Mid-Afternoon Sun on Texas Sky (29/?)
Title: Mid-Afternoon Sun on Texas Sky
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
This is a sequel to the previously ‘neverending story’, Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky. It finally ended.
Summary: Jensen and Jared go back to Texas for Christmas. Their relationship deepens and they take the next step… pr0n!
Spoilers: none to speak of
-------------------------
So are any of you still with me? Or did I lose you all during the LONG hiatus?
I'm back! Maybe not every week, but certainly with some regularity. I promise! And I'm still going to try to finish this by the end of the year.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Beautiful
Rating: NC-17 for teh!smut! - oral only.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 2,985
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Beautiful
An hour later, I’m showering as Jared changes into clothes more suitable to going to the supermarket and the psychiatrist’s. We have to re-stock the cabinets, pick up some milk and other perishables we’re without since the long trip to Texas, so we’re going to the supermarket after Jared’s appointment with Dr. Davidson.
The drive to the doctor’s office is slow-the roads are bad, even salted and plowed, and the wind kicks up the finer sands of snow on the banks and plowed piles, creating a whitish haze that makes visibility almost nil. What should be a half hour drive at most takes nearly an hour and fifteen minutes.
Jared and I walk into Dr. Davidson’s offices together. She’s waiting for us, and waves Jared into her private office once we have our coats and hats off. I settle into one of the waiting room chairs with a book and try to read.
I manage a chapter before I can hear Jared’s sobs over the static-making machine outside the doctor’s door. It masks most sound, makes listening to conversation hard, if not impossible, but yelling and crying are sounds not easily masked, especially if they’re made by someone as close to you as Jared is to me.
It’s all I can do to keep my seat, not rush into the room where Jared is crying and wrap him in my arms until he’s not crying anymore. Jared’s tears are something I’ll never get used to.
The sound fades away after some time, and I return to reading my book, slowly plodding through another two chapters before I can make out the sound of Jared whimpering and crying once again.
Dr. Davidson comes out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her with a soft ‘click’ nearly two hours later. “I’d like him to come in tomorrow.” She says to me.
“What time?” I close my book and stand up.
“One? Can you make it then? I have another appointment at three, and I’d like to be able to spend at least an hour and a half with him.”
“Sure.” I shift weight between my feet, rock unevenly, nervously. “How is he?”
“We’re making progress.” She says with a smile, then, turning towards the closed door, she says, “I’ll let him tell you.”
Jared opens the door and leans against the frame. For a while, neither of us say anything. It’s like we’re seeing each other again for the first time. Jared’s eyes are puffy and red-it’s obvious he’s been crying. If I hadn’t known he’d been crying before, I would now. His cheeks are red and the rest of his face is pale. His hands are knotted in front of him, and his eyes meet mine, hopeful and asking for something that I can’t identify.
I offer his coat from the coat rack, and he straightens, walks across the room and takes it from me, slides his arms into it and zips it up quickly. He shoves the hat down hard over his long hair, it’s pressed to his forehead and his temples, matted and sweat-soaked.
“Jare?” I ask. “You don’t… don’t look so good.”
“I’m okay.”
He always is.
We go to the supermarket, buy soup and canned vegetables, frozen vegetables, some bread and milk and boxed foods-macaroni and cheese, hamburger helper, rice-a-roni. Jared buys two packages of ramen noodles-for some reason he loves that salty shit.
We get a couple twelve-packs of diet coke, diet sprite, and some vitamin water in an attempt to be somewhat healthy. We get two boxes of pop tarts because we’re running low on our favorite run-out-the-door-because-we’re-running-incredibly-late-to-set breakfast food.
“We’re eating healthy, aren’t we, Jen?” Jared says as we’re standing in line, piling food onto the conveyor belt for checkout.
I grin. “Only the best.” I tell him, as I put a box of Entenmann’s donuts on the belt, followed by a package of lean ground beef and a bag of Tostitos corn chips. We have the right ingredients to make chili-it’s something neither of us can truly fuck up, coming from Texas as we do, and we throw it into the crock pot to make it anyway-faster and easier. We put it on before we leave to go to work in the morning, and by the time we get home, it’s ready to eat.
