Fic: Haven. RPS. Chris/Jensen. NC-17. Chapter 7/11

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.



He’s been pushing away what happened to him, telling himself it didn’t matter, he’s had so much worse, but the truth is… The truth is he thought he’d escaped from all that when he left and came here. Turns out it was just waiting for him. New town, same shit. And so he’d just taken it. Had just gone down on his knees and done as they told him, because it doesn’t matter where he goes, this is what he is. This is what he’s good for. And there’s no escaping it, anywhere.

“Jensen, please,” Steve’s subdued voice sounds through the door. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna do anything, I swear. Please, can I come in?”

The handle rattles and Jensen presses his back against the door, his socked feet slipping on the slick floorboards. “No!”

The rattling instantly stops.

“Okay, I’ll just talk here then. Alright? I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so damn angry. And not even at you, I’m angry at him. And myself for thinking… Doesn’t matter. I’m a goddamn idiot. I just wanted to… I don’t even know. You’re just…” Steve groans and it vibrates through the door, as if he’s leaning his head against the other side. “You’re so damn beautiful and I’m… I’m just me and he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees you and I got so mad and I just… I didn’t think. I didn’t remember. Not that it would ever have been okay but… I was never gonna hurt you. I wouldn’t, I swear!”

“It’s all I’m good for,” Jensen recites, voice shaking. “It’s all I’m good for. I know, I know. But I don’t want it.”

Steve makes a pained sound. “Jesus, kid, no! No. I’m so sorry for what I did and I’m so sorry those people hurt you but it’s not on you, baby. It’s not on you. Please, can I come in? Please, Jensen. I’m not gonna do anything, I swear.”

Jensen hesitates then shuffles away from the door against his better judgement, just far enough for Steve to slip through the crack and crouch down in front of him. Jensen is surprised to see Steve’s eyes are glittering with tears. He keeps still as Steve reaches out hesitantly and lays a hand on his arm, then moves it up to his shoulder when Jensen doesn’t jerk away. Jensen’s lower lip starts to tremble and he bites it hard, squeezing his eyes shut. Steve moves to sit beside him and puts an arm hesitantly around his shoulders. Jensen hitches his breath and then it’s like the strings holding him together just snap. He crumbles, burying his face in Steve’s chest as he cries.

“Sshh. Sshh, kiddo. It’s alright. It’s alright.” Steve rocks him gently, stroking his back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It never stops!” Jensen sobs. “They just keep… And no one even cares!” He covers his mouth with his fist, trying to muffle his crying. If Chris hears him, if he wakes up, he’ll be furious.

“Sshh. We care.” Steve’s warm hand slides up to rub his neck. “Chris cares so much he’s going crazy over you.”

Jensen shakes his head. “I could, I could have gotten all kinds of sick,” he whispers into his fist. “Did you know that? They made me swallow. I tried to spit it out but he put his hand over my mouth and I couldn’t-” He sucks in a wet breath. “They laughed. They laughed and… I just gave up. I didn’t fight. I didn’t do anything! I just took it cause, cause that’s all I’m good for. It’s all I’m good for.”

Steve’s warm hand presses Jensen’s face to his chest, kissing the top of his head as he continues to rock him. “No. No, that’s not true,” he soothes. His voice shakes. “That’s not true at all. You’re a great kid and you’re a wonderful singer and I’m sorry I was such a fucking jerk to you. I was just jealous.”

“Wha’s goin’ on? Jesus, darlin’, wha’ happened?”

Chris drops heavily to his knees before them, foggy eyes blinking as he gently pulls Jensen into his own arms, while shooting Steve a bewildered glare.

Steve jumps to his feet and backs away. “It’s my fault. I got mad and kissed him,” he blurts out. “I’m sorry.”

Jensen’s head snaps up. He was all ready to make something up, anything, didn’t matter, as long as Chris never found out what happened. Never in a million years did he expect Steve to confess. Panicked he looks up at Chris whose face is blank, the only hint of what he’s feeling a slight flush in his cheeks.

“What’ya say?” Chris’s voice sounds eerily calm even if his words are slurred.

“Chris, it’s okay,” Jensen says quickly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was nothing!”

But Chris doesn’t even seem to hear him. “You kissed‘im?” He looks at Jensen, nostrils flaring as he runs his thumb gently over Jensen’s lip. It comes away bloody. “Kissed? You fuckin’ attacked ‘im!”

Jensen says, “No!” just as Steve admits, “Yes. Fuck. Yes. I did. I wasn’t thinking. I just- I’m sorry. Please believe me, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Chris detangles himself gently from Jensen’s desperate grip and gets slowly to his feet, a murderous glint in his eyes. “Sorry? Y’any idea what he’s been through? Huh? Do ya?”

Jensen catches Chris’s wrist as he lurches forward, almost causing him to lose his balance. He seems to be running on nothing but rage and Jensen fears it’s only a matter of seconds before he collapses.

“I do,” Steve says. He’s still standing firm, but Jensen can see his hands are shaking. “And I’m so damn sorry, but Chris, please, calm down. You’re gonna have another attack.”

Chris shakes his head. “This ain’t my fuckin’ disorder, man, this is me,” he growls. “This is me, Steve, and I’m so fuckin’ furious, I’d be fuckin’ killin’ you right now if I weren’t drugged to my fuckin’ eyeballs!”

Again he tries to rush forward but Jensen yanks him back, grip tight around his wrist. It’s frightening how easy it is, like he’s handling a child and not someone who on a good day could easily sweep the floor with the both of them.

Steve steps back, swallowing rapidly. “I might just let you. You wanna take a swing, you wanna beat the shit out of me? Go ahead. I deserve it.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Jensen stumbles to his feet, making sure not to loosen his grip. “Chris, it was just a kiss!”

“Weren’t just a damn kiss! A damn kiss wouldna’ve you cryin’ like that.” Chris wraps a protective arm around him. Jensen can feel tremors running through his body. “Cryin’ like your heart were breakin’.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Jensen says, thankful his voice is finally steadying. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Like hell y’ain’t hurt! Your lip’s all bloody,” Chris insists, nostrils flaring.

Jensen runs his tongue over his lips but there’s no sting. “It’s not mine. It’s his. I must have bit him. Chris, I’m okay.” Well, no, clearly he’s far from okay. But if they don’t solve this right now, things could get so much worse. “I swear, it was just a kiss, Chris. I overreacted. And he already apologized. Alright?”

“Alright?” Chris shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Darlin’, he-”

“Made a mistake,” Jensen cuts in. “He’s your best friend, Chris. You really gonna threaten your best friend with murder for stealing one lousy kiss?” He scoffs. “You wanna blame someone, blame me. My fucking face for asking for it.”

“Jesus, kid,” Steve whispers, sounding pained. “No.”

“Don’t ever talk like that,” Chris growls, pressing his lips to Jensen’s mouth. His breathing is slowing down, his arm around Jensen’s shoulders growing heavy enough to make Jensen stagger. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, boy. Ain’t a damn thing wrong with that.” Chris lifts his head, glaring at Steve. “See what ya did?”

