One of the Perks (Jared/Jensen) 1/1
One of the Perks
Jared/Jensen.
NC17.
For the spnkink_meme prompt here: Ball boy!Jensen and older!Jared. Jared's new to the Grand Slams and doesn't realise some of the perks (use of any and all ball boys). He's against it at first but when he sees Jensen he just can't help himself. [I played with the "rules" of this concept, that ball-boys are only chosen for use during the final matches, and the ball-boys don't always know about it -- they ought to read the waivers more closely!]
WARNINGS. underage!Jensen, older!Jared, rimming, fingering, ass!play, bottom!Jensen, slight dub-con (but not with the person you'd think), and is there such a thing as possession!kink?
Jensen hadn't known what all to expect when he was accepted as a ball-boy for the 2011 U.S. Open in New York City, but everything he's done so far has been awesome.
He'd picked up his first racket when he was eight years old and never put it down. As a result, Jensen had been the only freshman on the varsity tennis team at his high school, and his coach had encouraged him to apply as a ball-boy-see the grand slam games up close. He was old enough now, just turned fifteen, and spending the two weeks before his sophomore year began amongst tennis' greats was a dream come true.
Jensen had worked through the early matches on the outer courts at the BJK National Tennis Center, collecting autographs after every game. He and his dad stayed at a hotel in the city; Jensen took a bus to the Tennis Center every morning while his Dad used the time to meet with clients and contacts in the city.
It was the perfect way to end a summer.
One of the biggest surprises for Jensen had been Jared Padalecki, currently ranked number 28 on the men's circuit, and Jensen's favorite player. He was only twenty-five years old and had really come into the spotlight over the last two years, moving up in the rankings. Padalecki had also nabbed quite a few headlines because of the tantrums he was known to throw on and off the court-an official's nightmare.
Jared Padalecki didn't fit the tennis mold, which was one of the reasons Jensen admired him so much: Jared was brash and loud, he wore tight black outfits to play in, and his interviews always skirted the line between indulgent and condescending. Other reasons had more to do with the squeezed-flat bottle of lube and the dildo Jensen kept hidden under his mattress, because Jared Padalecki was insanely good looking.
Jensen had the good luck of drawing one of Padalecki's early matches against a fading Italian player. He had trouble keeping his eyes on the balls when his gaze had a tendency to drift toward whatever side of the court Jared was currently on, but he made it through the match without any major incidents. When the crowds had cleared the bleachers and Jared had gathered up all his equipment, Jensen made his way over to the victorious American.
"Mr. Padalecki?"
"That's my dad," Jared said without looking up. "Call me Jared."
"Okay."
Jensen held a fresh Wilson ball in his hand, shuffling nervously before Jared finally turned away from his racket bag.
"Oh, hey. You were one of the ball-boys."
"You mean ball-people," Jensen said. "That's the PC term."
"You're..." Jared laughs when he sees Jensen's expression. "Wow, I thought you were serious there for a second."
"Sorry."
"No, it's funny. I wasn't expecting it."
"I wanted to congratulate you on winning." Jensen steps forward. "You played a great match. There was no way Fortelli could compete against your backhand. The spin you can put on it..."
"Thanks, kid."
"Jensen."
"Jensen, huh?" Jared looks him up and down, and Jensen warms under the scrutiny. The way he stares is something out of Jensen's dreams. Hell, maybe he's already asleep, back at the hotel, and this isn't really happening. "Well, I appreciate it. Got a long way to go, though."
"Would you sign my balls?"
Jared's eyes widen. "You're only holding one ball, so..."
"Ball," Jensen stammers. "I meant, would you sign my ball."
"Hmmm. Gotta be careful, kid. Could've given me the wrong idea there."
Jared's grin is a little too big, but Jensen likes it-likes the way he feels like Jared's whole attention is fixed on him for the moment. He hands over the marker and Jared sweeps it over the bright green fuzz in a barely legible signature. Jensen doesn't care-this ball's his new favorite keepsake.
"Maybe I'll catch you at another match," Jared says. "You were pretty good out there. Handled all those balls well."
Jensen nearly swallows his tongue. "Thanks. Good luck with the rest of the tournament, Mister - I mean, Jared."
~~~~
Jensen's luck earns him another one of Jared's matches in the round of sixteen. This one's tougher on Padalecki - always Jared, in Jensen's head now-as he and his British opponent get stuck in long volleys and rarely break serve.
Jensen watches even more intently than last time, soaking up the way Jared's massive body moves across the hard court. Shoes skidding, racket slamming, and the way Jared grunts after a particularly aggressive shot... Jesus, that sound's gonna stick around in Jensen's dreams for years to come.
Late in the fifth set, the British player starts to fumble more and more, and Jared strikes even harder. Jensen's shocked that the man still has the energy to play. Jensen's just a ball-boy but even he's exhausted. But it's worth it to watch Jared play, catch him winking back at Jensen after an impressive shot. And finally, Jared takes the match, collapsing onto his knees on the acrylic hard court and shouting in triumph. He knows it's against the rules, but Jensen wants to start applauding, or run up to Jared and congratulate him.
Jared's through to the quarterfinals, his highest showing in a Grand Slam tournament.
Jensen gathers up his bag after the match and, not seeing Jared around, starts heading toward the bus stop. The match had run late and most of the complex is empty-most spectators have begun the long walk back to their cars or funneling towards the train stops.
Halfway to the bus, Jensen hears his name and turns around to see Jared jogging up behind him.
"Hey, Jensen. I didn't get to talk to you after the match," Jared explains unnecessarily. "Press conference, you know."
"How was that?" Jensen asks, pretending like he's not shaking in his new Nike sneakers and his red and white uniform.
"Crazy. I don't think anyone expected me to advance this far."
Out of turn, Jensen says, "I did. No, seriously," he adds when Jared looks at him, "the way you played today, they'd be crazy not to think you'll advance even further."
Jared scratches the back of his neck, dark hair still sweaty, and Jensen wants to nose around through the damp and sweat like a needy kitten. He shakes off the thought.
"Are you working any other matches?" Jared asks. The athlete's got a decade on him in age, but he looks almost as nervous as Jensen feels.
"I'm not sure. They haven't assigned anyone to the final matches yet. I guess they choose specific people... Do you know how that works?"
Jared opens his mouth but his words get tangled up in a cough. When he can finally talk, he says, "Yeah, there's some nomination process. Players can request certain ball-boys to... Well, I guess it's an honor or something, I don't know."
"It would be," Jensen says, starry-eyed. "I can't imagine being able to do that, be close to you... And, all the other great players, yeah."
"Good, 'cause I submitted your name."
"Seriously?" Jensen's so shocked, he doesn't think twice about dropping his bag and hugging Jensen right there in the deep shadow of Arthur Ashe stadium. "Oh god, sorry," he stammers as he unwraps his limbs from Jared's body. "I just-that's awesome, Jared, thank you!"
"Well, I hope you get it, because you've been working hard and you deserve it," Jared says, tightly. "I've gotta get going though, my coach wants..."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Jensen's mind is still doing cartwheels. "I mean, thank you, again."
~~~~
When Jensen gets the phone call from his coordinator about working in the quarterfinals, he screams so loudly, his Dad throws a pillow at him. He'd almost forgotten to ask which match he'd be at until right before the coordinator hangs up, and he stumbles quickly over the question.
Jared Padalecki versus Alex Nemerovski.
Jensen nearly faints.
Nemerovski is a fierce player, highly ranked, and the match is held on center court. Jensen's strung-out and nervous and he's not even the one playing.
He isn't expecting to walk into such a lavish locker room underneath Arthur Ashe Stadium the morning of the match. Jensen can understand these kinds of appointments for the star athletes, yeah, but for the ball boys?
What do they need private rooms for?
Jensen asks, but the attendant waiting outside shrugs and calls it, "one of the perks." After that, Jensen tried not to think anything of the accommodations until the ball-boy coordinator, Mr. Kingsford, stops Jensen and three of the other boys outside on their way into the stadium.
"Being chosen for the final matches is an honor," Kingsford lectures. "The players saw something in each of you that made them nominate you, and I'm sure none of you wants to let these athletes down now, right?"
