Fic: Late Bloomer (Jensen/Jared)
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 6,000
Warnings: Knotting AU, loner!virgin!omega!Jared, alpha!Jensen, heat!fic (and the inherent dub-con issues therein), self lubrication, first time, handjob, h/c
Notes: Before you even say it, yes, I know, I wrote another fic that cries out for a sequel. Sigh. My muse, she is for suck.
Summary - Far and away, being an omega is the least interesting thing about Jared.
Far and away, being an omega is the least interesting thing about Jared and yet it’s still the only thing about him that most people pay attention to. Omegas are crazy-rare, so much so that some people make the leap from ‘aberration’ to ‘abomination’. More times than Jared can count he’s overheard whispers about how it “goes against nature”, an alpha and a beta at the same time. Some of that might be specific to Jared , though, because for his body, screwing him over once wasn’t nearly enough.
Until puberty it hadn’t been all that much of an issue - people knew what he was, his reproductive type right there next to his blood type on every school and medical form since he was old enough to walk - but then the other kids in his class started showing, evolving more pronouncedly into groups of softer, friendly, docile betas and boisterous, aggressive alphas while Jared just didn’t. He grew of course, grew and grew and grew, bigger than any of the alphas in his high school, but he never went into a heat or rut.
By the time he turned eighteen all those assurances that he was just a late bloomer were devolving into worried glances, increasingly unbothered to be even half-hidden. By college graduation he’d been to a dozen different doctors, tried three times as many medications, behavioral therapies, watched enough specialty porn to make him want to claw his eyes out, all for nothing. To be honest Jared had given up on the idea a long time before that.
It’s two months after he finishes his Master’s degree when Jared moves into the third floor suite on Brewster Avenue. The place is nice, an old brownstone that’s been re-outfitted on the inside with the kind of amenities usually reserved for high-class hotels. Expensive as all fuck, especially for a kid just out of grad school, but one thing Jared can say for having exactly zero sexuality - it really frees up his social calendar.
He’d done a more rigorous curriculum than anybody else in the architecture track at school, worked more internships, finished more hours. Signed a two-year contract with Morgan, Kripke and Collins before he even had his diploma in hand. And hell, it’s not like he’s going to have anyone else to spend the money on - might as well enjoy the fruits of his labor.
He’s lugging one of the five giant boxes of books he couldn’t bear to get rid of up the stairs - he has movers for the big furniture, but it doesn’t feel right not to at least help out - when he practically mows down Jensen, the building owner and Jared’s new downstairs neighbor. They’ve met before on the several occasions Jared insisted on checking out the place before signing the lease but it’s still not exactly the impression Jared was hoping to make on his first day in the building. Especially not with the way alpha wafts off of Jensen like $300 cologne.
On their previous meetings he’s always seemed like a decent, easy-going guy, but then, he had also been trying to get Jared to rent a ludicrously expensive apartment at the time. He doesn’t seem like your average alpha, certainly doesn’t look it with his soft lips and his big, doe eyes, freaking freckles for crying out loud. But still, it’s hard to predict how any given alpha will react to a physical altercation, even an unintentional one, and Jared doesn’t know him well enough to hazard a guess.
“Whoa there, careful!” Jensen says, obviously startled. The box nearly tumbles out of Jared’s arms, the balance of it just enough off-center to want to teeter but then, thankfully, it’s being steadied from the other side.
“Got it?” The question comes with a smile peering around the other side of the box at Jared. Not, apparently, pissed off at the dumb, clumsy omega who nearly flattened him.
“Yeah,” Jared grunts, readjusting his grip, “Yeah, thanks.”
Jensen smiles again, brighter, the kind that probably makes betas whimper and fall to their knees for him. “You need a hand with all this?”
“Nah, I think we got it.” Jared shrugs as best he can under the circumstances. It’s probably stupid to turn down Jensen’s help, but Jared’s got just enough experience with alphas to be wary of starting out their power dynamics with a favor and just enough pride not to want anybody, let alone his neighbor, looking at him as some poor little thing in need of help all the time. Jared’s neither poor nor little, and he’s spent way too much of his life trying to prove to the world that he doesn’t need anybody to take care of him to let go of it now.
“Ok,” Jensen nods easily, hands hovering just off of the box for a second until he’s sure Jared’s really got it. “Let me know if you change your mind. You know where to find me!”
***
For the next several weeks, Jared’s contact with the alpha downstairs is limited to passing one another on the stairs or bumping into each other checking the mail. Casual stuff, and Jensen keeps it that way, never too inquisitive or too laden with innuendo. Enough so that Jared slowly stops bracing for the worst every time they see one another.
Naturally, Jared had had to explain his situation - no matter how many times he went over it, that never got less awkward - before he’d agreed to move in. The last thing he needed was a lease on the place if he was going to have to spend every day ducking an alpha who couldn’t take ‘never going to happen’ for an answer. Jensen doesn’t seem inclined to push the matter though, then or now, just reacts to Jared like any ordinary person on the street, and that’s refreshing.
That’s also why he doesn’t think anything of it the Saturday afternoon that Jensen shows up at his door asking to borrow some fabric softener.
Rummaging around in his laundry room cabinet probably helps to hide his flinch when Jensen asks, “You doing anything tonight?”
Covering the complete absence of enthusiasm in his voice wouldn’t be hard, Jared’s used to having to schmooze clients at work and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to at least be civil to the guy he pays rent to, but he still doesn’t bother. “Sorry, got plans.”
“Cool,” Jensen says, completely unfazed. “How about tomorrow?”
And see this? Exactly what Jared was afraid of.
Alphas aren’t inherently bad guys. Hell, Jared’s dad’s an alpha, so it’s nothing to do with that. It’s just that Jared’s had a lot of bad experiences on both the alpha and beta end of the spectrum. He can’t really blame them, it’s not all malicious. They’re just trying to make sense of him on terms they can relate to, which for most people means thinking of Jared as some sort of defective beta. He can’t knot, can’t even get it up, but technically speaking, he still has a hole. He doesn’t get wet, couldn’t possibly get pregnant, but still, it’s there, and that’s what most people get stuck on.
For betas that tends to mean treating him like an crippled baby bird, all coos and petting and trying to make him feel better when really it’s only that that’s making him feel bad. Alphas, on the other hand, have a less complex view of the problem. Honestly Jared has no clue what it is about them, maybe their knots interfere with the bloodflow to the brain or something, but he’s never met an one who didn’t somewhere, deep down, believe that Jared just needed the right dick to cure what ails him. It gets old really fast.
Facing that ‘I know what you need’ smile is one of Jared’s least favorite things in the whole world. It’s also the only way to handle alphas, so Jared finishes pouring up the fabric softener, pulls himself up to his full height and turns around to give Jensen the tersely polite spiel he perfected at age sixteen.
“Look, Jensen, you’re great, really. I’m sure you’re beating the betas away with a stick and you’ve never left anyone unsatisfied. You’re like magic in bed. That’s great. But you can’t fix me. Not you, not anybody. I don’t work like that. It’s nothing personal.”
The smile on his face feels stretched thin, tension all the way up to his eyeballs as he hands over the measuring cup full of thick, powder blue liquid. Jensen takes it from him gingerly, fingers carefully not touching Jared’s, smirking.