“Think I don’t know?” Steve says anguished. “Dammit, Chris, I fucking hate myself!”

Chris huffs, stumbling slightly on his feet. “Well, you fuckin’ should!”

“Will you two give it a rest already?” Jensen snaps. “For fuck’s sake! It was one goddamn kiss and it ain’t worth all this trouble. I only freaked out ‘cause I thought-”

He cuts himself off before he says something that will set Chris off again, but he can tell from the stricken look on Steve’s face he knows exactly where that sentence was heading.

“Can we please just drop it?” He wraps his arm around Chris’s waist to steady his increasingly heavy body. “You need to eat something. You look like shit, and you have a gig tonight.”

Chris frowns, blinking rapidly. His eyes are quickly losing focus. Jensen drags him over to the bed and nudges him to sit down. “Hey, you with me? Your gig. Today is Saturday, remember?”

Chris shakes his head as if to clear it. “I know what day it is,” he grumbles although Jensen is pretty sure he’d forgotten. “I’m no good, darlin’. I’m sorry. Steve, you, you... bastard, you take it.”

Steve nods, taking the insult in stride. “Sure. Of course. But you still gotta eat something. And shower.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Chris closes his eyes, his body sagging. Jensen nudges him to lie down on the pillow before he topples over on the floor. “Chris, he’s right, you need to eat. You haven’t had anything since yesterday.”

“Ain’t hungry,” Chris mumbles. “Ti’ed.”

“I’ll make him an omelet,” Steve says, clearly glad for an excuse to leave. “He can rest until it’s ready.” He slips quickly out of the room.

“Chris?” Jensen says, stroking Chris’s hair back. “Scoot over.”

“Mmm?”

Jensen nudges him until he gets with the program and wriggles over to the other side of the bed, making enough room for Jensen to slip in and wrap his arms around him. Chris is warm, his t-shirt damp with sweat, his breath smells of stale coffee and sleep. His hair is limp and greasy. Jensen doesn’t care. He snuggles close and kisses Chris gently on the lips. Chris kisses him back, hesitantly at first then with more conviction when Jensen doesn’t pull away. Jensen slides his hand under Chris’s t-shirt that’s clinging to his clammy back. Chris hums and runs his leg over Jensen’s thigh, hooking his foot behind Jensen’s calf and pulling him close enough that Jensen can feel Chris’s dick, half-hard against his hip.

“You want…? I can-” Jensen starts, reaching for it, but Chris fumbles for his hand, halting it.

“Nuhuh.” He kisses Jensen softly. “Not now.”

“I’m okay,” Jensen protests. “I wasn’t lying. I can do it.”

“Sweetheart,” Chris says, blinking his eyes open. “You ain’t okay. And I ain’t okay, I’m dealin’ with, with… some stuff. But it’s alright. We’ve got time.”

His blue eyes are clouded with sadness and Jensen’s stomach tightens with a twinge. “What stuff?” he asks hesitantly. “Is that why… Did something happen?”

Chris shakes his head. “Long ago. Was young an’ stupid.” Chris blinks repeatedly, as if he’s trying to stay awake, or maybe keep the memories at bay. “Made some bad choices. Fucked… fucked the wrong people.”

Something in Chris’s voice, in the faraway look in his eyes makes Jensen uneasy. Young? How young? “Okay. Wrong how? How were they wrong?”

“Fine folks. Upright. Church goin’.” Chris frowns. “Bored, I guess.”

“Okay,” Jensen repeats. He has a bad feeling about this. “Older than you?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot older?”

“Mhmm.” Chris licks his lips. “M’uncle beat my ass for, for whorin’.” He frowns again. “Weren’t. I’s… I’s jus’ lonely.”

“And a kid.”

Chris sighs. “Yeah. That too.”

“They abused you,” Jensen says softly. “Those churchgoing fine folks.”

Chris frowns. “No… Was my choice.”

“Was it?” Jensen brushes his hair gently behind his ear. “Or did you just not say no?”

The frown deepens. “I… Uh…”

“Couldn’t say no,” Jensen continues quietly. “‘Cause they were adults and you were a kid and supposed to respect your elders.” He can so easily imagine it. After all, that’s how he was raised. Never question anything, just shut up and do as you’re told. “And maybe you liked that they were nice to you and maybe even felt a little special that they wanted you. And then you couldn’t back out ‘cause… Well, you just couldn’t. And you told yourself it was alright because it did feel good, some of it, and the stuff that didn’t, you blamed yourself ‘cause you can’t say yes to one thing and no to another. No backing out now, right? And so you fucked them or let them fuck you and when you got caught they all blamed you ‘cause they were fine folks and you were just a good-for-nothing kid.”

“That’s… that’s…” Chris licks his lips, blinking as his eyes water. “Mrs. Davis. She made a casserole. For me an’ my uncle. I’s returnin’ the dish. Was a fine one, white with, with blue flowers. She pulled me inside an’ hugged me. An’ I, I just…” He breathes out. “Ain’t no one hugged me since my ma died. Was nice. Soft. Warm. An’ then…” He shakes his head, frowning. “She kissed me an’ I’s thinkin’ I should say no an’ jus’ leave but… it’s still nice, jus’ different. Didna mean to get hard, got all embarrassed, but she, she jus’ laughed an’ said it’s alright. Said it’s natural. Pushed me over on the couch an’ put her mouth on me. I jus’… right away. Thought she’d be mad but she jus’ told me it’s alright, long as I returned the favor. So I kinda had to.” He frowns again. “Didna really like it.”

Jensen nods with an encouraging smile. His heart hurts.

“Lots of nice ladies brought us food after that. Told m’uncle jus’ send me over with the dishes soon’s we’d finished. Said I was, I was such a nice young man.” Chris’s eyes slip closed. He exhales softly. “Got real good at eatin’em ladies out. And, and fuckin’.”

Jensen hesitates. “You said folks. That they were fine folks. So not just ladies?”

Chris’s lower lip quivers, his eyes still pressed closed. “Were some, some others. Didna like them as much.” The corners of his mouth turn down. “I jus’ missed my ma,” he whispers.

“I know,” Jensen says softly around the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it were. It were.” Chris covers his eyes with his hand, his breath shaking. “I shoulda said no. I should...” He breathes out, hand sliding off his face.

“Like I should have said no?” Jensen asks him, throat so tight he can hardly get the words out. “You know that ain’t right.”

But Chris is already asleep.

Jensen blinks the tears out of his eyes and leans over to kiss Chris gently on the cheek. He hears a soft sound and looks over his shoulder to find Steve standing in the doorway, face ashen. Jensen has no idea how long he’s been there but clearly long enough.

“We used to laugh about it,” Steve says, voice hoarse. “Chris’s old lady conquests. I mean, it always felt kinda icky but I never really… Shit.”