They each nod, Jensen's heart pounding because he's ready to get out on the court and see Jared. He knows his presence might not mean much to the star athlete, but Jensen will be cheering him on silently every moment of the match.
"Good." From a little bag, Kingsford hands them each a white wristband-their name, the date of the match, and Padalecki vs. Nemerovski embroidered in red on each one. Jensen feels like he's just won the lottery, seeing his name and Jared's so close together on something he'll keep for the rest of his life. "Now, you're all welcome to stick around after the match and make use of your locker rooms and private showers."
Hearing a snigger, Jensen looks over and sees two of the ball-boys grinning at one another, their cheeks red. Whatever the joke, it's lost on Jensen and the fourth boy.
The quarterfinal match is like nothing Jensen's ever seen before in his life. Sure, he's watched plenty of matches on television, but nothing compares to the adrenaline of seeing, hearing, and feeling every stroke. Better than hi-def television, closer than an all-access pass would get him, Jensen can practically smell the sweat and the heat Jared's putting out. His skin glistens in the sunlight, hair swinging wildly around his ears, off his forehead where it's held back by a white and black bandanna.
Between games, when Jared switches sides, and between sets, their eyes meet. Jared smiles and Jensen hopes anyone watching will mistake his blush for sun-coloring. Something dark and secretive lashes through Jensen every time Jared's eyes duck and focus on the white wristband Jensen's wearing. Jared barely looks at the other ball-boys, or the two girls also working on the court, which pleases Jensen in ways he barely knows what to do with.
Jared fights for every point and holds his serve. Nemerovski plays as if he hadn't been expecting Jared to be much of a challenge, and he's constantly running back and forth at the baseline. After two sets, Jared and Nemerovski are tied, a set a piece, but after Jared takes the third set, Jensen's heart kicks up to a higher tempo and he starts praying.
He's never wanted someone to win a game so badly.
Maybe it's his constant prayers-but more likely its Jared's masterful ball placement and unwillingness to give up a single point without a battle-but Jared wins the fourth set, six games to four, and the match is over. Jared's advancing to the semifinals and Jensen gets to be here for such an important moment in Jared's career.
Jensen and the other ball-boys are hurried off the court to make space for reporters and stadium staff. Back in their locker room, the four of them tease each other and recap every thrilling moment from the match until the door opens again.
Jensen has to pick his jaw up off the floor when he sees it's Jared and Nemerovski walking in.
For a moment, Jensen's terrified that they're trespassing in the players' locker room, and he's about to grab his bag and make a run for it, excruciatingly embarrassed, when Nemerovski looks at Jared and nods.
Jared returns the gesture, and Nemerovski starts walking towards the sauna, leading the other three ball-boys away with him. When Jensen and Jared are alone, Jared sets his bag on the floor and drops to his knees, opening his arms wide.
Jensen doesn't think twice about running into those arms and hugging the hell out of Jared.
"You were so awesome," Jensen babbles. "That last set, it's like you were on fire and Nemerovski didn't stand a chance, and-"
"Hey," Jared laughs, his chest shaking against Jensen's. "Slow down, take a breath."
"Sorry, I'm just so stoked!"
"Me too."
"Well, duh!"
Jensen's immature little outburst puts a strange look on Jared's face, but Jensen doesn't have a chance to decipher it before Jared's mouth is all over his. Dry lips mashing into his, tongue trying to push further but Jensen's too shocked to open his mouth. Before Jensen can gather the gumption to part his lips, Jared pulls back.
Jensen whines like a child. "What? No..."
Jared turns his cheek away.
"Jensen, shit. I'm sorry. I thought you wanted...well, I thought you knew about this."
"Knew what?"
Jared leans back to look Jensen in the eye, but Jensen falls with him, falling to straddle Jared's thighs.
"Shit," Jared repeats. "I knew this was crazy."
"What was?"
"God, are you playing with me? You've gotta know..." Jared pushes him off and stands, pacing across the locker room. Even frantic, Jensen can't stop staring at the flex of Jared's impressive muscles under the tight black fabric. Jared yanks the bandanna off his forehead, twisting it between his hands. "I thought it was crazy when I first heard, and I never-I swear, Jensen, I wasn't gonna do anything, but then I saw you at that match, and I wanted."
Warmth stirs in Jensen's belly. Nervously, he fingers his wristband, shocked out of it when Jared moans brokenly.
"Don't...Jesus."
"Jared, I don't get it. Why are you-"
"Don't you know what being here right now means?" Jared asks, footsteps hesitating. "What that wristband means?"
Jensen shakes his head, and Jared sighs like he's just watched a Grand Slam title slip through his fingers.
"It means you're here for me. As in, if I wanted, you would..."
It's a little disconcerting to see Jared falter with his words, such a force on the court reduced to half-glances and cut-off sentences. Jensen doesn't like the switch in his personality. And for as nuts as it sounds, Jensen understands what Jared's saying, doesn't need it spelled out. He's a scholar-athlete, after all.
"You want me?" he asks in a whisper.
"Christ, Jensen. How could I not?" Jared shakes his head, hair shaking every which way. "When they told me I could choose someone for this match, I thought it was insane. But the way you looked at me, the way you moved... And I thought when you were here today, it meant that you were okay with this. Alex knew about it-he's done this before."
"So that's why he..." Jensen nods towards the sauna. "Oh."
"He wanted you, too," Jared admits. "Thought he and I could share the four of you." He spits, and Jensen sees some of that heat return to his eyes.
"But you didn't want that, right?"
"Of course not."
Jensen gets to his feet and walks up to Jared, heart beating right out of his chest. "You wanted me all to yourself."
"Jensen..."
"Didn't want anyone else touching what was yours."
"Oh, fuck." Jared breaks, and the next thing Jensen knows, he's wrapped up in a hefty, capable grip. His mouth isn't kissed so much as taken, Jared's tongue beating through any resistance to swipe along the inside of Jensen's lips.
Jared doesn't stop to ask if Jensen wants this-if he's sure. Jensen's not even one hundred percent sure, but the last thing he wants is time to think about it. He's on a roller coaster and it's too late to jump off, and he knows things are just getting good. Jared's hands paw at his back, stroking up and down as if Jensen's shivering and Jared needs to warm him.
Jared's tongue is long, more experienced than any of the boys and girls Jensen's kissed. He knows how to coax tiny, pleasured sounds from Jensen's body, send little shivers running down his arms and legs. He barely notices the sound of his shirt tearing, ripped right down the middle by Jared's hands.
"Hey, I wanted to keep that!"
"You have more, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen sighs. "Yeah, just keep going."
Jared does, with a dirty little smirk Jensen's only seen in online porn. Jared goes all the way down until he's got Jensen's white shorts around his ankles, belt clanking on the floor. His mouth envelops Jensen's cock through his underwear, all that spit seeping right through the fabric until Jensen can feel it on his balls.
"So fuckin' sweet," Jared says, tugging cotton between his teeth. "Couldn't wait to win my matches and get you alone."
"What'd you think about?"
Jared huffs, sucking the fabric into his mouth and pushing forward to find Jensen's dick that's obviously gotten stiff.
"Thought about how you'd fit in my mouth," Jared says on a long breath. "The way you'd taste, all that warm skin. How you'd react when I touched you. Do you like it when I touch you, Jensen?"
"God, yeah!"
"Then you're gonna love this, baby," Jared says just before he claws Jensen's underwear out of the way and sucks him down all in one go.
Jensen's gotten a couple of blowjobs, clumsy attempts at mutual pleasure with friends, and one more impressive attempt from the captain of the girl's tennis team who thought he was cute and used to give him rides home. But this is a blowjob-wetter than wet and better than anything Jensen's ever felt. Jared's lips are tight around the base of his dick, the entire thing fitting perfectly on Jared's tongue. He's ravenous, sucking Jensen down and not trying to be quiet about it.
Jared paws at Jensen's hips the entire time he goes down, his sweaty hair sticking to Jensen's stomach as he swallows.
Jensen wants to touch, to stroke through Jared's hair and push his dick deeper, but Jared's got him in such a tight hold, he can barely move his hips. He tugs a strand of Jared's hair and the tennis star moans.
"C'mon, Jensen. You can touch me, too. I want it, whatever you want to do."
