Fic: Jensen's Choice (J2, NC-17)
Chapter Three
Jensen recognized the blondes; Katie and Nicky, but neither of the brunettes had been around when he was a HellSpawn Prospect.
Jared patted him on the ass. “Go make nice with the other sweet-butts,” he said, before taking off for the Chapel.
Jensen pulled a face at his retreating back, but made his way over to the den area; four two-seater sofas around a big square coffee table, not too far away from the bar.
“Hi Ladies,” he said, treating the women to his biggest grin as he approached.
Katie flicked him a bored expression. “Dean,” she said. “Or whatever the hell your name is.”
Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s Jensen.”
One of the brunettes squealed. “Jen! I’m Gen too. With a G. Genevieve.”
The other brunette snorted. “Don’t believe her peppy act, Jensen. She just wants to know how you landed Padalecki. She was gunning to be his Old Lady.”
Gen scowled. “Shut up, Rachel! Just ‘cause I’m not an unfriendly bitch like you!” She turned back to Jensen. “Just what are you to Jared anyway?”
Jensen shrugged and plonked himself down on the sofa next to Rachel. “Good question,” he got out his cigarettes and lit up before offering the packet around.
Only Rachel took him up on the offer. Katie lit a cigarette of her own, some skinny looking menthol thing.
“I heard he bought out your debt to the Club,” Nicky said.
Jensen gave a half-shrug and then nodded.
“I guess that means he owns you,” Katie teased.
Jensen scowled at her and then shrugged again. “He seems to think so.”
Gen looked at him thoughtfully. “So you don’t actually mean anything to him?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Moose is gay. You’re never gonna be his Old Lady, Gen.”
Gen glared at her, then turned back to Jensen and looked at him expectantly.
Jensen realized she was waiting for some kind of answer.
“Fucked if I know,” he said.
Katie snorted and tapped ash into a big black ashtray with a long red fingernail. “Oh, I bet you are. Six ways from Sunday. You’re just Moose’s type.”
“Did he put a stamp on you?” Nicky asked.
Jensen nodded.
“Can we see it?”
“It’s still bandaged.”
“Is it like this one?” Katie pushed down the back of her jeans to reveal a tattoo that was almost identical to Jensen’s.
“Almost,” he said. “Mine’s got words under the other wing too.”
Gen’s eyebrows shot up. “What words?”
Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, it says, ‘Property of JP’.”
“I don’t fucking believe it!” Gen screeched. “He put an Old Lady stamp on you. Already!”
“Really? Huh,” Jensen pursed his lips. “I thought he was just being a dick. You know about the whole ‘owning me’ thing.”
“Nope,” Rachel said. “It’s an Old Lady stamp. We’ve all got sweet-butt tattoos. We’re HellSpawn Forever, but we don’t belong to anyone yet. Alaina and Ruthie have tattoos like yours. Alaina is The Beast’s Old Lady and Ruthie belongs to Crossroads.”
Jensen had no idea who Ruthie was, but no doubt he would find out.
He glanced over at Gen who looked utterly heartbroken. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “He’s known you two days!”
“Technically he’s known me for ten years,” Jensen butted out his cigarette. “How long do you think they’ll be in there?” he nodded toward the Chapel where Jared was meeting with the rest of the full patches.
Rachel shrugged eloquently. “Do you know how to use an espresso machine?”
Jensen shook his head and Rachel got to her feet.
“C’mon,” she said. “I’ll teach you how to make coffee and run the bar.”
By the time Jared and the others came out of the Chapel, Jensen had mastered the art of the double shot latte and learned how to pull a beer so that it had just the right amount of foam.
“Should’ve known you’d be able to give good head,” Rachel had said slyly.
She worked in hospitality, currently behind a bar although she’d worked as a barista for years. Jensen liked her dry sense of humor.
Gen was a waitress in a pizza restaurant and despite her epic unrequited crush on Jared, Jensen actually found her really sweet.
Katie and Nicky were both strippers and they were perfectly capable of curb stomping you with their stilettos if you got on their bad side.
Jensen had fully expected to be on their shit list, given that he’d stolen from the Club and gone on the run. Luckily for him, Katie had been good friends with Traci back in the day and Katie didn’t blame him at all for freaking out and taking off after the torture session HeyDay had forced him to take part in.
Jensen hadn’t done the worst of it himself, but he still had nightmares about the way Traci had screamed when Heyerdahl poured acid on her face. It wasn’t that Jensen was averse to fucking people up; he simply didn’t like hurting the innocent just to punish the guilty. Besides, Jensen had skills. He knew when people were telling the truth and Jim had been telling God’s honest truth, Jensen had been sure of it.
“And the worst part,” Katie said, her voice low and rough, “was JD getting proof that The Beast’s intel was wrong. It’s wasn’t The Dead Reapers who sicced the FBI on him; they were still loyal.”
Jensen wasn’t quite sure what Rachel saw in his face, but he took the shot glass of whiskey that she quietly offered him and threw it back.
“They figure out who it was?”
Nicky stared at him. “Pellegrino thought it was you for a while. But then JD pointed out that you didn’t have access to the kind of information you would’ve needed.”
Jensen frowned. “So who was it?”
Nicky shrugged. “If the guys ever figured it out, they didn’t tell the sweet-butts.”
When the Chapel door opened and the full patches walked out, it was a welcome distraction from memories that Jensen didn’t want in his head.
“Who all wants a beer?” Jensen called out, getting down a couple of beer glasses.
He helped Rachel serve everyone and then poured himself another shot of whiskey and headed toward Jared, who was racking up the balls to play pool with Freddy Lehne, who, Jensen recalled, was a damn good player.
“So Heyday’s decided he doesn’t want you back.”
Jensen tried to keep the relief from showing on his face. The idea of being apprenticed to the Club’s Sergeant-at-arms and master torturer again had been less than thrilling.
“But if you’re not gonna be chained to my bed, Pellegrino definitely wants you earning, so,” Jared handed him the cue. “Show us that you’ve still got it.”
--
Jensen’s grandpa had a pool table, a custom made, oversized 8’ table, with a wood-backed slate playing surface, blended cloth that was 75% wool and an ornately carved frame made from mahogany, embellished with mother-of-pearl.
As a small child, Jensen had watched a lot of business conducted over that pool table, all the while itching to get his hands on a cue. Children weren’t allowed to play on the table though. It wasn’t a toy. It was strictly for grown-ups. As Jensen had learned to his detriment when he’d been seven years old and had helped himself to a cue and tried to play by himself. His grandpa heard the click of the balls breaking and came running, wrenching the cue from Jensen’s hands and using it to smack his butt.
So Jensen had watched and learned and waited. His father had been proud of Jensen, had assumed his son and heir hung out because he was interested in learning about the business. Jensen didn’t give a shit about oil or drilling or lawsuits against environmentalists, he just wanted to play pool.
And when he was eleven, he was finally allowed to. He beat his grandpa, the first game he played and despite his grandpa labelling it a fluke; beginner’s luck; it quickly became apparent that when it came to pool, Jensen was something of a prodigy.
The look on Freddy Lehne’s face when Jensen sank the black, reminded him a great deal of his grandpa’s sour loser face and he smirked.
“Don’t sulk, Freddy. You pocketed that four. One ball down means you don’t have to run around the table with your pants down.”
Freddy scowled at Jensen and then gave Jared a pointed look.
Jared had clearly enjoyed watching Jensen beat Freddy and if Jensen had bent over and wriggled his ass a little more than was strictly necessary, if he’d stroked his cue and tormented its tip with chalk, well, it was only because he enjoyed watching Jared’s eyes darken with desire.
When Jared pulled Jensen back, flush against him, Jensen went easily. The biker kissed his jaw hungrily and then whispered. “Freddy has status. You don’t. So watch what you say or you’ll be the one with your pants down.”
Jensen pressed his ass against Jared’s groin, enjoying the obvious evidence of Jared’s arousal.
“Be hard for you to fuck me with my pants up,” he quipped.
Jared’s grip on him tightened. “That what you want? You want me to bend you over the pool table and fuck you in front of everyone? Show them all who you belong to?”
Jensen spun in Jared’s grip. “Hell no. We’d fuck up the cloth,” he licked at his lips. “They still got those spare bedrooms out the back?”
Jared nodded and began to tug Jensen toward the hallway. A cacophony of wolf whistles and suggestive comments accompanied their exit.
Jared kicked the spare room’s door shut and pushed Jensen until the back of his legs hit the edge of the single bed. Jared spun him around then, and bent him over, yanking his pants down so roughly that the button of his jeans flew off.
Jensen heard the sound of a drawer opening, following by a click and a squelch and then two slick fingers were thrust hard and fast into his ass.
Jensen grunted at the burn. He pillowed his head on his folded arms and pushed back, urging Jared deeper.
“Pushy,” Jared said warningly, reaching around and palming Jensen’s dick, swiping a finger through the precome that was beaded at the tip and smearing it around the sensitive head.
