RPS Ficlet: "On the Road" - NC17 - Jared/Jensen
Um, I should be going to Ikea to buy some furniture, I suppose, but no, instead I am going straight to hell. 'Cause here goes my RPS-posting cherry. *blushes*
Title: On the Road
Author: femmenerd
Pairing: Jared/Jensen RPS aka Padackles
Rating: I believe that would be NC17.
Summary: Jared. Jensen. Phone sex. Homoerotic subtext in the Beat Generation “novels.”
Disclaimer: So very much not mine and not real, except for my newly purchased ticket to Hell.
Author’s Note: Kripke really did base Sam and Dean off of Sal and Dean from “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac, however. monkeycrackmary has some meta about that here if you want some thinky thoughts to accompany this porn. And if you happen to be one of my non-fandom RL friends with access to this journal, you might want to avoid clicking the link at all costs if you want to look me in the eye again.
Word Count: Only about 700. But I squeezed all the wrongness I could muster in there.
*****
“What if I was the big brother…”
No “hello.” No “how are you?” The voice across the line is low and suggestive, almost unrecognizable. But it hits the Jared-shaped pulse point in his gut all the same.
“Dude, what?” Jensen’s voice is sleepy and surprised. He fumbles with the receiver and squints, unable to see his way out of the fog of tangled, interrupted dreams that are already slipping away like rushing water.
“I’m bigger than you. That really pisses you off sometimes, doesn't it?”
Jensen’s a little more awake now. It’s three in the morning and call is in four hours and this is a dream-it must be. This is not happening. He scrubs his hair and blinks, stares at the faint, red light of the digital clock on the bedside table and then back into the deep, asscrack-of-night darkness of his room.
One breath. Two. In and out. Oxygen will dispel this madness.
“Jared, are you drunk? Are you fucking drunk, man? Or just crazy...”
Soft laughter. Almost a giggle, and then the sex-saturated tone comes back with a vengeance. “Maybe. Does it matter?” A pause. “Do you know what I think about sometimes? On set?”
Jensen holds his breath. Says nothing.
“I think about fucking you in the back of the Impala. Sucking you off in Dean’s car. Getting your cum all over that leather interior.” These words are punctuated by heavy, rasping breaths. And Jensen’s hand is snaking into his boxer-briefs now. This shit is heavy. This is something more than a few friendly handjobs between coworkers (not to be discussed later). This is dangerous. This is fuck up your work relationship, let some overgrown, South Texas, beanpole kid into your inner sanctum, bad idea kinds of dangerous.
It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to Jensen maybe ever.
“Oh fuck.” Jensen groans, stroking his thumb across the head of his cock in wet, pre-cum-soaked circles. Stops. Pulls his fingers away with enormous effort. “Jared. Uh, reality check, here. Where’s Sandy? Isn’t she visiting?”
“Shhhhhh. She’s asleep. Just listen to me. Listen to me, Jen.”
Something about the fact that Jared’s girlfriend is probably in the room or down the hall or something makes Jensen’s dick that much harder. And that’s certainly not the most wrong thing about all of this, but it’s close.
“We don’t even look like brothers, man. What the hell was the network thinking? Did you know that Kripke based Sam and Dean off of ‘On the Road?’ Did you know that those guys were totally screwing around? Read the book, dude; it’s right there in between the lines.”
OK, now THAT’s probably the most wrong thing about this.
“I read books, you fucker. 10th grade English. The Beats. And I’m the ‘deep one,’ remember?” Jensen’s jacking himself mercilessly now. Doubled over, underwear skulking down his thighs.
Jared’s laughing again now, softly. And his dirty talk has petered off enough that Jensen could swear that he can hear the covers rustling in Jared’s bed. Jared’s bed where he’s never been allowed. Will all that change now?
“You’re so fucking pretty, Jen. But I guess you hear that all the time. Does it make you uncomfortable when I say it? Six beers say that I don’t care. You’re so fucking pretty it makes me want to fuck the shit out of you. Every day. Every fuckin’ day…”
Oh. Fuck.
Jensen comes hard and slippery into his fingers, wipes it off on the pillow case with a shaky hand. Someone else will wash the sheets. He sighs heavily and his chin falls to his chest in post-orgasmic defeat.
“See you in the morning, man,” Jared says, voice crackling over the phone.
“It is the morning…”
But the other line clicks off. The phone slips from Jensen’s fingers and thuds onto the bed to his left.
