Motivation (J2)
So, apparently this is what I needed to do tonight instead of sleep or working on WIPs. Aaaaanyway. It's for deirdre_c's Winter Olympics Porn commentficathon. Is there porn? Not *reeeally*, dammit.
Title Motivation
Rating NC17 barely
Words 2100
Pairing Jared/Jensen
PromptThey're in the same team, they share a room and one morning the bathroom door doesn't open again when they're both inside (it happened to this poor guy who broke the whole door in order to get out). Things ... happen.
"Wait, what? Padalecki, are you taking a piss out there?"
Actually, now Jensen thinks about it, the alternative is that his insanely annoying roommate is standing the other side of the flimsy shower curtain just because he enjoys being present while Jensen showers. Which: suddenly the faint sound of splashing urine is much less annoying. So long as Padalecki doesn't flush. Because, gross but necessary. The less than perfection of the athletes' quarters here are already legendary, and a dousing with freezing Russian winter water in lieu of pleasant shower is not in anyone's training regimen.
"Sorry," shouts Jared. "I gotta run. We have extra time on course preview." He pauses, adds, "Uh, you might wanna flush once you get out-" And he leaves. Yeah. Awesome.
If Jensen had wanted to spend his life with roommates in a shithole maintained by handless trolls, he wouldn't have graduated college as fast as he damned well could and gotten fully onto the training and sponsorship treadmill. But he did, and he did, and he has a very nice apartment in Aspen thank you. But, you know, it's the Olympics and everyone has to huddle up and make the best of it. Or so Padalecki says. And coach agrees, and so does Team USA and everyone but Jensen who has half a shot at a podium in Super G if he can get some damned sleep and not be frozen or scalded by this-
Usually, Jensen's not this much of a dick, by the way. He's just not great with sleep deprivation. And people. Too many people, in his face, and he wants peace. Needs it. And he wants that medal, but he knows it's barely within finger's breadth of his reach. He does not want to be mingling bathroom breaks with a no hope snowboarder. Even if Jared Padalecki's actually an okay guy, in a goofy way, he was wished on Jensen when it turned out there weren't the single rooms the team had been promised, and he stepped up to share with a stranger. "Typical Jared," said one of his buddies, with a shrug and grin. And it's true. Jared also rescues dogs, faces off dumbass Frenchmen hitting on naïve young skaters, and shares Reese's cups like he's on a mission to plump up the entire village till they don't fit their snow gear anymore. He's ridiculous. He's also not a bad snowboarder, but Jensen can't compute someone whose biggest goal from this Games is to "Have some fun, make some new friends, maybe get into a quarter final if it goes my way, you know?"
So. Jensen's alone with his thoughts and some unsatisfactory plumbing, and he probably has a couple hours to crash before Jared's back, bearing seventeen drunk Swedes and a boggle set or something. He steps out of the shower, remembers to flush the damned toilet, and then discovers he can't open the fucking bathroom door. He swears, joggles the handle till it un-snibs, and gets out after a couple minutes. His hair's standing on end, half dried already, but he doesn't care. He'll call maintenance about the bathroom door. But later.
He sleeps.
*
Jensen can't really stop looking at the medal. It's so shiny. Such warm metal. So big.
It's possible Jensen is a little drunk. Not very drunk. There's still the possibility of competing in the slalom and he's not an idiot. But he just won an Olympic medal. Seriously. This thing he's wanted and worked for his whole life. He just achieved it.
And he almost just walked into his own door, which is proof that he really does need to crash before sleep or booze catches up with him and he puts himself out of contention for the future with a broken nose or concussion or something dumb.
Jared's in the room, on a laptop, quietly reading something. That's surprising. Not that Jared's an idiot, but he's been consistently out there and in company the whole twelve days Jensen has known him. He looks up from the screen, and puts the computer aside. "Man, you made it back! I thought I might be putting you to bed at four a.m. with a pint of Belarussian moonshine inside you - and seriously, don't go there, did you see that rash Chad has? But also, hello, Mr Medal Winner Ackles-" And Jensen's getting hugged, and even kissed a little, which is startling, though Jared's been on a whole overt-affection anti-Putin thing which Jensen has fortunately avoided so far.
"Thanks," he says, and he can't stop grinning. "It's- It's a fucking great day, Jared. It really is."
"Thought I'd stay up and ask you in person. What does it feel like?" And Jensen knows Jared doesn't mean the medal itself. He means the winning. And Jensen's happy to tell.