“Fuck, Jared!”
Jared chuckled. “Fuck Jensen,” he corrected.
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Right. So get on with it.”
The comment earned his ass a hard slap, but Jared complied. There was the crinkled sound of a condom being unwrapped and then Jensen felt blunt pressure against his hole. Jared thrust hard and got half way in before Jensen’s ass clamped down on the intrusion. Jensen breathed through it and tried to relax, but fuck Jared was huge.
“C’mon, baby,” Jared soothed. “You can take it. Just relax.”
Jensen huffed out a laugh. Easy for Jared to say. Jared nudged forward, gaining ground in tiny increments until his pelvis was flush against Jensen’s ass.
Jared gave him a moment to get used to the stretch and then began to fuck him hard and fast. Jensen had to grip the bedspread to keep his balance and he could feel the finger-shaped bruises on his hips deepening in color.
Jared shifted slightly and on the next thrust he hit Jensen’s prostate dead on. Jensen couldn’t help his long drawn out moan or the way his fingers flexed in the bedspread, like a kneading cat.
Jared moved one hand from Jensen’s hip to the back of his head and Jensen would’ve rolled his eyes at the obvious power play if his eyes hadn’t been too busy rolling backwards in ecstasy. A couple more thrusts and the bedspread’s friction against his dick, was just enough to send him over the edge.
Jared followed a few heartbeats later and Jensen hissed when he pulled out.
Jensen used a corner of the bedspread to wipe the come from his dick and the excess lube from his ass and then pulled his pants up.
“You wrecked my jeans,” he grumbled, searching the floor for his missing button, while Jared saw to himself, tied off the condom and threw it into a small trash can beside the lamp table.
Jared just looked smug.
When they made their way back into the main club room they got a round of applause, although Jensen noted that Gen didn’t look particularly happy and he didn’t like the calculating looks he and Jared were getting from both Pellegrino and Heyerdahl.
“Good job, Moose,” Pellegrino said. “Your little kitty makes real pretty noises when he’s being well fucked.”
Jensen tensed and Jared ran a soothing hand down his side. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Jared steered Jensen over to the bar and rapped on it. “Get me a beer, Bar Wench. All this fucking’s thirsty work.”
Rachel pulled him a beer and then pulled one for Jensen too. “I’m sure your boy needs to lubricate his throat after all that yowling.”
Jared looked smug again. He downed half his beer and then went to join the rest of the full patches in a game of poker, leaving Jensen sitting at the bar with Rachel.
She folded her arms and leaned down on the bar, giving him a really good view of her breasts; in which he was absolutely uninterested.
“Wow,” she said. “He actually has a major-league crush on you,” she stared into Jensen’s eyes. “And you’re playing him.”
Jensen toyed with his beer mat and then looked up at Rachel from beneath his eyelashes. “Do you blame me?”
Rachel smirked. “Don’t try batting those big green eyes at me, Jensen, I’m immune,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s he told you? About himself?”
Jensen shrugged. “Not a lot.”
Rached nodded. “He’s had a hard life, but Jared’s basically a decent guy. Don’t hurt him.”
Jensen snorted. “I’m the one who got told I could take Pellegrino’s bullet in my brain or Padalecki’s cock in my ass, so excuse me if I’m short on sympathy. I’m just making the best of things.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Well the best could actually be very good for you, if you play your cards right,” she looked across to where the full patches were playing poker. “And I hear you’re a very good card player.”
--
Jensen woke up with Jared’s dick in his ass and his teeth in the back of his neck. He didn’t complain; the previous morning had told him there was no point; instead he spread his legs and relaxed, letting the pressure of the mattress against his dick and the way Jared unerringly found his sweet spot, bring him to orgasm.
Jared rolled off him and a moment later Jensen heard the shower.
The biker worked as a mechanic at MorningStar Motors and having taken the best part of two days off when Pellegrino gave Jensen to him, he now had a lot of work to catch up on.
Jensen vaguely heard Jared say good-bye and managed a bleary smile before going back to sleep.
Jensen didn’t do mornings.
When he woke up later he stumbled, eyes half open, to the kitchen and made himself coffee. He lit a cigarette and sat at the kitchen table, smoking and caffeinating himself until he felt half-way human. And then he went and showered, washing the dried come from his pubes and belly and the left over lube from his ass.
He dressed in jeans, a white tee-shirt and a black leather jacket, with a blue-checked bandana tied cowboy style around his neck. Then he made himself some toast and with nothing better to do until his escort arrived, Jensen went and switched on the TV.
Jared had forbidden Jensen to leave the apartment without an escort and on the one hand, Jensen was pissed. On the other, it turned him the fuck on when Jared got all bossy and dominating.
The knock on the door came at precisely midday and when Jensen opened the door the guy standing on the other side of it was not at all what he’d expected. Blond, skinny and baby-faced, the guy on the doorstep looked more like the boy next door than an outlaw biker. Still, Jensen knew better than to judge someone by their outward appearance; case in point-himself.
The guy-Chad, Jared had said he was called-was giving Jensen just as thorough a once over as Jensen was giving him.
“Huh,” Jensen said. “I can see why your nickname’s Squint.”
Chad squinted prissily at him. “I hear they used to call you D-Dawg, back when they thought you were called Dean. Fucking pussy name, man.”
Jensen shrugged. “I didn’t choose it.”
Chad looked at him hard and there it was; the steel and the menace hiding beneath the harmless-looking exterior.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Chad said, “I’m a Prospect, you’re a Fucktoy, so-”
Jensen didn’t let him finish before he had the Prospect pinned against the wall.
“Yeah,” he said, “let’s get something straight. Jared bought out my debt. He’s keeping me alive. I owe him. You and everyone else can go fuck yourselves. Got it?”
Chad squeaked out something that sounded like an agreement, so Jensen let him go.
Chad straightened his jacket and then glared at Jensen. “I’m gonna tell him you put hands on me.”
Jensen rolled his eyes. “You know what, kid? If threatening to tell on me is the worst you can come up with, I really don’t think you’re cut out for this life.”
Chad’s eyes narrowed. “Moose is my VP and you’re his property. Unlike you, I respect the rules.”
Jensen bristled. He was nobody’s fucking property, no matter what that tattoo said. He was prepared to concede that he owed Jared, but the guy didn’t fucking own him.
Chad obviously believed he couldn’t touch Jensen without incurring Jared’s wrath though, so Jensen decided to fuck with him. He pasted on his best sultry smile and said, his voice low, “Well then maybe I’ll just tell him that you came on to me. Tried to touch what wasn’t yours.”
Chad took a step back, looking thoroughly horrified. “Dude. I’m all about pussy. He’d never believe you.”
Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay, look. I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jared says you’re a good guy.”
Chad eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then cautiously shook his hand. “Chad,” he said. “You can call me Squint. Moose and me, we’ve been tight since middle school, so don’t fuck him over or I’ll fuck you over.”
Privately, Jensen thought he would really like to see him try, but he was trying to smooth things over so he didn’t mention that, merely told Chad to lead on.
Chad gave him a brain bucket and told him to hold on tight, but not in a gay way, and Jensen rolled his eyes and hoped to Christ that Squint didn’t kill them both.
He pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose after the first block and when they arrived at their destination Chad raised an eyebrow.
“Trying to make a statement Jenny?”
“Yeah,” Jensen pulled the bandana down. “I don’t like swallowing insects and road grit.”
The building in front of them had been Jensen’s home-away-from-home eight, nine years ago and Jensen swallowed back the barrage of memories that being here triggered. The place itself didn’t look any different; just a bland shop front with neon signage in the heart of Koreatown.
The building was bigger on the inside than the shopfront would have you believe. It was dark and smoky and the floor was lined with row after row of pool tables. At one end of the long hall there was a partitioned-off area which held the bar, with a bunch of booths and small tables in front of it; the restrooms, the jukebox, a cigarette machine and a couple of ATMs.
Behind the bar, stocking up the fridge, was Johnny Gok; seven years greyer than when Jensen last saw him, but unmistakable. He looked up when Jensen and Chad walked in and did a double take when Jensen got closer to the bar.
“Well fuck,” he said. “D-Dawg? Is that you?” he slid a hesitant sideways glance at Chad and Jensen could almost hear him wondering if there was going to be trouble.
“In the flesh,” Jensen said. “But you can call me Jensen.”
Johnny frowned. “Jensen?”
“Long boring story. Bottom line, I’m back and looking to play a little pool.”
Johnny looked at Chad. “You square with these boys?”
Chad threw an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Yeah. He’s good.”
Johnny rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I don’t want any trouble with HellSpawn,” he said.
“You won’t get any,” Chad vouched. “Jenny here is Moose’s boy.”
Jensen didn’t miss the look of distaste that flickered across Johnny’s face. It was subtle, but it was there. It wasn’t like the Korean didn’t know that Jensen was gay, and it wasn’t that he had a problem with it per se; it just made him uncomfortable to think of two men together. Which Jensen knew because Johnny had told him as much one evening over Tequila shots.
