NC-17 | Never in One Place | J2
Title: Never in One Place (I Roam From Town to Town)
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3200
Summary: Jared's worn out from his business trip, but it's not all bad. Especially when he finds a hot bartender in the place next to his hotel.
Notes: So, the beginning of this might've actually happened tonight, and I might've sat at a bar staring at a hot bartender while writing most of this fic ;-) Title from Dion's "The Wander"
When Jared had first agreed to spend three days in the Des Moines, Iowa office, it was under the pretense that he’d be staying at a plush hotel where he’d spend his evenings at the hotel bar that boasted daily happy hours, mornings in line for complimentary made-to-order breakfast, and sleep his nights away on a king sized bed inside a spacious suite. It’s not like he’d find much to do in town on his own; he’d tried that last year when he came here for work, but instead spent his downtime at hotel bar or the rooftop lounge.
What he got this time around were double-digit-hour days that started earlier than he cared to be in his own office and ran well into the nighttime. This meant far too many hours spent inside a sparse conference room without any windows to give him the proper time of day, nearly being chained to his computer to respond to everyone’s immediate needs for their upcoming presentation, and only being at his hotel during sleeping hours.
After another 16-hour day, he walks the short block from the office to his hotel and slows as he passes a sports bar and grill next to the hotel entrance. The food at the hotel’s restaurant will be better, but twice as expensive. He decides to stop at the bar to grab some food to eat back at his suite before he gets to sleep for another early morning.
At the end of the bar, Jared flips through a left-behind menu then taps his fingers at the wood’s bad finish as he watches the bartender move slowly about the other end of the place. His fingers flick harder on the bar as he wonders how long it takes to just grab a freaking quesadilla to go. The bartender finally strolls down the way and steps up to Jared with a loose, easy smile.
“What can I get ya?”
His voice is just as loose and easy and Jared offers a tone nicer than he’d intended after waiting a good ten minutes to be served. “Just the chicken quesadilla.”
“That’s it? For here or to go?” the bartender asks as he grabs the menu and bends it between his hands.
It’s then that Jared stalls and finds his brain completely empty. He’s planning to blame it on working 30-plus hours in two days after flying halfway across the country, not stopping to have dinner, and planning to head back home tomorrow night after another long day, but he knows what it really is. The bartender is curling a smooth smile and lifting an eyebrow as his biceps flex under his snug black polo when he keeps flipping the menu over itself.
“No, that’s it,” Jared mumbles and immediately looks away, though the second the bartender turns to the register to enter Jared’s order, Jared looks right back up and keeps on watching as the guy heads to the other end of the bar to clear empties and fill more drinks.
Jared now can’t stop staring and something stirs inside where he wants to squat down at the bar and stick around for the rest of the night. But, no. This is not the plan. The plan is to grab a snack, go back to his room and inhale it to get something in his stomach, and crash so he can get up even earlier tomorrow and trudge through another long day of work. He takes his phone out to read emails and remind himself that there’s work tomorrow, no room for play.
But then the hot bartender shows up in front of him again and now Jared notices the way the guy’s jeans cling to shapely thighs. How there’s an armband around his forearm that should be douchy, but is somehow hot as hell with a bottle opener slipped beneath it. And how his eyes are sparkling in the low light and his plush lips are damp and dark as he smiles at Jared. “You want something while you wait? Water? A beer?”
“Uh, yeah, vodka cranberry,” Jared mumbles, figuring he should get some juice and sugar in his body considering how lightheaded he suddenly feels.
“Any kind of vodka?” he asks, bending down to grab a glass from under the bar. He’s still looking up and now Jared can see right into the v of the guy’s polo. The flash of chest Jared gets is tan and slick, like he’s working up a bit of a sweat handling the half-filled bar by himself. The bartender flips a short glass in his hand and lifts both eyebrows in question.
Jared scans through his emails, not even paying attention now, at least trying to not outright stare at the guy. “Actually, I’m staying at the hotel next door …” The bartender’s eyebrows go even higher and Jared flushes over what kind of implication that could be, and turns his brain back around. “I have to stop at my room, I’ll be right back.”