“How old was he?” Jensen asks as he detangles himself from Chris’s embrace and stands up.

“Fifteen when it all blew up,” Steve says. “But from what I gather it had been going on for a while, so maybe fourteen when it started? His uncle beat the crap out of him, then made him stand up in church and repent in front of everyone.” Steve grimaces. “Just about the women, don’t think he knew about any men. This is the first I’ve heard of those. But I had my suspicions. When we got together… Fresh out of Bumfuck, Nowhere, he was way too good at-” Steve’s face turns red. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jensen was a quick learner himself. The better he is, the faster it’s over. “This why he gets like this?”

Steve grimaces. “He’s got plenty of other issues but yeah, this time I’d say it was this. I mentioned his uncle last night. Guess that set him off. It’s a trigger.”

“Oh.” Jensen frowns. “That what happened with me earlier? A trigger?”

Steve drops his gaze. “Ah, no, I don’t think so. I think I just really fucking scared you.” He presses his lips together, swallowing. “Thank you for defending me earlier, kid, but I did assault you. I did. I’m so damn sorry. You should have let him just beat me.”

Jensen looks away. “I didn’t do it for you. He needs you, you’re his best friend.” He lifts his head. “But if you ever touch me again-”

“I promise. Jesus, I swear upon my life.” Steve looks like he’s about to cry. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m gonna go. I’ll play tonight but I won’t stay over.”

“It’s okay if you do,” Jensen says quickly, and it feels almost true. He’s still rattled and would rather put a million miles between them, but Chris is more important. What if he needs help and Jensen doesn’t know what to do? “You can have my bed, I’ll sleep in his. I don’t wanna leave him alone,” he mutters when Steve raises an eyebrow. “That’s all.”

“Not sure I’m welcome,” Steve says but he looks relieved. From what Jensen gathered from listening to him and Chris talk, he lives at least an hour away.

“Well, this is my home, too, so I say you are,” Jensen says with more conviction than he feels. “Did you cook him something?”

“An omelet. We should make him eat or he might get sick. You need help getting him up?”

“Don’t know. I’ll holler if I do.”

He sits down on the bed, stroking Chris’s hair. He hates to wake him up but Steve is right, they need to get some food in him. Part of why the drugs are fucking with him so badly is probably because there’s hardly anything in his system but booze. “Chris? Hey, wake up. Food’s ready.”

Chris frowns before slowly blinking his eyes open. “Ain’t hungry.”

“I know, but you need to eat something. And drink some water.” When Chris looks ready to argue, Jensen adds, “For me? Please,” and kisses him.

Chris smiles, all soft and warm. “Anythin’ for you, love.”

“Okay. Come on then.”

Chris grunts as he struggles to sit, with Jensen finally hauling him up and to his feet by grabbing him under his armpits. Chris sways on his feet and for a moment Jensen is afraid he’ll topple over but then he shakes his head and squares his shoulders and together they shuffle out into the living room where Jensen lowers Chris down on the couch.

When Steve puts the plate in front of him, Chris mumbles, “Thanks, man,” sounding genuinely grateful, like he’s already forgotten their fight earlier. Maybe he has. Jensen fetches him water and then he and Steve stand and watch Chris painstakingly work his way through the small meal, like every bite is a torture.

“Might not keep it down,” he mumbles, apologetic.

“Then we’ll just try again later,” Steve says gently.

“Sorry for bein’…” He frowns, like he can’t quite remember what’s going on. It’s goddamn frightening. He looks up, smiling hesitantly at Jensen before looking at Steve. “You know.”

“I know, babe,” Steve assures him. “It’s okay. You just had a bit of a downturn. You’ll be alright soon as you get some rest.”

Chris nods and continues eating, looking like he’s gonna hurl as he carefully chews and swallows each bite. When he’s finally done, he breathes out and leans back on the couch, closing his eyes. “Tired,” he says. His skin is tinted grey, the eyes still rimmed red since earlier. Frankly, he looks like hell.

“I changed the sheets in his room,” Steve tells Jensen in a low tone, “but he’d feel so much better if he takes a shower.”

Jensen nods. “I’m on it,” he says. He turns to slip past Steve, meaning to find Chris a clean towel and some soft clothes, just as Steve steps forward, right into his path. Jensen jerks and Steve instantly steps back.

“I’m sorry. Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen says quickly. “Just… tense, I guess.” He doesn’t really believe Steve will try again but he’s made the mistake of trusting people way too many times. “I’m gonna…” He waves his hand toward the bedroom, hating how shaky he sounds. Nothing happened! Relax!

“Sure. I’ll go let Matt know the change in schedule.”

“Okay.” Jensen hurries into the bedroom. By the time he comes back, Steve is gone and Chris is fast asleep on the couch. Jensen sighs. His back already hurts from hauling Chris around earlier, helping him shower is not going to do it any favors. But if it makes Chris feel better…

“Hey,” he says, stroking Chris’s hair from his eyes. “You with me?”

“Mmm?” Chris mumbles, opening his eyes. “Sorry, love. Tired,” he says once again, like he’s given up on understanding what’s going on and latched on to the only word that comes close to describing how he’s feeling.

“I know. But you’re starting to smell. You need to take a shower. I’ll join you,” he adds with a grin when Chris looks like he’s going to argue.

Chris blinks. “Yeah, okay,” he says and struggles to his feet. Once they reach the bathroom he comes to a stop, frowning. “No. No, darlin’, that ain’t…” he says. “I’m fine. I’m…”

“Chris, shut up. I want to. I’ve been wanting to get you naked for days now.”

Chris blinks. “But-” He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m no good, love. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not about that. It’s just a shower.” Jensen smiles and kisses him lightly. “I just really wanna wash your hair.”

Chris chuckles, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “That so?”

“Yeah, that’s so. You gonna let me do that?”

“Yeah, okay.” He shuffles into the bathroom and sits down on the toilet while Jensen turns on the shower to warm the water. Chris obediently raises his arms so Jensen can pull off the t-shirt but when it comes time to tug down his boxers, he blushes deep red and shoos Jensen’s hands away. “I can do that.”

“Alright.”

Jensen turns around and starts stripping off his own clothes, flushing warm when he hears Chris make a soft sound behind him as he steps out of his sweats.

“I ain’t lookin’,” Chris mumbles and when Jensen turns to face him, he’s covered his eyes with his hand while using the other to steady himself on the sink. It still doesn’t keep him from swaying on his feet. It’s damn adorable. And wow, Chris naked is a sight to behold. All muscles and sinews, covered in soft tanned skin. And, uhm, yeah. Nothing wrong with that part either. Damn. As if on cue, Chris’s dick twitches and he huffs an annoyed curse.

Jensen grins, his shyness evaporating. “C’mon, stud. Let’s get you nice and wet.” He laughs when Chris stumbles, hand feeling blindly for the shower curtain. “Chris, you can open your eyes, it’s okay.”

“You sure, darlin’? Cause I can keep’em closed if you’d rather.”