"Oh man, I wish I hadn't gone before LaCroix and Stensen, you know? They had me standing in the podium area, and you know, longest half hour of my life. I knew they'd go faster, and most of the time I was thinking Costallone or maybe Mueller would get ahead too, so I wasn't really thinking I'd done it, but at the same time, I was there. In the winner's space. And I'd done it, and I felt like you have to take it from me."
"But they didn’t," Jared says. "Gotta be awesome."
Well. Stensen did, won gold, always a decent bet, and LaCroix too, though he was barely a couple hundredths faster than Jensen and mighty relieved, the way a world champ with a rep to lose might feel. Whereas this, this bronze disk, half the size of his head, bowing down his neck - this is the biggest thing Jensen has ever won. He doesn't know what he'd have done if Costallone hadn't come up just shy of his time. He even confesses it. "I think they'd have had to carry me out of the winners' enclosure, Jared. I really do. I felt like it was mine."
"And it is," Jared says.
Jensen nods, and winces as it pulls all down his back. "Christ, I'm stiffening up like- I gotta shower, loosen up a little."
"Sure, don't close the door." Jared says it casually, adding, "Toni got stuck in hers yesterday. And you don't look so steady to me, Mr Medal Winner."
Jensen nods. Sensible. He never did call maintenance about that handle. He gets into the tub, pulls the curtain, and shouts out, "Hey, you had your heats, right? How'd you go?"
Jared enthuses at him, but with the water in Jensen's ears and his general fuzziness it takes a little time before he gets to the nub, which is that Jared had fun and is out, thanks to a vicious squeeze by "that little shit Chapuis" who apparently dumped Jared off what sounds like a terrifying height right onto his ass. Jensen's tried to get used to the boarders' calm about massive falls and injury, but he still winces in sympathy. And then turns off the water, tries to get out of the tub, and falls on his ass.
"I'm okay," he shouts, but too late. Jared's already in the bathroom, and a little off balance himself in his hurry, he accidentally shuts the door behind him. They're both watching when the damn handle falls off.
"Well… shit," says Jensen. His medal's out there. He was looking forward to being reunited with it.
"Uh. Yeah," says Jared. "Are you actually okay, or was that just intended to stop me running in here like an idiot?"
Jensen looks down at himself. He's damp and cold and he wasn't feeling too limber even before bruising his ass, and also he pulled the cheap white shower curtain down on himself, and it's already transparent. So. Uh. "Yeah, I'm good. I won a fucking medal today, Padalecki. Anything short of death, this is a pretty good day."
Jared laughs, properly. "Cool. You want to get out of the tub and help me pick a door lock from the inside with-" He looks around. "A toothbrush? A crappy plastic shower curtain hook? A- Actually, there's nothing in here, is there?"
Jensen takes the proffered hand, and makes it out of the tub on a second try. Things are looking up. And there's a not-completely-mildewed towel, even if it is a little small. So. The two of them squat down by the door. There's jiggling, and tugging, and swearing, and fruitless attempts at combinations of the above. At some point, Jensen loses the towel and doesn't really notice till Jared sits back with a frustrated huff. "Dude, this is the one solidly built thing in this cornflake packet." His eyes slide over Jensen. "Also, not that I don't appreciate the view, but people will talk."
"Let 'em," says Jensen. Because ten minutes of close-quarters wriggling with Jared? After a medal day? After they're both pretty much done with competition? Yeah, there's slalom still to come, but he's likely an alternate, and he's had beer and bruised his butt and spent time naked with another guy, albeit in a shitty bathroom and he's demotivated tonight about skiing and a lot more motivated by the memory that somewhere out there there used to be relaxation. And sex. He misses sex.
Jared looks at him, a little unsure, which is unlike Jared. Jensen tries to hint more heavily. Subtle, of course. It's totally his watchword. As if he needs it, naked and half-hard, inches away from this guy. "So, do we match? Bruises, I mean-"
Yeah. It's not subtle. "Ackles," says Jared, and he's definitely got Jensen's hint. "If you want to break down this door, you're not going about it the right way. And if you want to see me naked, you got to ask."
"I don't want to be the only naked one," says Jensen. Whines, really. "Also, you're one of the best looking guys in this whole compound, and I can finally notice that, so it seems like maybe a good way to pass the time. Please can I see you naked?" He pauses. Does that sound as pathetic as he thinks?