“Mmhmm,” the bartender sounds out. He puts the glass back and gives a two-fingered salute as if he doesn’t think Jared’s coming back.
But Jared wants to now. He will after a quick stop in his room and to the bathroom to piss, comb his hair away from his face, spray a little bit of cologne, and loosen his tie to seem less uptight and awkward than he was downstairs.
Back in the bar, he parks himself at the stool in front of where he’d been standing before, with a full view of the length of the bar and the bartender as he travels up and down. It’s the best shot of an ass Jared’s had in months, and he’s suddenly thankful to be stuck in this town.
When the bartender walks closer, Jared plays with his phone to hide the fact that he’s been watching far too closely for just an average patron. He rereads a generic company wide distribution email on health benefits then is shocked out of it with the slap of a glass in front of him. The bartender smirks and slips the empty glass a little closer to Jared. “Vodka?” he asks simply.
“Whatever.”
He tsks and tips his head, clearing asking a sarcastic really?
“Grey Goose,” Jared says with more strength.
“That’s a little better.” The bartender snags the bottle off a shelf with just his forefinger and thumb then tips it over the heavy end, like he’s about to drop it, but he grabs it with his other hand, flips it up above the glass, and repositions his hand to hold it easily and let the spout pour a long stream into the glass.
Jared chuckles as the guy grabs the soda-juice gun. “Like to see you try that with the juice.”
He chuckles along with Jared and spins the nozzle around his finger as if it were a real gun and Jared feels something burn in his chest, because while incredibly cheesy, this guy is incredibly hot with his boyish smile and faux-smug demeanor. There is no measurement for how much he wishes he wasn’t in Northeast Iowa at some dopey sports bar, and was instead back home where he could really let his himself loose and not care about tomorrow.
“Outlaw Josey Wales, eh?” Jared jokes.
As he garnishes the drink with a squirt of lime and a tiny black straw, the guy asks, “What’cha know about cowboys anyhow?”
“Enough to cheer for ‘em.”
It’s a long minute for the guy to look across Jared’s face then all down his torso. Jared would like to think the guy doesn’t go further than his chest because the rest is covered by the bar, not because he gets bored that easily.
With a quick burst of gusto, Jared smiles and puts his hand out. “I’m Jared, from San Antone, and I bleed for the Spurs.”
Slowly, the bartender slips his hand into Jared’s and it’s a warm handshake and smile that they share. “Jensen, Richardson, and the Mavericks are, well … mavericks.”
Jared takes his time pulling his hand away and then jokingly gives Jensen a long, weary look. “I can’t believe people like you really exist.”
He leans his elbows on the bar and lightly rocks forward with a smile. “What? Tall, blond, and handsome?”
“Mavs fans, actually,” Jared returns, feeling his cheeks heat up with the ridiculousness of this here.
“You’re lucky I don’t believe in alcohol abuse,” he says with a tip of his head as he lightly grips at Jared’s glass with their fingers brushing. “Or I’d dump this drink right on ya.”
“I’d just order another one.”
“I hope so,” he murmurs. If Jared weren’t so intent on watching the guy’s lips, the overhead music would drown it out, but Jared knows Jensen said it, and he’s thrilled further by his tiny wink before turning away to handle other customers.
Butterflies fucking soar in his stomach and he nervous bops his knees up and down, thankful they can’t be seen from behind the bar. Every minute or so, Jensen glances over, and sometimes he gets back to work with a short shake of his head and tiny smile. Insanely hot bartender is very much flirting right back, and Jared suddenly feels wide awake and doesn’t give a shit that he has to be up in eight hours. He settles in to drink.
Two hours, a quesadilla, and three glasses later, Jared’s feeling happily buzzed, lightheaded in the right, playful way, and like he could close the deal on Jensen. The guy’s stopped by a few times for just a couple minutes each, but there were two other times that they spent a good ten minutes or so discussing their jobs, which started more on why Jared bothered stopping in while in work clothes at eight at night.