“Magic in bed,” he nods, the tilt of his mouth pulling a U-turn into a grin, “I may have that engraved on my headboard.”
Surprise or consternation or frustration could all easily be written across Jared’s expression - he’s certainly feeling all of them - so he’s not sure which one of them it is that makes Jensen roll his eyes.
“Look, Jared, you’re great, really,” he mimics back, more teasing than condescending. “And if things weren’t how they are, I would love to give you the personal tour of my bedroom, but just because I have a knot doesn’t mean I think with it all the time. It’s just the two of us here until I find somebody for the first floor and, full disclosure here, that’s not looking real likely in the near future. I thought it might be nice if we could hang out. I’ve never seen you have anybody over before, got the impression you don’t have many friends.”
“Oh.” Jared honestly can’t think of anything else to say.
“Yeah oh.” Jensen cocks his hip against Jared’s cabinet, face softening into something dangerously akin to, but not quite the same as, pity. “Tell you what, I’m gonna go downstairs, put on my laundry, order a couple of pizzas, maybe turn on the game. If you want to come, come. If not, I’ll have leftovers for the next couple of days. No hard feelings, ok?”
For another long moment he lingers, possibly waiting on Jared to agree, but that would again involve talking and Jared still has no idea what to say. Finally giving up Jensen nods to himself and does this smooth sort of body roll off of the cabinet, propelling himself into motion. He thanks Jared again before he’s lost around the corner, hefting the measuring cup and letting himself out with a soft click of the latch while Jared stays rooted on the spot, trying to figure out what just happened.
***
So, alright, maybe alphas and betas aren’t the only ones who unfairly typecast people.
Jensen is great. He’s everything Jared could have asked for in a best friend - relaxed and friendly, funny, totally accepting of Jared’s relative strangeness and utter lack of social skills. There are bumps in the road, of course, they don’t always agree and, as alphas tend to, Jensen gets protective, pushy on occasion when he thinks Jared’s working too hard or not taking care of himself properly.
He introduces Jared to a few of his friends, ones he’s obviously close with and trusts and who he equally obviously briefs on the circumstances beforehand. Jared’s alternately annoyed and grateful for that. He doesn’t care much for the idea of Jensen talking about him behind his back but he can’t deny that it’s kind of a relief not to have to explain himself on a basic biological level to all of them. So far, they’ve all been really cool about it.
It doesn’t slip his notice that everyone Jensen’s brought around him so far has been a little off from the reproductive norm - Danneel’s a female alpha who prefers betas of the petite, pretty and decidedly female persuasion, Misha’s an alpha too, right along with his wife and Jared has no clue how that works but they seem very happy together and Chris, possibly the butchest guy Jared’s ever met, is a beta, which has Jared suddenly wishing that Jensen would have given him a little heads-up session too because it’s incredibly hard not to stare slack-jawed once he works that one out. He’s not sure if Jensen’s trying to make a point or if that’s just the nature of who he is that he’s most comfortable around these people, considering that Jensen certainly isn’t anybody’s alpha male posterboy himself.
Regardless, it’s nice. Fun, even. For the first time since he was eleven Jared doesn’t feel like he’s standing on the wrong side of a window watching everybody else have a life and he can’t pretend that there’s anything to credit for that but Jensen.
About six months after Jared moves in, Jensen goes into rut. They don’t sit down and have a big conversation about it, Jared just knows. Couldn’t avoid knowing if he wanted to.
The whole second floor landing smells like Jensen’s been rubbing his balls all over it - now that Jared’s got that image in his head he can’t touch the bannister down there any more - and there’s loud, thudding music playing nearly 24 hours a day. More than once over the four days it lasts Jared considers calling Jensen and telling him he’ll happily listen to the beta the moment squeal in ecstasy through the floor if it’ll save him from one more repeat of that goddamn Nine Inch Nails song.
And there are betas, a whole stream of them. Presumably even someone as hot as Jensen - not having an interest doesn’t make Jared blind - has to double dip on occasion, but Jared’s never run into the same one twice; a smoky eyed redhead, a tiny brunette with a rack that even Jared can’t help but notice, a platinum blonde that would have to be taller than Jensen in heels, a pretty boy in a leather jacket who stops dead and stares like he just got a lifetime voucher for an all you can eat buffet when Jared passes him on the landing. There are others, Jared knows; has seen their cars, picked up their scents. He’s trying really hard not to think of his best friend as a slut.
Small inconveniences aside, though, Jared’s happier than he’s been in years, content with where his life is. He’s got a great job where he’s slowly moving up in the ranks, a great home, connections with people he’s not related to; even his mother has stopped calling to fuss over him as much.
Which is, of course, when his body decides to remind Jared that it hates him with a fiery passion. Emphasis on the fire.
He’s been off kilter for days now, fighting a low-grade fever. It’s flu season, it happens, should have made time to go in and get a vaccine. His focus is shot to hell because of it, that weird sort of high where everything is both unreal and far too acute. At work people keep shooting him looks but he makes it through the day alright, starts to get a little woozy on the drive home but holds it together.
By the time he makes it up the stairs - they have to be growing, there didn’t used to be this many steps - to his apartment, he’s spent, quivering so hard he can barely fit the key into the lock. His slacks and shirt hit the floor somewhere between the door and the bed, damp where he’s sweating like he ran home instead of driving. Promising himself he’ll call Jensen to bring him some Theraflu in a few hours if he’s not feeling better, Jared collapses on top of the covers and promptly blacks out.
***
Turns out, he doesn’t have to wait.
It can’t be more than an hour since he got home when Jared’s awoken - feeling even more miserable than when he fell asleep - by the sound of his front door slamming shut, Jensen shouting his name right on its heels. The noise makes Jared’s head throb but he can’t curl in on himself any further. His skin feels like someone held a blow torch to it, every tight breath moving him against sheets that grate at his skin like acid-soaked sandpaper. He wants to die.
“Jared?” Jensen goes from shouting to barely whispering, his hand sudden and searing on Jared’s bare shoulder. He’d scream but he can’t get enough air in to do more than whimper. “Jesus, fuck, Jay. Why didn’t you call me? Shit shit shit.”
Jared’s going to assume that Jensen’s not expecting an answer since he can hear him shuffling around the room, having a muffled phone conversation that Jared can only catch snippets of; “suppressants” and “really bad” and “every alpha in the neighborhood”.
He’s fading out again fast, mercifully so, but through the shimmering haze of it, he’d almost swear he feels Jensen’s lips graze his cheek.
***
When he wakes next Jared feels slightly less like his bones are about to turn into ash. The dipped-in-boiling-water sensation is still there, but it at least seems like he could feasibly survive, so that’s something. It takes him a minute to feel out more than that, so much of his brain devoted just to these few sensation. Once he does, he realizes he’s not alone in the bed, a long line of heat against his back that’s soothing instead of oppressive, slow circles being rubbed into his stomach.
“Tell me you didn’t realize,” Jensen says, lips grazing the curl of Jared’s ear. His body flushes with white heat so fast that Jared’s left gasping from it. “I can be less pissed at you if you didn’t seriously try to go through your very first heat by yourself.”
