SPN Fic: The Heart Must Yield (5/5)
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*****
After the tournament, Jensen had barely lasted through the triumphal procession back to the castle, battling a haze of fatigue and emotional turmoil. Horses jostled all around him and Jared, people darting about on foot. Strange voices called out support and praise, instruments played, a bard already began recounting the grand tale of the tourney in rhyming couplets, and someone threw a spray of flowers to dapple Faith’s mane. To Jensen, it seemed a morass of color and heat and sound. He managed to keep himself upright until they reached the courtyard, where he blindly tumbled off of Shadow and stumbled back to his room, stripping off his armor and collapsing into his small cot all unwashed and untended.
When he awoke, he might have thought the whole incident a dream. Except for the healers and servants clustered around him, sponging the dirt and sweat from his body, applying hot and cold compresses to his bruises, slathering him in healing liniments, rebandaging the cut on his side. The entire room smelled green and acrid.
Jared was standing just inside the doorway, overseeing the whole affair, his shoulder propped against the wall.
“Wha’?” Jensen croaked, running a feeble hand over his face to clear the cobwebs.
“They’ve been at it for a while now,” Jared said, his expression halfway between relief and concern. “We couldn’t rouse you.”
Jensen groaned and rolled his head on the pillow. Every muscle in his body was screaming in protest at its mistreatment, and the lotion the attendants smeared on them tingled and burned. “You couldn’t let me sleep longer?”
“Apparently not, if you wanted to be able to move again soon. King Jeffrey’s own physician was here, and she assures me this treatment is the best thing for bruising that severe.”
Jared’s eyes traveled up and down Jensen’s body where he was being ministered to, but he quickly jerked his gaze away when Jensen caught him at it. Jensen realized he was mostly naked aside from one loose drape of cloth for modesty, and he suddenly wished he could clear the room. He dearly needed some time alone with Jared.
And just what was stopping him? He gracelessly maneuvered himself up to a sitting position. “Thank you, everyone,” he said, brushing away gentle protests and attempts to press him to lie back down. “I’m grateful for your efforts, but I think we’re done here for the nonce.”
Once they realized Jensen was not to be dissuaded, the healers swiftly packed up their jars and cloths and began to file from the room. Jared’s brow was furrowed and he fidgeted, looking unsure as to whether he should leave as well. Finally, after the last servant left, he put his hand on the latch as if planning to follow them out and pull the door shut behind him.
“Is there anything I can get you… or do for you?” Jared pointed vaguely out into the world beyond.
“You can come here,” Jensen replied, shifting the cloth in his lap for better coverage. Clearly they would need some conversation before anything… else. “If you are only able to tell me what’s wrong when you’re sitting on my floor, there’s a convenient spot right here.” He pointed at the small rug at his feet.
Jared snorted and ran a hand through his hair. But he didn’t move out of the doorway.
“What is it?” Jensen asked more gently, but his mind started to scramble. Had something gone amiss while he slept? Had the King reconsidered his approval of their union? Maybe Jensen had dreamed the whole thing after all.
“I-” Jared stuttered. “-you-you made me agree to stay away, and I was so focused on navigating my way through the maze of negotiations with my cousins and what might happen at the tourney and my ridiculous attempt at jousting and-and I never actually confirmed that you wanted this. I fear perhaps you’ll now feel obliged or-or compelled to follow through. With this union.”
The man who stood before hundreds just hours before and demanded that half the kingdom’s nobility bend to his will was gone. Back again was the uncertain boy Jensen had sat with by the campfire.
Jensen’s heart felt too big for his chest. “Come here,” he said again, patting the spot on the mattress next to him. And when Jared shuffled over to sit down, Jensen took one long-fingered hand in his own, searching for words enough.
“I never would have thought it possible this could come to pass,” he said at last. “But not because I didn’t wish it. Indeed, there’s nothing on earth or heaven I could want more. You and I. Together. But while I dreamed of such love and dismissed it as hopeless, you fought for it and won. You won.” Jared gathered breath as if to interrupt, but Jensen barreled on. “I’m not obliged, Jared. I’m honored. Because what I said before is true. It will always be true. I love you.”
He did stop then, and waited to see what Jared would say.
“You-you’re so-” Jared burbled. Then he simply gave up and grabbed Jensen by the bare shoulders, hauling him close and kissing him ardently.
“Ow,” Jensen yelped, smiling even as he flinched from the twinge in his side and perhaps the new bruise Jared just laid on his lip. “Shhhh,” he insisted as Jared started to pull away, apologizing in distress. “Shhh. Here. Easy.”
Jensen cupped both hands along Jared’s jaw, swathing his fingers in silky strands of hair, and slowly guided Jared back in. There Jensen brushed his lips feather-light over Jared’s before running his tongue gently along the bottom ridge, teasing, tickling. For a moment, Jared held himself stiff and careful under Jensen’s hands, but then Jensen felt him uncoil, sighing into Jensen’s mouth as he opened for him, soft and wet, letting Jensen twine their tongues languidly together.
