...and there's nothing else.
title: Ain't That You and Me
word count: 2000-ish
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content. jared/jensen.
disclaimer: i certainly don't own them. but i'm mostly certain that they own me. i'm not complaining.
a/n: for
ant_power; to whom i owe jared/jensen; pajama sharing (jared wears bottom, jensen wears top); porn. the utter schmoopiness is entirely unintended. hey
paz_, your keymashing and the incoherency and the annoying nitpicking is ♥. feedbacks are loved, people. :)
Ain’t That You and Me
Jensen kicks in his sleep. Hard. Like you’ve deliberately insulted his family name and you deserve one in the shin. Harley and Sadie learned that the hard way. Literally. Jared couldn’t figure out why the mutts were always whimpering in the morning until he woke up in the middle of the night to take a piss and saw with his own two eyes Jensen’s heel crashing into Harley’s upturned belly by the bed. After that it wasn’t any wonder that Jensen always wakes up with one leg swung out of bed. Jared? Well, he sleeps like a log. No flying kicking action could ever wake him, not even that one time Jensen planted one against his chin so hard he woke up and apologized over and over again to a groggy and clueless Jared. So, yeah. Jensen kicks in his sleep and Jared sleeps like the dead. So that works for both of them.
Jared likes his candies sweet and sour, his coffee strong but sticky sweet, his waffles crispy on the edges and smothered in so much syrup they’re practically waffles on syrup rather than the other way around. Jensen’s only guilty pleasure is gummi bears, takes his coffee straight up black, thick and bitter, scrambled eggs on slightly burnt toasts. Jared always makes their coffee in the morning separately; making sure Jensen gets his in his favorite cow-printed mug. Jensen always picks out the red gummi bears and dumps them into the bowl Jared has on the coffee table because they’re the only ones that Jared would eat.
Jensen almost always wakes up to an empty bed, saunters into the bathroom and starts breakfast before Jared comes home from his morning run with the dogs. Jared would kiss him lingeringly before they sit down for breakfast as Jensen slips Sadie some of his bacon. Jared shakes his head from behind the newspaper and mumbles no wonder she likes you better than me now and Jensen smirks. Are you kidding? The first thing she did when I first came over was bury her nose in my crotch. It’s instant attraction, man. Jared passes his own smirk, just like you and me, huh? and winks. Sometimes, though, Jensen has his dirt biking obsession streak and Jared would wake in Jensen’s empty bed, stumble down to the kitchen and raid Jensen’s well-stocked fridge for something to prepare before Jensen comes home hopped up on adrenaline and hungry like a bear. No scrambled eggs those mornings. Just Jared’s special breakfast pasta. Jensen would scarf down a whole plate while Jared spends his time gazing at how Jensen’s hair would be bleached a tad blonder, freckled cheeks toasted gold and tinted pink. They would spend the day off watching television, sprawl on top of each other on the gigantic couch, drinking beer and iced tea and warm lemonade and grilling hamburgers and chicken wings on the patio.
Dudes. Not even married couples are as domesticated as you boys are, Mike often says. Jared and Jensen would just pass each other one of those looks they’ve learnt and understood and mastered that contains everything that says everything about love.
Jensen has a thing - this thing - about people wearing his clothes. Except maybe Jared. Sometimes. Never his shoes, though. Because the Sasquatch would just stretch them with his huge clown feet. If it’s the other way around, though. Well.
///
If he wasn’t before, Jensen is sure now. There’s nothing quite like stumbling down the stairs early in the morning of a beautiful Sunday and finding your boyfriend scrambling eggs in the pan in just his pajama bottom. So he stays a little while on the flight of stairs, looking down as Harley barks once, twice, front paws nudging at the side of Jared’s thigh. Sadie has probably given up, curling up somewhere just waiting for Jensen to slip her bacon later.
