of his jeans before Jensen wormed his fingers in, to stroke him hard and fast, squeezing him through his fingers as Jared panted in his ear, braced on and around him, hips thrusting towards Jensen. There was something unreal about the whole situation Jensen thought, looking down to see the fast snap of Jared’s hips and the thickness of his dick sliding through Jensen’s fingers, a combination of lack of sleep and whatever this was, but it was honestly pretty amazing at the same time. He jerked Jared faster and harder, wrapped his other arm around his back, to return the balancing favor, listened to the sounds Jared made, and worked him through the final moments of him coming thick and wet over Jensen’s fingers, bit down hard on his own lip, as the thought crossed his mind of getting fucked by that dick, and he hadn't expected that sudden sharp strike of arousal at the thought.
They stood there for a few minutes, slumped against the wall, and just at the moment when it could have started being awkward enough that they’d have gone their mutual ways and written it off as a temporary monday morning madness, Jared snorted into Jensen’s neck. “So much better than coffee, I’m telling you.”
"I could get used to that,” Jensen said, " but for our first next time we're fucking in a bed."
"That's pretty fancy stuff," was Jared's reply. "You sure about that?"
"Never surer of anything in my life. You finish your poster, I'm having another coffee." Jensen grabbed a handful of the napkins and wiped his hand off. Then, looking down, he stilled. “Jared, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Jared glanced down as well. “Your dick’s kind of sparkly,” he said slowly. “I fucked Edward Cullen didn’t I?”
“No, I got sucked off by a dude with glitter on his hands. Shit, this is never coming off is it?”
“I kind of like it,”Jared said consideringly. “You should come to the protest, it’d have real impact.”
"Don't make me brew the day I started this," Jensen said, and resigned himself to the inevitable.
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