Given permission, Jensen doesn't hold back. He hugs around Jared's head, curling his upper body over Jared's broad shoulders. Jared keeps a hold of Jensen's hips, pulling him forward into his mouth like he's doing reps on a weight machine, and there's no way Jensen can last. Jared serves up an ace, flicking his tongue under the head of Jensen's dick, and his semen shoots out, right down Jared's throat.
Jared holds him when his knees tremble, keeping him on his feet.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you kidding?" Jensen's laugh erupts more like a series of hard exhales. "That was awesome. Is that...is that it?"
"Hell no," Jared says, standing up. He kicks off his shoes and socks. "Shower, now."
Jensen feels the order in his gut, and even lower, and fumbles to strip off the rest of his clothing, leaving a trail into the shower room. When his fingers start to pull off the wristband, Jared grabs him.
"Don't." It's not a request. "Leave that on."
"Why?"
"'Cause it means you're mine."
"Yeah?" Jensen stares at the white cotton around his arm. "That's...I like that."
Jared leads him into a shower stall, red and black tiles checkered from floor to ceiling. Over the sound of Jared turning on the water, Jensen hears the door to the sauna open and Nemerovski's thick accent. The voices cut off after another door-probably one of the private rooms-shuts.
"Still got you to myself," Jared says, pushing Jensen under the warm spray. As the water falls over Jensen's shoulders, easing a bit of the ache he's gotten from working the matches, Jared pulls off his top. His body is even more beautiful than Jensen's been picturing, muscles like a drawing from one of Jensen's anatomy textbooks. The shorts come off next, followed by his tight sports briefs.
Jensen's jerked off to a lot of porn and tried to find the perfect body for his fantasies, but he's pretty sure he can stop looking. He'll never find anything better than the long stretch of Jared's muscular legs, the angles of his hips and the deep cut of his abs. His torso's been molded into the perfect vee, arms long enough to wrap all the way around Jensen's body. They're sculpted and shaped from years of playing professionally, not a spare ounce of flesh. Jensen wants to sink his teeth into the muscle.
Jared's cock is half-hard, hanging slightly to the left. Jensen can see his balls, shaved and soft-looking like ripe peaches and Jensen bets they'd taste just as juicy on his tongue. In fact, Jared's groin is completely shaved, no dense hair ruining the perfect view.
"Like what you see?"
Jensen turns into the water, angling his hips out towards Jared. "I don't know. Do you?"
"You're perfect, baby." Jared ducks into the spray, lifts Jensen's chin to find his mouth again. If Jensen didn't know how good some of those other things could feel, he'd be happy to kiss Jared until the stadium closes down.
"Show me," Jared says, water falling between their mouths, "show me how you touch yourself to get hard."
"You mean-"
"Whatever makes you feel good, Jensen. Wrap your hand around yourself, touch your chest. Whatever gets you going, I want to see it."
Jensen doesn't know where to begin. Despite his boldness a few minutes ago, Jared's stare makes it difficult to touch himself. His body tingles pleasantly, adding to the warmth of the water, and when he doesn't make a move, Jared takes one of his hands and places it on Jensen's chest.
"Do you touch yourself here?" Jared asks. "I bet you do."
Jensen's fingers start moving on their own and Jared's hand drops to Jensen's hip, Circling his fingertips around a nipple, Jensen shivers. Jared doesn't miss that.
"Sensitive, huh?"
"Yeah."
"What else do you do when you wanna get off?" He thumbs Jensen's hipbones. That's never been a sensitive spot for Jensen, but Jared exploits the way he bucks into the touch now. "Like that? You play tennis, right?" Jensen nods. "Gives you a great body-nice and lean. And your body, Jensen... You're fucking gorgeous."
"You too," Jensen stammers. "I mean-"
"You think I'm hot?" Jared takes that and runs with it. "Ever think about me when you get off?"
Jensen's flush, above and beyond the steam from the shower, is answer enough. He's got posters, articles, and ads all featuring Jared Padalecki's court-honed physique. Just thinking about all the times he's jacked off with Jared full-frontal in his imagination has Jensen wrapping a hand around his cock.
"Yeah, just like that," Jared mutters. "Is that how you get yourself off when you think about me?"
He pulls harder, twists his fist around the head of his cock as if he were home, in bed, masturbating. Jared's hands never stop moving, running around and over Jensen's entire body. Jensen gives him every liberty, widening his stance when Jared's thumbs spread his ass.
"Touch yourself here, too?"
"Jared..."
"Keep saying my name, and keep stroking yourself."
It would be impossible for Jensen to stop; Jared has full control of his body at this point, forcing Jensen's cock through his fist with the way he's pumping Jensen's hips for him, hands spread across the width of Jensen's ass. Though Jensen has explored his hole with slicked-up fingers and silicone cocks, and fingered a guy on one occasion, Jared's the first person to touch Jensen back there. So much better than touching himself, Jensen admits, never knowing where the next sensation's going to come from.
Jared pulling away is a shock, and Jensen's insides turn to lead. When Jensen groans, Jared laughs, throwing his head back into the spray.
After turning the water off, Jared says, "Don't worry, I'm not through with you yet. Just wanna get you all spread out for me."
There's a stack of white towels just outside the shower stall. Jared tosses one to Jensen and uses another to dry off, wrapping it around his waist. It's a shame to see Jared's thighs and hips-not to mention his cock-being covered up, and Jensen finds himself stepping forward with his own towel hanging over his shoulders, and laying his lips on Jared's chest.
Jared bends into the touch, saying nothing. He's passive, which is unusual, and Jensen seizes the opportunity to explore, almost worship, Jared's upper body. Puckering his lips around one of Jared's nipples, Jensen sets his hands at Jared's waist, ignoring how small they feel. He wants bigger hands to he can touch more of Jared at once, but memorizes everything now in case he never has a chance like this again.
When Jensen tries to push his fingers underneath Jared's towel, Jared stops him.
"Can't I-"
"I've got other plans," Jared says, taking Jensen's hand and leading him into one of the private rooms.
Just as nicely appointed as the rest of the locker room-and now Jensen has a good idea why theirs is so decadent-the private room has a padded massage table set up to one side and a cabinet against the opposite wall, oils and small, folded towels on top. Jensen's got a feeling they're soundproof, too, since he hasn't heard a single thing from the room Nemerovski and his three boys disappeared into.
"Go ahead and lie down."
Jensen makes another playful grab for Jared's towel. "Don't you want my mouth on you?"
"We'll get there," Jared tells him, winking. Giving in, Jensen lays himself out on the table, the padding cool under his skin, and Jared comes to stand beside him. "Right now, it's all about you, baby."
"But you won today, so..."
"That's right." Jared nudges Jensen over onto his stomach. "So let me play with my prize."
No point in arguing with an offer like that, so Jensen goes pliant. Jared throws Jensen's towel into the corner, the room warm enough to ward off the chills, and starts a gentle massage. No real purpose to his strokes, the pressure light and wandering, and Jensen relaxes, eager to give his body over.
Eventually, Jared's hands begin to circle lower like vultures scenting a good meal. Jensen feels a light, unfamiliar touch and sees Jared dragging his nose along the back of Jensen's thigh, inching towards his ass.
Jensen's stomach clenches seeing Jared's face so close to his hole.
"Jared-"
"Shhh, you're gonna like this, I promise."
That's the biggest understatement of the century, and Jensen's brain cracks the second he feels Jared's warm breath over his hole. He wiggles his hips, trying to entice Jared deeper, and the man laughs.
"Gotta stay still for me," Jared says, nipping at tender skin. Jensen's flush must cover his entire body by now. "Can you do that?"
God help him, Jensen tries, but he has to look back in order to see Jared. He boosts himself up on his elbows and twists his neck around. Jared's face is pressed right up into Jensen's ass, like he can inhale everything Jensen is. Nose scrunched at the top of Jensen's crack, eyes closed. He can't believe Jared looks like that-giving Jensen so much fucking pleasure, but Jared's the one blissing out, completely senseless, eating Jensen's ass like a pro.