Jared glances down briefly, shakes his head. “No, Harley. This isn’t for you. Who’s it for? Oh - it’s for that adorable cross-eyed pumpkincakes curling on the bed drooling upstairs.”
“Did you just call me a cross-eyed pumpkincakes?” Jensen greets from the stairs.
Jared grins his way. “Adorable,” he points out.
“You know, I can’t help the way my eyes look.”
Jared squints as Jensen descends, walking right into the kitchen. “Dude. Is that my top?”
Jensen looks down and shrugs, yanks the refrigerator door open and bends down to get the OJ carton. The top is huge but the bottom hem barely reaches past Jensen’s ass. Jared can see the hiked up boxer-briefs he is wearing underneath. It’s time like these - when Jensen walks into the kitchen wearing only his pajama top like he’s some kind of a leggy, busty blonde that Jared suspects that maybe Jensen is secretly a leggy, busty blonde. Only with a cock that fits so nicely up his-
“Man,” Jensen groaned, pretty face screwing up. “This juice is so way past its expiry date.”
Jared scoops up the eggs and dumps everything on a huge platter next to Jensen’s toasts. “Why are you wearing my PJ again?”
“I can’t find my clothes from last night,” Jensen replies, rinsing the glass he’d been using.
Jared picks up their plates and moves to the small dining table, Jensen following with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Yeah. I’ve taken them for laundry. Why are you wearing my top?”
Jensen’s eyes glint with mirth. “It’s not like you need them,” he smiles tauntingly, running his gaze over Jared’s naked chest. “’Sides, you don’t expect me to walk around the house naked all morning, do you?”
“Certainly wouldn’t mind,” Jared winks.
Jensen fakes a frown, lower lip jutting out. “The dogs might be traumatized.”
Jared’s eyes are fixated on those pair of full, plump lips, feeling their calling right down to his crotch. He walks toward the all-knowing beaming Jensen, feeling the soft cotton of his pajama pants chafing against his erection, entirely not helping the situation. Standing flushed against Jensen, toe brushing toe, Jared feels like licking the nook of his throat exposed over the collar of the pajama top where freckles are the lightest but still there, just waiting to be mapped. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my top, though.”
“You can take it off if you want to,” Jensen smirks slyly, rising on the balls of his feet, aligning their cocks. Jared is going commando underneath his pajama bottom and Jensen grins, grinding their lengths together as Jared sucks in a sharp intake of air.
“Hell, yes,” Jared growls, cradling Jensen’s face with his big hands and dips down to capture his lips.
Breakfast forgotten. The dogs, probably already trained well by Jared slink out the screen doors to the patio on their own, rolling their eyes at the display of affection, if ever they could. Jared backs Jensen up against the dining table, glasses and knick knacks rattling per the body slam and Jensen laughs against crushed lips, nipping at Jared’s lower lip and hands busy tugging at the waistband hung low on angled hips. Jensen’s boxer-briefs come off first underneath Jared’s long tactile fingers, cock already curving, hard and blood red against smooth plane of tummy. Jensen always gasps at Jared’s first touch on his dick because there is never getting used to unbelievably large paws that envelops both lovingly and eagerly, smooth and callused in the perfect places. Jensen palms and strokes Jared’s dick in tandem with his hip thrusts and Jared smiles, gnaws gently at Jensen’s pulse point, hand already slowing down.
“Don’t you dare stop, Jared,” Jensen’s voice drops even lower than usual, sending sparks up and down Jared’s spine.
“Ain’t stopping, baby,” Jared mumbles, sucks on Jensen’s earlobe as he reaches behind Jensen towards the table and straightens, holding a syrup bottle, white grin on full force. “I like my breakfast sweet, ‘s all.”