“I’d rather see your pretty eyes,” Jensen says, grinning when Chris’s cheeks turn pink. See, he can flirt! “C’mere.”

He takes Chris’s hand and waits patiently for him to lower the other one, blinking into the light. His gaze darts down then quickly up again, the blush travelling all the way up to the tip of his ears. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind you looking,” Jensen reminds him, stepping in close for a kiss. “If you like what you see.”

“You know I do,” Chris murmurs, kissing him back. “Damn beautiful, that’s what you are.”

And it’s strange, for all he’s hated it when people comment on his looks, from Chris’s mouth the words sound different now. They sound honest. They make his heart flutter. Doesn’t stop him feeling self-conscious though. “You wanna keep the braids in while I wash your hair, or you want me to take them out?” he asks to change the subject.

Chris reaches up to awkwardly touch one of the thin braids. “Didn’t know you’d noticed ‘em. People usually ask stupid questions when they do.”

“I just figured they were private,” Jensen says, even if he’s damn curious. “So, in or out?”

“Better take’em out.” Chris’s ears turn pink. “Was thinkin’ it be nice to put beads in anyway. I do that sometimes.”

“Bet it looks real good,” Jensen says, gently slipping off the rubber bands and untangling Chris’s hair. “C’mon.”

Jensen nudges Chris under the now warm spray, not caring that only a little of it lands on himself. He can shower later. This is about making Chris feel better. The tension in Chris’s shoulders visibly drains away as the warm water falls upon them. Chris lifts his face and lets the water rush over it before bowing his head again, his hair soaked through. When he reaches for the shampoo bottle, Jensen beats him to it.

“Let me,” he says. “I want to. Please,” he adds when Chris tries to argue and Chris instantly relents, turning to brace himself on the shower wall.

Jensen would never have believed it could be so sensual to wash another man’s hair. Granted, Chris does have exceptionally nice hair, soft and down to his shoulders. Jensen has sometimes wondered what it would be like to have Chris rest his head in his lap so he can run his fingers through all that softness. It’s different when it’s wet, not to mention while it’s still greasy, but soon as Jensen’s lathered it up with Chris’s shampoo, the silkiness returns.

Chris hums when Jensen starts massaging the lather into his scalp, a low vibrating sound that turns into soft moans the longer he keeps at it. Jensen’s dick really likes that sound. Likes it so much that Jensen has to take a step back so it doesn’t accidentally poke Chris in the back. Embarrassed, he directs Chris under the spray to rinse out the shampoo, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the sight of him where he stands with his eyes closed, head thrown back so the water can run unhindered through his hair. Chris is half hard, his dick thick and beautiful like the rest of him. Jensen doesn’t put much stock in its reaction though; having someone, anyone, take care of you, probably just feels good.

“Now, conditioner,” he says, and Chris turns around again, leaning heavily against the wall. His knees have started to shake so Jensen does a quick job of it, smearing the conditioner thick into Chris’s hair before nudging him to move under the water again. Even if he didn’t give it time to sink in properly it still takes a while to rinse out, and by then Chris is clearly flagging. He pulls his head out of the stream and blinks his eyes open, water clinging to his eyelashes, the eyes so damn blue and tired Jensen can’t help but step forward and kiss him. Chris makes a happy sound, one hand coming up to cup Jensen’s face, fingers sliding along his jaw and over his ear, thumb stroking his cheek, the other hand heavy on his hip, gripping him tight.

“Love you,” Chris murmurs into Jensen’s mouth, nibbling his lower lip with his teeth before tilting Jensen’s head slightly to the side for better access and then they’re kissing for earnest, tongues sliding into each other’s mouths. Jensen quickly gives in to Chris’s more experienced moves and lets himself be kissed like he’s always wished to be, loving and gentle despite the obvious need and hunger that’s making Chris practically tremble. Or that might be the exhaustion, Jensen realizes as Chris slowly starts sliding down the wall, pulling Jensen along until they’re sitting at the bottom of the shower stall, Jensen half in Chris’s lap, the water cascading upon them like a soft rainfall.

Again Jensen reaches down but Chris shakes his head, mumbling, “Just this, sweetheart. Just want this,” so Jensen rests his hand upon Chris’s thigh instead. All the while they never stop kissing.

Jensen figures they’re more than clean enough by the time the water starts to cool down so he reaches up and turns it off. He kisses Chris for a few more minutes before pulling away with a sigh. “We need to get you dry before you start freezing.”

“Mhmm,” Chris mumbles, leaning forward to steal a few more kisses. Jensen is almost tempted to just stay there but Chris has already started to shiver. He kisses Chris one last time before struggling to his feet, drying himself quickly before helping Chris stand up. Chris seems to have given himself over to being coddled for once, he stands swaying as Jensen rubs first his body with the fluffy towel, then pushes him down on the closed toilet and moves on to his hair.

Chris’s hair curls as it dries. It’s glorious. Jensen wants to bury his face in all those curls, just breathe in the smell of him and burrow in the safe jungle of his mane. But first he better get Chris back to bed before he falls asleep. He helps Chris put on the t-shirt and underwear he’d gotten ready earlier then wraps a towel around his own waist and helps Chris to his feet.

Chris is half comatose by the time Jensen has tucked him in, but he still reaches for Jensen’s hand as he turns to leave, mumbling, “C’mere,” and “Just one more,” and there’s no way Jensen can say no to that. He slips under the covers, wriggling out of the damp towel and dropping it on the floor by the bed before snuggling in close. Chris pulls him in for a kiss, ending up dragging Jensen half on top of him. They kiss until Jensen starts feeling out of breath and lets go of Chris’s lips, kissing his way to his neck, and then finally he’s nuzzling into the soft nest of Chris’s curly mane. Chris wraps his arms around him, humming happily into his ear, quieter and quieter until he falls silent, his breathing slow and steady, his heart beating a soothing lullaby under Jensen’s ear.

Jensen keeps telling Chris he’s alright, he doesn’t need a chaperon, he’s gonna be on stage most of the time and he’ll just take his break by himself, it’s fine. His eyes blinking rapidly and hands twitching by his side.

“An’ I’m gonna be right there to make sure you do,” Chris soothes him.

When Jensen opens his mouth as if to argue again, Chris shuts him up with a kiss. Not that he can blame the kid for being worried, yesterday is a foggy memory of sleep and nausea and fighting with Steve over… something. He can’t remember. Steve was on edge this morning before making a hasty farewell, so Chris guesses it had something to do with his relationship with Jensen, even if he thought they’d sorted that out already. He’s still tired -  Oh god, so tired! - and everything is a little fuzzy around the edges. Just getting dressed was an ordeal. But sleep and food (and not being allowed a single drink) helps the meds not kick his ass quite as spectacularly. He still fucking hates them.

“I’m fine, darlin’,” he reassures Jensen, lingering a few steps ahead of Chris in the spiral staircase, ready to catch him if he should lose his footing and tumble down.