“Most people go through their first heat by themselves,” Jared grumbles back because it’s the closest he can get to latching onto what Jensen just said. His mind picks at it curiously, tries turning it over and over to make it fit into something like sense. It would help if Jensen’s thumb rubbing at his stomach weren’t so damn distracting.
“You’re a 24 year old omega, Jared, you don’t think there’s a chance your experience might be a little atypical?” Jensen’s voice is tight, clearly pissed but trying to cover it. Jared appreciates the effort, he’s too busy freaking out to deal with Jensen’s issues just now.
“I can’t be in heat.” The words come out slurred, too stunned to even make his mouth work around the shapes properly. “I don’t go into heat. I can’t.”
Jensen’s arm tightens around him for a second in what might be meant as reassurance or sympathy, he can’t tell, Jared’s entire body tuning in sharply to the fact that Jensen is spooned up behind him, breathing against his skin. “Apparently you can, baby.”
“Not a baby,” Jared huffs. It comes out pretty weak, made worse by the way he wiggles back closer to Jensen. It’s like he’s having a slow motion panic attack, the justifiable terror and incredulity barely soaking in beyond the surface levels as the rest of him writhes with an alien hunger. Jensen’s touch is a balm on that need, a fact that helps with one of his problems while making the other substantially worse.
Jensen makes a soft noise Jared can’t make heads or tails of. “Yeah, picked up on that.”
The way he breathes in deep, nose buried in Jared’s hair is a lot less ambiguous. Heat spikes in Jared’s veins again, a heady mixture of shame and raw, feral pleasure. It isn’t until then that he really becomes aware of the stiff line of Jensen’s cock pressed up against his ass through Jensen’s pants and his own briefs. It’s thick and so hot even through all of that fabric, nothing like anything Jared’s ever felt before. He doesn’t intend to rub back against it but then he is and his entire lower body clenches, starved.
Now that he’s looking for it, he can feel where he’s wet, the back of his underwear clinging and sticky as well as the front as he leaks slick and precome. Hard. Wet. Two completely new sensations both slamming into him at once, vicious and demanding.
“Jared.” His name comes out of Jensen’s mouth in a groan and Jared’s suddenly crushed by the urge to hear that sound on permanent repeat. “Stop that.”
His hand slides down to Jared’s hip, fuzzy, tingling tracks of heat left shimmering in his wake only to pop starburst bright when those fingers dig in against the wing of bone trying to hold him still. He’s right, of course, Jared’s not ready for what his body’s begging for, hasn’t given it any serious thought since he was seventeen and stroked his dick raw trying to make it get hard. Knowing that doesn’t mean stopping’s any easier.
He only just manages it with the help of Jensen’s bruising grip, whines once he has, unable keep the unhappy, shameful noises down. Jensen shushes him, nosing at the hinge of Jared’s jaw and breathes deep again like he can’t help himself.
“Christ, baby. Doubled the dose on the suppressants and you still smell like sex on legs. Surprised we haven’t got guys banging down the door.”
A tar-black, filthy thrill oozes through Jared’s system at the thought; strangers getting turned on by his scent and following it back here, alphas hard and dripping, just dying to get a shot at him, betas slick and desperate for his knot, pressing themselves up against his door to try and get closer, fights breaking out over who gets to have him first.
Oh fuck. Oh shit. He takes back everything bad he ever thought about people on their cycle - how could anyone be less than a complete, wanton whore with this crawling under their skin?
“Jensen. Jensen, I can’t-“ He’s not even sure what he’s trying to say, certainly doesn’t know what he expects Jensen to do about any of it but grabbing Jared’s hand and pushing it down between his own legs definitely wasn’t it.
“It’s ok,” Jensen says, a shatter-glass parody of soothing, “You just have to take the edge off. It’ll get better once you work some of it off.”
As he’s talking, he’s manipulating Jared’s fingers under the waistband of his underwear to curl around the aching throb of his cock. Even that little touch is enough to make him hiss and flinch, grinding back against Jensen like he can escape his own hand. Jensen shushes him again and tightens Jared’s grip instead of letting it loosen. Impossibly, that helps, flips the sensation over from pure pain to something gritty and addictive.
The fabric of his briefs is soaked to transparency when Jared sneaks a furtive glance down, dark, purpled flesh wrapped up in his own long fingers and Jensen’s thicker, shorter ones under a milky layer of thin cotton. It’s a punch to the gut how good, how- how sexy that looks. His stomach clenches and the mouth of his slit spreads visibly under the clinging fabric around another fat pulse of precome. The ticklish flow of more slick over his ass cheeks and between his thighs isn’t any less intense, but at least he doesn’t see it.
Between Jensen’s hand and his briefs Jared can barely move at all, not that it really matters since Jensen’s doing all of the work anyway, just using Jared’s palm as a buffer as he gives the shaft short, smooth strokes that quickly turn faster and choppier. Purely on reflex Jared buries his face in the sweat-damp pillow, the fabric hot and stifling but still less overwhelming than Jensen’s fingertips - just Jensen’s, Jared doesn’t have that kind of coordination now - swiping over the head. It’s like a white-hot icepick shoving up into his balls in a really, really good way. His ass clenches down with it, another flood of fluid pumping out of him, probably drenching Jensen’s pants right along with Jared’s underwear.
“I’m just gonna- Just trust me, ok?” Jensen shakes out as if Jared has anything remotely related to the willpower to say no anyway.
He abandons Jared’s hand - it keeps moving all on its own, jerking Jared of choppy and fast - to slide his fist down around the base, their knuckles bumping on every downstroke. The first cautious skate of his fingers around the edge of the knot might as well be a kick square to the chest for what it does to Jared’s lungs. He gasps for breath, flailing uncontrollably as Jensen’s hand tightens, a rough massage around the fat, aching swell at the base of Jared’s cock. Jensen hangs onto him through it, one arm coming around Jared’s chest, face plastered against the side of Jared’s to hold him still, the hot, powerful, turned-on smell of him like a corkscrew twisting into Jared’s gut as he milks Jared’s knot.
Unbidden, parts of Jared’s brain he’s never met before start whispering to him about how empty he feels and wouldn’t it be better, so much better, if he had something inside of him while Jensen works him over? If that something was Jensen’s cock, his knot? How big it would be and how full it would make him feel. How it would reach of all of those stinging, untouched places deep inside and soothe them with a thick, heavy load of come, all sticky and hot and right, filling him up, breeding him up.
A dull, metallic roar floods Jared’s ears like listening to the swirl of air inside a conch shell, black and white tie-dye morphing on the insides of his eyelids as his skin sings, menthol-cool rush melting into heat and back, again and again until the world just fizzles away.
***
Something rough and sticky is jostling Jared around, wet, gross sludge licking at his belly like a cold tongue and down his legs, an army of slugs marching down his thighs and-
What the fuck?
Jared jerks awake with his heart hammering against his ribcage and, “Slugs,” tripping off of his tongue.
Jensen’s leaning over the foot of the bed staring at him, mouth quirked up at the corners. “Oh really?” he laughs, tugging Jared’s briefs the rest of the way off and tossing them into a mound of what Jared can only assume is the top sheet since he’s not covered in one. Or anything at all, for that matter. Aside from itchy, dried sweat and the unpleasantly cool, slippery mess of his own fluids.
Oh why couldn’t he have just died earlier like he’d thought he was going to?