Now it’s ten, and he’s lost track of Jensen for a bit. He’d seen him slip around the back of the bar through some doorway that Jared can’t see beyond, and a slim, well-endowed brunette has been covering the bar since then. It’s been long enough that he figures Jensen’s off for the night, has flirted his way through a healthy tip, and Jared also figures it’s time to head back to his room and sleep so he can get up early like he’d planned.
Yet again, he’s flinching away from the bar at a loud slap on the counter. He glances to his right and Jensen’s plopping himself onto the stool beside Jared and tapping his palms to the bar. “So,” he says, and while it should be lame, it’s incredibly smooth coming from in his low, friendly voice.
“So,” Jared returns in the same manner. “Is it lame to buy my bartender a drink?”
“Not when I was on duty,” Jensen laughs.
Jared shrugs, lost on what the real etiquette is on these things, or even that there was one. “You’re off now?”
“Sure am.”
He makes a face and Jensen mocks it before Jared can ask, “What’re your plans for the night?”
Jensen sets his elbow to the bar and tips his head to watch Jared. “Don’t know yet. You?”
“Besides going back to my room?” he chuckles lamely.
“Make me a drink,” Jensen says quickly.
Jared glances around and down the length of the bar. “Now?”
Jensen flips his hand through the air. “No, tell me what you’d make if you were making me a drink.”
Wincing yet smiling at Jensen’s smirk, Jared mumbles, “Man, this is setting me up to fail.”
“Just try.”
Jared spins on his stool and puts his elbow on the bar to imitate Jensen’s position and bites his lower lip, which he notices Jensen’s his eyes follow. He grins and takes a deep breath, purposely puffing his chest out with bravado. “Long Island.”
“You really know what goes in that?”
He thinks for only a second before rattling off, “Tequila, rum, Coke, juice, and a bunch of other shit.”
Jensen covers his face like he’s insulted, but he’s also laughing and patting Jared’s shoulder. When he calms down, his fingers slip down Jared’s arm and he takes a deep breath and a long look at Jared. “That’s a pretty pathetic Long Island.”
Jared shrugs playfully. “What can I say?”
“Anything better than that?”
“Sorry, I guess I forgot to pack my charm this trip.”
A small, almost shy smile appears and Jensen looks up at a TV above their heads. “No, you’ve definitely got it.”
Jared straightens his back with a surplus of confidence surging his system. “So, you normally hang at the bar when you’re off the clock.”
Jensen shoots him a sideways look. “No, not normally.”
“Is it too forward to offer you a drink back in my suite.”
With a smile that lights up his face, complete with tiny crinkles around his bright eyes, Jensen glances up at the TV again. “Maybe a little, but rightly timed.”
Jared fishes a twenty from his wallet and leaves it on the bar as he nods to the side and Jensen gets up and smoothly walks to the front door.
It’s quiet as they walk into the hotel, ride the elevator, and take the short trip to Jared’s suite, but it’s not the bad kind. Jared can feel the air buzzing around them, and then he can hear Jensen’s low whistle when he lets him inside.
“Nice expense account,” Jensen mumbles.
“My company does well,” Jared smiles as he moves to the minibar in the kitchenette. He pulls out two mini bottles of vodka and tosses them in the air with an exaggerated, cocky grin, and Jensen laughs, leaning against the short counter by the sink. “What do you like with your Smirnoff?”
“Ice,” he says simply, eyeing Jared’s hands opening the tiny bottles.
In seconds, Jared has two tumblers full of ice that crackles with warm vodka filling halfway. They watch each other as they sip, and Jared feels his heart kick up a few extra beats.
“So,” he says, suddenly at a loss for words, but not wanting to stay silent.
“Yeah?” Jensen asks. His cheeks go a little pink, yet he’s smiling softly around the rim of his glass.