Jensen matches the hungry look in Jared’s eyes with his own, swiping a solid thumb over the head of Jared’s dick, pink tongue dancing against his bruised lower lip, inviting. Jared’s eyelids flutter as he bends forward to latch on Jensen’s neck, trailing down with his tongue and teeth and wet mouth, hips jerking in competition with Jensen’s strokes and tugs. Just like that, he can feel Jensen’s cock leaking precome against his leg and moans, teeth tugging at the first button on the cotton pajama. Jensen does his patented twist of the wrist and Jared can feel himself unfurl, bites at smooth collarbone and then there’s a distinct sound of fabric tearing, buttons flying everywhere. Jared groans and squirts a large glob of sticky syrup all over Jensen’s chest and laps at the dripping substance tasting sweet and tangy and warm skin underneath.
Jensen whimpers, grabs at Jared’s hair and arches away from the cutting edge of the table on the base of his spine as Jared suckles at one sugar coated nipple before licking down and further down until-
“Jesus fuck,” Jensen gasps, strong fingers slipping from hard cock and move to wide, steady shoulders, blunt fingernails clawing at golden brown skin. Jared’s tongue is still coated with syrup and the rough velvet coupled with the heavy liquid are almost too much for Jensen to handle. His knees are already buckling as Jared presses against the vein underneath when a syrup covered finger enters him without preamble, pushing through tight heat and every sensory point that makes Jensen keen and groan appreciatively.
Jensen looks down to see Jared kneeling between his legs, focus intent on the shaft in his vice-like mouth, sucking and slurping, tongue dancing in time with his finger before adding one and then two more. Jared alternates between humming and moaning around Jensen’s cock, crooking his fingers to bump against bundle of nerves and scissoring on the upstroke.
Sometimes it’s like this - quick and nearly silent, the only sounds permeating the air are of heavy breathing and occasional groans and moans, soft whispered curses and pleadings. Jensen’s already gasping for air, spurting bursts of come slowly in Jared’s mouth when Jared releases his cock with a wet pop and drags him bodily onto the floor and angling his hip just right, hitting Jensen’s prostate again at his entrance. Jensen palms Jared’s chest as he levers himself up and down, gets rewarded with choked groans and muffled fuck, yes so very good Jensen God fuck. Jared manages to reach out and circle Jensen’s cock, first, second, third, fourth tug and Jensen comes spilling onto his fingers, stomach muscles contracting through the orgasm. He shifts, drawing Jared deeper and Jared bursts within him, riding down the sensation with short, jerking movements.
They lay spread eagled on the messy floor, spent and languid breathing side by side in rhythm, Jensen’s head on Jared’s belly rising and falling steadily simultaneously with each inhale and exhale. Outside, they can hear the mutts’ forepaws thump-thumping against the wooden flooring of the patio, yowls and barks and yelps. Inside, Jensen shifts his head, sticks his tongue out and licks playfully at the smooth space between Jared’s belly button and the trail of hair leading south.
Jared screws his face up, long fingers slipping down to pinch Jensen’s perky nipple. “Don’t you dare wear my clothes again,” he growls, free hand ruffling the sweat-soaked hair on Jensen’s head.
“If you say so,” Jensen grins, picking up Jared’s paw from his chest and toying with his long fingers. “But wasn’t that…fun?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jared chuckles then his eyes catch sight of torn cotton flung across the room. “Aw, man. That was my favorite PJ.”
“Hey,” Jensen laughs. “’S not my fault. You were the one who went all caveman with me.”
“Still. No more snaking my clothes like that.”
Jensen lifts his head, stares at Jared’s flushed pink face with wide, gleeful eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, okay,” Jared grins, hooking the back of Jensen’s neck and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss. “Maybe once in a while,” he whispers against Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen’s eyelids flutter. “Sometimes.”
///
Yeah. Jensen has a thing about people wearing his clothes. Jared, too, has a thing about people wearing his clothes. Except maybe each other. Sometimes. But any other time? Well, let’s just say they handle it pretty well. Maybe a few pieces of clothing get torn up during the process but what they got out of it is a whole lot more important, anyway.