Jensen was just calculating how to ease Jared down onto the mattress, whether to undress him now or later, how much certain exertions would aggravate his poor ribs, when he heard the obvious clearing of a throat from the still-open door. Jared jerked away from him as if scalded, scooting halfway across the cot with scarlet cheeks. Jensen bit back a whine of frustration and turned toward the doorway with a scowl.
“Pardon me, Sir Jensen. My lord Padalecki,” Lady Divine said, nodding formally, but Jensen detected the twinkle in her eye. “Jensen, the Queen has summoned you to a private conference once you are, um, up and around.” He could swear her lips twitched.
“To what purpose?” He prayed the cloth in his lap was bunched and tangled enough to hide anything that might have arisen.
“She did not mention. Congratulations for your success? Plans for the wedding? Something else entirely?”
“Jared too?”
“No, only your presence was requested,” she replied.
Jensen glanced over at Jared, sitting there all rosy and shy and kiss-muddled and his, and he almost said no, he would not come. But then the combination of habit and duty got the better of him. “Please tell Her Majesty,” he sighed, “that I will be there at once.”
*****
“Are you doing this to punish Jared? Or both of us?” Jensen fumed. Never before would he have spoken to the Queen in such a tone. Jared must have been rubbing off on him.
Jensen gave a silent huff at his mind’s turn of phrase. That was the crux of the problem right there, wasn’t it?
“No,” Queen Samantha replied placidly, from her perch on the throne in her receiving room, but Jensen could detect the traces of a smirk trying to peek out from the corner of her mouth. What was it that everyone found so funny? “I’m just a mother, looking out for others of my ilk. And your mothers should be present at your wedding. I insist. Therefore, it is up to you to go fetch them.”
“My liege,” Jensen shifted tactics, sweetening his tone to a wheedle. “Jared and I have been betrothed for but a handful of hours, and I have been unconscious for most of it. Cannot we have a few days to-”
“Ah, but Jared himself asked that the wedding be held just a week hence,” she interjected.
“A week?” Jensen echoed.
“Yes, he seems in quite the hurry to make your bond official.” She was smiling openly now. “That barely leaves you enough time to get to Ackles and back. Once you’re wed, Sir Jensen, you’ll have more than just ‘a few days’ to do whatever it is you happen to have in mind.”
Jensen rolled his eyes at her veiled ribaldry. “And you intend for me to ride out immediately, still fresh sore from the jousting lists?”
“I’ve seen you ride with worse, for less,” she tutted. Not that she’d ever been shoved off her horse by a spear. “Besides,” she went on, raising an eyebrow, “if I were in mind to ‘punish’ Jared, as you say, for disobedience of my direct instructions, for backing Jeffrey and I into a corner with such a wild public stunt, for hazarding the peace among rivaling factions, for allowing Pellegrino of all people to hold the trump card in his gamble, well. Perhaps you would not think such a small sport too unjust of me.” She smirked again, planting her elbow on the armrest and propping her chin in her hand. “He’s as eager for you as you are for him. I believe I shall let you both stew in it… for a few days.”
*****
Thus it was that Jensen found himself on horseback once again, with barely time for one more heated kiss from Jared before he mounted and was off. He left Shadow behind in the royal stables to recuperate-at least one of us should get some rest-and borrowed a mount from among the spares of the King’s Guard. Jensen turned its head to the south, toward Richardson. And as curious as he was to see his childhood home again, it hurt to leave Jared’s side just as they’d been assured of each other, and, gods knew, it hurt to ride with his ribs bound once more and copious bruises already shading a violent purple under his leathers.
Fortunately, the trip was as smooth and easy as he could wish. He took only two young men-at-arms, Ridge and Dylan, with him as escort, which enabled him to travel swiftly. Or at least as swiftly as his pains allowed. And the Queen must have sent word ahead even of their quick pace, because three days later when he arrived in Ackles, it seemed the whole village turned out to meet them, his parents included. Courtesy required him to stay the night, and he had to admit to enjoying reacquainting himself with Donna and Alin, hearing their stories of him as a boy, relating some of his own adventures in the King’s service, speaking of the Padalecki heritage that Jared had unearthed through his research.
But always in his mind was the compass pull of the north, back to Morgan and his promised husband.
So if, when he hastened them the next morn to quickly pack and mount and be on their way, his mothers exchanged the same indulgent, amused look he’d seen on the Queen’s face, it was worth it.
*****
Unfortunately, the ride back from Ackles was as full of mishaps as the trip down had been smooth. His mothers’ stout ponies were no match in speed for destriers, and Jensen chafed at the deliberate pace. Periodic rain showers slowed them further. And on the fifth day, when they were still far from Morgan and Alin’s pony threw a shoe, Jensen was sore tempted to take his parents up on their urging for him to go on ahead without them, for fear of missing the wedding ceremony altogether.