Jared laughs to himself and sets his glass down, unsure of how much more he wants to drink, how far ahead of Jensen he really wants to be since he already had there drinks down in the bar. “I didn’t really plan much further than this.”
Jensen puts his glass down, too, inches forward, and levels Jared with a warm look. “You could play it by ear.”
They’re standing so close, Jared realizes, and he sets his palm down to the cool marble counter and only has to tip his head a little to brush his lips over Jensen’s.
Jensen opens his mouth around Jared’s and sets his hand over Jared’s as well. Jared turns his hand over and closes his fingers around Jensen’s then tugs him so their bodies are flush, chests heaving against each other as the kiss deeps with tongues swiping over one another. When Jensen’s other hand slides over Jared’s side and his fingers tuck into the beltloop of his dress pants, Jared lets out a tiny sound. He feels Jensen smile into the kiss and then Jensen moves his mouth across Jared’s jaw and lightly sucks at his neck.
Jared sighs and closes his eyes. “All I wanted was dinner and now I’ve got drinks and the whole show.”
He chuckles against Jared’s neck then tugs with both hands on either side of Jared’s pants, bringing their hips together. “Looks like we both lucked out.”
Turning away from the bar, Jared drags Jensen with him into the middle of the room, going at Jensen’s mouth again and diving inside with a quick tongue. He intends to take them to the bedroom, but they bump into a big, padded armchair in the living area, and Jensen nudges him into it. He climbs into Jared’s lap and runs his hand into Jared’s hair to tip his head back and kiss even deeper from his angle above.
Jared plants his feet to the floor and kicks his hips up to Jensen’s, feeling Jensen’s moan through his tongue, so he sucks hard on it and draws more sounds from him. As Jensen grinds down on him, their breathing gets loud and echoes in the otherwise quiet room. Impatient as hell, Jared yanks at Jensen’s belt, flipping it open so he can get to the buttons of his jeans and break them open, too. The second he gets his hand inside, Jensen pushes forward and he makes quick work of untucking Jared’s suit shirt and getting his belt and pants open as well.
They’re both stroking each other with quick fists, and Jensen presses his temple to Jared’s, panting as he looks down to both their dicks, red and hard. Jared doesn’t have much space to move but he rocks up as much as he can and watches Jensen fluidly roll his hips forward.
Jared runs his free hand around Jensen’s side and into the back of his jeans, grabbing a handful of that solid ass he’d been obsessed with for his time in the bar. “Was watching you all night,” he murmurs.
“I know,” Jensen smirks then presses his lips to Jared’s and slips his tongue inside.
It’s just the right amount of cocky to turn Jared on even more and he takes them both in his hand, sliding his fist up and down quickly, tugging Jensen in with a tight grip on his ass and making Jensen groan into his mouth. He flicks his thumb over the head of Jensen’s dick, and Jensen grabs Jared’s face with both hands, forcing his head back and fucking his tongue into Jared’s mouth as fast as Jared’s stroking them together. Jensen rides on Jared’s lap and into his, and they’re moving together fast, and Jared feels all his blood burn in his veins and his nerves tingle.
Jensen whimpers and rises to his knees, setting his forehead to Jared’s, coming between them with a hot splash over Jared’s hand. As he groans a deep, “Oh, God, yeah,” Jared breaks and comes, too.
Jared slowly, softly strokes them through it as Jensen settles his weight in Jared’s lap. When he releases them, Jensen brings Jared’s hand up and closes his mouth over the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, sucking their come off. Jared moans, turning it into a sigh, and drops his head down to the back of the chair. He sets his hands at Jensen’s hips and tries to get his breathing back to normal, even as Jensen runs his hands down Jared’s chest with light fingers that force him to shiver.
“What time you gotta get up tomorrow?” Jensen asks quietly.
“Early,” he mumbles.
After a few seconds of quiet, Jensen asks with a smile evident in his words, “You need a wake-up call?”
Jared grins and summons the energy to grab Jensen around the waist and pitch him back as he jumps up from the chair, holding Jensen up to walk them to the bedroom. “God, yes, I do.”