We pay for our groceries, load up the car and drive home carefully through snowdrifts and swirling snow-word is that warmer weather is on the way, so this should be melting, which will make everyone happier-especially Kripke. We have a lot of outdoor scenes to film, and only one calls for snow. I’m sure that’ll be the one we film first on Wednesday after we report to set.
We stop at the deli on the way home for fresh cold cuts and fresh-made hero sandwiches for dinner tonight. We could have made our own, but neither of us is in the mood to spend more time in the kitchen than we have to after restocking shelves and putting things away. I know I just want to collapse onto the couch and hopefully spend some time talking or doing other things with my boyfriend, and I daresay Jared’s had a rough day, and would like to do the same.
We drink water instead of beer, eat our sandwiches and sit in silence on the couch for a long time. It’s an uncomfortable silence, because I’m waiting, hoping, that he’ll say something, start talking to me about the session today… and I’m sure he knows it. It extends for at least a half hour before I finally break the silence, unable to take it anymore.
“Jared?”
“Yeah.”
“How… how did things go today?” It’s not what I want to ask, exactly, but I figure it’s the safest question I could ask-it gives Jared a way to back out if he’s not ready to talk yet, and if he does feel like talking, it’s a light enough question that he can take it and talk about what he’s comfortable with and leave the rest behind for now.
“Eh.” He shrugs. “They went…”
“Did she… was it…”
“Helpful?” Jared offers quietly. “Yeah… she helps… you know…” He shrugs again, noncommittal, and somewhat nervous, unsure. “I can talk, and she’ll tell me… if it’s a defense or… what causes me to feel a certain way… it’s… yeah, it helps…”
I nod. “That’s… good.”
“Yeah.” Jared flips the news on, and we watch the news. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, and somewhere later on, the uncomfortable, awkward silence gives way to peaceful camaraderie, and after that, he turns off the television and heads off towards the bedrooms. I follow, watch as he pauses in front of the door to the guest room, almost as if in debate about sleeping there. He touches the doorknob, but doesn’t open the door, just continues the few more feet down the hall to the door of the room we now share.
We both prepare for bed in silence, lie down next to each other and pull the comforter up to our chins. Jared reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, casting the room into semi-darkness. Semi-dark only thanks to the moonlight that reflects off newly fallen snow, and offers a dim glow, just enough to make out shapes and shadows.
I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling when I feel the hard warmth of Jared’s body pressing up to mine, feel the softness of his lips as they press to the tendons in my neck, the bones of his jaw digging into my shoulder, and the wispiness of his hair as it tickles my ear and near my eyes. His hand skims over my shirt, settles above my ribcage, and goes still.
“Jenny?” I feel my name, a hot, damp breath against my neck. His fingertips dance across my ribs before settling again, and his lips brush lightly along the skin of my neck. “Jenny… I want to…”
His body is hard, distinctly male when he aligns himself with me, and I can feel the gentle press of his erection against my thigh, warm and insistent, not yet throbbing, but getting there. He kisses along my neck, to my collarbone. “Please, Jenny?”
I nod-not only is it nearly impossible for me to say ‘no’ to him, for anything, but I already find myself getting caught up with what his fingers and tongue are doing to my body-and lift my head slightly from the pillow to watch as he licks down my chest, traces the definition of my abs with his tongue before sliding back up my body to nibble and bite at my nipples, lightly at first, then more and more harshly. His hands move to my hips, press them to the mattress when I start to twist and wriggle beneath his body in an attempt to create some friction on my very interested dick. I whimper. “Shhh… shhh… I’ll get you there…” Jared whispers.
I let my head flop back against the pillow, and try to relax and let Jared drive, so to speak. I’m completely unprepared for him swallowing me whole, the wet heat of his mouth surrounding my cock, soft and gentle friction as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, makes slurping noises as his pink tongue slides in and out of his mouth, between his lip and the sensitive skin, the vein on the underside of my erection. “Jare!” I cry.
At my cry, he lifts his head from my groin, and I immediately miss the warm suction of his mouth, buck my hips beneath him. Jared responds by holding a finger to his lips, curved in a wicked smile, and whispering “shhhhh…”
I again let my head fall to the pillow, hands fisting in the sheet at my sides. He kisses the tip of my weeping cock, uses his lips to spread the pre-cum along my shaft, licks between my balls before suckling each into his mouth, laving attention between slurps and licks and gentle nips between his tongue and teeth.