“I am so sorry,” does not even come close to expressing what he’s feeling right now, but at least it’s polite. His mama would be proud. Well, alright, probably not given the circumstances. He’s going to stop thinking about his mother now.
Pulling a pillow over his sort-of-mostly-soft dick isn’t the most tactful play in the book either but he’s never actually been naked in front of anyone who wasn’t a doctor before and he’s never been covered in sexual evidence period, so the two together and in front of Jensen, his best friend who just helped him achieve the first orgasm of his life, isn’t exactly an ideal scenario. The pillow only really helps a little.
What helps more is Jensen sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He rests a hand on Jared’s arm, perfectly innocuous except for how well Jared remembers the shape of that hand on top of his own stroking his cock, the feel of those fingers dragging across his knot, the way his mind is putting together the knobs of Jensen’s knuckles with every heat-porn he’s ever watched where the beta’s down on his knees begging and the alpha gives him a thick wad of fingers to bear down on and prove how bad he wants it.
Great. One orgasm and he’s a sex fiend.
“Woah, hey.” Suddenly he has Jensen’s hands on his face instead, forcing him to look into those thick-lashed eyes that have no business on an alpha. He doesn’t realize how hard his heart is beating until Jensen says, “Don’t get yourself all worked up. Just breathe, enjoy the ebb while it lasts.”
He doesn’t let go until Jared’s made himself draw in a couple of deep, shaky breaths - pointedly ignoring the fact that Jensen’s scent all muddled up with his own makes his ass clench hungrily again and his dick dent the pillow.
It at least buys him some time to get a grip when Jensen leaves him on the bed and starts gathering up the pile of soiled linens. Jared ought to say ‘leave them’, tell Jensen he can handle this on his own, every alpha instinct he has is screaming at him to do it, but he doesn’t. He’s never really had to lie to Jensen before and he’s not sure how to go about it.
Jensen comes back to the bedroom laundryless with a couple of prescription bottles and a gigantic glass of water. Jared takes a sip while Jensen counts out the medication, not appreciating how thirsty he is until the water hits his lips.
“You’re damn lucky Chris had an emergency stash of suppressants,” Jensen says, tipping what looks like way too many pills into Jared’s hand. “I can cover you on the rut, but I’m SOL when it comes to heat.”
Without any thought at all, Jared hears, “Do you fuck him?” fly out of his mouth. His face burns with an embarrassed rush of blood and he quickly sets about swallowing the pills just to shut his stupid mouth up.
“Chris?” Jensen chokes, expression caught somewhere between disgusted and scandalized.
“I just thought…” There really weren’t nearly enough of those pills, Jared decides, staring down at his now empty hand, wishing he could rewind the entire conversation. Jensen’s going out of his way to help him when Jared clearly has no clue what he’s doing and he goes and repays him by acting like a jealous beta? Perfect. Just what he needed from today.
“That I’m an alpha and he’s a beta, so why not?” Jensen sounds slightly huffy about it, but he doesn’t really look upset. More like he’s had to deal with that assumption before. Jared knows exactly the way that sounds - he’s spent his whole life with people assuming things about him. “No. It’s- Mixing friends and sex doesn’t usually work out so great.”
There’s something about the way Jensen’s eyes trail over Jared’s face that makes it hard to swallow. Jared takes another drink to try and clear his throat but he can’t really think of anything to say once it is.
That’s a whole other world of things Jared hasn’t considered yet. Admittedly he’s been a bit preoccupied since he found out what’s happening to him, but it’s certainly something worth thinking about. Jared doesn’t date, hasn’t ever. In high school everyone thought he was bizarre for what he was and by the time he got to college it seemed like everyone was past the point where they could just date to spend time together and it wasn’t really fair to lead someone on if sex, let alone marriage and a family, was never going to be on the menu. He’s lived like that for so long he doesn’t even remember if he ever wanted those things for himself, hasn’t got a clue what he would do if he was actually attracted to someone.
What beautiful irony - he’s spent his whole adult life wanting to be normal and now he’s just wishing things could be simple like they used to be. A few days ago he wouldn’t have had to wonder if Jensen’s letting him down easy or warning him about what could be or just imparting a few words of experience to the wayward newbie. He wouldn’t have gotten preoccupied with whether Jensen was thinking about the same thing he was when Jared was getting off or if what Jensen said way back when about giving Jared a personal tour of his bedroom still holds true. He wouldn’t have worried if the flip his stomach gives at that idea is excitement or nerves or both. And he definitely wouldn’t have been thinking about Jensen’s lips and whether they feel as soft as they look, what it would be like to kiss him, if he’d be able to tell it was Jared’s first.
Oh God, he wants his best friend. Isn’t that just the worst kind of cliché?
Like he knows exactly what’s going through Jared’s head, Jensen cuts him off with, “Don’t,” before Jared even gets halfway through his name.
His hands work back through his hair - a total mess from where the product has clumped together with sweat and dried again - and he breathes out a sigh like a man walking toward the firing squad.
“I know it’s confusing for you. I can’t even imagine, Jared. And there’s…” He bites his lip, which Jared knows Jensen does all the time but has never been nearly this distracting before. “Once this is over we should really talk, about a lot of things. And then, you know, if you want to- or if you don’t, that’s ok too, no pressure, there’s not a right answer here or anything…” Jensen’s stammering, flustered, shockingly un-Jensen-like and Jared’s not really sure what to make of it, but he’s finding it strangely adorable. “Anyway. The point is, you’re not going to be in any kind of condition to make any big life decisions or whatever for at least a few days and I’m not going to- we’re not going to- Nothing is going to happen. That’s what I’m saying.” Jensen huffs, cheeks violently pink. “You’re safe with me.”
A highly inappropriate laugh nearly shakes free of Jared because out of all of the things he’s been driving himself crazy with so far, whether or not he could trust Jensen has never crossed his mind.
“I know.”
The response make Jensen grin, an unbridledly pleased look under his fuchsia cheeks that he tries to bite away by chewing at the corner of his lip.
“Well, good. You should.” He smacks Jared lightly on the leg, clearing his throat so he sounds slightly less elated when he orders, “Now get up so I can lay out some towels before the next wave hits and you sweat through the sheets again.”
Since Jensen generously refrains from pointing out that it wasn’t so much sweat that was the problem with the sheets, Jared doesn’t complain that he has to awkwardly find a way to stand while still covering himself with the pillow.
It hits him as he’s shiftily trying to dig out a pair of pajama pants from his dresser without exposing himself that whatever else they may have to talk about later - he’s not going to think about it yet, he’s not; the butterflies in his stomach need no encouragement to stoke the banked heat he can feel building again under his skin - there’s still one thing that needs to be said here and now.
“Jensen.”
Green eyes look up curiously from spreading out a stack of bath towels over the glaringly obvious wet spot in the middle of the mattress. “Yeah, Jay?”
Jared has to smile at him, looking all domestic and care-taking - all the parts of alphadom that none of the big macho-boys ever want to admit to. Completely ignores the sudden, clingy slickness trying to ooze down his inner thighs over it.
“Thank you.”
Cheeks going just the faintest bit pink again, Jensen smiles back, eyes too open and serious to match the teasing curve of his mouth.
“Anything you need.”