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3200
Summary: Jared's worn out from his business trip, but it's not all bad. Especially when he finds a hot bartender in the place next to his hotel.
Notes: So, the beginning of this might've actually happened tonight, and I might've sat at a bar staring at a hot bartender while writing most of this fic ;-) Title from Dion's "The Wander"
When Jared had first agreed to spend three days in the Des Moines, Iowa office, it was under the pretense that he’d be staying at a plush hotel where he’d spend his evenings at the hotel bar that boasted daily happy hours, mornings in line for complimentary made-to-order breakfast, and sleep his nights away on a king sized bed inside a spacious suite. It’s not like he’d find much to do in town on his own; he’d tried that last year when he came here for work, but instead spent his downtime at hotel bar or the rooftop lounge.
What he got this time around were double-digit-hour days that started earlier than he cared to be in his own office and ran well into the nighttime. This meant far too many hours spent inside a sparse conference room without any windows to give him the proper time of day, nearly being chained to his computer to respond to everyone’s immediate needs for their upcoming presentation, and only being at his hotel during sleeping hours.
After another 16-hour day, he walks the short block from the office to his hotel and slows as he passes a sports bar and grill next to the hotel entrance. The food at the hotel’s restaurant will be better, but twice as expensive. He decides to stop at the bar to grab some food to eat back at his suite before he gets to sleep for another early morning.
At the end of the bar, Jared flips through a left-behind menu then taps his fingers at the wood’s bad finish as he watches the bartender move slowly about the other end of the place. His fingers flick harder on the bar as he wonders how long it takes to just grab a freaking quesadilla to go. The bartender finally strolls down the way and steps up to Jared with a loose, easy smile.
“What can I get ya?”
His voice is just as loose and easy and Jared offers a tone nicer than he’d intended after waiting a good ten minutes to be served. “Just the chicken quesadilla.”
“That’s it? For here or to go?” the bartender asks as he grabs the menu and bends it between his hands.
It’s then that Jared stalls and finds his brain completely empty. He’s planning to blame it on working 30-plus hours in two days after flying halfway across the country, not stopping to have dinner, and planning to head back home tomorrow night after another long day, but he knows what it really is. The bartender is curling a smooth smile and lifting an eyebrow as his biceps flex under his snug black polo when he keeps flipping the menu over itself.
“No, that’s it,” Jared mumbles and immediately looks away, though the second the bartender turns to the register to enter Jared’s order, Jared looks right back up and keeps on watching as the guy heads to the other end of the bar to clear empties and fill more drinks.
Jared now can’t stop staring and something stirs inside where he wants to squat down at the bar and stick around for the rest of the night. But, no. This is not the plan. The plan is to grab a snack, go back to his room and inhale it to get something in his stomach, and crash so he can get up even earlier tomorrow and trudge through another long day of work. He takes his phone out to read emails and remind himself that there’s work tomorrow, no room for play.
But then the hot bartender shows up in front of him again and now Jared notices the way the guy’s jeans cling to shapely thighs. How there’s an armband around his forearm that should be douchy, but is somehow hot as hell with a bottle opener slipped beneath it. And how his eyes are sparkling in the low light and his plush lips are damp and dark as he smiles at Jared. “You want something while you wait? Water? A beer?”
“Uh, yeah, vodka cranberry,” Jared mumbles, figuring he should get some juice and sugar in his body considering how lightheaded he suddenly feels.
“Any kind of vodka?” he asks, bending down to grab a glass from under the bar. He’s still looking up and now Jared can see right into the v of the guy’s polo. The flash of chest Jared gets is tan and slick, like he’s working up a bit of a sweat handling the half-filled bar by himself. The bartender flips a short glass in his hand and lifts both eyebrows in question.
Jared scans through his emails, not even paying attention now, at least trying to not outright stare at the guy. “Actually, I’m staying at the hotel next door …” The bartender’s eyebrows go even higher and Jared flushes over what kind of implication that could be, and turns his brain back around. “I have to stop at my room, I’ll be right back.”