So that works for both of them, too.
word count: 2000-ish
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content. jared/jensen.
disclaimer: i certainly don't own them. but i'm mostly certain that they own me. i'm not complaining.
a/n: for
ant_power; to whom i owe jared/jensen; pajama sharing (jared wears bottom, jensen wears top); porn. the utter schmoopiness is entirely unintended. hey
paz_, your keymashing and the incoherency and the annoying nitpicking is ♥. feedbacks are loved, people. :)
Ain’t That You and Me
Jensen kicks in his sleep. Hard. Like you’ve deliberately insulted his family name and you deserve one in the shin. Harley and Sadie learned that the hard way. Literally. Jared couldn’t figure out why the mutts were always whimpering in the morning until he woke up in the middle of the night to take a piss and saw with his own two eyes Jensen’s heel crashing into Harley’s upturned belly by the bed. After that it wasn’t any wonder that Jensen always wakes up with one leg swung out of bed. Jared? Well, he sleeps like a log. No flying kicking action could ever wake him, not even that one time Jensen planted one against his chin so hard he woke up and apologized over and over again to a groggy and clueless Jared. So, yeah. Jensen kicks in his sleep and Jared sleeps like the dead. So that works for both of them.
Jared likes his candies sweet and sour, his coffee strong but sticky sweet, his waffles crispy on the edges and smothered in so much syrup they’re practically waffles on syrup rather than the other way around. Jensen’s only guilty pleasure is gummi bears, takes his coffee straight up black, thick and bitter, scrambled eggs on slightly burnt toasts. Jared always makes their coffee in the morning separately; making sure Jensen gets his in his favorite cow-printed mug. Jensen always picks out the red gummi bears and dumps them into the bowl Jared has on the coffee table because they’re the only ones that Jared would eat.
Jensen almost always wakes up to an empty bed, saunters into the bathroom and starts breakfast before Jared comes home from his morning run with the dogs. Jared would kiss him lingeringly before they sit down for breakfast as Jensen slips Sadie some of his bacon. Jared shakes his head from behind the newspaper and mumbles no wonder she likes you better than me now and Jensen smirks. Are you kidding? The first thing she did when I first came over was bury her nose in my crotch. It’s instant attraction, man. Jared passes his own smirk, just like you and me, huh? and winks. Sometimes, though, Jensen has his dirt biking obsession streak and Jared would wake in Jensen’s empty bed, stumble down to the kitchen and raid Jensen’s well-stocked fridge for something to prepare before Jensen comes home hopped up on adrenaline and hungry like a bear. No scrambled eggs those mornings. Just Jared’s special breakfast pasta. Jensen would scarf down a whole plate while Jared spends his time gazing at how Jensen’s hair would be bleached a tad blonder, freckled cheeks toasted gold and tinted pink. They would spend the day off watching television, sprawl on top of each other on the gigantic couch, drinking beer and iced tea and warm lemonade and grilling hamburgers and chicken wings on the patio.
Dudes. Not even married couples are as domesticated as you boys are, Mike often says. Jared and Jensen would just pass each other one of those looks they’ve learnt and understood and mastered that contains everything that says everything about love.
Jensen has a thing - this thing - about people wearing his clothes. Except maybe Jared. Sometimes. Never his shoes, though. Because the Sasquatch would just stretch them with his huge clown feet. If it’s the other way around, though. Well.
///
If he wasn’t before, Jensen is sure now. There’s nothing quite like stumbling down the stairs early in the morning of a beautiful Sunday and finding your boyfriend scrambling eggs in the pan in just his pajama bottom. So he stays a little while on the flight of stairs, looking down as Harley barks once, twice, front paws nudging at the side of Jared’s thigh. Sadie has probably given up, curling up somewhere just waiting for Jensen to slip her bacon later.
Jared glances down briefly, shakes his head. “No, Harley. This isn’t for you. Who’s it for? Oh - it’s for that adorable cross-eyed pumpkincakes curling on the bed drooling upstairs.”
