Title: No Choice in the Matter
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Chapter: 3/6
Chapter Length: 5189 words
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Warnings/kinks: hate-sex, A/B/O, dub-con, masturbation, fantasy, drunk-sex
Summary: Sequel to
Intolerable Cruelty. Bonded to someone he loathes, Jared has to navigate a path he never expected to follow, and to fight against something he has no choice in.
Chapter One here,
Chapter Two here While he might have felt like he wanted to go to bed and pull the duvet over his head and block out the world for a bit, that wasn’t the sort of attitude that had ever got him anything in life, so after showering and dressing he went back to the kitchen table, tablet in hand and a cold beer beside him to get some things sorted. He’d planned on maybe meeting up with friends tonight, but wasn’t in the right mood at all. He needed to get things sorted in time for this meeting tomorrow. As he wrote reminders to himself, he gnawed at his lip anxiously, the thought swirling about his mind uneasily what was he going to do tomorrow? Every fibre of him revolted at the idea of in effect working for another company’s advantage, but if he didn’t do as Martin told him to then Morgans would lose the deal anyway, and Jared would lose his job. Jeff was a good boss and a decent man, and he’d promoted Jared over the protests of many, but no company could afford the bad press of what was going to happen with this, and getting rid of Jared would solve so many problems for him at once.
With Jared fired, office rules about significant others working in the same building wouldn’t be contravened, the pressure put on him by senior management unhappy at the hiring of omegas in general would be appeased, he wouldn’t have to pay out the parenting time if Jared decided to change his mind about children, the time off that Jared took, meagre as it was in comparison to what he was officially entitled to was still a drain on resources. Everything would be easier for Jeff and for Morgans as a whole.
Sure he could drag it to a tribunal if he had to, but he’d never win and he’d render himself completely unemployable, if he wasn’t already that. This thing with Mirrorlake was multi-layered he knew that. It was to their advantage that either they got this deal, or that omegas were shown in general to be unreliable, subject to blackmail and liable to being suborned. It wasn’t like they’d get the rap for this, it was par for the course to use anything you could against another company that wasn’t straight up instantly provably illegal.
He indulged for a few minutes in a satisfyingly graphic thought of beating Martin up in the elevator, gagging him so alpha commands had no effect, (not he suspected that they’d have much effect coming from such a puny bastard anyway,) and delivering him like that to the rest of the team, then sighed and pushed it away. Daydreaming about that was like daydreaming about winning the lotto, satisfying until the moment you realised there was no Lamborghini in your driveway, and no beaten-up Martin in your future. This was where, he thought a little sadly, having a mate you liked would come in useful. If he’d been with Gen they’d have had a good laugh over the whole thing, she’d have told him to alpha up and go see Jeff, and that if he wanted she’d hold down Martin while he punched. Jensen he suspected, would just think all his Christmases had come at once.
He got up and rifled through the cupboards looking for something edible, and sighed at the emptiness of them and the fridge, internally weighing up his need for food, over his need to stay at home and sulk. The food won (it usually did, it was probably the reason for his height his mom used to say) and he went to find his coat to make it down to the shop before it closed for the night, thankful he hadn’t had more than the one beer.
While perusing the shelves and trying to decide between the chicken and the lamb, he became aware of an odd prickling sensation on his neck. He whipped round in case there was someone in the same aisle as him projecting hard onto the chicken fillets, but it was empty and as far as he could tell there was almost no-one else in the shop. It was the second time it’d happened today, the first had been when Martin had shook his hand and he’d felt his ill intentions, felt his skin prickle in distaste, and it was unnerving him. He was barely an empath level eight (if he’d been an alpha or a beta, the army would’ve offered him an attractive package on coming out of highschool for his practical nullness,) he could only pick up when a high-level projected hard, or someone physically touched him. Getting an indiscernible feeling like this wasn’t something he did, and he wondered for a brief second if it might be something to do with Jensen. He’d heard in sex education class at school that even low-level empaths had an empathic connection that tied into their bond, let them know however dimly how their partner felt. Funny, he supposed, that in the time he’d known him, he’d never bothered to look at Jensen’s id-bracelet for his empath level.