“Mmhmm,” the bartender sounds out. He puts the glass back and gives a two-fingered salute as if he doesn’t think Jared’s coming back.
But Jared wants to now. He will after a quick stop in his room and to the bathroom to piss, comb his hair away from his face, spray a little bit of cologne, and loosen his tie to seem less uptight and awkward than he was downstairs.
Back in the bar, he parks himself at the stool in front of where he’d been standing before, with a full view of the length of the bar and the bartender as he travels up and down. It’s the best shot of an ass Jared’s had in months, and he’s suddenly thankful to be stuck in this town.
When the bartender walks closer, Jared plays with his phone to hide the fact that he’s been watching far too closely for just an average patron. He rereads a generic company wide distribution email on health benefits then is shocked out of it with the slap of a glass in front of him. The bartender smirks and slips the empty glass a little closer to Jared. “Vodka?” he asks simply.
“Whatever.”
He tsks and tips his head, clearing asking a sarcastic really?
“Grey Goose,” Jared says with more strength.
“That’s a little better.” The bartender snags the bottle off a shelf with just his forefinger and thumb then tips it over the heavy end, like he’s about to drop it, but he grabs it with his other hand, flips it up above the glass, and repositions his hand to hold it easily and let the spout pour a long stream into the glass.
Jared chuckles as the guy grabs the soda-juice gun. “Like to see you try that with the juice.”
He chuckles along with Jared and spins the nozzle around his finger as if it were a real gun and Jared feels something burn in his chest, because while incredibly cheesy, this guy is incredibly hot with his boyish smile and faux-smug demeanor. There is no measurement for how much he wishes he wasn’t in Northeast Iowa at some dopey sports bar, and was instead back home where he could really let his himself loose and not care about tomorrow.
“Outlaw Josey Wales, eh?” Jared jokes.
As he garnishes the drink with a squirt of lime and a tiny black straw, the guy asks, “What’cha know about cowboys anyhow?”
“Enough to cheer for ‘em.”
It’s a long minute for the guy to look across Jared’s face then all down his torso. Jared would like to think the guy doesn’t go further than his chest because the rest is covered by the bar, not because he gets bored that easily.
With a quick burst of gusto, Jared smiles and puts his hand out. “I’m Jared, from San Antone, and I bleed for the Spurs.”
Slowly, the bartender slips his hand into Jared’s and it’s a warm handshake and smile that they share. “Jensen, Richardson, and the Mavericks are, well … mavericks.”
Jared takes his time pulling his hand away and then jokingly gives Jensen a long, weary look. “I can’t believe people like you really exist.”
He leans his elbows on the bar and lightly rocks forward with a smile. “What? Tall, blond, and handsome?”
“Mavs fans, actually,” Jared returns, feeling his cheeks heat up with the ridiculousness of this here.
“You’re lucky I don’t believe in alcohol abuse,” he says with a tip of his head as he lightly grips at Jared’s glass with their fingers brushing. “Or I’d dump this drink right on ya.”
“I’d just order another one.”
“I hope so,” he murmurs. If Jared weren’t so intent on watching the guy’s lips, the overhead music would drown it out, but Jared knows Jensen said it, and he’s thrilled further by his tiny wink before turning away to handle other customers.
Butterflies fucking soar in his stomach and he nervous bops his knees up and down, thankful they can’t be seen from behind the bar. Every minute or so, Jensen glances over, and sometimes he gets back to work with a short shake of his head and tiny smile. Insanely hot bartender is very much flirting right back, and Jared suddenly feels wide awake and doesn’t give a shit that he has to be up in eight hours. He settles in to drink.
Two hours, a quesadilla, and three glasses later, Jared’s feeling happily buzzed, lightheaded in the right, playful way, and like he could close the deal on Jensen. The guy’s stopped by a few times for just a couple minutes each, but there were two other times that they spent a good ten minutes or so discussing their jobs, which started more on why Jared bothered stopping in while in work clothes at eight at night.