Jared considers. "Maybe later," he says, and reaches out to Jensen's shoulder. It's just a little nudge, but Jensen's not expecting it, and he rolls backwards. Dignified. Bathroom floor spreadeagle dignified. But Jared's talking. "Thing is, I've been thinking about sucking you off ever since we were introduced, and it never seemed like an option till tonight. So, if I ask real nice, your medalness, is that okay with you?"
And Jensen's already naked, so, really, it's just efficient to agree. Jared's kneeling between his thighs, warm hands working him from semi to completely hard before Jensen's really processed the change of plan. But, okay. Jared's hands move under him, firm on his ass, and a lot better than crappy cold tile, and Jared's mouth slides tip to root, near as dammit, in a performance Jensen can testify is gold- standard. Christ, when do they teach the boarders this stuff? Jared's moaning as he sucks, like this is the best thing he's had in his mouth in months. Possibly better than a Reese's cup, even. Jensen's head thunks back onto the tile, and he stops letting his conscious brain interfere with the hot-wet-yes of the moment. Jared's thumb rubbing behind his balls, tongue working his shaft, head bobbing against Jensen's grasping, pleading hands, till he gasps out, "Gonna-" and Jared hums agreement and swallows as Jensen shudders and comes, eight months of pent up focus on winning dissipating into the moment.
Unfortunately, bathroom floors and tired muscles do not mix well with afterglow. Jensen's moving pretty quickly, reluctant but also cold and damp. "So, uh, that was pretty-" He collects himself. "You're fuckin' amazing, Padalecki. Now please can I see you naked?"
Jared leans in close, smelling like warm, healthy man, tasting like Jensen. "Mmmm, yeah," he says, eventually. "We can do that. I'm gonna work you open, you know that? Slow and easy, cuz I bet you've been a good little ski boy these past years, right? And then you're gonna take my dick till you're begging and you don't even know if it's for more or for me to stop and-" He stops. Jensen tries to breathe, but it's not coming too easily. "Of course," Jared adds, "The condoms and lube are all out there. Along with a comfortable bed or two, which pretty boys with bruised asses are sorely in need of if we're really gonna get into this. So-"
Even before he says it, Jensen's taking a run at the door. Motivation. That's what he needed.
It takes maybe ten minutes to break out, and the toilet brush will never recover, but they get out in the end thanks to terrible construction and deep determination. Jared delivers on his promises. And they do, pretty much, match, turns out.
Which possibly symbolises something. Or maybe that's just the Olympics talking.
Title Motivation
Rating NC17 barely
Words 2100
Pairing Jared/Jensen
PromptThey're in the same team, they share a room and one morning the bathroom door doesn't open again when they're both inside (it happened to this poor guy who broke the whole door in order to get out). Things ... happen.
"Wait, what? Padalecki, are you taking a piss out there?"
Actually, now Jensen thinks about it, the alternative is that his insanely annoying roommate is standing the other side of the flimsy shower curtain just because he enjoys being present while Jensen showers. Which: suddenly the faint sound of splashing urine is much less annoying. So long as Padalecki doesn't flush. Because, gross but necessary. The less than perfection of the athletes' quarters here are already legendary, and a dousing with freezing Russian winter water in lieu of pleasant shower is not in anyone's training regimen.
"Sorry," shouts Jared. "I gotta run. We have extra time on course preview." He pauses, adds, "Uh, you might wanna flush once you get out-" And he leaves. Yeah. Awesome.
If Jensen had wanted to spend his life with roommates in a shithole maintained by handless trolls, he wouldn't have graduated college as fast as he damned well could and gotten fully onto the training and sponsorship treadmill. But he did, and he did, and he has a very nice apartment in Aspen thank you. But, you know, it's the Olympics and everyone has to huddle up and make the best of it. Or so Padalecki says. And coach agrees, and so does Team USA and everyone but Jensen who has half a shot at a podium in Super G if he can get some damned sleep and not be frozen or scalded by this-
Usually, Jensen's not this much of a dick, by the way. He's just not great with sleep deprivation. And people. Too many people, in his face, and he wants peace. Needs it. And he wants that medal, but he knows it's barely within finger's breadth of his reach. He does not want to be mingling bathroom breaks with a no hope snowboarder. Even if Jared Padalecki's actually an okay guy, in a goofy way, he was wished on Jensen when it turned out there weren't the single rooms the team had been promised, and he stepped up to share with a stranger. "Typical Jared," said one of his buddies, with a shrug and grin. And it's true. Jared also rescues dogs, faces off dumbass Frenchmen hitting on naïve young skaters, and shares Reese's cups like he's on a mission to plump up the entire village till they don't fit their snow gear anymore. He's ridiculous. He's also not a bad snowboarder, but Jensen can't compute someone whose biggest goal from this Games is to "Have some fun, make some new friends, maybe get into a quarter final if it goes my way, you know?"