His hands again come to my hips, fingers digging into the flesh when I involuntarily thrust my hips up from the mattress, driving myself into his mouth. “I’ll get you there…” He assures, dragging his tongue the length of my cock before sliding his lips around my girth and once again pulling me deep into his throat.
“Jared…” I grunt, the familiar tightness in my gut growing.. I can feel my balls tightening, reacting to Jared’s hands squeezing them gently. “Jare… I’m gonna…”
“Come…” He mumbles around my dick. “Do it...”
I come deep in his throat, and I can hear him choking, but he swallows it fast. When his head falls forward, I can see bits dribbling from the corner of his mouth, licked away quickly by the tip of his tongue.
“Jared…” I whisper. “Jared…”
He smiles, cheek resting against my belly. “Good for you?” He asks, finding my hands with his and then sliding up my chest until we’re face-to-face. He brings my hands to his hips, slowly to his abdomen, allowing me to feel the scars left behind by those people so many years ago. He traces the marks with my fingers, each of them, slowly.
“Jared?” I murmur questioningly.
“Shhh…” He whispers, moving my hands across his body, letting me-forcing me to-feel the thicker bands of scarring around his hip bone, the small spattering of knotted tissue along the upper curve of his buttocks and his spine, where broken shards of wooden baseball bat cut, bit, ripped and tore at his flesh, splintering deep and painful.
“This is me…” He whispers into my neck, burying his face there. His voice is muffled, I feel the rumble of his chest, throat, words more than hear them, but I understand them nonetheless. They’re tinged with pain, and I wish I could take it all away from him. “This… this is what I am… this is…”
“Jared.” I pull my hands from his body, turning them to capture his hands, bring them to his face, turning it from my neck, tilting up so he looks at me. “Jared, listen to me…”
He gnaws at his lower lip, tears threaten to fall from his eyes.
“Jared.” I say firmly. I release his hands and rest my palms on his cheeks. Winding my legs with his, I twist sharply, turning us over in bed, so I now lay on top of him. I work a hand between the bed and his hip, press my fingers into the scars I find. “This… this is NOT who you are…”
“It…” He whimpers, bites down on his lip again and turns his face away.
“Do you trust me?” I ask him suddenly.
“Wha… what? Do I… yes… yes, I trust you.” Jared seems taken aback by the question, shakes his head quizzically.
I get out of bed, pull him with me, and head to the closet, which has a full-length mirror. Jared’s stumbling along behind me, and it’s almost amusing that I’m steadier on my feet at the moment than he is. Stopping in front of the mirror, I turn the light on so we’re both bathed in a soft glow, naked in front of the mirror.
Looking at our reflections, I’m struck by Jared’s innocence, the quiet youth that’s still there despite all he’s been through. The uncertain hope in his eyes, the way his hand clutches more tightly to mine. I hope for the millionth time that I’m doing the right thing.
“Jare…” I start, my voice thick. I swallow, try again. “Jare…” I kiss his shoulder.
“…yeah…” He whispers numbly.
“You…” I start, tracing my fingers over the pale skin of his body, watching him in the mirror. His face is turned to one side, his eyes closed.
I lift my other hand to turn his face towards the mirror. “Look, Jared… look at yourself…”
He shakes his head, a small movement. “Jen…”
“You trust me.”
“I… you know I do.” He hedges.
“Then open your eyes, Jared… see what I see…” I push hair from his face, let my chin rest on his shoulder and stare ahead into the mirror, waiting to see the reflection of his turquoise eyes open. “I want you to see what I see, Jare… want you to see yourself like I see you…”
His eyes open tentatively, and I can see the glimmering image of tears in the soft picture painted in front of us. “You’re beautiful, Jared…” I kiss up the curve of his jaw, slowly down his neck to his shoulder again. I let my hands glide over his smooth skin, linger over curves of muscle in his arms, his chest. “You’re strong… and you’re in great shape…”
My fingers hit the marred skin at his hip, the scarring, and I let them linger, pressing against the uneven skin. I kiss them, lick along them, all the while watching Jared in the mirror. I can see him tense as well as feel him tense when I let my lips kiss the first scar, feel him twitch and see his body tremble.