Sequel: Loud and Clear
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 6,000
Warnings: Knotting AU, loner!virgin!omega!Jared, alpha!Jensen, heat!fic (and the inherent dub-con issues therein), self lubrication, first time, handjob, h/c
Notes: Before you even say it, yes, I know, I wrote another fic that cries out for a sequel. Sigh. My muse, she is for suck.
Summary - Far and away, being an omega is the least interesting thing about Jared.
Far and away, being an omega is the least interesting thing about Jared and yet it’s still the only thing about him that most people pay attention to. Omegas are crazy-rare, so much so that some people make the leap from ‘aberration’ to ‘abomination’. More times than Jared can count he’s overheard whispers about how it “goes against nature”, an alpha and a beta at the same time. Some of that might be specific to Jared , though, because for his body, screwing him over once wasn’t nearly enough.
Until puberty it hadn’t been all that much of an issue - people knew what he was, his reproductive type right there next to his blood type on every school and medical form since he was old enough to walk - but then the other kids in his class started showing, evolving more pronouncedly into groups of softer, friendly, docile betas and boisterous, aggressive alphas while Jared just didn’t. He grew of course, grew and grew and grew, bigger than any of the alphas in his high school, but he never went into a heat or rut.
By the time he turned eighteen all those assurances that he was just a late bloomer were devolving into worried glances, increasingly unbothered to be even half-hidden. By college graduation he’d been to a dozen different doctors, tried three times as many medications, behavioral therapies, watched enough specialty porn to make him want to claw his eyes out, all for nothing. To be honest Jared had given up on the idea a long time before that.
It’s two months after he finishes his Master’s degree when Jared moves into the third floor suite on Brewster Avenue. The place is nice, an old brownstone that’s been re-outfitted on the inside with the kind of amenities usually reserved for high-class hotels. Expensive as all fuck, especially for a kid just out of grad school, but one thing Jared can say for having exactly zero sexuality - it really frees up his social calendar.
He’d done a more rigorous curriculum than anybody else in the architecture track at school, worked more internships, finished more hours. Signed a two-year contract with Morgan, Kripke and Collins before he even had his diploma in hand. And hell, it’s not like he’s going to have anyone else to spend the money on - might as well enjoy the fruits of his labor.
He’s lugging one of the five giant boxes of books he couldn’t bear to get rid of up the stairs - he has movers for the big furniture, but it doesn’t feel right not to at least help out - when he practically mows down Jensen, the building owner and Jared’s new downstairs neighbor. They’ve met before on the several occasions Jared insisted on checking out the place before signing the lease but it’s still not exactly the impression Jared was hoping to make on his first day in the building. Especially not with the way alpha wafts off of Jensen like $300 cologne.
On their previous meetings he’s always seemed like a decent, easy-going guy, but then, he had also been trying to get Jared to rent a ludicrously expensive apartment at the time. He doesn’t seem like your average alpha, certainly doesn’t look it with his soft lips and his big, doe eyes, freaking freckles for crying out loud. But still, it’s hard to predict how any given alpha will react to a physical altercation, even an unintentional one, and Jared doesn’t know him well enough to hazard a guess.
“Whoa there, careful!” Jensen says, obviously startled. The box nearly tumbles out of Jared’s arms, the balance of it just enough off-center to want to teeter but then, thankfully, it’s being steadied from the other side.
“Got it?” The question comes with a smile peering around the other side of the box at Jared. Not, apparently, pissed off at the dumb, clumsy omega who nearly flattened him.
“Yeah,” Jared grunts, readjusting his grip, “Yeah, thanks.”
Jensen smiles again, brighter, the kind that probably makes betas whimper and fall to their knees for him. “You need a hand with all this?”
“Nah, I think we got it.” Jared shrugs as best he can under the circumstances. It’s probably stupid to turn down Jensen’s help, but Jared’s got just enough experience with alphas to be wary of starting out their power dynamics with a favor and just enough pride not to want anybody, let alone his neighbor, looking at him as some poor little thing in need of help all the time. Jared’s neither poor nor little, and he’s spent way too much of his life trying to prove to the world that he doesn’t need anybody to take care of him to let go of it now.
“Ok,” Jensen nods easily, hands hovering just off of the box for a second until he’s sure Jared’s really got it. “Let me know if you change your mind. You know where to find me!”
***
For the next several weeks, Jared’s contact with the alpha downstairs is limited to passing one another on the stairs or bumping into each other checking the mail. Casual stuff, and Jensen keeps it that way, never too inquisitive or too laden with innuendo. Enough so that Jared slowly stops bracing for the worst every time they see one another.
Naturally, Jared had had to explain his situation - no matter how many times he went over it, that never got less awkward - before he’d agreed to move in. The last thing he needed was a lease on the place if he was going to have to spend every day ducking an alpha who couldn’t take ‘never going to happen’ for an answer. Jensen doesn’t seem inclined to push the matter though, then or now, just reacts to Jared like any ordinary person on the street, and that’s refreshing.
That’s also why he doesn’t think anything of it the Saturday afternoon that Jensen shows up at his door asking to borrow some fabric softener.
Rummaging around in his laundry room cabinet probably helps to hide his flinch when Jensen asks, “You doing anything tonight?”
Covering the complete absence of enthusiasm in his voice wouldn’t be hard, Jared’s used to having to schmooze clients at work and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to at least be civil to the guy he pays rent to, but he still doesn’t bother. “Sorry, got plans.”
“Cool,” Jensen says, completely unfazed. “How about tomorrow?”
And see this? Exactly what Jared was afraid of.
Alphas aren’t inherently bad guys. Hell, Jared’s dad’s an alpha, so it’s nothing to do with that. It’s just that Jared’s had a lot of bad experiences on both the alpha and beta end of the spectrum. He can’t really blame them, it’s not all malicious. They’re just trying to make sense of him on terms they can relate to, which for most people means thinking of Jared as some sort of defective beta. He can’t knot, can’t even get it up, but technically speaking, he still has a hole. He doesn’t get wet, couldn’t possibly get pregnant, but still, it’s there, and that’s what most people get stuck on.
For betas that tends to mean treating him like an crippled baby bird, all coos and petting and trying to make him feel better when really it’s only that that’s making him feel bad. Alphas, on the other hand, have a less complex view of the problem. Honestly Jared has no clue what it is about them, maybe their knots interfere with the bloodflow to the brain or something, but he’s never met an one who didn’t somewhere, deep down, believe that Jared just needed the right dick to cure what ails him. It gets old really fast.
Facing that ‘I know what you need’ smile is one of Jared’s least favorite things in the whole world. It’s also the only way to handle alphas, so Jared finishes pouring up the fabric softener, pulls himself up to his full height and turns around to give Jensen the tersely polite spiel he perfected at age sixteen.
“Look, Jensen, you’re great, really. I’m sure you’re beating the betas away with a stick and you’ve never left anyone unsatisfied. You’re like magic in bed. That’s great. But you can’t fix me. Not you, not anybody. I don’t work like that. It’s nothing personal.”
The smile on his face feels stretched thin, tension all the way up to his eyeballs as he hands over the measuring cup full of thick, powder blue liquid. Jensen takes it from him gingerly, fingers carefully not touching Jared’s, smirking.