And he is, mostly. The only thing really bothering him is the cool knowledge of love in his head whenever he looks at Jensen, instead of the warm all-consuming emotion that should be in his heart. He’s been down this road before - well, not with love but with other feelings becoming but a dull memory of what they should be - so he knows it will get better. Still, he can’t help fearing, what if it won’t? What if this is how it has to be if he’s to keep his brain from crashing all the time? He hates that he can’t function unless pumped full with chemicals. Every time he thinks he can do it on his own, sooner or later the truth knocks him over. This time he got a nice run, he’d gone off the antidepressants because he’d wanted to be able to feel properly again, to see Jensen smile and feel this warmth in his chest, knowing he’d do anything for that boy. Or watch him cry and know he’d kill for him if that’s what it comes to. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. This, this scares him. This numbness, this absence of emotions, when Jensen deserves to have someone love him completely, constantly, with nothing holding them back.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says when he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, panting from the exertion.

“For what?” Jensen asks, looking genuinely bewildered.

“This damn mess. You deserve better.”

Jensen just looks at him. “Sometimes you make me wanna cry, you know that?”

“What? Why?”

Jensen shrugs. “You just do. You say stuff like that and…” He breathes out. “What I’ve been told I deserve… Well, I’m not gonna repeat it but it sure wasn’t good, let alone better. You… You’re the only one who seems to think I’m worth a damn thing.”

Well, fuck, now Chris wants to cry. “Ain’t your fault people are stupid so don‘t you listen to them. I say you’re worth a hundred of any of those sorry ass bastards that tried to put you down. Alright?”

Jensen grins and ducks his head. “Alright.” He looks up, eyes suddenly serious. “You too. Fuck those fine folks.”

Before Chris can ask him what he means they’re out in the throng of people, pushing their way slowly but steadily to the booth. Lori comes over with a coke for Jensen and a whiskey for Chris which he waves off, to her astonishment, and asks for a soda. It’s worth the embarrassment for the proud look on Jensen’s face.

This time Jensen is the one to help Chris on stage. It’s damn humiliating but apart from a few curious glances no one seems to notice. He really should see about fixing an easier way up there. While Jensen hauls the stool over and gets out his guitar, Chris taps the mic, looking down at the sea of excited faces. He swears there are even more than last time. The kid is becoming a real superstar. In the tiny queer community this cruel city hasn’t managed to chase away, but still.

“How y’all doin’, my lovelies?” he says into the mic, cringing over his weak voice. “Sorry for last night, was feelin’ a bit under the weather. I trust my man Steve took good care of you.” He nods when the crowd applauses.

“Missed you, hotshot!” someone yells and he can’t help the smile splitting his face.

“Missed you sad fuckers as well.” He glances back at Jensen who gives him a thumbs up even if he looks a bit nervous. “Maybe I’ll join our new favorite for a couple of songs after the break, if that’s alright?”

The crowd breaks out in cheers and his heart clenches in his chest, even more when he looks at Jensen whose smiling from ear to ear, like it’s his dream come true. Chris has to clear his throat before he turns back to the crowd.

“But y’all ain’t here to see my sorry old mug. He’s been a bit battered, like you know, but now he’s ready and good to go. Same rules as last time. Rude motherfuckers will be thrown out, preferably with my foot up their ass. And that ain’t an invitation for those of y’all who like that sort of thing!” He grins when people laugh. “Alright, alright. Settle down. I’m gonna get off stage and let y’all enjoy the show.”

He adjusts the mic for Jensen, squeezing his shoulder lightly before jumping off stage, which is a stupid move because he stumbles and would have fallen on his face if Lori hadn’t been there to catch him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but she just smiles like it’s nothing.

“Hi again,” Jensen says into the mic, blushing and ducking his head when the crowd whistles and applauds. “Hope you don’t mind me starting a bit easy. Been told you liked that last time. Can’t remember much of it myself but… yeah.”

Chris sits sipping his soda while gazing at Jensen with what he will happily admit are unashamed heart-eyes. God, he’s just so beautiful, with the soft light caressing his face, his long eyelashes casting shadows upon his cheeks, full lips glistening from his tongue occasionally darting out to wet them. Chris wishes he was an artist so he could capture that beauty in some form. Maybe he can write a song. And yes, he’s fully aware of how sappy that sounds but guess that’s what he is now, a big old sap.

He's so mesmerized he almost snaps in anger when Lorna slips into the booth, startling him. Probably would have if he weren’t so damn doped up. Can’t she see he’s busy?

“You stood me up,” she says, giving him a speculative look. “But I forgive you, seeing as you‘re a right mess. And I’m not talking about your obvious love for that pretty, pretty boy.”

“I’m fine,” Chris grumbles. He’s not discussing the other thing.

“Sure you are.” She tilts her head, studying him. “Judging from your pupils I’d say you’ve got one hell of a cocktail in your system.” She smiles when he frowns at her. “I’m an ER doctor. Not dressed like this obviously,” she says, waving at herself. “They’d fire my fabulous ass if they knew. Outside these walls I’m as dull and drab as a fucking accountant.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Chris says, hating this damn world and all its fucking bigots. “That’s their loss. Although I bet you look fabulous however you dress.”

She smiles. “Ain’t you sweet.” She grins. “Bet you’d be fabulous yourself in a dress and a pair of heels.”

He laughs, cheeks turning slightly warm. “Don’t know ‘bout that. I’m more of a jeans and boots kinda guy.” He glances up at the stage where Jensen is singing a sweet country song, and smiles.

She follows his gaze. “Mhmm. Now there’s a boy who’d look beautiful in anything. Or nothing.”

He scowls. “Watch it.”

“Relax, honey,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I don’t play for your team. He’d make a beautiful girl but he ain’t one as far as I know so he’s all yours. Now about those attacks…”

Chris frowns. “I don’t know much. Just heard stuff. And then… yeah. Jensen.”

He looks back up at his beautiful boy. Just thinking of what they did to him makes him wish he wasn’t on all those fucking meds because he wants to feel the rage rush through his veins, feel it burn in his chest as he beats those fucking rapists into a bloody pulp. Just feel their bones snapping under his knuckles, blood vessels burst from the force of his fists. See the light go out in their eyes as-

“You okay, honey?”

He snaps back to the present, noticing his harsh breathing, how his fingers are curled into fists, the knuckles white. Guess the drugs can’t keep it all down. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “’M fine. What you know?”

She sighs. “Too much. You don’t wanna hear what I’ve seen brought in. Let’s just say, your boy was lucky. Some of them…” She looks away. “Well, we won’t be seeing them in here ever again. Too badly broken, inside out, or just plain dead. And the cops care fuck all.”