But his pride and genuine concern would not let him leave them behind. Nor, to be truthful, did he want to face the Queen to explain how he’d come to abandon them. He took Alin up behind him in the saddle, left Dylan to bring the lamed mount along as he could, and the rest of them forged on.
It wasn’t until late morning on his wedding day that he brought his small party safely into the castle walls.
A solitary figure stood waiting for them out in front of the stables.
The grooms swarmed out in a wave around him, and Jensen could barely wait for them to help his mother down from the saddle before throwing himself off of Shadow and into Jared’s arms.
“Welcome back,” Jared murmured into Jensen’s hair, his hands coming up to press Jensen close to his chest for a too-brief moment before stepping back. He looked Jensen up and down. “Cut it a little close, did you not?”
“Were you worried I wouldn’t come back?”
Jared blushed, but before he could answer, Jensen’s parents approached and there were introductions to make.
Both of his mothers teased and cooed over Jared, not once appearing to be awed at his station, nor did he act at all superior or impatient with their familiarities. Not that he would, Jensen thought, unsure why he was surprised. Jared was so unlike the other courtiers Jensen had lived with all these years. He was kind and perceptive and charming and…
“Jensen!” Donna said, pulling him out of his reverie. “Why are you standing here when there’s but a short while before the ceremony? You must bathe and change! Be off, my dear. Jared will find us an escort to our quarters.”
So Jensen quickly found himself standing in the middle of his tiny room, alone, bemused, wondering what he was supposed to do next. Who he should summon. What in the Twins’ name he was supposed to wear.
Before panic could set in, a parade of servants trooped through the door: attendants with warm water and soaps, a barber, a physic to check the progress of his healing, others whose purpose was unclear to Jensen but who bustled about the room, stripping him of his soiled clothes and helping him into a seat. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh of relief as he was tended to, the whiskers shaved from his cheeks, his head tilted back and his hair massaged with fragrant soap.
He must have fallen into a light doze, because he jolted awake at a gentle shake from one of the servants. “It is time to dress, Sir Jensen.”
Clothes were magically produced for him, gorgeous new-made garments that tailors must have slaved over from dusk to dawn from the moment the tourney was over. A young maidservant knelt to slip his feet into ruby-red chausses, the fabric soft as a spaniel’s ear, lighter and finer than anything Jensen had ever worn before. He stood and almost balked at the silk shirt that came next, a deeper russet with a trail of gold embroidery at the neckline. This was too magnificent for underclothing. But his attendants slipped it on, and the tunic and surcoat too, each piece richer and more elaborate than the one before.
He fingered the stiff gold thread and small garnets set along the surcoat’s neckline, marveling at the worth of these alone. It seemed unbelievable that he should be arrayed in the colors of Padalecki, that he would wear them in his own right as Jared’s spouse.
“This is a work of art,” he said, then asked his dressers, “Do you know to whom I should offer thanks?”
At that moment, Jared slipped in through the doorway. “The Queen had these-” he started merrily, but then halted mid-sentence, staring at Jensen with astonishment. Jensen returned the favor, for Jared looked stunning in his own wedding finery, the mirror image of Jensen’s, with a chain set with topaz the size of bird’s eggs draped over his broad shoulders. A small circlet in gold threaded through his dark hair and over his brow.
“Never has there lived a man more handsome than you,” Jared breathed softly, looking away as if he were indeed dazzled at the sight of Jensen. “You are more beauteous than the sunset.”
Jensen stepped forward and rested a hand on Jared’s shoulder, letting his thumb tenderly caress the side of Jared’s neck. He found it impossible to resist the chance to touch Jared, even for a moment. “Fair words, my lord,” he teased, “But you have no need to woo me. I’m yours already, or will be in but an hour’s time.”
“Will you?” Jared replied, not matching Jensen’s light tone, but taking him by both arms and searching his face. “Am I not dreaming?”
“If you do, we dream together,” Jensen said, smiling at Jared’s earnestness.
Jared gulped in a deep breath as if to steady himself, then returned the smile. “Together it shall be then.”
*****
Their wedding was neither extravagant nor particularly widely-attended, as far as Court ceremonies went, and Jensen was perfectly fine with that. There’d been a certain baseline crowd in the church, simply because the King and Queen had been present, and any function they attended drew the Court’s regular cadre of hangers-on and gawkers. And many of Jared’s retainers had made the long trip to witness the marriage and investiture of their new liege. Otherwise, there were few strangers in the crowd at the church. Given that this was the wedding of the heir to one of the largest estates in the kingdom, it was downright intimate.
Now, though, all of the pageantry and formalities were complete. Jensen’s lineage had been confirmed, Jared’s installment as Lord Padalecki proclaimed by the King. Robert the Wise had insisted on travelling to Morgan to officiate, and under his watchful eye, Jensen had said his vows, Jared had replied. They had exchanged the kiss of peace that sealed their contract and their twofold-bond, and if merely that chaste press of lip-to-lip had set Jensen’s senses alight, he hid it well during the long evening of public celebration, biding his time. There were enough moments during the feasting that he saw Jared shift awkwardly, throwing Jensen an avid look from under lidded eyes, that his own eagerness was easily curbed.