“Did you just call me a cross-eyed pumpkincakes?” Jensen greets from the stairs.
Jared grins his way. “Adorable,” he points out.
“You know, I can’t help the way my eyes look.”
Jared squints as Jensen descends, walking right into the kitchen. “Dude. Is that my top?”
Jensen looks down and shrugs, yanks the refrigerator door open and bends down to get the OJ carton. The top is huge but the bottom hem barely reaches past Jensen’s ass. Jared can see the hiked up boxer-briefs he is wearing underneath. It’s time like these - when Jensen walks into the kitchen wearing only his pajama top like he’s some kind of a leggy, busty blonde that Jared suspects that maybe Jensen is secretly a leggy, busty blonde. Only with a cock that fits so nicely up his-
“Man,” Jensen groaned, pretty face screwing up. “This juice is so way past its expiry date.”
Jared scoops up the eggs and dumps everything on a huge platter next to Jensen’s toasts. “Why are you wearing my PJ again?”
“I can’t find my clothes from last night,” Jensen replies, rinsing the glass he’d been using.
Jared picks up their plates and moves to the small dining table, Jensen following with two mugs of steaming coffee. “Yeah. I’ve taken them for laundry. Why are you wearing my top?”
Jensen’s eyes glint with mirth. “It’s not like you need them,” he smiles tauntingly, running his gaze over Jared’s naked chest. “’Sides, you don’t expect me to walk around the house naked all morning, do you?”
“Certainly wouldn’t mind,” Jared winks.
Jensen fakes a frown, lower lip jutting out. “The dogs might be traumatized.”
Jared’s eyes are fixated on those pair of full, plump lips, feeling their calling right down to his crotch. He walks toward the all-knowing beaming Jensen, feeling the soft cotton of his pajama pants chafing against his erection, entirely not helping the situation. Standing flushed against Jensen, toe brushing toe, Jared feels like licking the nook of his throat exposed over the collar of the pajama top where freckles are the lightest but still there, just waiting to be mapped. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my top, though.”
“You can take it off if you want to,” Jensen smirks slyly, rising on the balls of his feet, aligning their cocks. Jared is going commando underneath his pajama bottom and Jensen grins, grinding their lengths together as Jared sucks in a sharp intake of air.
“Hell, yes,” Jared growls, cradling Jensen’s face with his big hands and dips down to capture his lips.
Breakfast forgotten. The dogs, probably already trained well by Jared slink out the screen doors to the patio on their own, rolling their eyes at the display of affection, if ever they could. Jared backs Jensen up against the dining table, glasses and knick knacks rattling per the body slam and Jensen laughs against crushed lips, nipping at Jared’s lower lip and hands busy tugging at the waistband hung low on angled hips. Jensen’s boxer-briefs come off first underneath Jared’s long tactile fingers, cock already curving, hard and blood red against smooth plane of tummy. Jensen always gasps at Jared’s first touch on his dick because there is never getting used to unbelievably large paws that envelops both lovingly and eagerly, smooth and callused in the perfect places. Jensen palms and strokes Jared’s dick in tandem with his hip thrusts and Jared smiles, gnaws gently at Jensen’s pulse point, hand already slowing down.
“Don’t you dare stop, Jared,” Jensen’s voice drops even lower than usual, sending sparks up and down Jared’s spine.
“Ain’t stopping, baby,” Jared mumbles, sucks on Jensen’s earlobe as he reaches behind Jensen towards the table and straightens, holding a syrup bottle, white grin on full force. “I like my breakfast sweet, ‘s all.”