Chris’s nostrils flare. Now he’s thinking about what could have happened to Jensen. What did happen to him when he was too young and small to fight back. And the ‘others’ Jensen had mentioned but not elaborated on, what the fuck had they done to him? If Chris could only get his hands on them…

Except, he had, hadn’t he? And he’d let them get away with just a few fucking bruises when he should have fucking killed them! Then they wouldn’t have been able to go after Jensen again and they wouldn’t have, they wouldn’t …

“Hey! Are you with me?” Lorna snaps her hand back from his arm when he snarls, startled by her touch, and accidentally knocks his drink, spilling it across the table. “Whoa, calm down! You look like you’re gonna burst a goddamn vessel.”

He curls his hands into fists, screwing his eyes shut as he tries to breathe himself calm. In, out. In, out. It doesn’t work. Fuck! What the fuck is happening to him? He was supposed to have it under control. He was supposed to be better!

“You need to get away from him,” he hears Matt say and then Lorna’s sliding quickly out of the booth, like she’s being pulled. When Chris opens his eyes and looks up, Matt has shoved her behind him, which on any other day would have been hilarious because she’s got at least six inches on him, not counting her heels. “Boss, calm the fuck down!”

Chris snarls, furious by the implication that he might hurt her. How dare he? Chris has never in his life hurt a woman. Never! But fuck does he want to put his fist in Matt’s stupid face right now. His heart is hammering really fast. It’s starting to hurt. He presses his fist against his sternum, eyes blinking furiously.

“You okay?” Matt asks, sounding alarmed. “Boss?”

He shakes his head. Fuck, it hurts! He closes his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose, afraid that if he opens his mouth he’ll throw up.

“Chris, sshh, it’s alright. I’m right here. Breathe with me.” He’d know that voice anywhere, and he’d know those fingers, uncurling his fists, holding him gently by the wrists and pressing one palm to a skinny chest. “In, out. In, out.”

He breathes and fights the urge to jump up, run out and find something to punch, even if it’s just a wall. He can hear Matt and Lorna talking, his voice anxious and angry, hers calmer and reassuring. All the while Jensen breathes slowly and murmurs loving encouragements into his ear. When he finally dares open his eyes, Jensen is sitting pressed up against him, smiling softly, Matt is gone, but Lorna sits on the other side of the booth, watching them.

“There you are,” Jensen says and tucks Chris’s hair lovingly behind his ears. “Feel better?”

Chris nods. He’s still breathing a little too fast, but his heart is slowing down, and his muscles are gradually uncoiling. “How d’you know?”

Jensen shrugs. “Was keeping an eye on you, just in case.”

“For me goin’ fuckin’ crazy,” Chris rasps.

“You had an episode,” Jensen rectifies. “That’s all it is. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

Chris drops his forehead into the palms of his hands, his elbows soaking up the spill on the table. The adrenaline crash is coming on fast. He might need to lie down. “Fuck. I’m sorry, darlin’. I ain’t good. I ain’t good at all.”

“You’re plenty good,” Jensen soothes him. “We just need to get your meds balanced. And maybe try and stay away from things that make you lose your temper. What was it this time?”

“Nothin’,” Chris lies instantly, horrified by the idea of Jensen knowing what he’d been thinking about.

“We were just talking about the attacks,” Lorna unhelpfully shoots in. “Think he’s taking them a bit personally.”

Damn.

Jensen looks at him, eyes gone sad and guilty. “So, me again?”

Chris grabs his hand, kissing the knuckles of each finger. “Not you, darlin’. Them. Makes me hoppin’ mad, is all, thinkin’ about’em out there, what they might do to you, to any of them people in here.” He looks up at Lorna. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Think I might not be the best person to do… whatever it is you think we can do. Like you said, I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“Hmm.” She tilts her head, studying him. “This why you were ‘under the weather’? I am a doctor,” she reminds him when he scowls. “Nothing you tell me will go further.”

He hesitates but at Jensen’s encouraging nod he relents with a sigh. “Sort of. And, and depression,” he adds reluctantly when Jensen nudges him. “Kinda crashed.”

“Hmm,” she says again. “Acquired or genetic? Your mood disorder, I mean.”

“Genetic. My old man. I take pills,” he says, feeling defensive the way she’s watching him, like he’s a damn specimen under a microscope. “Just sometimes they don’t quite cut it.”

“What are you taking?” When he tells her she frowns. “Okay, you might need to switch,” she says and Jensen’s head snaps to her, eyes bright with hope. “Been taking those long?”

Chris shrugs. “Six years. On and off,” he admits grudgingly. “I don’t like how they make me feel.”

“How do they make you feel?” she asks curious.

“Sick, dizzy, dog-tired.” He swallows. “Dead.”

“Hmm. Well, not my field of expertise, but I know there’ve been advances in treating this kind of disorder. Have you talked to your doctor recently?”

Chris shakes his head. “Been a few years. Six,” he admits when she raises her eyebrow.

She stares at him. “You telling me you just took the first drug they handed you and never went back?”

He squirms. “Saw no reason to. They work.”

“But he hates them,” Jensen pipes up. “He hates the antidepressants, too. He says they make him feel empty.”

Chris drops his head on the table, remembering too late the puddle of soda. Grumbling he wipes his forehead on his sleeve.

“Sorry,” Jensen says, not sounding sorry at all, “but that’s what you told me. He’s got almost no appetite and he drinks way too much. He’s supposed to be taking antianxiety meds as well, I think. And he hasn’t seen his therapist in months. I’m sorry,” he says again when Chris glares at him. “But you need to take better care of yourself. I need you to take better care of yourself.”

Chris’s annoyance deflates. “I know, darlin’. I’m sorry.” He sighs. “You really think somethin’ else might work better?” he asks Lorna.

“I know most people have to try a few different medications before they find their right fit. And even then they might have to change again later. Brains are complicated, there’s no one-size-fits-all solution.”

“Huh.” He can feel a spark of hope in his heart and carefully quells it, for now.

“But your boy is right, you need to see your therapist. Let them know what’s been going on. Talkative therapy is crucial in treating mood disorders.”

He sighs again. “I know. I will. Thank you.”

“No problem. Consider it a freebee,” she says and winks.

“None of that.” He waves Lori over. “Get this lady whatever she wants. On the house.”

Lorna grins. “Even better. The most expensive cocktail you’ve got,” she tells Lori who looks to Chris for confirmation.

He nods. It’s worth it. Worth a dozen of them if she’s right.

Lorna leans over and covers Chris’s hand with her own. “We’ll talk later, alright? You’re the only one we’ve got,” she adds quietly when he makes to argue that he’s no good for whatever she’s thinking.

He gives in and nods, but he has his doubts. What the hell is he supposed to do? Prowl the streets, like a goddamn vigilante? Capes aren’t exactly his style.

“You alright?” Jensen asks, fidgeting beside him. “Want me to help you upstairs?”

Chris shakes his head. He’s tired, drained even, but he’s not leaving Jensen here on his own. Plus, he doesn’t want to miss the rest of the show. Speaking of which. “You just ran off stage in the middle of your gig?”