Jared's hands are huge from this angle, long fingers curling into pale skin and opening Jensen's ass for his tongue to ravage. No amount of porn could have prepared Jensen for how it feels to be rimmed, every dirty curl of Jared's tongue sliding right into him. Fantasy's got nothing on the reality of hot, wet licks down the center of his ass, Jared pawing into the muscles of Jensen's thighs as he tries to go deeper. Jensen doesn't think it's possible, but Jared just opens him up until his lips are kissing Jensen's rim. Saliva drips down behind Jensen's balls, catching on the fine hairs. He feels everything, can't focus on one single sensation, and he whines in want of more, more, more.
"Getting impatient, Jen?" Jared asks against his skin, lips dark and puffy. "You need more, don't you?"
Jensen has to stop himself from outright begging. Jared might enjoy it, but Jensen wants to be in this, one hundred percent-not totally mindless.
"You read my mind."
As he smirks, Jared's palm comes down lightly on his ass.
"Spread your legs a little more for me. I want you nice and relaxed."
Jensen shifts. "Like this?"
"Perfect." Climbing off the table, Jared turns Jensen's face so that their eyes meet. "Are you sure you want this?"
That's the first time Jared's asking since they'd initially kissed. But to Jensen, this experience has been nothing short of perfect and he wants everything. And he wants it now.
"Do you have-I mean, I want you to fuck me." Jensen watches darkness devour the color in Jared's irises, breaths coming faster. "Do we have what you'll need?"
Jared kisses him suddenly, and soundly, teeth tugging at Jensen's lower lip until their mouths open wide for each other. By the time the kiss ends, Jensen's squirming on the table and Jared is crossing to a small cabinet in the corner.
"They keep the rooms stocked for this," Jared admits. "Got everything we need."
"Then we don't need to stop, right?"
"I'm not stopping until I've gotten so deep inside you that you'll never forget the feeling. I'm gonna be a part of you for the rest of your life, 'cause I'll always be first."
Jensen's mind shorts out after that; every time Jared touches him, the white light behind his eyelids just pulses brighter.
Fingers slicked with lube push through the spit already wetting Jensen's hole, the first finger sliding in painlessly. Welcoming the slight burn that comes with the second, Jensen moans to make sure Jared doesn't stop or go too easy on him.
"Play with it," Jensen hears himself say unexpectedly. He gasps when Jared's fingertips catch and pull on his rim. "Yeah, like that."
"Fuck," Jared curses, "how are you so perfect?" Like he's playing with a new toy, he stretches Jensen's ass around his knuckles, keeps Jensen open until he can fit a third finger-and more lube-inside. "Bet you could come just from this, just from my fingers in you."
"Gonna find out or are you gonna fuck m-ahhhh!" Jensen muffles his scream in the padding as Jared pumps all three fingers past his rim. He can't move without feeling the stretch, and imagines he can feel Jared's pulse through his fingertips.
"Tell me you're ready," Jared demands. "Tell me you want to be fucked for the first time."
Jensen can only keen at this point, but Jared takes that as permission. He doesn't see Jared put on a condom but he hears the snap of the latex and the snick of a bottle cap opening as Jared squeezes out more lube for his cock. The table lurches when Jared climbs back on top, kneeing Jensen's thighs even further apart.
"You're so open for me, Jen."
The nickname really hits him this time. "Please!"
Jared lets the head of his cock sit right over Jensen's hole, teasing. "It's like you can't wait to have me inside. Every time I thought about you-about doing this-I never thought you'd be so goddamn perfect. I want to make it good for you," he says as he pushes in, the width of his cock both excruciating and electrifying.
Forced flat onto his stomach, Jensen grits his teeth and bears the pressure opening him up from the inside. As far as first times go, he wouldn't trade losing his virginity to Jared Padalecki's cock for anything. Jared outstrips him in every way: his shoulders that much broader, stamina that much greater. He covers Jensen's body and keeps him pinned tight, as if he could otherwise crawl right out of his skin.
Jared doesn't ask if he's ready for more, just starts driving deeper and deeper until he's swallowed up completely. His hips pound down against Jensen's ass, and his lips are hovering just behind Jensen's ear, promising all kinds of dirty things in a barely-there whisper.
"I'm never gonna share you," he's saying. "I'll keep you all to myself, fuck you over and over again."
Jensen wants to shout yes, yes, yes! but his face is squished between the table's padding and Jared's mouth. He strains his neck, arching back to find Jared's lips. They kiss, misaligned and messy, as Jared continues to fuck him into the table. Even if Jensen could move, he's not quite sure how-adding an actual partner into the mix shatters everything Jensen thought he knew about sex.
Jensen can't dig through everything he's feeling to find the pleasure he knows is there, but he never considers asking Jared to stop. It's enough to be able to kiss Jared when he thrusts inside and arches up over Jensen's body, and there's plenty of pressure on his cock where it's stuck between his stomach and the table.
Without warning, Jared pulls out and takes Jensen's breath with him, leaving him gasping on the table until Jared grabs his hips.
"C'mon, Jen. I want to see your face when I fuck you."
Jensen processes enough of what Jared is telling him to get his muscles working again, flipping onto his back. And like lightning finally striking the ground, Jared's first thrust lights Jensen up. A perfect hit to his prostate, a place Jensen's only ever been able to reach with some creative fingering or a fake cock.
Jared lets him cry out once before he pushes Jensen's knees up to his shoulders and covers Jensen's mouth with his own. Now that he's got the angle worked out, Jared hammers it home over and over, lips catching Jensen's cries as they turn into whimpers. Jared's wet hair swings over his scrunched forehead with every thrust; the strands fall across Jensen's eyes but he can't swat them away.
"Oh fuck, baby..." Jared breaks away suddenly. "You feel so good, I'm gonna come."
Jensen's moans are stuck on a loop and he throws his head from side to side. "Yeah, yeah...Jared, please! Yeah..."
Holding Jensen's knees up and apart, Jared throws his hips forward a few more times and then collapses, biting into the softer flesh above Jensen's stomach. Jensen wishes he could really feel Jared's coming, with no latex between them, so that he's full-up with Jared's semen. Most of the porn Jensen's watched has involved condoms, but Jensen's craving the dirty, secretive pleasure of feeling Jared's come dripping down his thighs.
Maybe after Jared makes it through the semifinals...
"So good, Jensen...so good," Jared's panting when Jensen gets his head together.
Jensen's cock is throbbing between their bellies and Jared doesn't ignore his needs, pumping him steadily right over the edge without wasting any time.
"Goddamn pretty when you come, baby," he says, eyes locked on the spill of semen over Jensen's stomach. "Let it all go, Jen."
One minute, Jared's easing up on his cock and the next, Jared takes possession of Jensen's mouth again, one massive hand running through the damp hair at the back of Jensen's neck while the other tugs at Jensen's wristband. They don't stop kissing until Jensen's heart rate is back to normal and the kiss is as smooth as silk.
"God, you're amazing," Jared tells him. "My perfect little prize."
Jensen can't resist teasing the man. "Gonna keep me with the rest of your trophies?"
"Mmmm, I'll keep you right where I can see you and touch you all the time."
Jared steps back from the table and Jensen rolls over, taking the fresh towel Jared hands him and using it as a pillow. Dozing while Jared opens the door and lets the room air out, Jensen listens to Jared move around and rummage through his bags. A few minutes later, Jensen feels a light tickle on his ass cheek, flopping a hand back to brush away the annoyance but only finding Jared's fingers.
"What're you..."
"Shhh, just giving you my autograph."
That pleasant heat begins to burn all over again.
Jared caps the Sharpie and gives Jensen's ass one last squeeze. "Now you're really mine."
Jensen can't even see the signature-and he's certainly never thought about getting a tattoo-but he suddenly wants Jared's handwriting laid down permanently so that this memory never fades.
"How long can we stay here?" Jensen asks, body idling in a very happy place. He watches Jared pull on a pair of shorts from his bag, silky black athletic material but feels no rush to get up.
"Until I let you go," Jared says, but his tone lets Jensen know that the decision's up to him. "Do you have somewhere to be?"
Jensen thinks about his Dad, stuck in meetings for most of the day, and how he'd told Jensen to hang around the Tennis Center until dinner time. He's got hours to kill before his Dad'll be expecting him.
He shakes his head. "I thought maybe we could practice for the semis, you know..."
Jared laughs, eyes flashing. He cuts the distance between them down to nothing, curling back over the table and closing in on Jensen's lips.
"Then I guess we'd better get on that."
THE END. HOPEFULLY.