So. Jensen's alone with his thoughts and some unsatisfactory plumbing, and he probably has a couple hours to crash before Jared's back, bearing seventeen drunk Swedes and a boggle set or something. He steps out of the shower, remembers to flush the damned toilet, and then discovers he can't open the fucking bathroom door. He swears, joggles the handle till it un-snibs, and gets out after a couple minutes. His hair's standing on end, half dried already, but he doesn't care. He'll call maintenance about the bathroom door. But later.
He sleeps.
*
Jensen can't really stop looking at the medal. It's so shiny. Such warm metal. So big.
It's possible Jensen is a little drunk. Not very drunk. There's still the possibility of competing in the slalom and he's not an idiot. But he just won an Olympic medal. Seriously. This thing he's wanted and worked for his whole life. He just achieved it.
And he almost just walked into his own door, which is proof that he really does need to crash before sleep or booze catches up with him and he puts himself out of contention for the future with a broken nose or concussion or something dumb.
Jared's in the room, on a laptop, quietly reading something. That's surprising. Not that Jared's an idiot, but he's been consistently out there and in company the whole twelve days Jensen has known him. He looks up from the screen, and puts the computer aside. "Man, you made it back! I thought I might be putting you to bed at four a.m. with a pint of Belarussian moonshine inside you - and seriously, don't go there, did you see that rash Chad has? But also, hello, Mr Medal Winner Ackles-" And Jensen's getting hugged, and even kissed a little, which is startling, though Jared's been on a whole overt-affection anti-Putin thing which Jensen has fortunately avoided so far.
"Thanks," he says, and he can't stop grinning. "It's- It's a fucking great day, Jared. It really is."
"Thought I'd stay up and ask you in person. What does it feel like?" And Jensen knows Jared doesn't mean the medal itself. He means the winning. And Jensen's happy to tell.
"Oh man, I wish I hadn't gone before LaCroix and Stensen, you know? They had me standing in the podium area, and you know, longest half hour of my life. I knew they'd go faster, and most of the time I was thinking Costallone or maybe Mueller would get ahead too, so I wasn't really thinking I'd done it, but at the same time, I was there. In the winner's space. And I'd done it, and I felt like you have to take it from me."
"But they didn’t," Jared says. "Gotta be awesome."
Well. Stensen did, won gold, always a decent bet, and LaCroix too, though he was barely a couple hundredths faster than Jensen and mighty relieved, the way a world champ with a rep to lose might feel. Whereas this, this bronze disk, half the size of his head, bowing down his neck - this is the biggest thing Jensen has ever won. He doesn't know what he'd have done if Costallone hadn't come up just shy of his time. He even confesses it. "I think they'd have had to carry me out of the winners' enclosure, Jared. I really do. I felt like it was mine."
"And it is," Jared says.
Jensen nods, and winces as it pulls all down his back. "Christ, I'm stiffening up like- I gotta shower, loosen up a little."
"Sure, don't close the door." Jared says it casually, adding, "Toni got stuck in hers yesterday. And you don't look so steady to me, Mr Medal Winner."
Jensen nods. Sensible. He never did call maintenance about that handle. He gets into the tub, pulls the curtain, and shouts out, "Hey, you had your heats, right? How'd you go?"
Jared enthuses at him, but with the water in Jensen's ears and his general fuzziness it takes a little time before he gets to the nub, which is that Jared had fun and is out, thanks to a vicious squeeze by "that little shit Chapuis" who apparently dumped Jared off what sounds like a terrifying height right onto his ass. Jensen's tried to get used to the boarders' calm about massive falls and injury, but he still winces in sympathy. And then turns off the water, tries to get out of the tub, and falls on his ass.
"I'm okay," he shouts, but too late. Jared's already in the bathroom, and a little off balance himself in his hurry, he accidentally shuts the door behind him. They're both watching when the damn handle falls off.
"Well… shit," says Jensen. His medal's out there. He was looking forward to being reunited with it.
"Uh. Yeah," says Jared. "Are you actually okay, or was that just intended to stop me running in here like an idiot?"