They would be alone together soon enough, and forever after that.
Now he stood outside the door to Jared’s chambers, having finally been divested of his wedding regalia and escorted through the castle halls by his companions in the King’s Guard and other nobles-Sampson, Olsson, Whitfield, McKinney, and even the Princess herself-with the traditional lewd jesting and toasts straight from the wineskin. They’d pounded on the door and Alona had called out, “Your bridegroom has arrived, Lord Padalecki. Are you ready to receive him, or shall we carry him away again? I fear that a bit more drink and he will be no good for you this evening!”
Jensen shoved several of them aside good-naturedly and shooed the rest away, cracking open the door himself and slipping inside, as if afraid that the crowd would follow. He turned to look around the room with a grin still on his face. But his joviality mellowed into a warm wave of fondness and desire as he caught sight of Jared, in front of the hearth, staring down into the small fire that crackled there.
Like Jensen, he was clothed in only a nightrobe of finest silk, and it clung to the muscles in Jared’s shoulders and back, flowing down over his slim hips and the high curve of his ass. Jensen’s fingers twitched with the desperate need to touch.
“At last we are alone,” he said, attempting to tease a smile onto Jared’s too-serious countenance.
“Indeed,” Jared replied. “Thank the Two. At times I feared the day would never end.” The words were the right ones, but Jensen could hear the tension in Jared’s voice, the stiffness in his movements as he reached up to the mantle to take a sip from a cup set near to hand.
Jensen crossed the room unhurriedly. He had a sense of what might be troubling his husband-his husband, by the gods, he would never get tired of that word-and was fairly confident he had a cure. Finally, finally, they had time and privacy. Jared’s wedding night nerves did not stand a chance against him.
When he reached the hearth, he fitted himself up against Jared’s back, wrapping his arms loosely about his waist and hooking his chin up over Jared’s shoulder so that they watched the fire together. It was a casual embrace, meant only for comfort. Only for stillness, quiet. This was a familiar path that Jensen trod, and he felt the tightness in Jared’s frame begin to ease a bit in the simple, undemanding closeness.
“Tell me,” he murmured in Jared’s ear. The tie to Jared’s robe was right there under his hands, almost unbearably tempting, but Jensen made himself wait. Just a bit longer.
“Why is it that you always have the task of dragging the truth out of me?” Jared said ruefully. “Always must be the one who sorts out the maelstrom in my mind?”
Jensen shrugged, knowing Jared would feel it where they pressed together. “Perhaps you’ve just got too much commotion in there for one mind to hold.” He smiled into Jared’s shoulder. “I have it easy, I’m just a simple man.”
Jared laughed silently and leaned back deeper into Jensen’s embrace.
“I’ve wanted this since I first saw you,” Jared said after a moment. “Wanted it the minute I knelt before you in the dirt on that road outside of Palo Alto. But now that we’re here, I’m so nervous. I can’t-it doesn’t make sense.”
Jensen could still feel Jared’s slight trembling, but he could also see the jut of his cock, pushing out against the thin fabric of his robe . Nervous, yes. Unwilling, certainly not.
“Listen.” He pulled away and turned Jared so they faced each other. He caught Jared’s gaze and held it, needing to read the truth in Jared’s eyes. “You know what happens between husbands in bed, yes?”
Jared could hardly have missed the indiscreet and lurid acts any number of courtiers committed nightly, publicly, all over the palace. But Jensen was determined to be frank with his young charge-no-his young spouse.
“Of course,” Jared nodded, then gave Jensen a mischievous smile. “And other, less felicitous, places too.”
Jensen caught the reference to their tryst in the forest after Heyerdahl’s ambush and replied with a quick grin of his own. He was glad that Jared wasn’t shadowed by what happened there, either the attack or what came after.
“More than that. There are many things we might do together tonight,” Jensen continued more seriously. “It’s important to me that, here, from the start, we’re honest about what we want. What you want.”
He took Jared’s hand and placed it on his chest. Again he forced himself to wait, to have patience, even if his growing lust had him trembling almost as noticeably as Jared.
“I know what I want,” Jared said, his voice suddenly low and fervent. “I want you to touch me. To teach me all the ways that we can pleasure each other. I-” he stuttered a little but did not look away. “-I want you inside me, as a man takes another man. I’ve imagined how it would feel, but now I want to know.”
Before Jensen could react to this declaration, Jared eased open Jensen’s robe slightly, just enough to bare his chest and let his fingers feather over the few lingering bruises, most healed to a greenish-mauve. Jensen sucked in a sharp breath and drew Jared to him.
“We can do that,” he said, and waited no longer to seek Jared’s lips.