Anon comments enabled.
Jared/Jensen.
NC17.
For the spnkink_meme prompt here: Ball boy!Jensen and older!Jared. Jared's new to the Grand Slams and doesn't realise some of the perks (use of any and all ball boys). He's against it at first but when he sees Jensen he just can't help himself. [I played with the "rules" of this concept, that ball-boys are only chosen for use during the final matches, and the ball-boys don't always know about it -- they ought to read the waivers more closely!]
WARNINGS. underage!Jensen, older!Jared, rimming, fingering, ass!play, bottom!Jensen, slight dub-con (but not with the person you'd think), and is there such a thing as possession!kink?
Jensen hadn't known what all to expect when he was accepted as a ball-boy for the 2011 U.S. Open in New York City, but everything he's done so far has been awesome.
He'd picked up his first racket when he was eight years old and never put it down. As a result, Jensen had been the only freshman on the varsity tennis team at his high school, and his coach had encouraged him to apply as a ball-boy-see the grand slam games up close. He was old enough now, just turned fifteen, and spending the two weeks before his sophomore year began amongst tennis' greats was a dream come true.
Jensen had worked through the early matches on the outer courts at the BJK National Tennis Center, collecting autographs after every game. He and his dad stayed at a hotel in the city; Jensen took a bus to the Tennis Center every morning while his Dad used the time to meet with clients and contacts in the city.
It was the perfect way to end a summer.
One of the biggest surprises for Jensen had been Jared Padalecki, currently ranked number 28 on the men's circuit, and Jensen's favorite player. He was only twenty-five years old and had really come into the spotlight over the last two years, moving up in the rankings. Padalecki had also nabbed quite a few headlines because of the tantrums he was known to throw on and off the court-an official's nightmare.
Jared Padalecki didn't fit the tennis mold, which was one of the reasons Jensen admired him so much: Jared was brash and loud, he wore tight black outfits to play in, and his interviews always skirted the line between indulgent and condescending. Other reasons had more to do with the squeezed-flat bottle of lube and the dildo Jensen kept hidden under his mattress, because Jared Padalecki was insanely good looking.
Jensen had the good luck of drawing one of Padalecki's early matches against a fading Italian player. He had trouble keeping his eyes on the balls when his gaze had a tendency to drift toward whatever side of the court Jared was currently on, but he made it through the match without any major incidents. When the crowds had cleared the bleachers and Jared had gathered up all his equipment, Jensen made his way over to the victorious American.
"Mr. Padalecki?"
"That's my dad," Jared said without looking up. "Call me Jared."
"Okay."
Jensen held a fresh Wilson ball in his hand, shuffling nervously before Jared finally turned away from his racket bag.
"Oh, hey. You were one of the ball-boys."
"You mean ball-people," Jensen said. "That's the PC term."
"You're..." Jared laughs when he sees Jensen's expression. "Wow, I thought you were serious there for a second."
"Sorry."
"No, it's funny. I wasn't expecting it."
"I wanted to congratulate you on winning." Jensen steps forward. "You played a great match. There was no way Fortelli could compete against your backhand. The spin you can put on it..."
"Thanks, kid."
"Jensen."
"Jensen, huh?" Jared looks him up and down, and Jensen warms under the scrutiny. The way he stares is something out of Jensen's dreams. Hell, maybe he's already asleep, back at the hotel, and this isn't really happening. "Well, I appreciate it. Got a long way to go, though."
"Would you sign my balls?"
Jared's eyes widen. "You're only holding one ball, so..."
"Ball," Jensen stammers. "I meant, would you sign my ball."
"Hmmm. Gotta be careful, kid. Could've given me the wrong idea there."
Jared's grin is a little too big, but Jensen likes it-likes the way he feels like Jared's whole attention is fixed on him for the moment. He hands over the marker and Jared sweeps it over the bright green fuzz in a barely legible signature. Jensen doesn't care-this ball's his new favorite keepsake.
"Maybe I'll catch you at another match," Jared says. "You were pretty good out there. Handled all those balls well."
Jensen nearly swallows his tongue. "Thanks. Good luck with the rest of the tournament, Mister - I mean, Jared."
~~~~
Jensen's luck earns him another one of Jared's matches in the round of sixteen. This one's tougher on Padalecki - always Jared, in Jensen's head now-as he and his British opponent get stuck in long volleys and rarely break serve.
Jensen watches even more intently than last time, soaking up the way Jared's massive body moves across the hard court. Shoes skidding, racket slamming, and the way Jared grunts after a particularly aggressive shot... Jesus, that sound's gonna stick around in Jensen's dreams for years to come.
Late in the fifth set, the British player starts to fumble more and more, and Jared strikes even harder. Jensen's shocked that the man still has the energy to play. Jensen's just a ball-boy but even he's exhausted. But it's worth it to watch Jared play, catch him winking back at Jensen after an impressive shot. And finally, Jared takes the match, collapsing onto his knees on the acrylic hard court and shouting in triumph. He knows it's against the rules, but Jensen wants to start applauding, or run up to Jared and congratulate him.
Jared's through to the quarterfinals, his highest showing in a Grand Slam tournament.
Jensen gathers up his bag after the match and, not seeing Jared around, starts heading toward the bus stop. The match had run late and most of the complex is empty-most spectators have begun the long walk back to their cars or funneling towards the train stops.
Halfway to the bus, Jensen hears his name and turns around to see Jared jogging up behind him.
"Hey, Jensen. I didn't get to talk to you after the match," Jared explains unnecessarily. "Press conference, you know."
"How was that?" Jensen asks, pretending like he's not shaking in his new Nike sneakers and his red and white uniform.
"Crazy. I don't think anyone expected me to advance this far."
Out of turn, Jensen says, "I did. No, seriously," he adds when Jared looks at him, "the way you played today, they'd be crazy not to think you'll advance even further."
Jared scratches the back of his neck, dark hair still sweaty, and Jensen wants to nose around through the damp and sweat like a needy kitten. He shakes off the thought.
"Are you working any other matches?" Jared asks. The athlete's got a decade on him in age, but he looks almost as nervous as Jensen feels.
"I'm not sure. They haven't assigned anyone to the final matches yet. I guess they choose specific people... Do you know how that works?"
Jared opens his mouth but his words get tangled up in a cough. When he can finally talk, he says, "Yeah, there's some nomination process. Players can request certain ball-boys to... Well, I guess it's an honor or something, I don't know."
"It would be," Jensen says, starry-eyed. "I can't imagine being able to do that, be close to you... And, all the other great players, yeah."
"Good, 'cause I submitted your name."
"Seriously?" Jensen's so shocked, he doesn't think twice about dropping his bag and hugging Jensen right there in the deep shadow of Arthur Ashe stadium. "Oh god, sorry," he stammers as he unwraps his limbs from Jared's body. "I just-that's awesome, Jared, thank you!"
"Well, I hope you get it, because you've been working hard and you deserve it," Jared says, tightly. "I've gotta get going though, my coach wants..."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Jensen's mind is still doing cartwheels. "I mean, thank you, again."
~~~~
When Jensen gets the phone call from his coordinator about working in the quarterfinals, he screams so loudly, his Dad throws a pillow at him. He'd almost forgotten to ask which match he'd be at until right before the coordinator hangs up, and he stumbles quickly over the question.
Jared Padalecki versus Alex Nemerovski.
Jensen nearly faints.
Nemerovski is a fierce player, highly ranked, and the match is held on center court. Jensen's strung-out and nervous and he's not even the one playing.
He isn't expecting to walk into such a lavish locker room underneath Arthur Ashe Stadium the morning of the match. Jensen can understand these kinds of appointments for the star athletes, yeah, but for the ball boys?
What do they need private rooms for?
Jensen asks, but the attendant waiting outside shrugs and calls it, "one of the perks." After that, Jensen tried not to think anything of the accommodations until the ball-boy coordinator, Mr. Kingsford, stops Jensen and three of the other boys outside on their way into the stadium.
"Being chosen for the final matches is an honor," Kingsford lectures. "The players saw something in each of you that made them nominate you, and I'm sure none of you wants to let these athletes down now, right?"
They each nod, Jensen's heart pounding because he's ready to get out on the court and see Jared. He knows his presence might not mean much to the star athlete, but Jensen will be cheering him on silently every moment of the match.