Jensen matches the hungry look in Jared’s eyes with his own, swiping a solid thumb over the head of Jared’s dick, pink tongue dancing against his bruised lower lip, inviting. Jared’s eyelids flutter as he bends forward to latch on Jensen’s neck, trailing down with his tongue and teeth and wet mouth, hips jerking in competition with Jensen’s strokes and tugs. Just like that, he can feel Jensen’s cock leaking precome against his leg and moans, teeth tugging at the first button on the cotton pajama. Jensen does his patented twist of the wrist and Jared can feel himself unfurl, bites at smooth collarbone and then there’s a distinct sound of fabric tearing, buttons flying everywhere. Jared groans and squirts a large glob of sticky syrup all over Jensen’s chest and laps at the dripping substance tasting sweet and tangy and warm skin underneath.
Jensen whimpers, grabs at Jared’s hair and arches away from the cutting edge of the table on the base of his spine as Jared suckles at one sugar coated nipple before licking down and further down until-
“Jesus fuck,” Jensen gasps, strong fingers slipping from hard cock and move to wide, steady shoulders, blunt fingernails clawing at golden brown skin. Jared’s tongue is still coated with syrup and the rough velvet coupled with the heavy liquid are almost too much for Jensen to handle. His knees are already buckling as Jared presses against the vein underneath when a syrup covered finger enters him without preamble, pushing through tight heat and every sensory point that makes Jensen keen and groan appreciatively.
Jensen looks down to see Jared kneeling between his legs, focus intent on the shaft in his vice-like mouth, sucking and slurping, tongue dancing in time with his finger before adding one and then two more. Jared alternates between humming and moaning around Jensen’s cock, crooking his fingers to bump against bundle of nerves and scissoring on the upstroke.
Sometimes it’s like this - quick and nearly silent, the only sounds permeating the air are of heavy breathing and occasional groans and moans, soft whispered curses and pleadings. Jensen’s already gasping for air, spurting bursts of come slowly in Jared’s mouth when Jared releases his cock with a wet pop and drags him bodily onto the floor and angling his hip just right, hitting Jensen’s prostate again at his entrance. Jensen palms Jared’s chest as he levers himself up and down, gets rewarded with choked groans and muffled fuck, yes so very good Jensen God fuck. Jared manages to reach out and circle Jensen’s cock, first, second, third, fourth tug and Jensen comes spilling onto his fingers, stomach muscles contracting through the orgasm. He shifts, drawing Jared deeper and Jared bursts within him, riding down the sensation with short, jerking movements.
They lay spread eagled on the messy floor, spent and languid breathing side by side in rhythm, Jensen’s head on Jared’s belly rising and falling steadily simultaneously with each inhale and exhale. Outside, they can hear the mutts’ forepaws thump-thumping against the wooden flooring of the patio, yowls and barks and yelps. Inside, Jensen shifts his head, sticks his tongue out and licks playfully at the smooth space between Jared’s belly button and the trail of hair leading south.
Jared screws his face up, long fingers slipping down to pinch Jensen’s perky nipple. “Don’t you dare wear my clothes again,” he growls, free hand ruffling the sweat-soaked hair on Jensen’s head.
“If you say so,” Jensen grins, picking up Jared’s paw from his chest and toying with his long fingers. “But wasn’t that…fun?”
“Hell, yeah,” Jared chuckles then his eyes catch sight of torn cotton flung across the room. “Aw, man. That was my favorite PJ.”
“Hey,” Jensen laughs. “’S not my fault. You were the one who went all caveman with me.”
“Still. No more snaking my clothes like that.”
Jensen lifts his head, stares at Jared’s flushed pink face with wide, gleeful eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, okay,” Jared grins, hooking the back of Jensen’s neck and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss. “Maybe once in a while,” he whispers against Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen’s eyelids flutter. “Sometimes.”
///
Yeah. Jensen has a thing about people wearing his clothes. Jared, too, has a thing about people wearing his clothes. Except maybe each other. Sometimes. But any other time? Well, let’s just say they handle it pretty well. Maybe a few pieces of clothing get torn up during the process but what they got out of it is a whole lot more important, anyway.
So that works for both of them, too.