My hands press to the bones of his hips, settling him. “Shhh…” I whisper against the sensitive flesh above his buttocks, kissing it. “Jared… shhh… see…”
“I see… scars.” He whispers. “Ugly…”
“No, Jared…” I kiss the scars again, suck at one gently, pulling it between my teeth and nipping at it. He shows no reaction-he probably can’t feel through the damaged skin and nerves. “Not ugly…”
“Damaged…”
“No.” I whisper. “Just different…” I take it as a good sign that he is at least letting me touch them, letting me kiss them. It’s an improvement over how he’s been in the past.
His next words aren’t words but sounds, small whimpers and quiet sobs as I continue to lavish attention on his scarred hips, lower back. He isn’t yet starting to get hard-I note his still-flaccid cock in the mirror as I slide my hands up his legs, from knee to thigh, gently rubbing, curving my fingers into the tender flesh between his legs, pressing at his inner thigh, reaching until I can drag my fingers along the ridged skin of his balls, through the hair there.
“Beautiful, Jared…” I echo into his lower back, lips memorizing every change from scar to undamaged flesh, tongue moving around the edges of the scars-and I know he can feel that, at the way his body twitches, trembles slightly at the touch of my tongue. “Beautiful…”
I continue the kissing and the whispering of his name, the whispering of the word, ‘beautiful’… Jared tries to interrupt with ‘no’ and ‘ugly’ or ‘broken’ and ‘damaged’ but I silence him before he can say the whole word, eventually standing up again at his side, when his cock is finally at half-mast, and the tears flow freely from his eyes. But they bother me less this time, because I know they’re good tears.
I wrap him in my arms when he turns his face to my neck and turns to wind his arms around my waist. His hands splay wide and warm on my lower back, his elbows press into my hip bones.
“B…beau…tiful?” Jared’s voice whispers, cracked and quiet from my shoulder.
“Yes.” I tell him, raising a hand to his hair to smooth it, rub at his scalp, soothe him.
He doesn’t say anything else, just lets me hold him, and when the tears stop, lets me lead him to bed, dress him in under shorts and tuck him beneath the sheets and comforter. I lie next to him, and wait for him to fall into a peaceful sleep before letting myself drift off as well.
-------------------------
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
This is a sequel to the previously ‘neverending story’, Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky. It finally ended.
Summary: Jensen and Jared go back to Texas for Christmas. Their relationship deepens and they take the next step… pr0n!
Spoilers: none to speak of
-------------------------
So are any of you still with me? Or did I lose you all during the LONG hiatus?
I'm back! Maybe not every week, but certainly with some regularity. I promise! And I'm still going to try to finish this by the end of the year.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Beautiful
Rating: NC-17 for teh!smut! - oral only.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 2,985
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Beautiful
An hour later, I’m showering as Jared changes into clothes more suitable to going to the supermarket and the psychiatrist’s. We have to re-stock the cabinets, pick up some milk and other perishables we’re without since the long trip to Texas, so we’re going to the supermarket after Jared’s appointment with Dr. Davidson.
The drive to the doctor’s office is slow-the roads are bad, even salted and plowed, and the wind kicks up the finer sands of snow on the banks and plowed piles, creating a whitish haze that makes visibility almost nil. What should be a half hour drive at most takes nearly an hour and fifteen minutes.
Jared and I walk into Dr. Davidson’s offices together. She’s waiting for us, and waves Jared into her private office once we have our coats and hats off. I settle into one of the waiting room chairs with a book and try to read.
I manage a chapter before I can hear Jared’s sobs over the static-making machine outside the doctor’s door. It masks most sound, makes listening to conversation hard, if not impossible, but yelling and crying are sounds not easily masked, especially if they’re made by someone as close to you as Jared is to me.
It’s all I can do to keep my seat, not rush into the room where Jared is crying and wrap him in my arms until he’s not crying anymore. Jared’s tears are something I’ll never get used to.
The sound fades away after some time, and I return to reading my book, slowly plodding through another two chapters before I can make out the sound of Jared whimpering and crying once again.
Dr. Davidson comes out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her with a soft ‘click’ nearly two hours later. “I’d like him to come in tomorrow.” She says to me.
“What time?” I close my book and stand up.
“One? Can you make it then? I have another appointment at three, and I’d like to be able to spend at least an hour and a half with him.”