"Good." From a little bag, Kingsford hands them each a white wristband-their name, the date of the match, and Padalecki vs. Nemerovski embroidered in red on each one. Jensen feels like he's just won the lottery, seeing his name and Jared's so close together on something he'll keep for the rest of his life. "Now, you're all welcome to stick around after the match and make use of your locker rooms and private showers."
Hearing a snigger, Jensen looks over and sees two of the ball-boys grinning at one another, their cheeks red. Whatever the joke, it's lost on Jensen and the fourth boy.
The quarterfinal match is like nothing Jensen's ever seen before in his life. Sure, he's watched plenty of matches on television, but nothing compares to the adrenaline of seeing, hearing, and feeling every stroke. Better than hi-def television, closer than an all-access pass would get him, Jensen can practically smell the sweat and the heat Jared's putting out. His skin glistens in the sunlight, hair swinging wildly around his ears, off his forehead where it's held back by a white and black bandanna.
Between games, when Jared switches sides, and between sets, their eyes meet. Jared smiles and Jensen hopes anyone watching will mistake his blush for sun-coloring. Something dark and secretive lashes through Jensen every time Jared's eyes duck and focus on the white wristband Jensen's wearing. Jared barely looks at the other ball-boys, or the two girls also working on the court, which pleases Jensen in ways he barely knows what to do with.
Jared fights for every point and holds his serve. Nemerovski plays as if he hadn't been expecting Jared to be much of a challenge, and he's constantly running back and forth at the baseline. After two sets, Jared and Nemerovski are tied, a set a piece, but after Jared takes the third set, Jensen's heart kicks up to a higher tempo and he starts praying.
He's never wanted someone to win a game so badly.
Maybe it's his constant prayers-but more likely its Jared's masterful ball placement and unwillingness to give up a single point without a battle-but Jared wins the fourth set, six games to four, and the match is over. Jared's advancing to the semifinals and Jensen gets to be here for such an important moment in Jared's career.
Jensen and the other ball-boys are hurried off the court to make space for reporters and stadium staff. Back in their locker room, the four of them tease each other and recap every thrilling moment from the match until the door opens again.
Jensen has to pick his jaw up off the floor when he sees it's Jared and Nemerovski walking in.
For a moment, Jensen's terrified that they're trespassing in the players' locker room, and he's about to grab his bag and make a run for it, excruciatingly embarrassed, when Nemerovski looks at Jared and nods.
Jared returns the gesture, and Nemerovski starts walking towards the sauna, leading the other three ball-boys away with him. When Jensen and Jared are alone, Jared sets his bag on the floor and drops to his knees, opening his arms wide.
Jensen doesn't think twice about running into those arms and hugging the hell out of Jared.
"You were so awesome," Jensen babbles. "That last set, it's like you were on fire and Nemerovski didn't stand a chance, and-"
"Hey," Jared laughs, his chest shaking against Jensen's. "Slow down, take a breath."
"Sorry, I'm just so stoked!"
"Me too."
"Well, duh!"
Jensen's immature little outburst puts a strange look on Jared's face, but Jensen doesn't have a chance to decipher it before Jared's mouth is all over his. Dry lips mashing into his, tongue trying to push further but Jensen's too shocked to open his mouth. Before Jensen can gather the gumption to part his lips, Jared pulls back.
Jensen whines like a child. "What? No..."
Jared turns his cheek away.
"Jensen, shit. I'm sorry. I thought you wanted...well, I thought you knew about this."
"Knew what?"
Jared leans back to look Jensen in the eye, but Jensen falls with him, falling to straddle Jared's thighs.
"Shit," Jared repeats. "I knew this was crazy."
"What was?"
"God, are you playing with me? You've gotta know..." Jared pushes him off and stands, pacing across the locker room. Even frantic, Jensen can't stop staring at the flex of Jared's impressive muscles under the tight black fabric. Jared yanks the bandanna off his forehead, twisting it between his hands. "I thought it was crazy when I first heard, and I never-I swear, Jensen, I wasn't gonna do anything, but then I saw you at that match, and I wanted."
Warmth stirs in Jensen's belly. Nervously, he fingers his wristband, shocked out of it when Jared moans brokenly.
"Don't...Jesus."
"Jared, I don't get it. Why are you-"
"Don't you know what being here right now means?" Jared asks, footsteps hesitating. "What that wristband means?"
Jensen shakes his head, and Jared sighs like he's just watched a Grand Slam title slip through his fingers.
"It means you're here for me. As in, if I wanted, you would..."
It's a little disconcerting to see Jared falter with his words, such a force on the court reduced to half-glances and cut-off sentences. Jensen doesn't like the switch in his personality. And for as nuts as it sounds, Jensen understands what Jared's saying, doesn't need it spelled out. He's a scholar-athlete, after all.
"You want me?" he asks in a whisper.
"Christ, Jensen. How could I not?" Jared shakes his head, hair shaking every which way. "When they told me I could choose someone for this match, I thought it was insane. But the way you looked at me, the way you moved... And I thought when you were here today, it meant that you were okay with this. Alex knew about it-he's done this before."
"So that's why he..." Jensen nods towards the sauna. "Oh."
"He wanted you, too," Jared admits. "Thought he and I could share the four of you." He spits, and Jensen sees some of that heat return to his eyes.
"But you didn't want that, right?"
"Of course not."
Jensen gets to his feet and walks up to Jared, heart beating right out of his chest. "You wanted me all to yourself."
"Jensen..."
"Didn't want anyone else touching what was yours."
"Oh, fuck." Jared breaks, and the next thing Jensen knows, he's wrapped up in a hefty, capable grip. His mouth isn't kissed so much as taken, Jared's tongue beating through any resistance to swipe along the inside of Jensen's lips.
Jared doesn't stop to ask if Jensen wants this-if he's sure. Jensen's not even one hundred percent sure, but the last thing he wants is time to think about it. He's on a roller coaster and it's too late to jump off, and he knows things are just getting good. Jared's hands paw at his back, stroking up and down as if Jensen's shivering and Jared needs to warm him.
Jared's tongue is long, more experienced than any of the boys and girls Jensen's kissed. He knows how to coax tiny, pleasured sounds from Jensen's body, send little shivers running down his arms and legs. He barely notices the sound of his shirt tearing, ripped right down the middle by Jared's hands.
"Hey, I wanted to keep that!"
"You have more, right?"
"Yeah," Jensen sighs. "Yeah, just keep going."
Jared does, with a dirty little smirk Jensen's only seen in online porn. Jared goes all the way down until he's got Jensen's white shorts around his ankles, belt clanking on the floor. His mouth envelops Jensen's cock through his underwear, all that spit seeping right through the fabric until Jensen can feel it on his balls.
"So fuckin' sweet," Jared says, tugging cotton between his teeth. "Couldn't wait to win my matches and get you alone."
"What'd you think about?"
Jared huffs, sucking the fabric into his mouth and pushing forward to find Jensen's dick that's obviously gotten stiff.
"Thought about how you'd fit in my mouth," Jared says on a long breath. "The way you'd taste, all that warm skin. How you'd react when I touched you. Do you like it when I touch you, Jensen?"
"God, yeah!"
"Then you're gonna love this, baby," Jared says just before he claws Jensen's underwear out of the way and sucks him down all in one go.
Jensen's gotten a couple of blowjobs, clumsy attempts at mutual pleasure with friends, and one more impressive attempt from the captain of the girl's tennis team who thought he was cute and used to give him rides home. But this is a blowjob-wetter than wet and better than anything Jensen's ever felt. Jared's lips are tight around the base of his dick, the entire thing fitting perfectly on Jared's tongue. He's ravenous, sucking Jensen down and not trying to be quiet about it.
Jared paws at Jensen's hips the entire time he goes down, his sweaty hair sticking to Jensen's stomach as he swallows.
Jensen wants to touch, to stroke through Jared's hair and push his dick deeper, but Jared's got him in such a tight hold, he can barely move his hips. He tugs a strand of Jared's hair and the tennis star moans.
"C'mon, Jensen. You can touch me, too. I want it, whatever you want to do."