Dropping the white wine sauce into his basket, he took out his phone and stared at it. Was it worth a call to Jensen just to check everything was okay? He dithered, as he browsed the vegetables, until he remembered that he didn’t even have Jensen’s number so that solved that, and he dropped it back into his pocket. The feeling didn’t go away though, it just got worse and he rubbed vigorously at his skin though he knew that logically that wouldn’t alleviate it. By the time he was paying at the checkout it was almost unbearable, and the niggling thought had returned. What if there was something wrong? If Jensen had been mugged, or hurt or even just slipped and knocked himself out, maybe this was the bond’s way of telling him he had to do something. It didn’t sound unlikely, there were countless bizarro tales of bonds letting people know there was something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to stop it.
After he’d loaded stuff into his car, he dug through the emails in his inbox on his cell looking for the time Danneel had sent him hers, and shot her a quick text. Hey Danneel, do you have Jensen’s number? I need to ask him about something for tomorrow. -Best, Jared.
Only minutes later (God bless that woman for checking her phone as often as she did,) he got a text back. Hi Jared, have attached Jensen’s contact details. Please forward me any relevant info from your discussions - Danneel. She’d attached what looked like an office contact sheet with his phone number and address on it, and not without a heap of hesitation he phoned Jensen. Five minutes later, he was irritably pushing redial, and getting increasingly annoyed at the lack of pickup. A tiny thread of worry was creeping in now though, an aching nagging feeling that something must be wrong. Jensen treated his cell like an extension of his hand, there was no way he’d ignore a call for this long, not even if he was still pissed off from earlier. That combined with the sense of prickling unease resolved him. Jensen lived relatively close as neighbourhoods went, no more than twenty minutes drive, it couldn’t hurt just to drive past, to assuage this feeling. It was self-preservation after all, if something was seriously wrong and Jensen needed help, then it would harm Jared if it wasn’t attended to.
He tried to talk himself out of it the whole way there, and when he pulled up outside the house and it was dark and silent he almost drove away. Jensen was probably out somewhere with friends or partying, maybe even fucking some unattached beta, though he doubted it this early in the night. The thought did make him stop stone-still though. Maybe that’s what this was. Maybe Jensen was sleeping with somebody else, and the bond was kicking up a fuss, knowing the smell and the touch and taste were wrong. He’d driven this far though, it’d do no harm to check, though if Jensen wasn’t answering his phone the chances that he’d answer his door were slim.
Huddling his coat around him against the cold, he darted up the path and rang the doorbell. There were no answering footsteps, no lights flicking on, and he pressed it once more before turning away. He’d done his bit. So he was taken aback when light followed him back down the path. Turning, he saw Jensen, alive, quite clearly unharmed and wearing pjs framed in the light of the door, and a wave of sickening embarrassment poured over him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d driven out here on the basis of nothing more than a psychic skin-complaint, and a sense of vague duty, and he had no doubt that if he’d been able to right now, Jensen would be spreading this round the office like wild fire. So desperate he actually drove to me. Proves Omegas can’t keep it in their pants I guess. Hunching his shoulders to appear smaller, he hoped desperately Jensen would just assume it was a really really tall kid pranking him and shut the door right now, before he saw Jared get into his car.
Unfortunately following his current streak of shitty luck Jensen assumed no such thing, and actually followed him out in bare feet catching up to him in seconds, a look of total confusion crossing his face when he saw Jared’s face. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, and turned away before Jared could answer. “Inside. We’re not doing this where the neighbours can see.” And right like that Jared couldn’t be fucked with this. He’d come out here to help Jensen, not to listen to his shit. Ignoring the other man, he strode back to his car, only to be forestalled by Jensen grabbing his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that man,” he said, “seriously come inside. I was just surprised that you hadn’t come to shout at me,” and Jared could hear the honesty in his voice where he hadn’t expected to find any.