“Magic in bed,” he nods, the tilt of his mouth pulling a U-turn into a grin, “I may have that engraved on my headboard.”
Surprise or consternation or frustration could all easily be written across Jared’s expression - he’s certainly feeling all of them - so he’s not sure which one of them it is that makes Jensen roll his eyes.
“Look, Jared, you’re great, really,” he mimics back, more teasing than condescending. “And if things weren’t how they are, I would love to give you the personal tour of my bedroom, but just because I have a knot doesn’t mean I think with it all the time. It’s just the two of us here until I find somebody for the first floor and, full disclosure here, that’s not looking real likely in the near future. I thought it might be nice if we could hang out. I’ve never seen you have anybody over before, got the impression you don’t have many friends.”
“Oh.” Jared honestly can’t think of anything else to say.
“Yeah oh.” Jensen cocks his hip against Jared’s cabinet, face softening into something dangerously akin to, but not quite the same as, pity. “Tell you what, I’m gonna go downstairs, put on my laundry, order a couple of pizzas, maybe turn on the game. If you want to come, come. If not, I’ll have leftovers for the next couple of days. No hard feelings, ok?”
For another long moment he lingers, possibly waiting on Jared to agree, but that would again involve talking and Jared still has no idea what to say. Finally giving up Jensen nods to himself and does this smooth sort of body roll off of the cabinet, propelling himself into motion. He thanks Jared again before he’s lost around the corner, hefting the measuring cup and letting himself out with a soft click of the latch while Jared stays rooted on the spot, trying to figure out what just happened.
***
So, alright, maybe alphas and betas aren’t the only ones who unfairly typecast people.
Jensen is great. He’s everything Jared could have asked for in a best friend - relaxed and friendly, funny, totally accepting of Jared’s relative strangeness and utter lack of social skills. There are bumps in the road, of course, they don’t always agree and, as alphas tend to, Jensen gets protective, pushy on occasion when he thinks Jared’s working too hard or not taking care of himself properly.
He introduces Jared to a few of his friends, ones he’s obviously close with and trusts and who he equally obviously briefs on the circumstances beforehand. Jared’s alternately annoyed and grateful for that. He doesn’t care much for the idea of Jensen talking about him behind his back but he can’t deny that it’s kind of a relief not to have to explain himself on a basic biological level to all of them. So far, they’ve all been really cool about it.
It doesn’t slip his notice that everyone Jensen’s brought around him so far has been a little off from the reproductive norm - Danneel’s a female alpha who prefers betas of the petite, pretty and decidedly female persuasion, Misha’s an alpha too, right along with his wife and Jared has no clue how that works but they seem very happy together and Chris, possibly the butchest guy Jared’s ever met, is a beta, which has Jared suddenly wishing that Jensen would have given him a little heads-up session too because it’s incredibly hard not to stare slack-jawed once he works that one out. He’s not sure if Jensen’s trying to make a point or if that’s just the nature of who he is that he’s most comfortable around these people, considering that Jensen certainly isn’t anybody’s alpha male posterboy himself.
Regardless, it’s nice. Fun, even. For the first time since he was eleven Jared doesn’t feel like he’s standing on the wrong side of a window watching everybody else have a life and he can’t pretend that there’s anything to credit for that but Jensen.
About six months after Jared moves in, Jensen goes into rut. They don’t sit down and have a big conversation about it, Jared just knows. Couldn’t avoid knowing if he wanted to.
The whole second floor landing smells like Jensen’s been rubbing his balls all over it - now that Jared’s got that image in his head he can’t touch the bannister down there any more - and there’s loud, thudding music playing nearly 24 hours a day. More than once over the four days it lasts Jared considers calling Jensen and telling him he’ll happily listen to the beta the moment squeal in ecstasy through the floor if it’ll save him from one more repeat of that goddamn Nine Inch Nails song.
And there are betas, a whole stream of them. Presumably even someone as hot as Jensen - not having an interest doesn’t make Jared blind - has to double dip on occasion, but Jared’s never run into the same one twice; a smoky eyed redhead, a tiny brunette with a rack that even Jared can’t help but notice, a platinum blonde that would have to be taller than Jensen in heels, a pretty boy in a leather jacket who stops dead and stares like he just got a lifetime voucher for an all you can eat buffet when Jared passes him on the landing. There are others, Jared knows; has seen their cars, picked up their scents. He’s trying really hard not to think of his best friend as a slut.
Small inconveniences aside, though, Jared’s happier than he’s been in years, content with where his life is. He’s got a great job where he’s slowly moving up in the ranks, a great home, connections with people he’s not related to; even his mother has stopped calling to fuss over him as much.
Which is, of course, when his body decides to remind Jared that it hates him with a fiery passion. Emphasis on the fire.
He’s been off kilter for days now, fighting a low-grade fever. It’s flu season, it happens, should have made time to go in and get a vaccine. His focus is shot to hell because of it, that weird sort of high where everything is both unreal and far too acute. At work people keep shooting him looks but he makes it through the day alright, starts to get a little woozy on the drive home but holds it together.
By the time he makes it up the stairs - they have to be growing, there didn’t used to be this many steps - to his apartment, he’s spent, quivering so hard he can barely fit the key into the lock. His slacks and shirt hit the floor somewhere between the door and the bed, damp where he’s sweating like he ran home instead of driving. Promising himself he’ll call Jensen to bring him some Theraflu in a few hours if he’s not feeling better, Jared collapses on top of the covers and promptly blacks out.
***
Turns out, he doesn’t have to wait.
It can’t be more than an hour since he got home when Jared’s awoken - feeling even more miserable than when he fell asleep - by the sound of his front door slamming shut, Jensen shouting his name right on its heels. The noise makes Jared’s head throb but he can’t curl in on himself any further. His skin feels like someone held a blow torch to it, every tight breath moving him against sheets that grate at his skin like acid-soaked sandpaper. He wants to die.
“Jared?” Jensen goes from shouting to barely whispering, his hand sudden and searing on Jared’s bare shoulder. He’d scream but he can’t get enough air in to do more than whimper. “Jesus, fuck, Jay. Why didn’t you call me? Shit shit shit.”
Jared’s going to assume that Jensen’s not expecting an answer since he can hear him shuffling around the room, having a muffled phone conversation that Jared can only catch snippets of; “suppressants” and “really bad” and “every alpha in the neighborhood”.
He’s fading out again fast, mercifully so, but through the shimmering haze of it, he’d almost swear he feels Jensen’s lips graze his cheek.
***
When he wakes next Jared feels slightly less like his bones are about to turn into ash. The dipped-in-boiling-water sensation is still there, but it at least seems like he could feasibly survive, so that’s something. It takes him a minute to feel out more than that, so much of his brain devoted just to these few sensation. Once he does, he realizes he’s not alone in the bed, a long line of heat against his back that’s soothing instead of oppressive, slow circles being rubbed into his stomach.
“Tell me you didn’t realize,” Jensen says, lips grazing the curl of Jared’s ear. His body flushes with white heat so fast that Jared’s left gasping from it. “I can be less pissed at you if you didn’t seriously try to go through your very first heat by yourself.”