Given permission, Jensen doesn't hold back. He hugs around Jared's head, curling his upper body over Jared's broad shoulders. Jared keeps a hold of Jensen's hips, pulling him forward into his mouth like he's doing reps on a weight machine, and there's no way Jensen can last. Jared serves up an ace, flicking his tongue under the head of Jensen's dick, and his semen shoots out, right down Jared's throat.
Jared holds him when his knees tremble, keeping him on his feet.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you kidding?" Jensen's laugh erupts more like a series of hard exhales. "That was awesome. Is that...is that it?"
"Hell no," Jared says, standing up. He kicks off his shoes and socks. "Shower, now."
Jensen feels the order in his gut, and even lower, and fumbles to strip off the rest of his clothing, leaving a trail into the shower room. When his fingers start to pull off the wristband, Jared grabs him.
"Don't." It's not a request. "Leave that on."
"Why?"
"'Cause it means you're mine."
"Yeah?" Jensen stares at the white cotton around his arm. "That's...I like that."
Jared leads him into a shower stall, red and black tiles checkered from floor to ceiling. Over the sound of Jared turning on the water, Jensen hears the door to the sauna open and Nemerovski's thick accent. The voices cut off after another door-probably one of the private rooms-shuts.
"Still got you to myself," Jared says, pushing Jensen under the warm spray. As the water falls over Jensen's shoulders, easing a bit of the ache he's gotten from working the matches, Jared pulls off his top. His body is even more beautiful than Jensen's been picturing, muscles like a drawing from one of Jensen's anatomy textbooks. The shorts come off next, followed by his tight sports briefs.
Jensen's jerked off to a lot of porn and tried to find the perfect body for his fantasies, but he's pretty sure he can stop looking. He'll never find anything better than the long stretch of Jared's muscular legs, the angles of his hips and the deep cut of his abs. His torso's been molded into the perfect vee, arms long enough to wrap all the way around Jensen's body. They're sculpted and shaped from years of playing professionally, not a spare ounce of flesh. Jensen wants to sink his teeth into the muscle.
Jared's cock is half-hard, hanging slightly to the left. Jensen can see his balls, shaved and soft-looking like ripe peaches and Jensen bets they'd taste just as juicy on his tongue. In fact, Jared's groin is completely shaved, no dense hair ruining the perfect view.
"Like what you see?"
Jensen turns into the water, angling his hips out towards Jared. "I don't know. Do you?"
"You're perfect, baby." Jared ducks into the spray, lifts Jensen's chin to find his mouth again. If Jensen didn't know how good some of those other things could feel, he'd be happy to kiss Jared until the stadium closes down.
"Show me," Jared says, water falling between their mouths, "show me how you touch yourself to get hard."
"You mean-"
"Whatever makes you feel good, Jensen. Wrap your hand around yourself, touch your chest. Whatever gets you going, I want to see it."
Jensen doesn't know where to begin. Despite his boldness a few minutes ago, Jared's stare makes it difficult to touch himself. His body tingles pleasantly, adding to the warmth of the water, and when he doesn't make a move, Jared takes one of his hands and places it on Jensen's chest.
"Do you touch yourself here?" Jared asks. "I bet you do."
Jensen's fingers start moving on their own and Jared's hand drops to Jensen's hip, Circling his fingertips around a nipple, Jensen shivers. Jared doesn't miss that.
"Sensitive, huh?"
"Yeah."
"What else do you do when you wanna get off?" He thumbs Jensen's hipbones. That's never been a sensitive spot for Jensen, but Jared exploits the way he bucks into the touch now. "Like that? You play tennis, right?" Jensen nods. "Gives you a great body-nice and lean. And your body, Jensen... You're fucking gorgeous."
"You too," Jensen stammers. "I mean-"
"You think I'm hot?" Jared takes that and runs with it. "Ever think about me when you get off?"
Jensen's flush, above and beyond the steam from the shower, is answer enough. He's got posters, articles, and ads all featuring Jared Padalecki's court-honed physique. Just thinking about all the times he's jacked off with Jared full-frontal in his imagination has Jensen wrapping a hand around his cock.
"Yeah, just like that," Jared mutters. "Is that how you get yourself off when you think about me?"
He pulls harder, twists his fist around the head of his cock as if he were home, in bed, masturbating. Jared's hands never stop moving, running around and over Jensen's entire body. Jensen gives him every liberty, widening his stance when Jared's thumbs spread his ass.
"Touch yourself here, too?"
"Jared..."
"Keep saying my name, and keep stroking yourself."
It would be impossible for Jensen to stop; Jared has full control of his body at this point, forcing Jensen's cock through his fist with the way he's pumping Jensen's hips for him, hands spread across the width of Jensen's ass. Though Jensen has explored his hole with slicked-up fingers and silicone cocks, and fingered a guy on one occasion, Jared's the first person to touch Jensen back there. So much better than touching himself, Jensen admits, never knowing where the next sensation's going to come from.
Jared pulling away is a shock, and Jensen's insides turn to lead. When Jensen groans, Jared laughs, throwing his head back into the spray.
After turning the water off, Jared says, "Don't worry, I'm not through with you yet. Just wanna get you all spread out for me."
There's a stack of white towels just outside the shower stall. Jared tosses one to Jensen and uses another to dry off, wrapping it around his waist. It's a shame to see Jared's thighs and hips-not to mention his cock-being covered up, and Jensen finds himself stepping forward with his own towel hanging over his shoulders, and laying his lips on Jared's chest.
Jared bends into the touch, saying nothing. He's passive, which is unusual, and Jensen seizes the opportunity to explore, almost worship, Jared's upper body. Puckering his lips around one of Jared's nipples, Jensen sets his hands at Jared's waist, ignoring how small they feel. He wants bigger hands to he can touch more of Jared at once, but memorizes everything now in case he never has a chance like this again.
When Jensen tries to push his fingers underneath Jared's towel, Jared stops him.
"Can't I-"
"I've got other plans," Jared says, taking Jensen's hand and leading him into one of the private rooms.
Just as nicely appointed as the rest of the locker room-and now Jensen has a good idea why theirs is so decadent-the private room has a padded massage table set up to one side and a cabinet against the opposite wall, oils and small, folded towels on top. Jensen's got a feeling they're soundproof, too, since he hasn't heard a single thing from the room Nemerovski and his three boys disappeared into.
"Go ahead and lie down."
Jensen makes another playful grab for Jared's towel. "Don't you want my mouth on you?"
"We'll get there," Jared tells him, winking. Giving in, Jensen lays himself out on the table, the padding cool under his skin, and Jared comes to stand beside him. "Right now, it's all about you, baby."
"But you won today, so..."
"That's right." Jared nudges Jensen over onto his stomach. "So let me play with my prize."
No point in arguing with an offer like that, so Jensen goes pliant. Jared throws Jensen's towel into the corner, the room warm enough to ward off the chills, and starts a gentle massage. No real purpose to his strokes, the pressure light and wandering, and Jensen relaxes, eager to give his body over.
Eventually, Jared's hands begin to circle lower like vultures scenting a good meal. Jensen feels a light, unfamiliar touch and sees Jared dragging his nose along the back of Jensen's thigh, inching towards his ass.
Jensen's stomach clenches seeing Jared's face so close to his hole.
"Jared-"
"Shhh, you're gonna like this, I promise."
That's the biggest understatement of the century, and Jensen's brain cracks the second he feels Jared's warm breath over his hole. He wiggles his hips, trying to entice Jared deeper, and the man laughs.
"Gotta stay still for me," Jared says, nipping at tender skin. Jensen's flush must cover his entire body by now. "Can you do that?"
God help him, Jensen tries, but he has to look back in order to see Jared. He boosts himself up on his elbows and twists his neck around. Jared's face is pressed right up into Jensen's ass, like he can inhale everything Jensen is. Nose scrunched at the top of Jensen's crack, eyes closed. He can't believe Jared looks like that-giving Jensen so much fucking pleasure, but Jared's the one blissing out, completely senseless, eating Jensen's ass like a pro.