This was a dream. It must have been. Or else Jensen’s really screwed now. Yeah, he’s really in for it now.
*****
Title: On the Road
Author: femmenerd
Pairing: Jared/Jensen RPS aka Padackles
Rating: I believe that would be NC17.
Summary: Jared. Jensen. Phone sex. Homoerotic subtext in the Beat Generation “novels.”
Disclaimer: So very much not mine and not real, except for my newly purchased ticket to Hell.
Author’s Note: Kripke really did base Sam and Dean off of Sal and Dean from “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac, however. monkeycrackmary has some meta about that here if you want some thinky thoughts to accompany this porn. And if you happen to be one of my non-fandom RL friends with access to this journal, you might want to avoid clicking the link at all costs if you want to look me in the eye again.
Word Count: Only about 700. But I squeezed all the wrongness I could muster in there.
*****
“What if I was the big brother…”
No “hello.” No “how are you?” The voice across the line is low and suggestive, almost unrecognizable. But it hits the Jared-shaped pulse point in his gut all the same.
“Dude, what?” Jensen’s voice is sleepy and surprised. He fumbles with the receiver and squints, unable to see his way out of the fog of tangled, interrupted dreams that are already slipping away like rushing water.
“I’m bigger than you. That really pisses you off sometimes, doesn't it?”
Jensen’s a little more awake now. It’s three in the morning and call is in four hours and this is a dream-it must be. This is not happening. He scrubs his hair and blinks, stares at the faint, red light of the digital clock on the bedside table and then back into the deep, asscrack-of-night darkness of his room.
One breath. Two. In and out. Oxygen will dispel this madness.
“Jared, are you drunk? Are you fucking drunk, man? Or just crazy...”
Soft laughter. Almost a giggle, and then the sex-saturated tone comes back with a vengeance. “Maybe. Does it matter?” A pause. “Do you know what I think about sometimes? On set?”
Jensen holds his breath. Says nothing.
“I think about fucking you in the back of the Impala. Sucking you off in Dean’s car. Getting your cum all over that leather interior.” These words are punctuated by heavy, rasping breaths. And Jensen’s hand is snaking into his boxer-briefs now. This shit is heavy. This is something more than a few friendly handjobs between coworkers (not to be discussed later). This is dangerous. This is fuck up your work relationship, let some overgrown, South Texas, beanpole kid into your inner sanctum, bad idea kinds of dangerous.
It’s the hottest thing that’s happened to Jensen maybe ever.
“Oh fuck.” Jensen groans, stroking his thumb across the head of his cock in wet, pre-cum-soaked circles. Stops. Pulls his fingers away with enormous effort. “Jared. Uh, reality check, here. Where’s Sandy? Isn’t she visiting?”
“Shhhhhh. She’s asleep. Just listen to me. Listen to me, Jen.”
Something about the fact that Jared’s girlfriend is probably in the room or down the hall or something makes Jensen’s dick that much harder. And that’s certainly not the most wrong thing about all of this, but it’s close.
“We don’t even look like brothers, man. What the hell was the network thinking? Did you know that Kripke based Sam and Dean off of ‘On the Road?’ Did you know that those guys were totally screwing around? Read the book, dude; it’s right there in between the lines.”
OK, now THAT’s probably the most wrong thing about this.
“I read books, you fucker. 10th grade English. The Beats. And I’m the ‘deep one,’ remember?” Jensen’s jacking himself mercilessly now. Doubled over, underwear skulking down his thighs.
Jared’s laughing again now, softly. And his dirty talk has petered off enough that Jensen could swear that he can hear the covers rustling in Jared’s bed. Jared’s bed where he’s never been allowed. Will all that change now?
“You’re so fucking pretty, Jen. But I guess you hear that all the time. Does it make you uncomfortable when I say it? Six beers say that I don’t care. You’re so fucking pretty it makes me want to fuck the shit out of you. Every day. Every fuckin’ day…”
Oh. Fuck.
Jensen comes hard and slippery into his fingers, wipes it off on the pillow case with a shaky hand. Someone else will wash the sheets. He sighs heavily and his chin falls to his chest in post-orgasmic defeat.
“See you in the morning, man,” Jared says, voice crackling over the phone.
“It is the morning…”
But the other line clicks off. The phone slips from Jensen’s fingers and thuds onto the bed to his left.
This was a dream. It must have been. Or else Jensen’s really screwed now. Yeah, he’s really in for it now.
*****