“So don’t fucking think about it, you pervert,” Jensen had retorted. “You don’t try to imagine my sex life and I won’t try to imagine yours,” he’d shuddered. “Old person sex. Gross.”
Jensen got his head back in the present in time to hear Chad coldly ask Johnny if he had a problem. He put a hand to the Prospect’s arm and reassured him that Johnny was an okay guy.
At Happy Gok’s Pool Hall there were round robin tournaments held every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. To take part you needed either a UPA or WPA ranking or good stats at Gok’s.
Once upon a time Jensen had been the number one player at Gok’s, but that was over seven years ago now and he had to build up his standing again.
He spent the afternoon playing against rank amateurs and beating them easily. Jared turned up a little after six pm with four boxes of pizza and Jensen took a break. They went and sat in one of the booths, ate their pizza and drank beer. Jensen had one beer and then switched to soda. A handful of halfway decent players turned up as afternoon turned to evening, and Jensen watched them from a distance.
“Give me some cash,” he said to Jared. Jared handed over a fistful of twenties and Jensen put them in his wallet before heading back over to the tables. Jared stayed in the booth with Chad.
Jensen’s target was an older black man, tall and well-built with salt and pepper in his hair. Jensen watched his target beat his opponent easily and then asked the man if he’d like a game.
The man eyed him up and down suspiciously. “Where’s your cue?”
“Back home in Texas,” Jensen let his twang off leash. “I’m good man, worth your while, I promise.”
The man studied Jensen for a moment and then nodded. “Name’s Steve,” he said, sticking out a hand.
“Jensen.”
He picked one of the Pool Hall’s cues from the rack on the wall, tested the balance and then chalked the tip.
Jensen allowed himself to lose the game, but made sure that it was close. Steve was impressed and three of the other decent players who Jensen had noted earlier came across to test their mettle against him. He beat all of them, in exciting, closely fought matches.
“You should come back tomorrow,” Steve said. He explained to Jensen about the Club’s tournaments. “Come early, play off against some of us,” Steve gestured at himself and the other good players, “you might score yourself a wild card entry.”
Jensen grinned. “Sounds awesome. I’d love that.”
Jared and Chad had stayed well out of the way while Jensen was playing and they slipped outside while Jensen was having a drink at the bar with Steve and the other players.
Jensen made his excuses after two beers and headed after Jared. He was barely out the front door when Jared grabbed him and dragged him into the laneway. Jared shoved him up hard against a rough red-brick wall that was littered with black graffiti tags, his forearm at Jensen’s throat.
“Did you like that?” he snarled. “Flirting with all those guys? Shoving your ass at them?”
Jensen gaped at him. “Are you trashed?”
The pressure on his throat increased slightly and Jensen started to get pissed.
“Really? You’re actually gonna do this? I’m a hustler, Jared. Flirty is my default setting.”
Jared scowled. “You weren’t hustling those guys. You were just playing.”
“Right. Trying to convince them I was worth a wild card entry into tomorrow’s tournament. I was schmoozing.”
Jared raised his eyebrows. “Did you seriously just say schmoozing?”
Jensen rolled his eyes.
Jared eased off his throat and instead put his hands flat against the wall, on either side of Jensen’s head.
“Why were you wiggling your ass so much, then?”
Jensen bit at his bottom lip and pulled out his most seductive smile. “Oh, baby, were you jealous?”
Jared’s eyes darkened and not in a good way. The biker was seriously pissed and Jensen backtracked quickly. “I only did that when I knew you were looking,” he reached out and wrapped his arms around Jared’s waist. “I mean, all the guys I was playing with? Totally straight. Steve’s been married to his wife for thirty years. I was just…making sure you had something interesting to look at.”
“You were teasing me?” Jared still didn’t look happy, but he looked a lot less angry.
Jensen made his pupils dilate and his tongue dart out to swipe at his lips. “It’s only teasing if you don’t plan on following through.”
Jared moved cobra fast, and Jensen only just managed to get his hands up to stop himself from hitting the wall face first when the biker spun him around.
“Fucking tease,” Jared insisted, his breath warm and wet against the shell of Jensen’s ear.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Jensen asked, a little breathlessly.
A moment later Jensen’s jeans and briefs were down and his legs had been kicked apart.
At least Jared undid the button and the zip this time.
A click and a squelch and Jensen hissed as Jared pressed two slick fingers against his swollen rim. His ass felt tender and raw and Jensen was pretty sure it was going to hurt when Jared fucked him, but his stupid dick was still wildly enthusiastic about the idea.
“You always carry lube?” he asked.
“Be prepared,” Jared replied solemnly and then thrust his slick fingers up inside of Jensen.
“Fuck,” Jensen leaned into the wall, “I don’t think that’s how the Boy Scout salute goes.
“Right,” Jared agreed, finding Jensen’s prostate and pressing against it. “Would’ve needed three fingers for that.”
Jensen huffed as Jared pulled his fingers out and put on a condom. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”
“I was,” Jensen felt the sheathed head of Jared’s dick press against his opening. “One of my foster dads was a Scout Leader. He made me join,” he shoved himself up into Jensen. “Sick fucker he was too.”
“Explains a lot,’ Jensen panted. His eyes were closed against the burn and his cheek was scraping against the brick as Jared rocked into him, hard and fast.
Jensen got a hand on his dick and began to stroke.
“I say you could touch that?” Jared growled.
“Nope,” Jensen kept stroking himself.
“Don’t come until I say you can,” Jared said darkly.
“And if I do?”
“Got a cock cage in my toy box. I’ll make you wear it for a week, cock all soft and useless, locked up tight with a steel ring around your balls.”
Jensen groaned and fisted himself faster.
“You won’t be able to get hard,” Jared’s voice was coal-black now, low and raspy. “And I won’t let you come. But I’ll tease your cock head and finger your hole until you’re desperate, until every nerve ending in your body’s on fire and you need to come so badly that you’ve got tears running down your cheeks, pretty green eyes liquid with hurt.”
“Fuck!”
With every ounce of willpower that he had, Jensen took his hand off his dick and put it back against the wall. He was so turned on by Jared’s words, right on the edge, but he had a horrible suspicion that Jared wasn’t just talking dirty, that he’d actually do the things he was promising so darkly to do. And Jensen wasn’t sure he could actually handle that.
“Good boy,” Jared said and came hard.
He pulled out and yanked Jensen’s pants up.
“What?” Jensen spun around. “You fucker. Don’t you dare leave me like this!”
Jared’s smile was anything but reassuring. “We’re gonna go home now. The ride back’s gonna be such a bitch for you, what with the motor vibrating against your balls. Better make sure you don’t come or I’ll put the cage on you the moment we get home.”
Jensen gaped at him. “I fucking hate you,” he said as he did up his pants, careful not to touch his dick.
Jared leaned forward and kissed him, hard and possessive. “If you’re good for me tonight, I’ll let you come before we go to sleep.”
Jensen glared. Jared handed him a helmet with an evil smile and Jensen just knew that the biker was going to hit every pot hole he could on the way home.
--
Jensen wasn’t going down to the Pool Hall until five o’clock and Jared had promised to take him. Right now though, the VP was out, not at work-or at least not at MorningStar Motors, anyway. Jared was taking care of some Club business. One of the bookies who worked for them had been skimming the profits and reporting less to the Club than he was actually making. Unfortunately for him, Mark Sheppard was a whiz with numbers and he’d been found out.
Truthfully, Jensen was a little pissed that Jared had turned down Jensen’s offer to come and help. He was good in a fight and it hurt-maybe more than it should have-that Jared didn’t trust Jensen to have his back.
So Jensen sulked. And smoked. And occasionally jerked off into a wad of Kleenex whenever he thought about the sex marathon he and Jared’d had the previous night.
Jared had edged him for hours and what Jensen was starting to learn, was that he really fucking liked it, so long as he got to come eventually. And it wasn’t like Jared didn’t have to wait too. He’d been rock hard the entire time he’d been teasing Jensen, but he hadn’t come either. Not until he’d fucked Jensen. And boy, had their orgasms been worth the wait.
Jensen sighed. This waiting around was fucking bullshit. He was so bored. He went and played with the dogs for a bit, but there was only so much exciting yipping and drooling that he could take before the fact that he was getting covered in dog hair started to get annoying.
Jensen washed carefully and then decided to call Chris. Chris was pleased to hear from him and reassured him that he hadn’t had any trouble, either from Jensen’s dad or from anyone else.
They chatted for a while, about nothing in particular and then Jensen told Chris that he’d met a guy. “I ain’t saying it’s something,” he said, “but the sex is fucking awesome.”
“Is he a good guy?” Chris asked.
Jensen laughed. Jared Padalecki could never be described as a good guy, but Jensen couldn’t bring himself to say that he was a bad guy either.