“Sure.” I shift weight between my feet, rock unevenly, nervously. “How is he?”
“We’re making progress.” She says with a smile, then, turning towards the closed door, she says, “I’ll let him tell you.”
Jared opens the door and leans against the frame. For a while, neither of us say anything. It’s like we’re seeing each other again for the first time. Jared’s eyes are puffy and red-it’s obvious he’s been crying. If I hadn’t known he’d been crying before, I would now. His cheeks are red and the rest of his face is pale. His hands are knotted in front of him, and his eyes meet mine, hopeful and asking for something that I can’t identify.
I offer his coat from the coat rack, and he straightens, walks across the room and takes it from me, slides his arms into it and zips it up quickly. He shoves the hat down hard over his long hair, it’s pressed to his forehead and his temples, matted and sweat-soaked.
“Jare?” I ask. “You don’t… don’t look so good.”
“I’m okay.”
He always is.
We go to the supermarket, buy soup and canned vegetables, frozen vegetables, some bread and milk and boxed foods-macaroni and cheese, hamburger helper, rice-a-roni. Jared buys two packages of ramen noodles-for some reason he loves that salty shit.
We get a couple twelve-packs of diet coke, diet sprite, and some vitamin water in an attempt to be somewhat healthy. We get two boxes of pop tarts because we’re running low on our favorite run-out-the-door-because-we’re-running-incredibly-late-to-set breakfast food.
“We’re eating healthy, aren’t we, Jen?” Jared says as we’re standing in line, piling food onto the conveyor belt for checkout.
I grin. “Only the best.” I tell him, as I put a box of Entenmann’s donuts on the belt, followed by a package of lean ground beef and a bag of Tostitos corn chips. We have the right ingredients to make chili-it’s something neither of us can truly fuck up, coming from Texas as we do, and we throw it into the crock pot to make it anyway-faster and easier. We put it on before we leave to go to work in the morning, and by the time we get home, it’s ready to eat.
We pay for our groceries, load up the car and drive home carefully through snowdrifts and swirling snow-word is that warmer weather is on the way, so this should be melting, which will make everyone happier-especially Kripke. We have a lot of outdoor scenes to film, and only one calls for snow. I’m sure that’ll be the one we film first on Wednesday after we report to set.
We stop at the deli on the way home for fresh cold cuts and fresh-made hero sandwiches for dinner tonight. We could have made our own, but neither of us is in the mood to spend more time in the kitchen than we have to after restocking shelves and putting things away. I know I just want to collapse onto the couch and hopefully spend some time talking or doing other things with my boyfriend, and I daresay Jared’s had a rough day, and would like to do the same.
We drink water instead of beer, eat our sandwiches and sit in silence on the couch for a long time. It’s an uncomfortable silence, because I’m waiting, hoping, that he’ll say something, start talking to me about the session today… and I’m sure he knows it. It extends for at least a half hour before I finally break the silence, unable to take it anymore.
“Jared?”
“Yeah.”
“How… how did things go today?” It’s not what I want to ask, exactly, but I figure it’s the safest question I could ask-it gives Jared a way to back out if he’s not ready to talk yet, and if he does feel like talking, it’s a light enough question that he can take it and talk about what he’s comfortable with and leave the rest behind for now.
“Eh.” He shrugs. “They went…”
“Did she… was it…”
“Helpful?” Jared offers quietly. “Yeah… she helps… you know…” He shrugs again, noncommittal, and somewhat nervous, unsure. “I can talk, and she’ll tell me… if it’s a defense or… what causes me to feel a certain way… it’s… yeah, it helps…”
I nod. “That’s… good.”
“Yeah.” Jared flips the news on, and we watch the news. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, and somewhere later on, the uncomfortable, awkward silence gives way to peaceful camaraderie, and after that, he turns off the television and heads off towards the bedrooms. I follow, watch as he pauses in front of the door to the guest room, almost as if in debate about sleeping there. He touches the doorknob, but doesn’t open the door, just continues the few more feet down the hall to the door of the room we now share.
We both prepare for bed in silence, lie down next to each other and pull the comforter up to our chins. Jared reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, casting the room into semi-darkness. Semi-dark only thanks to the moonlight that reflects off newly fallen snow, and offers a dim glow, just enough to make out shapes and shadows.