He let himself be guided inside, and shivered reflexively as the warmth hit him. Jensen had taken him through to the kitchen, much like Jared had done to him, and pulling him out a chair. On the table was a heap of paper, a beer and a pair of glasses that were presumably Jensen’s, and Jared could feel a laugh bubbling up in his throat. Lifestyles of the not so different it seemed. Jensen definitely misinterpreted it though, snatching up the glasses defensively as though trying to protect them from mockery. An understandable reaction given that Alphas were meant to be physically perfect specimens, who were justifiably in a position of power over the rest of the race. Jared raised his hands. “Pax,” he said only half joking. If he wanted Jensen to listen to him without laughing, he was going to have to concede the glasses.
Jensen handed him a beer in tacit agreement, and sat waiting for Jared to spit out the reason he was here. It was surprisingly hard to explain, when he tried to put it into words ‘I felt a bit tingly’ sounded more like a come-on than a psychic warning. “Look this sounds crazy, but while I was shopping I just felt like something was wrong with you. It was definitely an empath thing, but I never get them ever,” he turned the face of his bracelet towards Jensen to emphasise what he was saying, knowing Jensen would get what he meant. Empath eights could barely read secondary elements to a conversation sometimes, let alone other people’s actual emotions. Yet another reason for Jensen to be pissed at this situation he guessed. Not just an Omega but a defective one. “So I tried ringing you, and you didn’t pick up. That’s when I just thought I’d drive by.”
The silence lengthened and Jared almost bolted at the awkwardness of it all. Waiting for any sort of response from Jensen, he took another gulp of beer to calm himself. Jensen finally responded, and he didn’t sound mocking at all. “It is kind of crazy I guess, but I’m not going to disbelieve you. I’m just puzzled.”
“Why?” asked Jared intrigued. “Were you actually in trouble?”
Jensen didn’t answer for a moment again. “Do you still have it?” he asked.
Jared checked himself mentally. “Sort of,” he replied, “it’s still there but it’s nothing like as bad, just like a really small itch.” He drained the rest of the beer and put the bottle on the table.
“That’s pretty weird,” Jensen said thoughtfully. “My mom phoned with some bad news a little bit earlier.” The look on his face dared Jared to attempt asking what the bad news had been, and Jared not unthankfully didn’t try it, just nodded in a vague attempt to look sympathetic. “But it must just be an accidental thing.” He extended his own wrist towards Jared, turning it so the bracelet faced him, and Jared saw the mirror of his own marked Eight.
Well, he caught himself thinking. That certainly explained a lot about why they didn’t get on at all. Generally speaking businesses opted for one of two extremes. As high an empath rating as they could get (usually no more than a five, similar to Martin, the occasional four,) or the lowest they could get- an eight like Jared, who couldn’t read others at all, but who was nearly impenetrable on an individual level to anyone below a four. Put two eights in a room though, and the utter lack of comprehension on both sides was a recipe for a disaster.
Eerily Jensen echoed his own thoughts. “I almost tested null,” he confessed. “So really it can’t have been me making you feel uneasy. Even with bond amplification I doubt I could project that strongly over that distance, even to my b-bonded.” He stumbled over the word bonded and Jared couldn’t blame him. It still hadn’t sunk in even to him, not properly, and it was becoming odder by the minute. He’d been told so many times that being so low rated was an almost insurmountable barrier to bonding, and he’d have to try and find someone high rated to balance him out. But if Jensen was as low rated as he was, then how the hell had they managed to bond? Gen had been a level five, one level above the standard six, and hadn’t managed it. Now the two of them who realistically shouldn’t have been able to bond without intervention were tied together forever.
At some point another beer had appeared in front of him and he drank without thinking. Now that Jensen wasn’t leaping to be an asshole at every opportunity, this was surprisingly interesting to hear. He’d never really thought of an Alpha as being a low-rater before, though he’d assumed they’d existed. Like Jensen’s glasses it was a reminder that nothing was set in stone.