“I dunno, Chris,” he said. “But…I think maybe I could like him.”
Mid-afternoon there was a knock on the front door and Jensen actually caught himself hoping that Chad had decided to visit, which just went to show how utterly bored he was.
He opened the door to reveal Mark Sheppard and a very short red-haired woman.
“Crossroads,” he said, the surprise showing in his voice.
Sheppard ran his eyes over Jensen. “If Jared is Moose, then I suppose you’d better be Squirrel.”
Jensen’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not a member. I didn’t think I rated a nickname.”
“Oh laddie,” the woman said, reaching up and patting Jensen’s cheek. “Jared’s crazy aboot you. You rate whatever ye want to rate.” She had a strong Scottish accent and Jensen could’ve listened to her talk all day.
“Now,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Are ye gonnie invite us in for a cuppa or are we gonnie stand on the door step all day?”
Jensen blinked. “Um. Sure,” he stepped back and widened the door. “Come in.”
Ruthie and Crossroads stepped past him and made themselves at home in the living room.
“I’ll have tea, Dearie,” Ruthie said. “With milk and one sugar.
Jensen checked in the cupboard and found a box of tea.
“What about you?” he asked Sheppard.
“Brought my own,” the Brit said.
Jensen made Ruthie’s tea and snagged himself a beer. Sheppard was sipping from a silver flask and smoking a fat cigar.
Jensen lit a Marlboro.
“I hear you’ve got yourself a wee tattoo,” Ruthie said.
Jensen nodded.
Ruthie smiled, her face scrunching up. “Can I see it?”
Jensen twisted around and then lifted his tee-shirt.
“Well now,” Ruthie said and Jensen wasn’t quite sure what to make of her tone. “The girls said, but I wanted to see it for myself,” she grinned. “Alaina’s nae gonnie like this.”
“Why not?”
Ruthie cackled. “Oh Darlin’, that tattoo marks you out as the Queen in Waiting.”
Jensen choked on his beer.
When he’d done coughing, Ruthie leaned in close and said, “And that makes you a threat.”
She looked positively delighted.
--
When Jared got home, he and Sheppard had an intense, hushed conversation out in the backyard, while Jensen scowled at them and chain-smoked. Ruthie sat prettily and stared vacantly out the window and Jensen wondered how it didn’t drive her absolutely crazy being excluded from all the important stuff.
Ruthie caught his pensive expression and smiled wickedly. “Lip readin’, Darlin’,” she said. “Useful skill. You should learn it.”
Jensen harrumphed. He would prefer just to be told things, but he guessed that if he had to be sneaky, he could do that.
“So what happened? What did Jared have to do?”
Ruthie cocked her head and looked down her nose at him with her eyes narrowed. “Nothing good. Are you really sure you want to know?”
Jensen met her gaze head on. “I dunno what you’ve heard about me, but I used to be HeyDay’s apprentice.”
“Oh, I know, Darlin. And when the goin’ got tough, you pinched a bag of money and ran.”
“I got no problem busting heads. But torturing an innocent person to put pressure on a guilty one?” Jensen shook his head. “Especially when you know that person doesn’t know anything anyway. I knew. HeyDay knew. He kept going because he wanted to. That’s why I took off.”
Ruthie held Jensen’s gaze and then gave him a small smile. “Well then,” she said. “Moose was able to recover just over half of the money that the bookie stole and he took several expensive paintings and pieces of jewelry to try to recoup the rest. And then he garrotted him. Squint’s on clean-up.”
Jensen nodded and tried not to let his emotions show on his face. He’d known intellectually that Jared was a killer, could even accept the occasional necessity of putting a bullet in someone’s head, but he hadn’t expected Jared to be so hands-on. A garrotting seemed so personal.
“What was the bookie’s name?” he asked.
“Sterling Brown,” Ruthie replied.
Jared and Sheppard came into the house and Jared went straight to their room to get changed.
Jensen waited a beat and then followed him.
“You okay?” he asked, picking up Jared’s discarded clothes and inspecting them for blood. There wasn’t any. Jensen frowned. Jared must’ve changed at the scene. Worn overalls or something.
Jared cocked his head. “You know.” He frowned. “Ruthie told you,” he shook his head. “That woman, she always knows everything. I swear she’s a mind reader or a witch or-”
“Or a really smart woman who could be really helpful to the Club if y’all could get over your sexism?”
Jensen could see Jared gearing up for an argument on the subject, so he forestalled him. “The thing with the bookie…do you wanna talk about it?”
Jared turned away. He switched the water on and stood with his back to Jensen while it heated up. “Me and Sterling, we had history. He,” Jared faltered. “He wasn’t a good man. I’m not sorry I killed him.” He stepped into the steaming water and Jensen watched from the other side of the glass as Jared tipped his head back and soaped himself up.
“You want some help in there?” Jensen asked.
“I’m good.”
Which meant he really wasn’t, because in the four days that Jensen had known him, Jared had never once turned down sex.
“Okay,” Jensen took another moment to appreciate the gloriousness of naked, wet Jared, and then turned. “I’ll see you out there.”
He headed for the door, but stopped when Jared called his name.
“Thanks,” Jared said. “For…you know.”
“Sure,” Jensen said and went back out to the living room.
--
Jared didn’t want the Club’s reputation to interfere in any way with Jensen’s pool playing, so Jared and Sheppard were incognito; no cuts, no colors, no patches. Not even soft colors. Jared was in baggy blue jeans, a grey NASA tee-shirt (giant geek) and a grey hoodie. Mark looked like an accountant in black pants and a white button-down shirt and Ruthie was wearing a tight, blood-red dress with a plunging neckline and a lot of make-up. She’d actually tried to drag Jensen into the bathroom earlier to put eyeliner on him, but he’d managed to fight her off. Jensen didn’t care how much eyeliner would ‘make his gorgeous big green eyes pop’; he didn’t do make-up.
Jensen was going to have to buy some new clothes soon, because he only had four outfits, in total. Today he was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a light blue chambray shirt, which looked very nice on him, if he did say so himself, but he was really starting to miss the extensive wardrobe he had back home. Jensen liked clothes. He liked to look good. So what?
Steve, Jensen’s buddy from yesterday was already at a table when Jensen’s party arrived. He looked up just as they walked in and Jensen smiled and waved. He felt Jared stiffen beside him and a moment later the biker’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close.
“Would you like to piss on me too?” Jensen said from behind a clenched smile.
Jared laughed. “Not one of my kinks.”
Before Jensen could respond, Jared pulled him around and kissed him very thoroughly, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping his ass.
Jensen wanted to be pissed at the show of dominance, but the way Jared’s tongue was plundering his mouth was just too fucking good. When Jared finally pulled away, Jensen’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide.
“Bastard,” he said, a little breathlessly.
“You love it,” Jared smirked at him, and then backed away and joined Sheppard and Ruthie at a booth in the bar area.
Jensen wiped his thumb over his lips and then made his way over to the tables.
Two of the men who were watching Steve play gave Jensen very unfriendly looks as he approached. Jensen nodded at them and smiled sunnily. The men turned their backs.
Steve pocketed the black. He shook hands with his opponent and then came across and slapped Jensen on the back. “Good to see you again,” he said. He looked over to where Jared was sitting with Ruthie, while Sheppard ordered them all drinks at the bar.
“That’s your fella, huh?”
Jensen rubbed at the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about the…display before.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m a bigot like those clowns?” he nodded toward the men who’d turned their backs on Jensen earlier. “I don’t care who you love, son.”
Jensen smiled. “Well that’s good to know, but I actually meant the whole ‘marking my territory’, caveman display. Jared can be…over-protective.”
Steve studied him for a moment. “Do you mean over-protective? Or do you mean controlling and dominating?”
“That too,” Jensen agreed. “But not in a bad way. I wouldn’t put up with that.”
“Okay,” Steve picked up a piece of chalk and began to apply it to the tip of his cue. “We gonna play?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jensen selected a cue of his own and followed suit.
Steve broke and pocketed two solids. “Just so’s you know,” he said, “if things change and you need help, you can talk to me.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said, and then proceeded to beat Steve fairly comprehensively so that the man would stop thinking of him as some kind of abuse victim, because Jensen really wouldn’t put up with that shit.
He wouldn’t.
Jensen hadn’t actually been planning to beat Steve until a tournament, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. This wasn’t a hustle. It didn’t matter if the opposition knew he was good. And at least the win got him the wild card invitation to the evening’s tournament that he’d been after.
The entry fee was $50.00.
Which he had to get from Jared.
Which Steve totally noticed.
Jensen thought about what Ruthie had said earlier, about Jared being crazy about him, and decided that he really needed to start exploiting that.
After all, apparently he was the Queen in waiting. Jensen snorted softly and shook his head. Well, he could certainly pull off high maintenance Drama Queen; especially if Jared was going to keep being a caveman
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Jensen recognized the blondes; Katie and Nicky, but neither of the brunettes had been around when he was a HellSpawn Prospect.