He kissed Jared as if drinking water after days in a desert. Deep, greedy kisses, full of promise of what was to come. He felt Jared’s hands start to wander over his body, and he let his own have free rein as well. He skated them across the firm planes of Jared’s chest, down his flanks, feeling Jared’s breath hitch as his fingers brushed low over his stomach. It was a match to dry kindling, the way touching Jared made him burn, and he raced ahead, his fingers working open the knot of Jared’s gown, sliding it slowly open to glory in the feel of hot, smooth skin and to trace the lines between his abs. Jensen slid his hand even further down to hug the curve of Jared’s bare hip, thumb circling around and around the jut of bone there, and Jared squirmed under his touch, shivering and breathless.
Jared was so eager, so responsive. His every gasp, every quiver under Jensen’s hands was a marvel. Jensen could feel the hot, hard length of Jared’s cock pressing against his belly, with little jolts every time he sucked hard on Jared’s tongue, a spot of wetness from the tip soaking through Jensen’s robe.
But they still had a long way to go, if Jensen was to give Jared tonight what he asked for. Perhaps he should take the edge off Jared’s urgency with an apéritif before they indulged in the main course.
He pulled back, both of them gasping for air. Then he murmured against Jared’s lips, “How close are you?”
“What?” Jared blinked, his eyes hot and glazed, his fingers flexing unconsciously, rhythmically at Jensen’s shoulders.
Jensen deliberately pitched his voice in a heavy drawl. “If I reached down right now and stroked your cock, how quickly would you come?”
“Unghh.” Jared moaned and slumped sideways, his shoulder hitting the stonework of the mantleplace. That was enough answer for Jensen.
“Turn and lean back,” he said, flipping the tails of Jared’s robe away and dropping to his knees before him.
He stopped for just a moment, drinking in the sight of Jared’s erection, thick and rose-red, rising from the soft curls covering his sac. He reached up to run teasing fingertips up the underside, tracing out the beat of Jared’s pulse in the center vein, feeling the staccato throb of his heartbeat there. Jensen took a deep breath in, Jared’s musky scent the most potent aphrodisiac.
“Please,” he heard Jared grit out above him. “Please do something, Jensen. Do anything.” And he could not wait any longer. He leaned in and suckled at the velvety crown briefly before swallowing Jared all the way down to the back of his throat.
Jared let out a shout and his knees nearly buckled. Jensen kept his grip tight on his hip in support, but let the other come up to fondle Jared’s balls, feeling them tighten and draw up against his body as Jensen bobbed up and down. Jared was as primed and desperate as Jensen suspected, because all it took was a curl of Jensen’s tongue on the upstroke and a press of his knuckle into the supple, secret skin behind Jared’s balls, and Jared spent himself into Jensen’s mouth. Hot, bitter spunk swept over Jensen’s taste buds, and he swallowed it down, gulping at the flood as Jared pumped his hips helplessly, shuddering and twisting. A spate of little ah, ah, ahs punched out of Jared’s lungs, each one causing Jensen’s own throbbing cock to twitch in response.
Jensen pressed the heel of his hand to his stiff length to ease its ache momentarily, then he stood, sliding right up Jared’s body to support his limp weight.
He grinned a little at the shattered look on Jared’s face, and nuzzled up under Jared’s ear. “Let’s go over to the bed now, alright?”
Jared nodded dazedly and stumbled toward the curtained bed, almost as ornate as the one Jensen had slept in at Saint Anthony, bedecked in velvet draperies and plump with soft bedding and pillows. Jensen stopped Jared at the bedside just long enough to slip the robe over his shoulders, letting it fall into a glossy puddle around his feet. But Jared suddenly came back to life, scrabbling likewise at the tie on Jensen’s robe. He muttered a curse, tearing it off. He pushed at Jensen’s bare shoulders so that he sat with a thump, the bed under him and Jared coming down on top of him and oh, thank gods.
He felt as if he'd been waiting for this moment for his entire life. Jared's tongue in his mouth, Jared’s hands cradling his face, his cock burning hot against Jensen’s belly as he sat on his haunches across Jensen's lap, knees planted outside Jensen’s hips.
Jensen swallowed the noises Jared made into his mouth, the urgent whines and stifled moans, changing the angle of their kiss to lick deeper inside. He spread his legs wide to force Jared to press even nearer, to open him even further. In response, Jared ground down, swiveling his hips, rubbing his cock against Jensen’s, kissing back hard and sweet and desperate, and Jensen was so turned on by that he thought he might explode. He palmed a hand across the damp skin at the small of Jared’s back and dared to slip two fingers down between Jared’s spread cheeks to brush over the furled skin of his hole. Jared made a shocked, eager noise deep in his throat and his whole body practically rippled as he bucked at Jensen’s touch.
“Want you, Jared. Want you now,” Jensen said hoarsely, his senses overwhelmed by hips and hands and tongue and skin, by Jared moving so innocent and sinuous against him. Jensen had never felt anything like this, so inflamed, every nerve in his body standing on end.
