SPN RPS!!
Title: Breakfast is served at one, so don’t be late
Author: super-six-one
Fandom: Supernatural RPS - JA/JP
Word Count: 660
Prompt: 02.I'm Here - T A B L E
Summary: An early morning encounter.
Rating: NC-17 [strong sexual content, strong language]
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened, nor do I insist it did in writing the events of this fictional story.
Notes: Again, for fleur-de-mort. This is unbetaed, and there are most definitely probably mistakes. Anyways, enjoy!
Breakfast is served at one, so don’t be late
All Jensen wanted was a bowl of cereal, some goddamn Golden Grahams or something, for chrissakes.
Hunger laced his dreams, pulling him from sleep in the dead of night. He went with it, slipping from bed without rustling the mattress too much. Not that it would’ve mattered much; Jared was out like a light, mouth open to the ceiling and expertly twisted up in the sheets.
The floorboards were cold underfoot, and Jensen’s slow shuffle from the bed to the door became a fire walk when he reached the hall and beyond. Even the air was cold, the thermostat having shut itself off sometime during the night, warmth surrendering to the winter seeping in through the cracks. He shuddered as he entered the lit kitchen, wished he had at least thrown a shirt on before leaving the bedroom. Whatever.
He grabbed a clean bowl from the sink, turning to open the fridge for the milk when a dark figure suddenly loomed in his peripheral. He jumped and the bowl in his hand met the floor, and ceramic flew across the linoleum in all directions.
Jared stepped into the light, an amused sort of smile decorating his face. He looked… victorious. That kind of pissed Jensen off, and by the way Jared’s expression fell flat, it probably showed. At least, that’s what Jensen thought until Jared quick-stepped over the ceramic shards and slammed him against the fridge.
Cold.
Jared’s hands were clammy, cold, fingers like melted ice across his skin. Jensen made the mistake of flinching against the touch, was just stupid enough to look Jared in the eye over it. Wrong, wrong idea that was.
His back peeling off the fridge with a chill that burned, a sharp pain in his foot, and the icy surface of the granite kitchen island searing his chest, his stomach. Jared’s hands on Jensen’s hips, thumbs digging into the flesh beneath his waistband, and the unfamiliar feeling as the open air hit the backs of his thighs.
Had he mentioned cold?
Yeah.
So not cool. No pun intended. He would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for Jared’s teeth dragging over his lobe, dirty words that meant nothing hot and prickly against his neck, ruffling the short hairs at his nape and making him shudder. Of course, the fingers running the length of his spine, down down down, might’ve had something to do with that. That, and Jared’s sleep pants hitting the floor, the rough texture of Jared’s sweatshirt rubbing against his back and the spit-slick fingers slipping in.
Jesus Christ. Jared continued his murmuring, things Jensen had never heard him say before, things that did Jensen in when Jared finally pushed in. His thrusts were erratic, and Jensen couldn’t get a grip on the counter, couldn’t counter the movement in time, not anything that resembled a rhythm anyways. Even so. Jensen was hard, Jensen was turned on, and every thrust had him on the edge, hit him in just the right spot.
He wasn’t sure when Jared’s free hand had wrapped around his cock, only that with every hard push and sloppy pull back came the swipe of a thumb and the edge of a finger sliding across the tip. He groaned at the sensation, because it didn’t feel good, it didn’t feel right, it felt like an encounter with a stranger in an alley, all awkward and no boundaries and fucking hot.
And then it was over, and Jensen came in hot spurts that fucking tore him apart, made him remember the cut in his heel, made him feel Jared laugh against the sheen of sweat covering his back as the other man came, and the sharp tap on his ass as Jared pulled away and left the room. Way to make a guy feel like a whore, even if that little stunt Jensen pulled earlier, with the cuffs and the gun. Still.
All Jensen wanted was a goddamn bowl of cereal.
Author: super-six-one
Fandom: Supernatural RPS - JA/JP
Word Count: 660
Prompt: 02.I'm Here - T A B L E
Summary: An early morning encounter.
Rating: NC-17 [strong sexual content, strong language]
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened, nor do I insist it did in writing the events of this fictional story.
Notes: Again, for fleur-de-mort. This is unbetaed, and there are most definitely probably mistakes. Anyways, enjoy!
Breakfast is served at one, so don’t be late
All Jensen wanted was a bowl of cereal, some goddamn Golden Grahams or something, for chrissakes.
Hunger laced his dreams, pulling him from sleep in the dead of night. He went with it, slipping from bed without rustling the mattress too much. Not that it would’ve mattered much; Jared was out like a light, mouth open to the ceiling and expertly twisted up in the sheets.
The floorboards were cold underfoot, and Jensen’s slow shuffle from the bed to the door became a fire walk when he reached the hall and beyond. Even the air was cold, the thermostat having shut itself off sometime during the night, warmth surrendering to the winter seeping in through the cracks. He shuddered as he entered the lit kitchen, wished he had at least thrown a shirt on before leaving the bedroom. Whatever.
He grabbed a clean bowl from the sink, turning to open the fridge for the milk when a dark figure suddenly loomed in his peripheral. He jumped and the bowl in his hand met the floor, and ceramic flew across the linoleum in all directions.
Jared stepped into the light, an amused sort of smile decorating his face. He looked… victorious. That kind of pissed Jensen off, and by the way Jared’s expression fell flat, it probably showed. At least, that’s what Jensen thought until Jared quick-stepped over the ceramic shards and slammed him against the fridge.
Cold.
Jared’s hands were clammy, cold, fingers like melted ice across his skin. Jensen made the mistake of flinching against the touch, was just stupid enough to look Jared in the eye over it. Wrong, wrong idea that was.
His back peeling off the fridge with a chill that burned, a sharp pain in his foot, and the icy surface of the granite kitchen island searing his chest, his stomach. Jared’s hands on Jensen’s hips, thumbs digging into the flesh beneath his waistband, and the unfamiliar feeling as the open air hit the backs of his thighs.
Had he mentioned cold?
Yeah.
So not cool. No pun intended. He would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for Jared’s teeth dragging over his lobe, dirty words that meant nothing hot and prickly against his neck, ruffling the short hairs at his nape and making him shudder. Of course, the fingers running the length of his spine, down down down, might’ve had something to do with that. That, and Jared’s sleep pants hitting the floor, the rough texture of Jared’s sweatshirt rubbing against his back and the spit-slick fingers slipping in.
Jesus Christ. Jared continued his murmuring, things Jensen had never heard him say before, things that did Jensen in when Jared finally pushed in. His thrusts were erratic, and Jensen couldn’t get a grip on the counter, couldn’t counter the movement in time, not anything that resembled a rhythm anyways. Even so. Jensen was hard, Jensen was turned on, and every thrust had him on the edge, hit him in just the right spot.
He wasn’t sure when Jared’s free hand had wrapped around his cock, only that with every hard push and sloppy pull back came the swipe of a thumb and the edge of a finger sliding across the tip. He groaned at the sensation, because it didn’t feel good, it didn’t feel right, it felt like an encounter with a stranger in an alley, all awkward and no boundaries and fucking hot.
And then it was over, and Jensen came in hot spurts that fucking tore him apart, made him remember the cut in his heel, made him feel Jared laugh against the sheen of sweat covering his back as the other man came, and the sharp tap on his ass as Jared pulled away and left the room. Way to make a guy feel like a whore, even if that little stunt Jensen pulled earlier, with the cuffs and the gun. Still.
All Jensen wanted was a goddamn bowl of cereal.