Jared patted him on the ass. “Go make nice with the other sweet-butts,” he said, before taking off for the Chapel.
Jensen pulled a face at his retreating back, but made his way over to the den area; four two-seater sofas around a big square coffee table, not too far away from the bar.
“Hi Ladies,” he said, treating the women to his biggest grin as he approached.
Katie flicked him a bored expression. “Dean,” she said. “Or whatever the hell your name is.”
Jensen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah. It’s Jensen.”
One of the brunettes squealed. “Jen! I’m Gen too. With a G. Genevieve.”
The other brunette snorted. “Don’t believe her peppy act, Jensen. She just wants to know how you landed Padalecki. She was gunning to be his Old Lady.”
Gen scowled. “Shut up, Rachel! Just ‘cause I’m not an unfriendly bitch like you!” She turned back to Jensen. “Just what are you to Jared anyway?”
Jensen shrugged and plonked himself down on the sofa next to Rachel. “Good question,” he got out his cigarettes and lit up before offering the packet around.
Only Rachel took him up on the offer. Katie lit a cigarette of her own, some skinny looking menthol thing.
“I heard he bought out your debt to the Club,” Nicky said.
Jensen gave a half-shrug and then nodded.
“I guess that means he owns you,” Katie teased.
Jensen scowled at her and then shrugged again. “He seems to think so.”
Gen looked at him thoughtfully. “So you don’t actually mean anything to him?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Moose is gay. You’re never gonna be his Old Lady, Gen.”
Gen glared at her, then turned back to Jensen and looked at him expectantly.
Jensen realized she was waiting for some kind of answer.
“Fucked if I know,” he said.
Katie snorted and tapped ash into a big black ashtray with a long red fingernail. “Oh, I bet you are. Six ways from Sunday. You’re just Moose’s type.”
“Did he put a stamp on you?” Nicky asked.
Jensen nodded.
“Can we see it?”
“It’s still bandaged.”
“Is it like this one?” Katie pushed down the back of her jeans to reveal a tattoo that was almost identical to Jensen’s.
“Almost,” he said. “Mine’s got words under the other wing too.”
Gen’s eyebrows shot up. “What words?”
Jensen rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, it says, ‘Property of JP’.”
“I don’t fucking believe it!” Gen screeched. “He put an Old Lady stamp on you. Already!”
“Really? Huh,” Jensen pursed his lips. “I thought he was just being a dick. You know about the whole ‘owning me’ thing.”
“Nope,” Rachel said. “It’s an Old Lady stamp. We’ve all got sweet-butt tattoos. We’re HellSpawn Forever, but we don’t belong to anyone yet. Alaina and Ruthie have tattoos like yours. Alaina is The Beast’s Old Lady and Ruthie belongs to Crossroads.”
Jensen had no idea who Ruthie was, but no doubt he would find out.
He glanced over at Gen who looked utterly heartbroken. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “He’s known you two days!”
“Technically he’s known me for ten years,” Jensen butted out his cigarette. “How long do you think they’ll be in there?” he nodded toward the Chapel where Jared was meeting with the rest of the full patches.
Rachel shrugged eloquently. “Do you know how to use an espresso machine?”
Jensen shook his head and Rachel got to her feet.
“C’mon,” she said. “I’ll teach you how to make coffee and run the bar.”
By the time Jared and the others came out of the Chapel, Jensen had mastered the art of the double shot latte and learned how to pull a beer so that it had just the right amount of foam.
“Should’ve known you’d be able to give good head,” Rachel had said slyly.
She worked in hospitality, currently behind a bar although she’d worked as a barista for years. Jensen liked her dry sense of humor.
Gen was a waitress in a pizza restaurant and despite her epic unrequited crush on Jared, Jensen actually found her really sweet.
Katie and Nicky were both strippers and they were perfectly capable of curb stomping you with their stilettos if you got on their bad side.
Jensen had fully expected to be on their shit list, given that he’d stolen from the Club and gone on the run. Luckily for him, Katie had been good friends with Traci back in the day and Katie didn’t blame him at all for freaking out and taking off after the torture session HeyDay had forced him to take part in.
Jensen hadn’t done the worst of it himself, but he still had nightmares about the way Traci had screamed when Heyerdahl poured acid on her face. It wasn’t that Jensen was averse to fucking people up; he simply didn’t like hurting the innocent just to punish the guilty. Besides, Jensen had skills. He knew when people were telling the truth and Jim had been telling God’s honest truth, Jensen had been sure of it.
“And the worst part,” Katie said, her voice low and rough, “was JD getting proof that The Beast’s intel was wrong. It’s wasn’t The Dead Reapers who sicced the FBI on him; they were still loyal.”
Jensen wasn’t quite sure what Rachel saw in his face, but he took the shot glass of whiskey that she quietly offered him and threw it back.
“They figure out who it was?”
Nicky stared at him. “Pellegrino thought it was you for a while. But then JD pointed out that you didn’t have access to the kind of information you would’ve needed.”
Jensen frowned. “So who was it?”
Nicky shrugged. “If the guys ever figured it out, they didn’t tell the sweet-butts.”
When the Chapel door opened and the full patches walked out, it was a welcome distraction from memories that Jensen didn’t want in his head.
“Who all wants a beer?” Jensen called out, getting down a couple of beer glasses.
He helped Rachel serve everyone and then poured himself another shot of whiskey and headed toward Jared, who was racking up the balls to play pool with Freddy Lehne, who, Jensen recalled, was a damn good player.
“So Heyday’s decided he doesn’t want you back.”
Jensen tried to keep the relief from showing on his face. The idea of being apprenticed to the Club’s Sergeant-at-arms and master torturer again had been less than thrilling.
“But if you’re not gonna be chained to my bed, Pellegrino definitely wants you earning, so,” Jared handed him the cue. “Show us that you’ve still got it.”
--
Jensen’s grandpa had a pool table, a custom made, oversized 8’ table, with a wood-backed slate playing surface, blended cloth that was 75% wool and an ornately carved frame made from mahogany, embellished with mother-of-pearl.
As a small child, Jensen had watched a lot of business conducted over that pool table, all the while itching to get his hands on a cue. Children weren’t allowed to play on the table though. It wasn’t a toy. It was strictly for grown-ups. As Jensen had learned to his detriment when he’d been seven years old and had helped himself to a cue and tried to play by himself. His grandpa heard the click of the balls breaking and came running, wrenching the cue from Jensen’s hands and using it to smack his butt.
So Jensen had watched and learned and waited. His father had been proud of Jensen, had assumed his son and heir hung out because he was interested in learning about the business. Jensen didn’t give a shit about oil or drilling or lawsuits against environmentalists, he just wanted to play pool.
And when he was eleven, he was finally allowed to. He beat his grandpa, the first game he played and despite his grandpa labelling it a fluke; beginner’s luck; it quickly became apparent that when it came to pool, Jensen was something of a prodigy.
The look on Freddy Lehne’s face when Jensen sank the black, reminded him a great deal of his grandpa’s sour loser face and he smirked.
“Don’t sulk, Freddy. You pocketed that four. One ball down means you don’t have to run around the table with your pants down.”
Freddy scowled at Jensen and then gave Jared a pointed look.
Jared had clearly enjoyed watching Jensen beat Freddy and if Jensen had bent over and wriggled his ass a little more than was strictly necessary, if he’d stroked his cue and tormented its tip with chalk, well, it was only because he enjoyed watching Jared’s eyes darken with desire.
When Jared pulled Jensen back, flush against him, Jensen went easily. The biker kissed his jaw hungrily and then whispered. “Freddy has status. You don’t. So watch what you say or you’ll be the one with your pants down.”
Jensen pressed his ass against Jared’s groin, enjoying the obvious evidence of Jared’s arousal.
“Be hard for you to fuck me with my pants up,” he quipped.
Jared’s grip on him tightened. “That what you want? You want me to bend you over the pool table and fuck you in front of everyone? Show them all who you belong to?”
Jensen spun in Jared’s grip. “Hell no. We’d fuck up the cloth,” he licked at his lips. “They still got those spare bedrooms out the back?”
Jared nodded and began to tug Jensen toward the hallway. A cacophony of wolf whistles and suggestive comments accompanied their exit.
Jared kicked the spare room’s door shut and pushed Jensen until the back of his legs hit the edge of the single bed. Jared spun him around then, and bent him over, yanking his pants down so roughly that the button of his jeans flew off.
Jensen heard the sound of a drawer opening, following by a click and a squelch and then two slick fingers were thrust hard and fast into his ass.
Jensen grunted at the burn. He pillowed his head on his folded arms and pushed back, urging Jared deeper.
“Pushy,” Jared said warningly, reaching around and palming Jensen’s dick, swiping a finger through the precome that was beaded at the tip and smearing it around the sensitive head.