“Have me,” Jared answered, and he tumbled to the side, pulling at Jensen’s shoulders as he fell, landing flat on his back with Jensen on top of him. Jensen reached down to grip the backs of Jared’s thighs and heaved, boosting him up into the center of the bed and falling forward to hover over him on hands and knees. Jared was impossibly gorgeous sprawled out beneath him, his hair fanned over the bedclothes. Jensen couldn’t resist, he leaned down into Jared’s chest to lip at one tawny, peaked nipple, rolling it gently between his teeth. Jared gasped and writhed and bucked again at this new sensation.
“Ah, how does that feel?” Jensen murmured into Jared’s skin. Then he stroked at the nub even harder with the tip and flat of his tongue, even as he brought a free hand up to play with the other, thrumming over it with his calloused thumb.
“I can’t-good. So good. So good,” Jared chanted, arching his back to get closer.
“Mmm,” Jensen hummed in encouragement as he continued to tease and play with both nipples. But then the sound turned into a strangled moan as he felt Jared slip a hand between them and curl it around Jensen’s cock. Jensen squeezed his eyes shut and remembered Jared jacking them off together in the forest, the echo of that moment singing through him as Jared started stroking him, slow and smooth. And, gods, if he kept that up, Jensen was going to burst way too soon.
Jensen rolled his hips down so that Jared’s hand was trapped between them. “Wait,” he gasped. “I would have you fully, under me. I-I would give you all you ask.”
In other circumstances, with any other partner, Jensen would have simply suggested that they fuck. But in this bed, with Jared, it seemed too meager and vulgar a word. Who knew love would turn him into such a romantic?
Jared was hauling in deep breaths, too, and said simply, earnestly, “Yes.”
Jensen sucked in a sharp breath at the expression on Jared's face. It was all burning want, all directed at him. It eclipsed the blues and golds in his eyes and turned them dark. He licked his lips, and Jensen had to look away, or he’d come right then and there.
He rolled over toward the small bench placed by the bedside and sent up a prayer of thanks to whichever servants prepared the room. Because along with sundries like the jugs of wine and water and the ewer for washing in the morning, they’d provided a tall, elegantly crafted bottle of scented oil, sweet and slick. Jensen had no patience for the cork, simply ripped it out with his teeth and spit it over the side of the bed. Then he tipped the jar and poured a small puddle into the hollow of his hand.
He turned back to Jared, saw him open his legs wider in response, and nearly choked. Jensen knew he should have Jared turn over, that this initiation would be less difficult on his belly. But he was too selfish. He wanted to see Jared’s expressive face, watch every raw reaction, revel in the sight of him coming undone with Jensen inside him. His first time, their first time.
Leaning forward, Jensen said, “I need to get you ready to receive me. This oil helps to ease the way.”
With his clean hand, he snatched up a pillow and coaxed Jared into tucking it under his hips, tilting them up. Then he scooted close, closer, reached down to cup his palm under Jared’s knee and raised his leg carefully up to drape over his shoulder. He coated his fingers in the slippery pool and reached down, smearing Jared’s cock with the oil on his way past, down behind his balls, down to the small, tender opening laid bare before him.
A quick, startled yelp slipped out of Jared at the first graze of Jensen’s fingers to his hole and his legs jerked, like they were trying to clamp shut, despite the position that held him open.
Jensen automatically pulled back, but Jared stopped him, slurring, “Sorry. Sorry, I-” Deliberately trying to relax his muscles, Jared cocked his other leg out farther to the side, offering Jensen even greater access. “Like this?” he asked, his eyes wide, his breath shallow.
“Just like that,” Jensen whispered reverently.
Jared was so trusting, so ingenuous. Jensen was torn between wanting to protect him and wanting to debauch him completely. “As long as you want it,” he added. “Do you want this?”
He let the tip of one finger circle and loop, caressing around Jared’s rim, then, at Jared’s hissed, “Yes,” slowly he pressed past the resistance. Jared’s body sucked it in like it was as hungry as his whimpery noises made it sound. Jensen turned his head to lick at the thin, salty skin of Jared’s inner thigh, right there, scraping a little with his teeth to elicit a delicious, unrestrained shiver. It made Jared clench up around his fingertip and Jensen groaned, pushing it in deeper to feel the silky flesh envelop it.
Jensen waited for a minute, laying more soft kisses along Jared’s leg, then began dragging his finger in and out, striking up an agonizingly slow rhythm that had Jared jerking hips-first off the bed in an artless pursuit of sensation.
The tight muscle relented enough that Jensen could tease around the edge with a second finger and carefully slid that one in, too. Dear gods, it was so hot inside, so lush and snug and Jensen had to force himself not to think-no, don't think-about how good it was going to feel around his cock.
Another jab in, quicker this time, and Jared let out a short, high cry, digging his head back into the pillow and baring his neck, his leg tightening painfully on Jensen’s shoulder.
"By all that’s holy, Jensen," he gasped, astonishment clear in his voice, "What was that?"