He was halfway down his second beer, when Jensen knocked his foot with his own. “Have you tried to bond with anyone before?” The question came out of left-field, and Jared was startled. There wasn’t really a good reply to that, so he decided to be honest, and hope that being so would encourage Jensen to do the same.
“I have. About ten years ago.”
“Didn’t take huh?” Jensen’s tone was for once neutral rather than mocking.
Jared nodded. “No fault on either side. She’s bonded now and happy though.” The good thing he was discovering slowly about being bonded to a level eight was that apparently they took you on face value. Gen would never have let him get away with pretending he was happy over that statement. Jensen just accepted it though, and stood to get a couple more beers.
“Want to move into the lounge?” Jensen asked, already up, holding the beers in one hand and absentmindedly hitching the side of his pj pants up with the other. Jared was surprised at the tiny flash of suppressed lust that shot through him at the sight of the bare skin, jerking off earlier should’ve helped with that but it seemed like it hadn't. He nodded, and followed Jensen in, taking the chance to look around him as he did. The house struck him as oddly neutral, like nothing had been touched since Jensen had arrived. It was well furnished and cared for, but utterly featureless, not a single photo on the walls just pleasant undistinguished pictures, and the occasional mirror. The sofas though were the Platonic Form of comfortable sofas, and he took the chance to sink back into it with a contented sigh that didn't go unnoticed.
Sitting up, he accepted the beer from Jensen, who'd colonised the squishy chair, swinging his feet up over the sides. "These are amazing sofas," he said with complete truthfulness.
Jensen smiled, the same oddly honest and bizarrely genuine smile he'd given to Andy earlier. "Most expensive thing I've ever bought," he said. "Well worth every penny though. I reckon a good sofa will save on medical bills over the years."
Jared hmmed in response, there wasn't much to do but agree (and take another swig of beer.) It hadn't escaped him that this was the longest time he'd ever spent in Jensen's company without either fucking or fighting him. It was actually quite restful though, and he felt disinclined to start either right now. This wasn't fixing anything, he knew that, he'd never been stupid. One quiet evening with Jensen wasn't enough to repair the bad blood between them, wasn't enough to make Jensen change his mind on all the things that affected Jared so badly. But it was a start, and a good start, even if he suspected that it was the beer that had mostly brought them to this point.
"You doing anything this weekend?" he said, no intent in his mind but making conversation.
"No," said Jensen, and his voice was casual. "You?"
In between visiting his lawyer and filling the prescription he was bound to be given on Friday, Jared had no plans and said so. "I might check out the new Die Hard though," he said, more for the sake of talk than anything.
Jensen said nothing for a bit, but the silence between them for once wasn't awkward, and Jared thanked whatever weird quirk of the bond had brought him here tonight. There might be something to be salvaged, and in his own environment Jensen didn't seem such a massive asshole as he did at work or at Jared's house. He was at the very least tolerable. Luckily three beers was nowhere near enough to make him admit out loud to thinking that, though draining the third one did bring to mind the shopping currently languishing in his car. "Shit," he said out loud and Jensen looked up. Jared tried to explain. "My shopping's in the car. I should head home and put it away."
"You've had three beers," Jensen said, "you can't drive home right now. Call a cab or wait it off."
Reasonable though it was, Jared felt aggrieved, at himself, at Jensen, at the bond, at the world. He should be at home figuring what to do tomorrow, not getting drunker in Jensen's company. He declined to say this though, opting for sulking in silence and being sure that Jensen wouldn't know what he was doing, especially since he was out in the kitchen getting more beer. "Stupid me," he murmured mostly to himself, no sense giving Jensen more ammunition. Unfortunately for him, Jensen's hearing was nowhere near as bad as his eyesight.
"Not that I'm disagreeing Padalecki, but what prompted that in particular?"