“Fuck, Jared!”
Jared chuckled. “Fuck Jensen,” he corrected.
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Right. So get on with it.”
The comment earned his ass a hard slap, but Jared complied. There was the crinkled sound of a condom being unwrapped and then Jensen felt blunt pressure against his hole. Jared thrust hard and got half way in before Jensen’s ass clamped down on the intrusion. Jensen breathed through it and tried to relax, but fuck Jared was huge.
“C’mon, baby,” Jared soothed. “You can take it. Just relax.”
Jensen huffed out a laugh. Easy for Jared to say. Jared nudged forward, gaining ground in tiny increments until his pelvis was flush against Jensen’s ass.
Jared gave him a moment to get used to the stretch and then began to fuck him hard and fast. Jensen had to grip the bedspread to keep his balance and he could feel the finger-shaped bruises on his hips deepening in color.
Jared shifted slightly and on the next thrust he hit Jensen’s prostate dead on. Jensen couldn’t help his long drawn out moan or the way his fingers flexed in the bedspread, like a kneading cat.
Jared moved one hand from Jensen’s hip to the back of his head and Jensen would’ve rolled his eyes at the obvious power play if his eyes hadn’t been too busy rolling backwards in ecstasy. A couple more thrusts and the bedspread’s friction against his dick, was just enough to send him over the edge.
Jared followed a few heartbeats later and Jensen hissed when he pulled out.
Jensen used a corner of the bedspread to wipe the come from his dick and the excess lube from his ass and then pulled his pants up.
“You wrecked my jeans,” he grumbled, searching the floor for his missing button, while Jared saw to himself, tied off the condom and threw it into a small trash can beside the lamp table.
Jared just looked smug.
When they made their way back into the main club room they got a round of applause, although Jensen noted that Gen didn’t look particularly happy and he didn’t like the calculating looks he and Jared were getting from both Pellegrino and Heyerdahl.
“Good job, Moose,” Pellegrino said. “Your little kitty makes real pretty noises when he’s being well fucked.”
Jensen tensed and Jared ran a soothing hand down his side. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Jared steered Jensen over to the bar and rapped on it. “Get me a beer, Bar Wench. All this fucking’s thirsty work.”
Rachel pulled him a beer and then pulled one for Jensen too. “I’m sure your boy needs to lubricate his throat after all that yowling.”
Jared looked smug again. He downed half his beer and then went to join the rest of the full patches in a game of poker, leaving Jensen sitting at the bar with Rachel.
She folded her arms and leaned down on the bar, giving him a really good view of her breasts; in which he was absolutely uninterested.
“Wow,” she said. “He actually has a major-league crush on you,” she stared into Jensen’s eyes. “And you’re playing him.”
Jensen toyed with his beer mat and then looked up at Rachel from beneath his eyelashes. “Do you blame me?”
Rachel smirked. “Don’t try batting those big green eyes at me, Jensen, I’m immune,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s he told you? About himself?”
Jensen shrugged. “Not a lot.”
Rached nodded. “He’s had a hard life, but Jared’s basically a decent guy. Don’t hurt him.”
Jensen snorted. “I’m the one who got told I could take Pellegrino’s bullet in my brain or Padalecki’s cock in my ass, so excuse me if I’m short on sympathy. I’m just making the best of things.”
Rachel cocked her head. “Well the best could actually be very good for you, if you play your cards right,” she looked across to where the full patches were playing poker. “And I hear you’re a very good card player.”
--
Jensen woke up with Jared’s dick in his ass and his teeth in the back of his neck. He didn’t complain; the previous morning had told him there was no point; instead he spread his legs and relaxed, letting the pressure of the mattress against his dick and the way Jared unerringly found his sweet spot, bring him to orgasm.
Jared rolled off him and a moment later Jensen heard the shower.
The biker worked as a mechanic at MorningStar Motors and having taken the best part of two days off when Pellegrino gave Jensen to him, he now had a lot of work to catch up on.
Jensen vaguely heard Jared say good-bye and managed a bleary smile before going back to sleep.
Jensen didn’t do mornings.
When he woke up later he stumbled, eyes half open, to the kitchen and made himself coffee. He lit a cigarette and sat at the kitchen table, smoking and caffeinating himself until he felt half-way human. And then he went and showered, washing the dried come from his pubes and belly and the left over lube from his ass.
He dressed in jeans, a white tee-shirt and a black leather jacket, with a blue-checked bandana tied cowboy style around his neck. Then he made himself some toast and with nothing better to do until his escort arrived, Jensen went and switched on the TV.
Jared had forbidden Jensen to leave the apartment without an escort and on the one hand, Jensen was pissed. On the other, it turned him the fuck on when Jared got all bossy and dominating.
The knock on the door came at precisely midday and when Jensen opened the door the guy standing on the other side of it was not at all what he’d expected. Blond, skinny and baby-faced, the guy on the doorstep looked more like the boy next door than an outlaw biker. Still, Jensen knew better than to judge someone by their outward appearance; case in point-himself.
The guy-Chad, Jared had said he was called-was giving Jensen just as thorough a once over as Jensen was giving him.
“Huh,” Jensen said. “I can see why your nickname’s Squint.”
Chad squinted prissily at him. “I hear they used to call you D-Dawg, back when they thought you were called Dean. Fucking pussy name, man.”
Jensen shrugged. “I didn’t choose it.”
Chad looked at him hard and there it was; the steel and the menace hiding beneath the harmless-looking exterior.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Chad said, “I’m a Prospect, you’re a Fucktoy, so-”
Jensen didn’t let him finish before he had the Prospect pinned against the wall.
“Yeah,” he said, “let’s get something straight. Jared bought out my debt. He’s keeping me alive. I owe him. You and everyone else can go fuck yourselves. Got it?”
Chad squeaked out something that sounded like an agreement, so Jensen let him go.
Chad straightened his jacket and then glared at Jensen. “I’m gonna tell him you put hands on me.”
Jensen rolled his eyes. “You know what, kid? If threatening to tell on me is the worst you can come up with, I really don’t think you’re cut out for this life.”
Chad’s eyes narrowed. “Moose is my VP and you’re his property. Unlike you, I respect the rules.”
Jensen bristled. He was nobody’s fucking property, no matter what that tattoo said. He was prepared to concede that he owed Jared, but the guy didn’t fucking own him.
Chad obviously believed he couldn’t touch Jensen without incurring Jared’s wrath though, so Jensen decided to fuck with him. He pasted on his best sultry smile and said, his voice low, “Well then maybe I’ll just tell him that you came on to me. Tried to touch what wasn’t yours.”
Chad took a step back, looking thoroughly horrified. “Dude. I’m all about pussy. He’d never believe you.”
Jensen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay, look. I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jared says you’re a good guy.”
Chad eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then cautiously shook his hand. “Chad,” he said. “You can call me Squint. Moose and me, we’ve been tight since middle school, so don’t fuck him over or I’ll fuck you over.”
Privately, Jensen thought he would really like to see him try, but he was trying to smooth things over so he didn’t mention that, merely told Chad to lead on.
Chad gave him a brain bucket and told him to hold on tight, but not in a gay way, and Jensen rolled his eyes and hoped to Christ that Squint didn’t kill them both.
He pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose after the first block and when they arrived at their destination Chad raised an eyebrow.
“Trying to make a statement Jenny?”
“Yeah,” Jensen pulled the bandana down. “I don’t like swallowing insects and road grit.”
The building in front of them had been Jensen’s home-away-from-home eight, nine years ago and Jensen swallowed back the barrage of memories that being here triggered. The place itself didn’t look any different; just a bland shop front with neon signage in the heart of Koreatown.
The building was bigger on the inside than the shopfront would have you believe. It was dark and smoky and the floor was lined with row after row of pool tables. At one end of the long hall there was a partitioned-off area which held the bar, with a bunch of booths and small tables in front of it; the restrooms, the jukebox, a cigarette machine and a couple of ATMs.
Behind the bar, stocking up the fridge, was Johnny Gok; seven years greyer than when Jensen last saw him, but unmistakable. He looked up when Jensen and Chad walked in and did a double take when Jensen got closer to the bar.
“Well fuck,” he said. “D-Dawg? Is that you?” he slid a hesitant sideways glance at Chad and Jensen could almost hear him wondering if there was going to be trouble.
“In the flesh,” Jensen said. “But you can call me Jensen.”
Johnny frowned. “Jensen?”
“Long boring story. Bottom line, I’m back and looking to play a little pool.”
Johnny looked at Chad. “You square with these boys?”
Chad threw an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. “Yeah. He’s good.”
Johnny rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I don’t want any trouble with HellSpawn,” he said.
“You won’t get any,” Chad vouched. “Jenny here is Moose’s boy.”