Jared's hands are huge from this angle, long fingers curling into pale skin and opening Jensen's ass for his tongue to ravage. No amount of porn could have prepared Jensen for how it feels to be rimmed, every dirty curl of Jared's tongue sliding right into him. Fantasy's got nothing on the reality of hot, wet licks down the center of his ass, Jared pawing into the muscles of Jensen's thighs as he tries to go deeper. Jensen doesn't think it's possible, but Jared just opens him up until his lips are kissing Jensen's rim. Saliva drips down behind Jensen's balls, catching on the fine hairs. He feels everything, can't focus on one single sensation, and he whines in want of more, more, more.
"Getting impatient, Jen?" Jared asks against his skin, lips dark and puffy. "You need more, don't you?"
Jensen has to stop himself from outright begging. Jared might enjoy it, but Jensen wants to be in this, one hundred percent-not totally mindless.
"You read my mind."
As he smirks, Jared's palm comes down lightly on his ass.
"Spread your legs a little more for me. I want you nice and relaxed."
Jensen shifts. "Like this?"
"Perfect." Climbing off the table, Jared turns Jensen's face so that their eyes meet. "Are you sure you want this?"
That's the first time Jared's asking since they'd initially kissed. But to Jensen, this experience has been nothing short of perfect and he wants everything. And he wants it now.
"Do you have-I mean, I want you to fuck me." Jensen watches darkness devour the color in Jared's irises, breaths coming faster. "Do we have what you'll need?"
Jared kisses him suddenly, and soundly, teeth tugging at Jensen's lower lip until their mouths open wide for each other. By the time the kiss ends, Jensen's squirming on the table and Jared is crossing to a small cabinet in the corner.
"They keep the rooms stocked for this," Jared admits. "Got everything we need."
"Then we don't need to stop, right?"
"I'm not stopping until I've gotten so deep inside you that you'll never forget the feeling. I'm gonna be a part of you for the rest of your life, 'cause I'll always be first."
Jensen's mind shorts out after that; every time Jared touches him, the white light behind his eyelids just pulses brighter.
Fingers slicked with lube push through the spit already wetting Jensen's hole, the first finger sliding in painlessly. Welcoming the slight burn that comes with the second, Jensen moans to make sure Jared doesn't stop or go too easy on him.
"Play with it," Jensen hears himself say unexpectedly. He gasps when Jared's fingertips catch and pull on his rim. "Yeah, like that."
"Fuck," Jared curses, "how are you so perfect?" Like he's playing with a new toy, he stretches Jensen's ass around his knuckles, keeps Jensen open until he can fit a third finger-and more lube-inside. "Bet you could come just from this, just from my fingers in you."
"Gonna find out or are you gonna fuck m-ahhhh!" Jensen muffles his scream in the padding as Jared pumps all three fingers past his rim. He can't move without feeling the stretch, and imagines he can feel Jared's pulse through his fingertips.
"Tell me you're ready," Jared demands. "Tell me you want to be fucked for the first time."
Jensen can only keen at this point, but Jared takes that as permission. He doesn't see Jared put on a condom but he hears the snap of the latex and the snick of a bottle cap opening as Jared squeezes out more lube for his cock. The table lurches when Jared climbs back on top, kneeing Jensen's thighs even further apart.
"You're so open for me, Jen."
The nickname really hits him this time. "Please!"
Jared lets the head of his cock sit right over Jensen's hole, teasing. "It's like you can't wait to have me inside. Every time I thought about you-about doing this-I never thought you'd be so goddamn perfect. I want to make it good for you," he says as he pushes in, the width of his cock both excruciating and electrifying.
Forced flat onto his stomach, Jensen grits his teeth and bears the pressure opening him up from the inside. As far as first times go, he wouldn't trade losing his virginity to Jared Padalecki's cock for anything. Jared outstrips him in every way: his shoulders that much broader, stamina that much greater. He covers Jensen's body and keeps him pinned tight, as if he could otherwise crawl right out of his skin.
Jared doesn't ask if he's ready for more, just starts driving deeper and deeper until he's swallowed up completely. His hips pound down against Jensen's ass, and his lips are hovering just behind Jensen's ear, promising all kinds of dirty things in a barely-there whisper.
"I'm never gonna share you," he's saying. "I'll keep you all to myself, fuck you over and over again."
Jensen wants to shout yes, yes, yes! but his face is squished between the table's padding and Jared's mouth. He strains his neck, arching back to find Jared's lips. They kiss, misaligned and messy, as Jared continues to fuck him into the table. Even if Jensen could move, he's not quite sure how-adding an actual partner into the mix shatters everything Jensen thought he knew about sex.
Jensen can't dig through everything he's feeling to find the pleasure he knows is there, but he never considers asking Jared to stop. It's enough to be able to kiss Jared when he thrusts inside and arches up over Jensen's body, and there's plenty of pressure on his cock where it's stuck between his stomach and the table.
Without warning, Jared pulls out and takes Jensen's breath with him, leaving him gasping on the table until Jared grabs his hips.
"C'mon, Jen. I want to see your face when I fuck you."
Jensen processes enough of what Jared is telling him to get his muscles working again, flipping onto his back. And like lightning finally striking the ground, Jared's first thrust lights Jensen up. A perfect hit to his prostate, a place Jensen's only ever been able to reach with some creative fingering or a fake cock.
Jared lets him cry out once before he pushes Jensen's knees up to his shoulders and covers Jensen's mouth with his own. Now that he's got the angle worked out, Jared hammers it home over and over, lips catching Jensen's cries as they turn into whimpers. Jared's wet hair swings over his scrunched forehead with every thrust; the strands fall across Jensen's eyes but he can't swat them away.
"Oh fuck, baby..." Jared breaks away suddenly. "You feel so good, I'm gonna come."
Jensen's moans are stuck on a loop and he throws his head from side to side. "Yeah, yeah...Jared, please! Yeah..."
Holding Jensen's knees up and apart, Jared throws his hips forward a few more times and then collapses, biting into the softer flesh above Jensen's stomach. Jensen wishes he could really feel Jared's coming, with no latex between them, so that he's full-up with Jared's semen. Most of the porn Jensen's watched has involved condoms, but Jensen's craving the dirty, secretive pleasure of feeling Jared's come dripping down his thighs.
Maybe after Jared makes it through the semifinals...
"So good, Jensen...so good," Jared's panting when Jensen gets his head together.
Jensen's cock is throbbing between their bellies and Jared doesn't ignore his needs, pumping him steadily right over the edge without wasting any time.
"Goddamn pretty when you come, baby," he says, eyes locked on the spill of semen over Jensen's stomach. "Let it all go, Jen."
One minute, Jared's easing up on his cock and the next, Jared takes possession of Jensen's mouth again, one massive hand running through the damp hair at the back of Jensen's neck while the other tugs at Jensen's wristband. They don't stop kissing until Jensen's heart rate is back to normal and the kiss is as smooth as silk.
"God, you're amazing," Jared tells him. "My perfect little prize."
Jensen can't resist teasing the man. "Gonna keep me with the rest of your trophies?"
"Mmmm, I'll keep you right where I can see you and touch you all the time."
Jared steps back from the table and Jensen rolls over, taking the fresh towel Jared hands him and using it as a pillow. Dozing while Jared opens the door and lets the room air out, Jensen listens to Jared move around and rummage through his bags. A few minutes later, Jensen feels a light tickle on his ass cheek, flopping a hand back to brush away the annoyance but only finding Jared's fingers.
"What're you..."
"Shhh, just giving you my autograph."
That pleasant heat begins to burn all over again.
Jared caps the Sharpie and gives Jensen's ass one last squeeze. "Now you're really mine."
Jensen can't even see the signature-and he's certainly never thought about getting a tattoo-but he suddenly wants Jared's handwriting laid down permanently so that this memory never fades.
"How long can we stay here?" Jensen asks, body idling in a very happy place. He watches Jared pull on a pair of shorts from his bag, silky black athletic material but feels no rush to get up.
"Until I let you go," Jared says, but his tone lets Jensen know that the decision's up to him. "Do you have somewhere to be?"
Jensen thinks about his Dad, stuck in meetings for most of the day, and how he'd told Jensen to hang around the Tennis Center until dinner time. He's got hours to kill before his Dad'll be expecting him.
He shakes his head. "I thought maybe we could practice for the semis, you know..."
Jared laughs, eyes flashing. He cuts the distance between them down to nothing, curling back over the table and closing in on Jensen's lips.
"Then I guess we'd better get on that."
THE END. HOPEFULLY.
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