"Icecream'll have melted," he said, and Jensen popped his head round the door. "Bring it in," he said reasonably. "Stick it in the freezer if it's not defrosted and you can take it home with you." Jared couldn't argue with plain sense, and he walked down to the car, the cold air clearing his head rapidly, the shopping still mostly intact when he opened the trunk to grab it. His head now clear, he understood as he had earlier, that if he stayed then sex was on the cards, whether it was drunken fumbling, or early morning hormones, and that this was the time to call the cab and get home. He couldn't quite bring himself to care though. Sex wasn't going to hurt anything and it just might help between them. Not to mention one part of his mind added unhelpfully, that it might even be good sex.
He stood long enough to get a little chilled, then almost reluctantly turned and headed in doors. Jensen met him at the door, gave him a hand with the bags and put the chilled and frozen stuff away, leaving the rest forlornly on the table. Jared rubbed his hands together and went back for the beer, the cool glass almost warm against his skin. They talked idly of different things, making their way through a couple more beers before Jared felt the need for the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror as he wiped his hands on a towel, noting the slightly flushed look of his face, the over-focusing of his eyes as he struggled to look at himself. When he left the bathroom he wasn't surprised to see Jensen standing there, arms crossed as he looked at Jared. "How drunk are you?" he asked.
"About as drunk as you," Jared replied with a shrug. Drunk enough to be tipsy, not drunk enough to think this was anything but a really bad idea that he was going to do anyway. Surprisingly Jensen just led the way back into the lounge, and Jared wondered if he'd chickened out. Jensen didn't seem like the type though. He went back to the beer, dimly knowing that his head probably wasn't going to thank him in the morning, but knowing that he was staying the night anyway. As an afterthought he set his alarm-clock obscenely early on his phone, since he might forget before the end of the night. The time caught his eye as he did so, and he could hardly believe it. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet. He'd seen Jensen at his house at six pm. Something about it struck him as being terribly funny, and he could barely hold back a laugh.
Jensen by this point was looking a little less composed himself, cheeks redder than usual, hair mussed from fingers being drawn through it. He was on the subject of Martin from Mirrorlake now, and thankfully he agreed with Jared entirely. "Greasy little fucker," he started off with, never having been one to mince his words. "Can't believe with dealing with such an asshole. Honestly when he tried to pull that 'show me the stats' nonsense, I just about slammed his head into the table."
Jared just nodded, muzzily aware that he probably shouldn't say just how much he hated Martin from Mirrorlake but tempted to drop a hint. "Little bastard," he agreed, and there was the ring of truth in his words this time. Nothing else was quite as accurate a descriptor. "Besides," he added, "he cheats." He held his breath when the words slipped out. Now was the deciding time, if Jensen pressed further for explanation then Jared would tell him, if not then he'd leave it at that and figure it out in the morning. It was the ideal time really, eight beers down if you included the one from earlier, and Jensen was hardly likely to notice. Left up to the fate of whoever was watching out right now really.
No such luck as Jensen ignoring it though, the man was like a pitbull when it came to things like this, even when it was just gossip, and he leapt on it sharpish. "Cheating?" he said sharply. "Who?"
Through heavy-lidded eyes, Jared watched Jensen. "Me," he enunciated as clearly as he could. "Well us really, but it's me who'll be fired. Said if I didn't throw the deal, he'd make an official complaint about me not changing my registry status and taking the time off."
He'd anticipated that Jensen might explode, had even supposed that it would be at him rather than at any one else, but he hadn't reckoned on the sheer volume of anger that was unleashed in the next few seconds. From the sounds of it you'd have thought Martin had murdered Jensen's entire family and then stamped on his dog for good measure.
Whatever it was though, the drink or the anger or some other unknown quality, had Jensen almost incandescent with rage. Jared could only listen semi-admiringly, as Jensen systematically took apart the other man from head to foot. He wasn't prepared for Jensen to come over and tug him up, and explain that if it was the last thing they ever did, they were going to get Martin, make him sorry for ever threatening Morgans, for ever threatening either of them in fact. This close, Jensen was frightening and a little exhilarating, and it felt good for once to have Jensen firmly and squarely on his side, making plans to see Jeff and Danneel in the morning, stopping for asides about how he was going to rip Martin's balls off if he got a chance. It wasn't something he'd ever felt with Jensen before, and that along with the beer in his system, overwhelmed his better judgement.