Jensen didn’t miss the look of distaste that flickered across Johnny’s face. It was subtle, but it was there. It wasn’t like the Korean didn’t know that Jensen was gay, and it wasn’t that he had a problem with it per se; it just made him uncomfortable to think of two men together. Which Jensen knew because Johnny had told him as much one evening over Tequila shots.
“So don’t fucking think about it, you pervert,” Jensen had retorted. “You don’t try to imagine my sex life and I won’t try to imagine yours,” he’d shuddered. “Old person sex. Gross.”
Jensen got his head back in the present in time to hear Chad coldly ask Johnny if he had a problem. He put a hand to the Prospect’s arm and reassured him that Johnny was an okay guy.
At Happy Gok’s Pool Hall there were round robin tournaments held every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. To take part you needed either a UPA or WPA ranking or good stats at Gok’s.
Once upon a time Jensen had been the number one player at Gok’s, but that was over seven years ago now and he had to build up his standing again.
He spent the afternoon playing against rank amateurs and beating them easily. Jared turned up a little after six pm with four boxes of pizza and Jensen took a break. They went and sat in one of the booths, ate their pizza and drank beer. Jensen had one beer and then switched to soda. A handful of halfway decent players turned up as afternoon turned to evening, and Jensen watched them from a distance.
“Give me some cash,” he said to Jared. Jared handed over a fistful of twenties and Jensen put them in his wallet before heading back over to the tables. Jared stayed in the booth with Chad.
Jensen’s target was an older black man, tall and well-built with salt and pepper in his hair. Jensen watched his target beat his opponent easily and then asked the man if he’d like a game.
The man eyed him up and down suspiciously. “Where’s your cue?”
“Back home in Texas,” Jensen let his twang off leash. “I’m good man, worth your while, I promise.”
The man studied Jensen for a moment and then nodded. “Name’s Steve,” he said, sticking out a hand.
“Jensen.”
He picked one of the Pool Hall’s cues from the rack on the wall, tested the balance and then chalked the tip.
Jensen allowed himself to lose the game, but made sure that it was close. Steve was impressed and three of the other decent players who Jensen had noted earlier came across to test their mettle against him. He beat all of them, in exciting, closely fought matches.
“You should come back tomorrow,” Steve said. He explained to Jensen about the Club’s tournaments. “Come early, play off against some of us,” Steve gestured at himself and the other good players, “you might score yourself a wild card entry.”
Jensen grinned. “Sounds awesome. I’d love that.”
Jared and Chad had stayed well out of the way while Jensen was playing and they slipped outside while Jensen was having a drink at the bar with Steve and the other players.
Jensen made his excuses after two beers and headed after Jared. He was barely out the front door when Jared grabbed him and dragged him into the laneway. Jared shoved him up hard against a rough red-brick wall that was littered with black graffiti tags, his forearm at Jensen’s throat.
“Did you like that?” he snarled. “Flirting with all those guys? Shoving your ass at them?”
Jensen gaped at him. “Are you trashed?”
The pressure on his throat increased slightly and Jensen started to get pissed.
“Really? You’re actually gonna do this? I’m a hustler, Jared. Flirty is my default setting.”
Jared scowled. “You weren’t hustling those guys. You were just playing.”
“Right. Trying to convince them I was worth a wild card entry into tomorrow’s tournament. I was schmoozing.”
Jared raised his eyebrows. “Did you seriously just say schmoozing?”
Jensen rolled his eyes.
Jared eased off his throat and instead put his hands flat against the wall, on either side of Jensen’s head.
“Why were you wiggling your ass so much, then?”
Jensen bit at his bottom lip and pulled out his most seductive smile. “Oh, baby, were you jealous?”
Jared’s eyes darkened and not in a good way. The biker was seriously pissed and Jensen backtracked quickly. “I only did that when I knew you were looking,” he reached out and wrapped his arms around Jared’s waist. “I mean, all the guys I was playing with? Totally straight. Steve’s been married to his wife for thirty years. I was just…making sure you had something interesting to look at.”
“You were teasing me?” Jared still didn’t look happy, but he looked a lot less angry.
Jensen made his pupils dilate and his tongue dart out to swipe at his lips. “It’s only teasing if you don’t plan on following through.”
Jared moved cobra fast, and Jensen only just managed to get his hands up to stop himself from hitting the wall face first when the biker spun him around.
“Fucking tease,” Jared insisted, his breath warm and wet against the shell of Jensen’s ear.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Jensen asked, a little breathlessly.
A moment later Jensen’s jeans and briefs were down and his legs had been kicked apart.
At least Jared undid the button and the zip this time.
A click and a squelch and Jensen hissed as Jared pressed two slick fingers against his swollen rim. His ass felt tender and raw and Jensen was pretty sure it was going to hurt when Jared fucked him, but his stupid dick was still wildly enthusiastic about the idea.
“You always carry lube?” he asked.
“Be prepared,” Jared replied solemnly and then thrust his slick fingers up inside of Jensen.
“Fuck,” Jensen leaned into the wall, “I don’t think that’s how the Boy Scout salute goes.
“Right,” Jared agreed, finding Jensen’s prostate and pressing against it. “Would’ve needed three fingers for that.”
Jensen huffed as Jared pulled his fingers out and put on a condom. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”
“I was,” Jensen felt the sheathed head of Jared’s dick press against his opening. “One of my foster dads was a Scout Leader. He made me join,” he shoved himself up into Jensen. “Sick fucker he was too.”
“Explains a lot,’ Jensen panted. His eyes were closed against the burn and his cheek was scraping against the brick as Jared rocked into him, hard and fast.
Jensen got a hand on his dick and began to stroke.
“I say you could touch that?” Jared growled.
“Nope,” Jensen kept stroking himself.
“Don’t come until I say you can,” Jared said darkly.
“And if I do?”
“Got a cock cage in my toy box. I’ll make you wear it for a week, cock all soft and useless, locked up tight with a steel ring around your balls.”
Jensen groaned and fisted himself faster.
“You won’t be able to get hard,” Jared’s voice was coal-black now, low and raspy. “And I won’t let you come. But I’ll tease your cock head and finger your hole until you’re desperate, until every nerve ending in your body’s on fire and you need to come so badly that you’ve got tears running down your cheeks, pretty green eyes liquid with hurt.”
“Fuck!”
With every ounce of willpower that he had, Jensen took his hand off his dick and put it back against the wall. He was so turned on by Jared’s words, right on the edge, but he had a horrible suspicion that Jared wasn’t just talking dirty, that he’d actually do the things he was promising so darkly to do. And Jensen wasn’t sure he could actually handle that.
“Good boy,” Jared said and came hard.
He pulled out and yanked Jensen’s pants up.
“What?” Jensen spun around. “You fucker. Don’t you dare leave me like this!”
Jared’s smile was anything but reassuring. “We’re gonna go home now. The ride back’s gonna be such a bitch for you, what with the motor vibrating against your balls. Better make sure you don’t come or I’ll put the cage on you the moment we get home.”
Jensen gaped at him. “I fucking hate you,” he said as he did up his pants, careful not to touch his dick.
Jared leaned forward and kissed him, hard and possessive. “If you’re good for me tonight, I’ll let you come before we go to sleep.”
Jensen glared. Jared handed him a helmet with an evil smile and Jensen just knew that the biker was going to hit every pot hole he could on the way home.
--
Jensen wasn’t going down to the Pool Hall until five o’clock and Jared had promised to take him. Right now though, the VP was out, not at work-or at least not at MorningStar Motors, anyway. Jared was taking care of some Club business. One of the bookies who worked for them had been skimming the profits and reporting less to the Club than he was actually making. Unfortunately for him, Mark Sheppard was a whiz with numbers and he’d been found out.
Truthfully, Jensen was a little pissed that Jared had turned down Jensen’s offer to come and help. He was good in a fight and it hurt-maybe more than it should have-that Jared didn’t trust Jensen to have his back.
So Jensen sulked. And smoked. And occasionally jerked off into a wad of Kleenex whenever he thought about the sex marathon he and Jared’d had the previous night.
Jared had edged him for hours and what Jensen was starting to learn, was that he really fucking liked it, so long as he got to come eventually. And it wasn’t like Jared didn’t have to wait too. He’d been rock hard the entire time he’d been teasing Jensen, but he hadn’t come either. Not until he’d fucked Jensen. And boy, had their orgasms been worth the wait.
Jensen sighed. This waiting around was fucking bullshit. He was so bored. He went and played with the dogs for a bit, but there was only so much exciting yipping and drooling that he could take before the fact that he was getting covered in dog hair started to get annoying.
Jensen washed carefully and then decided to call Chris. Chris was pleased to hear from him and reassured him that he hadn’t had any trouble, either from Jensen’s dad or from anyone else.
They chatted for a while, about nothing in particular and then Jensen told Chris that he’d met a guy. “I ain’t saying it’s something,” he said, “but the sex is fucking awesome.”
“Is he a good guy?” Chris asked.
Jensen laughed. Jared Padalecki could never be described as a good guy, but Jensen couldn’t bring himself to say that he was a bad guy either.