I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling when I feel the hard warmth of Jared’s body pressing up to mine, feel the softness of his lips as they press to the tendons in my neck, the bones of his jaw digging into my shoulder, and the wispiness of his hair as it tickles my ear and near my eyes. His hand skims over my shirt, settles above my ribcage, and goes still.
“Jenny?” I feel my name, a hot, damp breath against my neck. His fingertips dance across my ribs before settling again, and his lips brush lightly along the skin of my neck. “Jenny… I want to…”
His body is hard, distinctly male when he aligns himself with me, and I can feel the gentle press of his erection against my thigh, warm and insistent, not yet throbbing, but getting there. He kisses along my neck, to my collarbone. “Please, Jenny?”
I nod-not only is it nearly impossible for me to say ‘no’ to him, for anything, but I already find myself getting caught up with what his fingers and tongue are doing to my body-and lift my head slightly from the pillow to watch as he licks down my chest, traces the definition of my abs with his tongue before sliding back up my body to nibble and bite at my nipples, lightly at first, then more and more harshly. His hands move to my hips, press them to the mattress when I start to twist and wriggle beneath his body in an attempt to create some friction on my very interested dick. I whimper. “Shhh… shhh… I’ll get you there…” Jared whispers.
I let my head flop back against the pillow, and try to relax and let Jared drive, so to speak. I’m completely unprepared for him swallowing me whole, the wet heat of his mouth surrounding my cock, soft and gentle friction as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, makes slurping noises as his pink tongue slides in and out of his mouth, between his lip and the sensitive skin, the vein on the underside of my erection. “Jare!” I cry.
At my cry, he lifts his head from my groin, and I immediately miss the warm suction of his mouth, buck my hips beneath him. Jared responds by holding a finger to his lips, curved in a wicked smile, and whispering “shhhhh…”
I again let my head fall to the pillow, hands fisting in the sheet at my sides. He kisses the tip of my weeping cock, uses his lips to spread the pre-cum along my shaft, licks between my balls before suckling each into his mouth, laving attention between slurps and licks and gentle nips between his tongue and teeth.
His hands again come to my hips, fingers digging into the flesh when I involuntarily thrust my hips up from the mattress, driving myself into his mouth. “I’ll get you there…” He assures, dragging his tongue the length of my cock before sliding his lips around my girth and once again pulling me deep into his throat.
“Jared…” I grunt, the familiar tightness in my gut growing.. I can feel my balls tightening, reacting to Jared’s hands squeezing them gently. “Jare… I’m gonna…”
“Come…” He mumbles around my dick. “Do it...”
I come deep in his throat, and I can hear him choking, but he swallows it fast. When his head falls forward, I can see bits dribbling from the corner of his mouth, licked away quickly by the tip of his tongue.
“Jared…” I whisper. “Jared…”
He smiles, cheek resting against my belly. “Good for you?” He asks, finding my hands with his and then sliding up my chest until we’re face-to-face. He brings my hands to his hips, slowly to his abdomen, allowing me to feel the scars left behind by those people so many years ago. He traces the marks with my fingers, each of them, slowly.
“Jared?” I murmur questioningly.
“Shhh…” He whispers, moving my hands across his body, letting me-forcing me to-feel the thicker bands of scarring around his hip bone, the small spattering of knotted tissue along the upper curve of his buttocks and his spine, where broken shards of wooden baseball bat cut, bit, ripped and tore at his flesh, splintering deep and painful.
“This is me…” He whispers into my neck, burying his face there. His voice is muffled, I feel the rumble of his chest, throat, words more than hear them, but I understand them nonetheless. They’re tinged with pain, and I wish I could take it all away from him. “This… this is what I am… this is…”
“Jared.” I pull my hands from his body, turning them to capture his hands, bring them to his face, turning it from my neck, tilting up so he looks at me. “Jared, listen to me…”
He gnaws at his lower lip, tears threaten to fall from his eyes.
“Jared.” I say firmly. I release his hands and rest my palms on his cheeks. Winding my legs with his, I twist sharply, turning us over in bed, so I now lay on top of him. I work a hand between the bed and his hip, press my fingers into the scars I find. “This… this is NOT who you are…”
“It…” He whimpers, bites down on his lip again and turns his face away.