“Most people go through their first heat by themselves,” Jared grumbles back because it’s the closest he can get to latching onto what Jensen just said. His mind picks at it curiously, tries turning it over and over to make it fit into something like sense. It would help if Jensen’s thumb rubbing at his stomach weren’t so damn distracting.
“You’re a 24 year old omega, Jared, you don’t think there’s a chance your experience might be a little atypical?” Jensen’s voice is tight, clearly pissed but trying to cover it. Jared appreciates the effort, he’s too busy freaking out to deal with Jensen’s issues just now.
“I can’t be in heat.” The words come out slurred, too stunned to even make his mouth work around the shapes properly. “I don’t go into heat. I can’t.”
Jensen’s arm tightens around him for a second in what might be meant as reassurance or sympathy, he can’t tell, Jared’s entire body tuning in sharply to the fact that Jensen is spooned up behind him, breathing against his skin. “Apparently you can, baby.”
“Not a baby,” Jared huffs. It comes out pretty weak, made worse by the way he wiggles back closer to Jensen. It’s like he’s having a slow motion panic attack, the justifiable terror and incredulity barely soaking in beyond the surface levels as the rest of him writhes with an alien hunger. Jensen’s touch is a balm on that need, a fact that helps with one of his problems while making the other substantially worse.
Jensen makes a soft noise Jared can’t make heads or tails of. “Yeah, picked up on that.”
The way he breathes in deep, nose buried in Jared’s hair is a lot less ambiguous. Heat spikes in Jared’s veins again, a heady mixture of shame and raw, feral pleasure. It isn’t until then that he really becomes aware of the stiff line of Jensen’s cock pressed up against his ass through Jensen’s pants and his own briefs. It’s thick and so hot even through all of that fabric, nothing like anything Jared’s ever felt before. He doesn’t intend to rub back against it but then he is and his entire lower body clenches, starved.
Now that he’s looking for it, he can feel where he’s wet, the back of his underwear clinging and sticky as well as the front as he leaks slick and precome. Hard. Wet. Two completely new sensations both slamming into him at once, vicious and demanding.
“Jared.” His name comes out of Jensen’s mouth in a groan and Jared’s suddenly crushed by the urge to hear that sound on permanent repeat. “Stop that.”
His hand slides down to Jared’s hip, fuzzy, tingling tracks of heat left shimmering in his wake only to pop starburst bright when those fingers dig in against the wing of bone trying to hold him still. He’s right, of course, Jared’s not ready for what his body’s begging for, hasn’t given it any serious thought since he was seventeen and stroked his dick raw trying to make it get hard. Knowing that doesn’t mean stopping’s any easier.
He only just manages it with the help of Jensen’s bruising grip, whines once he has, unable keep the unhappy, shameful noises down. Jensen shushes him, nosing at the hinge of Jared’s jaw and breathes deep again like he can’t help himself.
“Christ, baby. Doubled the dose on the suppressants and you still smell like sex on legs. Surprised we haven’t got guys banging down the door.”
A tar-black, filthy thrill oozes through Jared’s system at the thought; strangers getting turned on by his scent and following it back here, alphas hard and dripping, just dying to get a shot at him, betas slick and desperate for his knot, pressing themselves up against his door to try and get closer, fights breaking out over who gets to have him first.
Oh fuck. Oh shit. He takes back everything bad he ever thought about people on their cycle - how could anyone be less than a complete, wanton whore with this crawling under their skin?
“Jensen. Jensen, I can’t-“ He’s not even sure what he’s trying to say, certainly doesn’t know what he expects Jensen to do about any of it but grabbing Jared’s hand and pushing it down between his own legs definitely wasn’t it.
“It’s ok,” Jensen says, a shatter-glass parody of soothing, “You just have to take the edge off. It’ll get better once you work some of it off.”
As he’s talking, he’s manipulating Jared’s fingers under the waistband of his underwear to curl around the aching throb of his cock. Even that little touch is enough to make him hiss and flinch, grinding back against Jensen like he can escape his own hand. Jensen shushes him again and tightens Jared’s grip instead of letting it loosen. Impossibly, that helps, flips the sensation over from pure pain to something gritty and addictive.
The fabric of his briefs is soaked to transparency when Jared sneaks a furtive glance down, dark, purpled flesh wrapped up in his own long fingers and Jensen’s thicker, shorter ones under a milky layer of thin cotton. It’s a punch to the gut how good, how- how sexy that looks. His stomach clenches and the mouth of his slit spreads visibly under the clinging fabric around another fat pulse of precome. The ticklish flow of more slick over his ass cheeks and between his thighs isn’t any less intense, but at least he doesn’t see it.
Between Jensen’s hand and his briefs Jared can barely move at all, not that it really matters since Jensen’s doing all of the work anyway, just using Jared’s palm as a buffer as he gives the shaft short, smooth strokes that quickly turn faster and choppier. Purely on reflex Jared buries his face in the sweat-damp pillow, the fabric hot and stifling but still less overwhelming than Jensen’s fingertips - just Jensen’s, Jared doesn’t have that kind of coordination now - swiping over the head. It’s like a white-hot icepick shoving up into his balls in a really, really good way. His ass clenches down with it, another flood of fluid pumping out of him, probably drenching Jensen’s pants right along with Jared’s underwear.
“I’m just gonna- Just trust me, ok?” Jensen shakes out as if Jared has anything remotely related to the willpower to say no anyway.
He abandons Jared’s hand - it keeps moving all on its own, jerking Jared of choppy and fast - to slide his fist down around the base, their knuckles bumping on every downstroke. The first cautious skate of his fingers around the edge of the knot might as well be a kick square to the chest for what it does to Jared’s lungs. He gasps for breath, flailing uncontrollably as Jensen’s hand tightens, a rough massage around the fat, aching swell at the base of Jared’s cock. Jensen hangs onto him through it, one arm coming around Jared’s chest, face plastered against the side of Jared’s to hold him still, the hot, powerful, turned-on smell of him like a corkscrew twisting into Jared’s gut as he milks Jared’s knot.
Unbidden, parts of Jared’s brain he’s never met before start whispering to him about how empty he feels and wouldn’t it be better, so much better, if he had something inside of him while Jensen works him over? If that something was Jensen’s cock, his knot? How big it would be and how full it would make him feel. How it would reach of all of those stinging, untouched places deep inside and soothe them with a thick, heavy load of come, all sticky and hot and right, filling him up, breeding him up.
A dull, metallic roar floods Jared’s ears like listening to the swirl of air inside a conch shell, black and white tie-dye morphing on the insides of his eyelids as his skin sings, menthol-cool rush melting into heat and back, again and again until the world just fizzles away.
***
Something rough and sticky is jostling Jared around, wet, gross sludge licking at his belly like a cold tongue and down his legs, an army of slugs marching down his thighs and-
What the fuck?
Jared jerks awake with his heart hammering against his ribcage and, “Slugs,” tripping off of his tongue.
Jensen’s leaning over the foot of the bed staring at him, mouth quirked up at the corners. “Oh really?” he laughs, tugging Jared’s briefs the rest of the way off and tossing them into a mound of what Jared can only assume is the top sheet since he’s not covered in one. Or anything at all, for that matter. Aside from itchy, dried sweat and the unpleasantly cool, slippery mess of his own fluids.
Oh why couldn’t he have just died earlier like he’d thought he was going to?