Jensen looks at him like he’s stupid, which sure, he is, most of the time. “Well, duh! Could see you were heading into trouble, even without Matt jumping over the bar and bulldozing his way over. Wasn’t gonna let you deal with that on your own.”

The warm feeling in his chest is almost enough to make him tear up. “Thank you, darlin’. But I’m alright now. I’m just gonna sit here, enjoy the show. But you better get up there again ‘fore your fans revolt.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “You’ve got no idea how much these folks love you, man. If I went up there and told them sorry, I have to take you home to rest, not a one would have a problem with that. No, really,” he insists when Chris huffs in disbelief. “You’re their goddamn hero.”

“I ain’t no one’s hero,” Chris grumbles.

“You’re mine,” Jensen says and kisses him, one hand on his neck, tugging at his hair. “My big goddamn hero,” he breathes into Chris’s mouth and God, that’s it. Chris pulls him as tight as he can manage in the confined space of the booth, kissing him hard and needy, his heart thumping in his chest when Jensen melts into his arms, into his mouth, breathing out small noises between kisses like he’s begging for more. He forgets where they are, that there are people watching; in his mind they’re alone and nothing else matters.

It isn’t until Jensen starts laughing breathlessly while pushing weakly against his chest, saying, “Chris, I need to get back. Chris! We can’t! Not here!” that he comes back to his senses, flushed and embarrassed, and pulls back his hand that was heading down Jensen’s pants.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry. You just…” He breathes out. “Later?”

“You bet,” Jensen says, grinning. “I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time. You, me, naked in bed,” he whispers into Chris’s ear and then he’s gone, bouncing up on stage like he didn’t just cause Chris’s brain to leak out his ears.

The next hour is a bit of a blur because he just can’t stop thinking about it. Jensen naked, Jensen sprawled out on his bed, grinning up at him, Jensen wide-eyed, skin glistening with sweat. He imagines what Jensen will sound like when Chris takes his dick into his mouth, when he licks his balls, when he breeches him with his fingers, when he pushes into him for the first time, when he fucks him slowly, carefully, when he comes… Oh God, what will Jensen sound like when he comes? The same as when he got himself off or will it be louder?

He's so lost in his fantasies Jensen has to yell his name a few times before he realizes he’s being called up on stage.

“Stop the dirty daydreaming for a moment and come up here and sing with me. You promised,” Jensen says in a stern voice when Chris tries to protest. “Right?” Jensen asks the crowd that hollers and cheers in agreement, even if Chris did no such thing. He said maybe, and that was before he had his freak out. “We’ll do a slow one,” Jensen promises, like he can tell what he’s thinking, and then he’s giving Chris those big puppy eyes that he's probably figured out by now that Chris can’t say no to. Beautiful little fucker.

Chris slides out of the booth, grumbling that he hasn’t even had any whiskey, but Jensen’s smile as he watches Chris approach the stage is enough to make him forget all about how tired he is, how out of sorts, how goddamn sober. He accepts Jensen’s hand, helping him up on stage, giving Jensen a quick kiss that has the audience whistling, before sitting down on the extra stool Jensen dragged over.

“We can share the mic,” Jensen says, bright with excitement. “What you wanna sing?”

“Nothin’ too demandin’,” Chris begs. “And don’t blame me if I’m shit.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jensen assures him. He starts strumming, the first keys to More Than I Deserve[g1]  and Chris can’t help smiling.

“You feelin’ romantic, darlin’?” he asks, forgetting the mic is picking up everything they say.

“When I’m with you,” Jensen answers, smiling so widely Chris’s breath stutters in his chest.

The resulting cheers and wolf whistles make him blush, and he glowers out at the room, growling, “Behave, y’all!” which only makes them cheer louder. Well, if there were some that hadn’t quite gotten the message, guess they have now. He’s queer as hell and madly in love with a beautiful boy with the voice of an angel.

Jensen starts, all quiet and slow. Chris joins in when it’s his turn and damn, they do sound good together, as far as he can tell. Jensen’s liquid voice against Chris’s rougher one, torn up by years of whiskey running down his throat. When it’s time for the chorus they both lean into the mic, so close they might as well kiss, so when the opportunity rises, with a slight pause before the next verse, Chris snatches it, kissing Jensen softly, smiling when Jensen laughs happily into his mouth.

And Chris thinks, whatever he has to do, whatever drugs he has to take, he’ll do it all if he can just have this for the rest of his life.

They stumble to the bedroom, laughing and jittery with nerves, at least Jensen is. He feels like he’s just drunk fifteen cups of coffee, half of them laced with bourbon. Every nerve in his body is tingling, his heart is hammering in his chest and his stomach keeps threatening to crawl its way up his throat. But fuck, his dick is not backing down at all, which made the short trek up to the apartment an uncomfortable and embarrassing affair.

“Fuck, darlin’, so beautiful, so damn hot,” Chris keeps murmuring between kissing him frantically. “Love you so much. Wanna show you. Lemme, lemme…”

Chris pulls off Jensen’s t-shirt, slipping it up his torso, hands running up Jensen’s arms, the palms warm and gentle and maddening. He kisses Jensen’s shoulder, his collarbone, the line of his jaw, so softly it feels like petals falling on his skin. Even when he’s unbuttoning Jensen’s jeans, unzipping his zipper, tugging his jeans down past his hips, he touches each inch that becomes accessible so gently, as if Jensen’s fragile, as if Chris might tear holes in Jensen’s skin if he’s not careful and God, Jensen loves him for it but he’s not fragile, he’s not brittle. These are the bruises that he’d carry with pride: Chris’s fingerprints on his wrists, the mark of Chris’s tight grip on his shoulder, his hip; the souvenir from Chris’s lips, sucking on his neck.

“So beautiful,” Chris repeats and he sounds reverent, awestruck, lips parted as if on a prayer. “Fuck, darlin’, I love you so much.”

Jensen gasps, feeling like he’s on fire and Chris’s touches are cool streams of water, running over his skin. He whispers, “Want you,” into Chris’s hair and Chris pushes him back with a growl. Jensen is still bouncing on the bed when Chris slips to his knees and warm moist air engulfs Jensen’s dick through the thin layer of cotton.

Oh God! Hot and wet and soft licks and suction and…

Jensen mewls, hands fisting the covers because, oh God it’s so good, so goddamn fucking good. Chris straightens up and pulls Jensen’s boxer briefs down in one swift motion and then he’s swallowing Jensen’s dick into the hot wet cavern of his mouth and oh God, oh God, oh God…. Jensen can’t think, he can’t do anything but gasp and moan in wonder. He never imagined it felt like this! Oh God. No wonder everyone keeps wanting him to-

He jerks back, gasping, saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but Chris either doesn’t understand or doesn’t hear him because he just swirls his tongue around the head of Jensen’s cock in the heat of his mouth and it’s so good, so damn good, Jensen stops breathing. Through a haze he feels Chris rolling his balls in the palm of his hand, his warm fingers so gentle, like he knows how sensitive they are. There’s a shock of cold air as Chris lets Jensen’s dick slip out of his mouth, then incredible wet heat surrounds Jensen’s balls as they’re sucked into Chris’s mouth and rolled around on his tongue.