“Do you trust me?” I ask him suddenly.
“Wha… what? Do I… yes… yes, I trust you.” Jared seems taken aback by the question, shakes his head quizzically.
I get out of bed, pull him with me, and head to the closet, which has a full-length mirror. Jared’s stumbling along behind me, and it’s almost amusing that I’m steadier on my feet at the moment than he is. Stopping in front of the mirror, I turn the light on so we’re both bathed in a soft glow, naked in front of the mirror.
Looking at our reflections, I’m struck by Jared’s innocence, the quiet youth that’s still there despite all he’s been through. The uncertain hope in his eyes, the way his hand clutches more tightly to mine. I hope for the millionth time that I’m doing the right thing.
“Jare…” I start, my voice thick. I swallow, try again. “Jare…” I kiss his shoulder.
“…yeah…” He whispers numbly.
“You…” I start, tracing my fingers over the pale skin of his body, watching him in the mirror. His face is turned to one side, his eyes closed.
I lift my other hand to turn his face towards the mirror. “Look, Jared… look at yourself…”
He shakes his head, a small movement. “Jen…”
“You trust me.”
“I… you know I do.” He hedges.
“Then open your eyes, Jared… see what I see…” I push hair from his face, let my chin rest on his shoulder and stare ahead into the mirror, waiting to see the reflection of his turquoise eyes open. “I want you to see what I see, Jare… want you to see yourself like I see you…”
His eyes open tentatively, and I can see the glimmering image of tears in the soft picture painted in front of us. “You’re beautiful, Jared…” I kiss up the curve of his jaw, slowly down his neck to his shoulder again. I let my hands glide over his smooth skin, linger over curves of muscle in his arms, his chest. “You’re strong… and you’re in great shape…”
My fingers hit the marred skin at his hip, the scarring, and I let them linger, pressing against the uneven skin. I kiss them, lick along them, all the while watching Jared in the mirror. I can see him tense as well as feel him tense when I let my lips kiss the first scar, feel him twitch and see his body tremble.
My hands press to the bones of his hips, settling him. “Shhh…” I whisper against the sensitive flesh above his buttocks, kissing it. “Jared… shhh… see…”
“I see… scars.” He whispers. “Ugly…”
“No, Jared…” I kiss the scars again, suck at one gently, pulling it between my teeth and nipping at it. He shows no reaction-he probably can’t feel through the damaged skin and nerves. “Not ugly…”
“Damaged…”
“No.” I whisper. “Just different…” I take it as a good sign that he is at least letting me touch them, letting me kiss them. It’s an improvement over how he’s been in the past.
His next words aren’t words but sounds, small whimpers and quiet sobs as I continue to lavish attention on his scarred hips, lower back. He isn’t yet starting to get hard-I note his still-flaccid cock in the mirror as I slide my hands up his legs, from knee to thigh, gently rubbing, curving my fingers into the tender flesh between his legs, pressing at his inner thigh, reaching until I can drag my fingers along the ridged skin of his balls, through the hair there.
“Beautiful, Jared…” I echo into his lower back, lips memorizing every change from scar to undamaged flesh, tongue moving around the edges of the scars-and I know he can feel that, at the way his body twitches, trembles slightly at the touch of my tongue. “Beautiful…”
I continue the kissing and the whispering of his name, the whispering of the word, ‘beautiful’… Jared tries to interrupt with ‘no’ and ‘ugly’ or ‘broken’ and ‘damaged’ but I silence him before he can say the whole word, eventually standing up again at his side, when his cock is finally at half-mast, and the tears flow freely from his eyes. But they bother me less this time, because I know they’re good tears.
I wrap him in my arms when he turns his face to my neck and turns to wind his arms around my waist. His hands splay wide and warm on my lower back, his elbows press into my hip bones.
“B…beau…tiful?” Jared’s voice whispers, cracked and quiet from my shoulder.
“Yes.” I tell him, raising a hand to his hair to smooth it, rub at his scalp, soothe him.
He doesn’t say anything else, just lets me hold him, and when the tears stop, lets me lead him to bed, dress him in under shorts and tuck him beneath the sheets and comforter. I lie next to him, and wait for him to fall into a peaceful sleep before letting myself drift off as well.
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