“I am so sorry,” does not even come close to expressing what he’s feeling right now, but at least it’s polite. His mama would be proud. Well, alright, probably not given the circumstances. He’s going to stop thinking about his mother now.
Pulling a pillow over his sort-of-mostly-soft dick isn’t the most tactful play in the book either but he’s never actually been naked in front of anyone who wasn’t a doctor before and he’s never been covered in sexual evidence period, so the two together and in front of Jensen, his best friend who just helped him achieve the first orgasm of his life, isn’t exactly an ideal scenario. The pillow only really helps a little.
What helps more is Jensen sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He rests a hand on Jared’s arm, perfectly innocuous except for how well Jared remembers the shape of that hand on top of his own stroking his cock, the feel of those fingers dragging across his knot, the way his mind is putting together the knobs of Jensen’s knuckles with every heat-porn he’s ever watched where the beta’s down on his knees begging and the alpha gives him a thick wad of fingers to bear down on and prove how bad he wants it.
Great. One orgasm and he’s a sex fiend.
“Woah, hey.” Suddenly he has Jensen’s hands on his face instead, forcing him to look into those thick-lashed eyes that have no business on an alpha. He doesn’t realize how hard his heart is beating until Jensen says, “Don’t get yourself all worked up. Just breathe, enjoy the ebb while it lasts.”
He doesn’t let go until Jared’s made himself draw in a couple of deep, shaky breaths - pointedly ignoring the fact that Jensen’s scent all muddled up with his own makes his ass clench hungrily again and his dick dent the pillow.
It at least buys him some time to get a grip when Jensen leaves him on the bed and starts gathering up the pile of soiled linens. Jared ought to say ‘leave them’, tell Jensen he can handle this on his own, every alpha instinct he has is screaming at him to do it, but he doesn’t. He’s never really had to lie to Jensen before and he’s not sure how to go about it.
Jensen comes back to the bedroom laundryless with a couple of prescription bottles and a gigantic glass of water. Jared takes a sip while Jensen counts out the medication, not appreciating how thirsty he is until the water hits his lips.
“You’re damn lucky Chris had an emergency stash of suppressants,” Jensen says, tipping what looks like way too many pills into Jared’s hand. “I can cover you on the rut, but I’m SOL when it comes to heat.”
Without any thought at all, Jared hears, “Do you fuck him?” fly out of his mouth. His face burns with an embarrassed rush of blood and he quickly sets about swallowing the pills just to shut his stupid mouth up.
“Chris?” Jensen chokes, expression caught somewhere between disgusted and scandalized.
“I just thought…” There really weren’t nearly enough of those pills, Jared decides, staring down at his now empty hand, wishing he could rewind the entire conversation. Jensen’s going out of his way to help him when Jared clearly has no clue what he’s doing and he goes and repays him by acting like a jealous beta? Perfect. Just what he needed from today.
“That I’m an alpha and he’s a beta, so why not?” Jensen sounds slightly huffy about it, but he doesn’t really look upset. More like he’s had to deal with that assumption before. Jared knows exactly the way that sounds - he’s spent his whole life with people assuming things about him. “No. It’s- Mixing friends and sex doesn’t usually work out so great.”
There’s something about the way Jensen’s eyes trail over Jared’s face that makes it hard to swallow. Jared takes another drink to try and clear his throat but he can’t really think of anything to say once it is.
That’s a whole other world of things Jared hasn’t considered yet. Admittedly he’s been a bit preoccupied since he found out what’s happening to him, but it’s certainly something worth thinking about. Jared doesn’t date, hasn’t ever. In high school everyone thought he was bizarre for what he was and by the time he got to college it seemed like everyone was past the point where they could just date to spend time together and it wasn’t really fair to lead someone on if sex, let alone marriage and a family, was never going to be on the menu. He’s lived like that for so long he doesn’t even remember if he ever wanted those things for himself, hasn’t got a clue what he would do if he was actually attracted to someone.
What beautiful irony - he’s spent his whole adult life wanting to be normal and now he’s just wishing things could be simple like they used to be. A few days ago he wouldn’t have had to wonder if Jensen’s letting him down easy or warning him about what could be or just imparting a few words of experience to the wayward newbie. He wouldn’t have gotten preoccupied with whether Jensen was thinking about the same thing he was when Jared was getting off or if what Jensen said way back when about giving Jared a personal tour of his bedroom still holds true. He wouldn’t have worried if the flip his stomach gives at that idea is excitement or nerves or both. And he definitely wouldn’t have been thinking about Jensen’s lips and whether they feel as soft as they look, what it would be like to kiss him, if he’d be able to tell it was Jared’s first.
Oh God, he wants his best friend. Isn’t that just the worst kind of cliché?
Like he knows exactly what’s going through Jared’s head, Jensen cuts him off with, “Don’t,” before Jared even gets halfway through his name.
His hands work back through his hair - a total mess from where the product has clumped together with sweat and dried again - and he breathes out a sigh like a man walking toward the firing squad.
“I know it’s confusing for you. I can’t even imagine, Jared. And there’s…” He bites his lip, which Jared knows Jensen does all the time but has never been nearly this distracting before. “Once this is over we should really talk, about a lot of things. And then, you know, if you want to- or if you don’t, that’s ok too, no pressure, there’s not a right answer here or anything…” Jensen’s stammering, flustered, shockingly un-Jensen-like and Jared’s not really sure what to make of it, but he’s finding it strangely adorable. “Anyway. The point is, you’re not going to be in any kind of condition to make any big life decisions or whatever for at least a few days and I’m not going to- we’re not going to- Nothing is going to happen. That’s what I’m saying.” Jensen huffs, cheeks violently pink. “You’re safe with me.”
A highly inappropriate laugh nearly shakes free of Jared because out of all of the things he’s been driving himself crazy with so far, whether or not he could trust Jensen has never crossed his mind.
“I know.”
The response make Jensen grin, an unbridledly pleased look under his fuchsia cheeks that he tries to bite away by chewing at the corner of his lip.
“Well, good. You should.” He smacks Jared lightly on the leg, clearing his throat so he sounds slightly less elated when he orders, “Now get up so I can lay out some towels before the next wave hits and you sweat through the sheets again.”
Since Jensen generously refrains from pointing out that it wasn’t so much sweat that was the problem with the sheets, Jared doesn’t complain that he has to awkwardly find a way to stand while still covering himself with the pillow.
It hits him as he’s shiftily trying to dig out a pair of pajama pants from his dresser without exposing himself that whatever else they may have to talk about later - he’s not going to think about it yet, he’s not; the butterflies in his stomach need no encouragement to stoke the banked heat he can feel building again under his skin - there’s still one thing that needs to be said here and now.
“Jensen.”
Green eyes look up curiously from spreading out a stack of bath towels over the glaringly obvious wet spot in the middle of the mattress. “Yeah, Jay?”
Jared has to smile at him, looking all domestic and care-taking - all the parts of alphadom that none of the big macho-boys ever want to admit to. Completely ignores the sudden, clingy slickness trying to ooze down his inner thighs over it.
“Thank you.”
Cheeks going just the faintest bit pink again, Jensen smiles back, eyes too open and serious to match the teasing curve of his mouth.
“Anything you need.”
Sequel: Loud and Clear