With a grin, Jensen replied, “Oh, that means we’re getting to the good part.”
He searched out the spot again, teased the little bit of flesh with the pads of his fingers and Jared reared up, clawing at the bed. A quiet whine built in his throat, growing louder and louder as Jensen widened his fingers slowly, stretching, spreading, then curling them to stroke and rub again at the spot that had Jared shaking like a leaf.
By the time Jensen added more oil and a third finger, Jared had tipped over from willing to frantic, Jensen could see it in his face, the scrunch of his forehead and sharp dig of teeth into his bottom lip, the arch and twist of his spine. The feeling was mutual, because the way he was bucking against Jensen as he shoved into him threatened to drive Jensen mad with impatience.
“Are you ready for more?” Jensen asked, and it came out like begging, as he thrust all three fingers in, all the way to the knuckle. Jared keened assent, and reached for him, scrabbling at Jensen’s arm to draw him nearer. He left nail scratches behind like lines of fire as Jared dragged them chest to chest, Jensen in the cradle of his hips, his cock bumping up against Jared’s wet, open hole.
“Now, beloved," Jared demanded, shaky and thready and urgent. He strained upward to get to Jensen’s mouth. The kiss was brutal and inelegant, less of a kiss and more like Jared was trying to devour Jensen. Then he scrubbed his cheek blindly against Jensen’s, grating out words he's not even sure Jared realized he was saying. "Give me your cock. I want it in me, want you inside, you know I do. Want to feel it-feel you-so much. Don’t make me wait."
Jared might as well have carved the words into Jensen’s skin with a knife, they cut him so deep. He didn’t hesitate any longer-couldn’t, wouldn’t-just lined himself up to Jared’s entrance and carefully pressed.
They moaned in unison as Jensen’s cock breeched Jared’s body. Jensen’s arms shook where he held himself over Jared, Jared’s shook as he reached down instinctively to grab his own legs, tugging them tighter to his chest, curling up and spreading himself as wide as he could. No crisis on the battlefield had ever tested Jensen’s mettle more cruelly than that moment, the urge to thrust, to come, so overwhelming, from just the feel of his cockhead gripped by Jared’s tight channel. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, not daring to breathe, and strained furiously for control.
A moment later, he was back from the precipice, focused again completely on Jared, searching his face for signs of pain or distress. Go slow. Slow. Slow, Jensen recited to himself.
At first, when Jensen moved again, Jared’s mouth flattened into a thin, strained line. Jensen raised a hand to brush back Jared’s hair, skating it lightly down over his chest and ribs and belly and back up. Stroking, soothing, distracting Jared from the pain of entry. And the deeper Jensen sank, the more readily Jared’s body welcomed him in, loosening, unfurling for him like it was made to take this. The more ground Jensen took-each breath, each inch-the wider Jared’s soft lips parted, the lines around his eyes smoothing out into something like ecstasy and awe.
At last Jensen was seated fully, and it was as if there was a great hot ember burning somewhere in the middle of his gut, heat swiftly licking its way outward until he was sure he would be scorched and gone. He tried to hold still, to let them both adjust to the vise-like pressure, but his cock demanded friction and his hips moved without his volition, risking a single short, deep jab that was more perfect than anything he’d ever felt before.
“Ah, yes," Jared cried out, tossing his head, the heavy fall of his hair brushing Jensen’s wrist like a caress. “Y-yes. Have mercy, Jensen. More.”
So Jensen eased out of him almost entirely, and pushed back in, a slow surge that made Jared’s already short and choppy breath hitch in his chest. Jensen drank in every gasp as he rolled his hips, seeking, changing the angle each time until Jared's incoherent mewl of pleasure told him he’d rediscovered what he was looking for.
"I will give you more," Jensen growled in triumph, and propped himself on one hand to reach for Jared’s cock, standing gratifyingly hard and wet against his belly. Jensen slicked his fingers with the remaining traces of oil and the pre-come that blurted from the head and curled them around its thick girth. He jacked Jared, a stroke for every thrust of his hips into that singular spot inside him. As his cock slid slickly in and out of Jared's ass, clenched in exquisite tight heat, Jensen groaned in near agony. The need to let go and fuck with abandon welled up again in him like blood from a wound. But he fended it off, just barely, still determined to see to Jared’s satisfaction above all.
Then Jared opened his eyes and locked them with Jensen’s. His hand came up to join Jensen’s, twining with his fingers as they pumped his cock. Faster now, and they moved together in tandem as if they’d been lovers for years. Jared’s legs were wrapped around Jensen’s sides, flexing and contracting against his lower back, so strong Jensen felt the pressure in his still-mending ribs. But the pain was like seasoning in a spicy dish, an ache to mix with the luscious thrill each time Jensen buried himself deep, each time Jared whimpered with pleasure.