Jensen’s brain short-circuits.

When he comes back, Chris’s thumb and index finger are circling the base of his cock, stroking lightly as Chris sucks on the head, tongue prodding the slit. He hums, laughing softly when Jensen whimpers, then keeps stroking and sucking until Jensen is sure he’s going insane. He’s babbling, begging for more, please, please. Forgetting in his need why it’s all wrong.

Chris’s fingers curl into a fist, tightening the grip, jerking him for earnest, just like Jensen told him he liked it, before swallowing Jensen’s dick and sucking it hard, deep into his throat. It’s the fact that Chris listened and remembered, as much as how incredibly, amazingly, heavenly good it all feels, that pushes Jensen over the edge. He doesn’t even have time to warn Chris, suddenly he’s just arching off the bed, crying out as he’s coming down Chris’s throat. Chris doesn’t pull back, he just keeps on, sucking and then licking, lighter and lighter, kitten-licking the head of Jensen’s dick until, finally, even that becomes too much and Jensen whines as he fumbles to put his hand between himself and Chris’s mouth.

Chris moves down to kiss Jensen’s inner thigh. “Use your words, darlin’,” he murmurs, sounding only a little out of breath. “Gotta learn to tell me what you want.”

“Too much,” Jensen whimpers.

“Alright, baby. You just taste so sweet, I could lick you all night.” Chris crawls up on the bed and leans over him, cradling Jensen’s head in his strong hands before kissing him soft and deep. He tastes terrifyingly familiar, and shame crashes into Jensen with such force, tears spring into his eyes.

“Hey, no. Sshh, sshh. So good, you were so good, darlin’,” Chris soothes, his voice sounding a little broken, kissing Jensen’s neck, his ear, his shoulder. “So sweet, my boy, taste so damn good.”

Jensen shakes his head. This time he’s the one who made… He… Oh God.

Chris kisses him gently. “Baby, talk to me.” He sounds worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a brief silence. “What?”

Jensen swallows. It was so good and he’s a fucking monster! “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’m sorry.”

This time the silence is longer and when Chris finally speaks his voice sounds strangled. “Darlin’, I didn’t do anythin’ I didn’t want to, alright?”

Jensen blinks his eyes open, confused. “Why would you want to?”

Fierce hatred flashes in Chris’s eyes, then pain, grief, sadness, before finally settling on something Jensen can’t interpret, like Chris is keeping his feelings carefully in check.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently. “Why wouldn’t I? I love you. I want to make you feel good. Why’d you think I did it?”

“I don’t know.” Jensen bites his lip. “Because you thought I’d like it?”

Chris breathes in carefully. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I did! Of course I did! It was… God, I’ve never felt…” He pulls in a shaky breath. “I didn’t know it felt like that. Should have, why else would they- But I never meant to make you do it.”

“You didn’t make me do anythin’, alright?” Chris says, voice gentle but firm. “I did it ‘cause I wanted to. ‘Cause I wanted to make you feel good, ‘cause I like it, alright? I like havin’ your dick in my mouth, I like suckin’ you. I goddamn love it.”

“But it’s...” Jensen falters. “You don’t feel… degraded?”

“No. No, I don’t.” Chris brushes his cheek, eyes soft and sad. “But I get if you do. Your experience is goddamn awful, sweetheart. And I promise you, you never have to do it, ever again, if you don’t want to.” Chris kisses him softly. “Alright? You never have to do anythin’ you don’t want to.”

“It’s just…” Jensen bites his lip, shame coloring his cheeks. “I hate when they, when they just shove it down my throat and… It hurts, you know.”

Chris’s eyes cloud over for a moment. “Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely. “I know.”

“But when…” Jensen swallows. “When they let me… when I can… myself. I’m good at it. I’m good. And I… I don’t hate that. Even if I hate them, I don’t hate that. And I want to… for you.” He presses his lips together, cheeks burning.

“Sweetheart…” Chris pauses. He lifts himself up on his elbow, looking down at Jensen with concern. “You feelin’ ashamed ‘cause you wanna blow me?”

Jensen squeezes his eyes shut. Of course he’s ashamed. They all told him he was good for one thing and guess what, they were right.

“God, I could…” Air brushes his cheek as Chris breathes out violently through his nose. Jensen can hear him grind his teeth, can feel the tension run through his body before settling with a shudder. Then soft lips kiss his, light and careful.

“I’m glad you do,” Chris says quietly. “I’m glad they didn’t ruin that for you.” He runs his fingers through Jensen’s hair, sighing softly. “You know, I’ve had my bad run-ins,” he says and Jensen blinks his eyes open in surprise. He didn’t think Chris would ever mention that again. “Not like you but… Took me a long time to sort out in my head that I could like things that, that I hadn’t before. Makes all the difference bein’ in control. Doin’ things ‘cause you want to, not ‘cause… ‘cause someone else makes you.”

“I want to,” Jensen mumbles. The tight feeling in his chest is slowly loosening. “I wanna suck you. I’ve wanted to ever since I saw you on stage.”

A smile tugs at Chris’s lips. “I know. You told me. Repeatedly.”

Jensen blushes hot. God, he knew he’d been drunk but… “Shit. I did?”

“Yep. You were real eager. So you wantin’ it don’t exactly surprise me.” Chris’s face softens. “And it definitely don’t shock or disgust me. Sex can be an amazin’ experience, darlin’, if you do it with the right people. I’m lookin’ forward to showin’ you just how amazin’ it can be.”

“I’m kinda scared about, about that,” Jensen admits. He wants to be good for Chris. He wants to be good. But…

“You set the pace. We just do whatever you feel like. You wanna fuck me?” Chris asks him, like it’s nothing. “I love gettin’ fucked. I don’t care if I never fuck you. All I care about is you feelin’ good and safe and happy. Alright?”

Jensen stares at him. He feels hot all over. Somehow he never imagined… “But… I’ll hurt you.”

Chris shakes his head. “You won’t. I’ll show you how it’s supposed to be done. It will be fun.”

Jensen really doubts that. “I don’t know.”

Chris smiles. “You got plenty time to figure it out. There’s no rush. C’mon.” He drags Jensen with him higher up on the bed so their legs aren’t dangling over the edge. “I could do with some more kissin’, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with time getting lost in the taste of lips and the heat of each other’s mouths. They kiss and Jensen feels Chris’s soft dick resting against his thigh and thinks, yeah, he does want. He wants to swallow Chris down, show him all the tricks he’s learned, feel him get hard in his mouth, feel the taste of him coating his tongue, because doing it for someone he loves - and God, Jensen does love him! -will make all the difference. He trusts Chris on that. Just like he trusts him with all the other stuff, when they get to that. He does. He just wishes he wasn’t so damn scared.

Continued here.