Now it’s ten, and he’s lost track of Jensen for a bit. He’d seen him slip around the back of the bar through some doorway that Jared can’t see beyond, and a slim, well-endowed brunette has been covering the bar since then. It’s been long enough that he figures Jensen’s off for the night, has flirted his way through a healthy tip, and Jared also figures it’s time to head back to his room and sleep so he can get up early like he’d planned.
Yet again, he’s flinching away from the bar at a loud slap on the counter. He glances to his right and Jensen’s plopping himself onto the stool beside Jared and tapping his palms to the bar. “So,” he says, and while it should be lame, it’s incredibly smooth coming from in his low, friendly voice.
“So,” Jared returns in the same manner. “Is it lame to buy my bartender a drink?”
“Not when I was on duty,” Jensen laughs.
Jared shrugs, lost on what the real etiquette is on these things, or even that there was one. “You’re off now?”
“Sure am.”
He makes a face and Jensen mocks it before Jared can ask, “What’re your plans for the night?”
Jensen sets his elbow to the bar and tips his head to watch Jared. “Don’t know yet. You?”
“Besides going back to my room?” he chuckles lamely.
“Make me a drink,” Jensen says quickly.
Jared glances around and down the length of the bar. “Now?”
Jensen flips his hand through the air. “No, tell me what you’d make if you were making me a drink.”
Wincing yet smiling at Jensen’s smirk, Jared mumbles, “Man, this is setting me up to fail.”
“Just try.”
Jared spins on his stool and puts his elbow on the bar to imitate Jensen’s position and bites his lower lip, which he notices Jensen’s his eyes follow. He grins and takes a deep breath, purposely puffing his chest out with bravado. “Long Island.”
“You really know what goes in that?”
He thinks for only a second before rattling off, “Tequila, rum, Coke, juice, and a bunch of other shit.”
Jensen covers his face like he’s insulted, but he’s also laughing and patting Jared’s shoulder. When he calms down, his fingers slip down Jared’s arm and he takes a deep breath and a long look at Jared. “That’s a pretty pathetic Long Island.”
Jared shrugs playfully. “What can I say?”
“Anything better than that?”
“Sorry, I guess I forgot to pack my charm this trip.”
A small, almost shy smile appears and Jensen looks up at a TV above their heads. “No, you’ve definitely got it.”
Jared straightens his back with a surplus of confidence surging his system. “So, you normally hang at the bar when you’re off the clock.”
Jensen shoots him a sideways look. “No, not normally.”
“Is it too forward to offer you a drink back in my suite.”
With a smile that lights up his face, complete with tiny crinkles around his bright eyes, Jensen glances up at the TV again. “Maybe a little, but rightly timed.”
Jared fishes a twenty from his wallet and leaves it on the bar as he nods to the side and Jensen gets up and smoothly walks to the front door.
It’s quiet as they walk into the hotel, ride the elevator, and take the short trip to Jared’s suite, but it’s not the bad kind. Jared can feel the air buzzing around them, and then he can hear Jensen’s low whistle when he lets him inside.
“Nice expense account,” Jensen mumbles.
“My company does well,” Jared smiles as he moves to the minibar in the kitchenette. He pulls out two mini bottles of vodka and tosses them in the air with an exaggerated, cocky grin, and Jensen laughs, leaning against the short counter by the sink. “What do you like with your Smirnoff?”
“Ice,” he says simply, eyeing Jared’s hands opening the tiny bottles.
In seconds, Jared has two tumblers full of ice that crackles with warm vodka filling halfway. They watch each other as they sip, and Jared feels his heart kick up a few extra beats.
“So,” he says, suddenly at a loss for words, but not wanting to stay silent.
“Yeah?” Jensen asks. His cheeks go a little pink, yet he’s smiling softly around the rim of his glass.
Jared laughs to himself and sets his glass down, unsure of how much more he wants to drink, how far ahead of Jensen he really wants to be since he already had there drinks down in the bar. “I didn’t really plan much further than this.”