This close to Jensen, up and near breathing his scent, feeling his warmth had worked it's magic, and he could barely think twice about remembering to mention it to his doctor the next day. Jensen too had stopped, was looking at him with eyes too dark, as though daring him to make the first move. Jared couldn't leave that hanging there, lunged with a growl to kiss Jensen, to bite his lip hard, to try and exert every ounce of the control that had been wrested from him in their first sexual encounters, from the fuck in the garage, to the joyless sex in the office, even the masturbation driven and fuelled by a Jensen he didn't believe was possible in real life. For a moment Jensen was slack beneath him, mouth half open in astonishment, the next he was fighting back, their kiss more like a battle in some unending war than anything else.
Jared pushed Jensen back onto the sofa, enjoying the surprise that ran across the other man's face, tugging the long-sleeved sweater Jensen wore over his pj top off over his head, sliding it down his arms until it trapped his wrists in thick wool. He half expected an instinctive no from Jensen, just enough to slow him down, stop this from happening and let Jensen wriggle free, but it didn't appear, though the effort of not saying it was causing Jensen to chew at lips already battered from their kiss. Jared grinned down at him. Sex he could do, especially sex outside of heat, and if Jensen only wanted to screw, only wanted to get blowjobs not give them out, he could do that, but not without doing it his way.
Standing, he looked around for lube and Jensen broke his self-imposed silence. "There's some in the bottom drawer in the kitchen," he said, breathing hard and fast. Jared stripped as he went, leaving a trail of clothes that he knew he'd regret in the morning, and returning with the lube in one hand. He knew what a sight he made, wasn't surprised that Jensen made a helpless noise as he crawled back on and undid Jensen's pants, shimmying them down, pausing for a moment to admire the sight Jensen made with nothing but his pants pushed down, and his sweater half off
With Jensen's hands out of action for the moment, though nothing would keep them out bar his co-operation,Jared flipped open the cap of lube and poured a generous amount onto his hands, warming it between his fingers before he started fucking himself on them. The angle was awkward, he had to work to get what he wanted, but the look on Jensen's face was more than worth the awkwardness as he slid another finger into himself, leaning forward to balance himself better, right up near Jensen's face. His own lube was beginning to kick in now, a little thicker, a little slicker than the artifical stuff, and really the saying was true, if you want a job right, do it yourself.
He settled himself back onto his knees, spread wide above Jensen's lap, barely on the sofa but uncaring, as Jensen jerked upwards almost pitifully, dying to fuck him. If it could always be like this, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he thought distantly. But this was the anomaly, this was them drunk and tired and angry, not how it would be. He knew Jensen, perhaps better than he should do considering his hate, knew the other man would never take this as standard, no matter how good it felt to have Jared slide down in easy increments, holding his dick for him, as he let gravity take it's natural course, until Jensen was seated right up deep inside him. The fullness seemed to leave him with no more room for thought, just an intense desire to wring everything from this that he could.
His cock was hard and red against his stomach, and he risked unbalancing himself enough to curl a hand round it, jerk it as fast as he could, as he raised himself with tiny movements then fucked back down again, until Jensen didn't look like he could take any more, his sweatered hands tearing themselves apart to get out, until he could fasten firm fingers on Jared's hips and guide him into doing this faster, harder, brushing against Jared's own dick, face torn with too much emotion, half of which Jared couldn't read, didn't know if he wanted to even. The sounds between them were obscene now, the wet slick of their meeting loud in the silent room, and Jared thought he might be able to get off just to that, to riding Jensen and hearing the sounds they made together. Even the thought helped push him over the edge, one hand around his dick, Jensen buried right up close hitting something that made him want to scream with too much sensation, until he came over his hand, over Jensen's chest and ruined sweater, body emptying itself convulsively, dragging Jensen over with it until they were both speechless and done, collapsed against each other in a sweaty parody of real closeness.
I'm not so happy with this chapter but hopefully the next will be okay.
Chapter Four