“I dunno, Chris,” he said. “But…I think maybe I could like him.”
Mid-afternoon there was a knock on the front door and Jensen actually caught himself hoping that Chad had decided to visit, which just went to show how utterly bored he was.
He opened the door to reveal Mark Sheppard and a very short red-haired woman.
“Crossroads,” he said, the surprise showing in his voice.
Sheppard ran his eyes over Jensen. “If Jared is Moose, then I suppose you’d better be Squirrel.”
Jensen’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not a member. I didn’t think I rated a nickname.”
“Oh laddie,” the woman said, reaching up and patting Jensen’s cheek. “Jared’s crazy aboot you. You rate whatever ye want to rate.” She had a strong Scottish accent and Jensen could’ve listened to her talk all day.
“Now,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Are ye gonnie invite us in for a cuppa or are we gonnie stand on the door step all day?”
Jensen blinked. “Um. Sure,” he stepped back and widened the door. “Come in.”
Ruthie and Crossroads stepped past him and made themselves at home in the living room.
“I’ll have tea, Dearie,” Ruthie said. “With milk and one sugar.
Jensen checked in the cupboard and found a box of tea.
“What about you?” he asked Sheppard.
“Brought my own,” the Brit said.
Jensen made Ruthie’s tea and snagged himself a beer. Sheppard was sipping from a silver flask and smoking a fat cigar.
Jensen lit a Marlboro.
“I hear you’ve got yourself a wee tattoo,” Ruthie said.
Jensen nodded.
Ruthie smiled, her face scrunching up. “Can I see it?”
Jensen twisted around and then lifted his tee-shirt.
“Well now,” Ruthie said and Jensen wasn’t quite sure what to make of her tone. “The girls said, but I wanted to see it for myself,” she grinned. “Alaina’s nae gonnie like this.”
“Why not?”
Ruthie cackled. “Oh Darlin’, that tattoo marks you out as the Queen in Waiting.”
Jensen choked on his beer.
When he’d done coughing, Ruthie leaned in close and said, “And that makes you a threat.”
She looked positively delighted.
--
When Jared got home, he and Sheppard had an intense, hushed conversation out in the backyard, while Jensen scowled at them and chain-smoked. Ruthie sat prettily and stared vacantly out the window and Jensen wondered how it didn’t drive her absolutely crazy being excluded from all the important stuff.
Ruthie caught his pensive expression and smiled wickedly. “Lip readin’, Darlin’,” she said. “Useful skill. You should learn it.”
Jensen harrumphed. He would prefer just to be told things, but he guessed that if he had to be sneaky, he could do that.
“So what happened? What did Jared have to do?”
Ruthie cocked her head and looked down her nose at him with her eyes narrowed. “Nothing good. Are you really sure you want to know?”
Jensen met her gaze head on. “I dunno what you’ve heard about me, but I used to be HeyDay’s apprentice.”
“Oh, I know, Darlin. And when the goin’ got tough, you pinched a bag of money and ran.”
“I got no problem busting heads. But torturing an innocent person to put pressure on a guilty one?” Jensen shook his head. “Especially when you know that person doesn’t know anything anyway. I knew. HeyDay knew. He kept going because he wanted to. That’s why I took off.”
Ruthie held Jensen’s gaze and then gave him a small smile. “Well then,” she said. “Moose was able to recover just over half of the money that the bookie stole and he took several expensive paintings and pieces of jewelry to try to recoup the rest. And then he garrotted him. Squint’s on clean-up.”
Jensen nodded and tried not to let his emotions show on his face. He’d known intellectually that Jared was a killer, could even accept the occasional necessity of putting a bullet in someone’s head, but he hadn’t expected Jared to be so hands-on. A garrotting seemed so personal.
“What was the bookie’s name?” he asked.
“Sterling Brown,” Ruthie replied.
Jared and Sheppard came into the house and Jared went straight to their room to get changed.
Jensen waited a beat and then followed him.
“You okay?” he asked, picking up Jared’s discarded clothes and inspecting them for blood. There wasn’t any. Jensen frowned. Jared must’ve changed at the scene. Worn overalls or something.
Jared cocked his head. “You know.” He frowned. “Ruthie told you,” he shook his head. “That woman, she always knows everything. I swear she’s a mind reader or a witch or-”
“Or a really smart woman who could be really helpful to the Club if y’all could get over your sexism?”
Jensen could see Jared gearing up for an argument on the subject, so he forestalled him. “The thing with the bookie…do you wanna talk about it?”
Jared turned away. He switched the water on and stood with his back to Jensen while it heated up. “Me and Sterling, we had history. He,” Jared faltered. “He wasn’t a good man. I’m not sorry I killed him.” He stepped into the steaming water and Jensen watched from the other side of the glass as Jared tipped his head back and soaped himself up.
“You want some help in there?” Jensen asked.
“I’m good.”
Which meant he really wasn’t, because in the four days that Jensen had known him, Jared had never once turned down sex.
“Okay,” Jensen took another moment to appreciate the gloriousness of naked, wet Jared, and then turned. “I’ll see you out there.”
He headed for the door, but stopped when Jared called his name.
“Thanks,” Jared said. “For…you know.”
“Sure,” Jensen said and went back out to the living room.
--
Jared didn’t want the Club’s reputation to interfere in any way with Jensen’s pool playing, so Jared and Sheppard were incognito; no cuts, no colors, no patches. Not even soft colors. Jared was in baggy blue jeans, a grey NASA tee-shirt (giant geek) and a grey hoodie. Mark looked like an accountant in black pants and a white button-down shirt and Ruthie was wearing a tight, blood-red dress with a plunging neckline and a lot of make-up. She’d actually tried to drag Jensen into the bathroom earlier to put eyeliner on him, but he’d managed to fight her off. Jensen didn’t care how much eyeliner would ‘make his gorgeous big green eyes pop’; he didn’t do make-up.
Jensen was going to have to buy some new clothes soon, because he only had four outfits, in total. Today he was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a light blue chambray shirt, which looked very nice on him, if he did say so himself, but he was really starting to miss the extensive wardrobe he had back home. Jensen liked clothes. He liked to look good. So what?
Steve, Jensen’s buddy from yesterday was already at a table when Jensen’s party arrived. He looked up just as they walked in and Jensen smiled and waved. He felt Jared stiffen beside him and a moment later the biker’s arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close.
“Would you like to piss on me too?” Jensen said from behind a clenched smile.
Jared laughed. “Not one of my kinks.”
Before Jensen could respond, Jared pulled him around and kissed him very thoroughly, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping his ass.
Jensen wanted to be pissed at the show of dominance, but the way Jared’s tongue was plundering his mouth was just too fucking good. When Jared finally pulled away, Jensen’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide.
“Bastard,” he said, a little breathlessly.
“You love it,” Jared smirked at him, and then backed away and joined Sheppard and Ruthie at a booth in the bar area.
Jensen wiped his thumb over his lips and then made his way over to the tables.
Two of the men who were watching Steve play gave Jensen very unfriendly looks as he approached. Jensen nodded at them and smiled sunnily. The men turned their backs.
Steve pocketed the black. He shook hands with his opponent and then came across and slapped Jensen on the back. “Good to see you again,” he said. He looked over to where Jared was sitting with Ruthie, while Sheppard ordered them all drinks at the bar.
“That’s your fella, huh?”
Jensen rubbed at the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about the…display before.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m a bigot like those clowns?” he nodded toward the men who’d turned their backs on Jensen earlier. “I don’t care who you love, son.”
Jensen smiled. “Well that’s good to know, but I actually meant the whole ‘marking my territory’, caveman display. Jared can be…over-protective.”
Steve studied him for a moment. “Do you mean over-protective? Or do you mean controlling and dominating?”
“That too,” Jensen agreed. “But not in a bad way. I wouldn’t put up with that.”
“Okay,” Steve picked up a piece of chalk and began to apply it to the tip of his cue. “We gonna play?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jensen selected a cue of his own and followed suit.
Steve broke and pocketed two solids. “Just so’s you know,” he said, “if things change and you need help, you can talk to me.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said, and then proceeded to beat Steve fairly comprehensively so that the man would stop thinking of him as some kind of abuse victim, because Jensen really wouldn’t put up with that shit.
He wouldn’t.
Jensen hadn’t actually been planning to beat Steve until a tournament, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. This wasn’t a hustle. It didn’t matter if the opposition knew he was good. And at least the win got him the wild card invitation to the evening’s tournament that he’d been after.
The entry fee was $50.00.
Which he had to get from Jared.
Which Steve totally noticed.
Jensen thought about what Ruthie had said earlier, about Jared being crazy about him, and decided that he really needed to start exploiting that.
After all, apparently he was the Queen in waiting. Jensen snorted softly and shook his head. Well, he could certainly pull off high maintenance Drama Queen; especially if Jared was going to keep being a caveman
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