The fingers of Jared’s free hand dug ruthlessly into the back of Jensen’s neck to yank him in closer. Jensen strained forward on the crest of a thrust to touch his mouth to Jared’s. He nipped his lower lip sharply, soothed it with his tongue, and pulled away again.
From a throat gone tight, Jensen scraped words out. "Come for me," he urged. "My beautiful, perfect husband. You’re mine now, Jared. So come-"
With a deep, guttural moan, Jared buckled under him, his muscles locking up. Jensen felt it, exulting, his heart full to overflowing, as ripples of bliss shook Jared’s body. But the feel of his release, thick and wet over their linked hands, the primal smell of it, the look of rapture on Jared’s flushed face, all combined to push Jensen over the edge. He gave in to his own need. His hips snapped forward in spite of himself, slamming into Jared's ass-too hard, too hard-bright friction and Jared still answering him with tiny thrusts upward. Sensation swelled inside him, up from his toes to his fingertips, spiraling back into a tight, pulsing ball at the base of his spine. Then with one last plunge of his hips he froze, overcome, and spilled himself into Jared's pliant body.
He folded helplessly down onto Jared’s chest. Arms came up to embrace him, pressing him closer. Long fingers ran lazily through Jensen's damp hair as they both panted for air.
"Merciful gods," Jensen said at last, his whole body limp and thrumming, echoing the feel of Jared's rabbiting heart under his cheek. “Are you alright? Tell me how that felt. Tell me you’re contented.”
Jared huffed a laugh, causing Jensen’s head to bounce where it lay. “Are you truly fishing for compliments right now? Because you must know that was-it was the-the most magnificent thing I’ve ever felt.” He sighed grandly, “I am indeed content, my lord.”
“My lord?” Jensen teased. “What happened to ‘beloved’? I think I like beloved.”
He felt Jared’s lip brush the top of his head. After a moment, there came a whisper. “I believe I’ve discovered that they mean the same thing.”
There was nothing more to say after that, and they rested in silence until Jensen found the energy to move. Getting his knees under him, slowly, gingerly he pulled out of Jared. He slid the fouled pillow out from underneath them and tossed it onto the floor, then groped for a cloth from the bedside stand and dipped it one-handed into the ewer. He used it to clean them both off, Jared first, gently soothing cool water over his skin and sore spots.
He’d barely finished before Jared hauled him back in again, snuggling him close. Jensen wasn’t accustomed to such embraces after sex, but he found himself savoring it, the soft, indolent, purposeless kisses, Jared’s skin warm against his, the beat of their hearts in time.
His bruises ached. He was exhausted from lack of sleep and a week’s worth of travel and physical exertion. He had just wed a man he’d known less than a season, the fledgling head of one of the most exalted houses of the aristocracy. There was likely still war on the horizon, one Jensen was destined to be at the heart of. And yet… he had never been more content than he was at that moment.
They fell asleep with their lips barely separated, Jensen savoring the thought that, the next morning, he would not have far to seek Jared when he woke.
*****
The road to Saint Anthony was just the same as it had been a few short weeks before. Except for where before the trees shading the hoof-worn, rutted earth had been decorated with the blooms of late springtime, now they were in full foliage, green and lush.
They’d headed out from Morgan but three days after the wedding. It was as hasty as the ceremony itself, yet both of them were eager for time and to be out of the hornet’s nest of the Court.
Now in the evenings, on this journey, instead of sparring, Jensen took Jared by the hand and led him into their tent, the same they’d shared in their earlier travels. Jensen was amused to discover that Jared was shy of lovemaking with the company of soldiers within earshot. Which of course spurred Jensen to tease him, stripping him down and laying him out on their bedrolls, tormenting him with such slow, fervid licking and biting and sucking that Jared had to bite down on his hand to muffle his cries for mercy, blushing furiously each morning as he emerged from the tent to the knowing grins of their escort.
At last they found themselves on the hill approaching Saint Anthony’s town, the castle gate towering solid and reassuring in the distance. Jensen tapped a heel to his horse’s side and jogged up close enough that Shadow could turn his face to nuzzle at Faith’s shoulder. Considering that this was very near to what Jensen had been daydreaming of doing to Jared when they reached the keep, he quickly pulled his mount more firmly to the center of the road in deference to Jared’s sweet sense of decorum.
“What say you, my lord? I’m quite dusty from our travels. Shall we have a bath tonight?”
Jared grinned back. “I do believe we shall, my lord. I do believe so. There’s a new name to be carved into the stone.”
“Two names,” Jensen responded, and-decorum be damned-he nudged Shadow over again and reached out to a place hand on the back of Jared’s neck, tugging him swiftly into a heated kiss. The citizens who turned out on the side of the road to welcome home the Lords Padalecki cheered and catcalled good-naturedly at the embrace.
Jared laughed against Jensen’s lips. “By the Two.”
*****
On the road behind, a solitary figure galloped on a tired mount. Concealed underneath a common messenger’s cloak to hide her face, it was Princess Alona, riding hard to seek them out.
~fin