Jensen looks down at himself. He's damp and cold and he wasn't feeling too limber even before bruising his ass, and also he pulled the cheap white shower curtain down on himself, and it's already transparent. So. Uh. "Yeah, I'm good. I won a fucking medal today, Padalecki. Anything short of death, this is a pretty good day."
Jared laughs, properly. "Cool. You want to get out of the tub and help me pick a door lock from the inside with-" He looks around. "A toothbrush? A crappy plastic shower curtain hook? A- Actually, there's nothing in here, is there?"
Jensen takes the proffered hand, and makes it out of the tub on a second try. Things are looking up. And there's a not-completely-mildewed towel, even if it is a little small. So. The two of them squat down by the door. There's jiggling, and tugging, and swearing, and fruitless attempts at combinations of the above. At some point, Jensen loses the towel and doesn't really notice till Jared sits back with a frustrated huff. "Dude, this is the one solidly built thing in this cornflake packet." His eyes slide over Jensen. "Also, not that I don't appreciate the view, but people will talk."
"Let 'em," says Jensen. Because ten minutes of close-quarters wriggling with Jared? After a medal day? After they're both pretty much done with competition? Yeah, there's slalom still to come, but he's likely an alternate, and he's had beer and bruised his butt and spent time naked with another guy, albeit in a shitty bathroom and he's demotivated tonight about skiing and a lot more motivated by the memory that somewhere out there there used to be relaxation. And sex. He misses sex.
Jared looks at him, a little unsure, which is unlike Jared. Jensen tries to hint more heavily. Subtle, of course. It's totally his watchword. As if he needs it, naked and half-hard, inches away from this guy. "So, do we match? Bruises, I mean-"
Yeah. It's not subtle. "Ackles," says Jared, and he's definitely got Jensen's hint. "If you want to break down this door, you're not going about it the right way. And if you want to see me naked, you got to ask."
"I don't want to be the only naked one," says Jensen. Whines, really. "Also, you're one of the best looking guys in this whole compound, and I can finally notice that, so it seems like maybe a good way to pass the time. Please can I see you naked?" He pauses. Does that sound as pathetic as he thinks?
Jared considers. "Maybe later," he says, and reaches out to Jensen's shoulder. It's just a little nudge, but Jensen's not expecting it, and he rolls backwards. Dignified. Bathroom floor spreadeagle dignified. But Jared's talking. "Thing is, I've been thinking about sucking you off ever since we were introduced, and it never seemed like an option till tonight. So, if I ask real nice, your medalness, is that okay with you?"
And Jensen's already naked, so, really, it's just efficient to agree. Jared's kneeling between his thighs, warm hands working him from semi to completely hard before Jensen's really processed the change of plan. But, okay. Jared's hands move under him, firm on his ass, and a lot better than crappy cold tile, and Jared's mouth slides tip to root, near as dammit, in a performance Jensen can testify is gold- standard. Christ, when do they teach the boarders this stuff? Jared's moaning as he sucks, like this is the best thing he's had in his mouth in months. Possibly better than a Reese's cup, even. Jensen's head thunks back onto the tile, and he stops letting his conscious brain interfere with the hot-wet-yes of the moment. Jared's thumb rubbing behind his balls, tongue working his shaft, head bobbing against Jensen's grasping, pleading hands, till he gasps out, "Gonna-" and Jared hums agreement and swallows as Jensen shudders and comes, eight months of pent up focus on winning dissipating into the moment.
Unfortunately, bathroom floors and tired muscles do not mix well with afterglow. Jensen's moving pretty quickly, reluctant but also cold and damp. "So, uh, that was pretty-" He collects himself. "You're fuckin' amazing, Padalecki. Now please can I see you naked?"
Jared leans in close, smelling like warm, healthy man, tasting like Jensen. "Mmmm, yeah," he says, eventually. "We can do that. I'm gonna work you open, you know that? Slow and easy, cuz I bet you've been a good little ski boy these past years, right? And then you're gonna take my dick till you're begging and you don't even know if it's for more or for me to stop and-" He stops. Jensen tries to breathe, but it's not coming too easily. "Of course," Jared adds, "The condoms and lube are all out there. Along with a comfortable bed or two, which pretty boys with bruised asses are sorely in need of if we're really gonna get into this. So-"
Even before he says it, Jensen's taking a run at the door. Motivation. That's what he needed.
It takes maybe ten minutes to break out, and the toilet brush will never recover, but they get out in the end thanks to terrible construction and deep determination. Jared delivers on his promises. And they do, pretty much, match, turns out.
Which possibly symbolises something. Or maybe that's just the Olympics talking.