Jensen puts his glass down, too, inches forward, and levels Jared with a warm look. “You could play it by ear.”
They’re standing so close, Jared realizes, and he sets his palm down to the cool marble counter and only has to tip his head a little to brush his lips over Jensen’s.
Jensen opens his mouth around Jared’s and sets his hand over Jared’s as well. Jared turns his hand over and closes his fingers around Jensen’s then tugs him so their bodies are flush, chests heaving against each other as the kiss deeps with tongues swiping over one another. When Jensen’s other hand slides over Jared’s side and his fingers tuck into the beltloop of his dress pants, Jared lets out a tiny sound. He feels Jensen smile into the kiss and then Jensen moves his mouth across Jared’s jaw and lightly sucks at his neck.
Jared sighs and closes his eyes. “All I wanted was dinner and now I’ve got drinks and the whole show.”
He chuckles against Jared’s neck then tugs with both hands on either side of Jared’s pants, bringing their hips together. “Looks like we both lucked out.”
Turning away from the bar, Jared drags Jensen with him into the middle of the room, going at Jensen’s mouth again and diving inside with a quick tongue. He intends to take them to the bedroom, but they bump into a big, padded armchair in the living area, and Jensen nudges him into it. He climbs into Jared’s lap and runs his hand into Jared’s hair to tip his head back and kiss even deeper from his angle above.
Jared plants his feet to the floor and kicks his hips up to Jensen’s, feeling Jensen’s moan through his tongue, so he sucks hard on it and draws more sounds from him. As Jensen grinds down on him, their breathing gets loud and echoes in the otherwise quiet room. Impatient as hell, Jared yanks at Jensen’s belt, flipping it open so he can get to the buttons of his jeans and break them open, too. The second he gets his hand inside, Jensen pushes forward and he makes quick work of untucking Jared’s suit shirt and getting his belt and pants open as well.
They’re both stroking each other with quick fists, and Jensen presses his temple to Jared’s, panting as he looks down to both their dicks, red and hard. Jared doesn’t have much space to move but he rocks up as much as he can and watches Jensen fluidly roll his hips forward.
Jared runs his free hand around Jensen’s side and into the back of his jeans, grabbing a handful of that solid ass he’d been obsessed with for his time in the bar. “Was watching you all night,” he murmurs.
“I know,” Jensen smirks then presses his lips to Jared’s and slips his tongue inside.
It’s just the right amount of cocky to turn Jared on even more and he takes them both in his hand, sliding his fist up and down quickly, tugging Jensen in with a tight grip on his ass and making Jensen groan into his mouth. He flicks his thumb over the head of Jensen’s dick, and Jensen grabs Jared’s face with both hands, forcing his head back and fucking his tongue into Jared’s mouth as fast as Jared’s stroking them together. Jensen rides on Jared’s lap and into his, and they’re moving together fast, and Jared feels all his blood burn in his veins and his nerves tingle.
Jensen whimpers and rises to his knees, setting his forehead to Jared’s, coming between them with a hot splash over Jared’s hand. As he groans a deep, “Oh, God, yeah,” Jared breaks and comes, too.
Jared slowly, softly strokes them through it as Jensen settles his weight in Jared’s lap. When he releases them, Jensen brings Jared’s hand up and closes his mouth over the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, sucking their come off. Jared moans, turning it into a sigh, and drops his head down to the back of the chair. He sets his hands at Jensen’s hips and tries to get his breathing back to normal, even as Jensen runs his hands down Jared’s chest with light fingers that force him to shiver.
“What time you gotta get up tomorrow?” Jensen asks quietly.
“Early,” he mumbles.
After a few seconds of quiet, Jensen asks with a smile evident in his words, “You need a wake-up call?”
Jared grins and summons the energy to grab Jensen around the waist and pitch him back as he jumps up from the chair, holding Jensen up to walk them to the bedroom. “God, yes, I do.”