Natural Submission 15/20
Natural Submission 15/20
by themadslasher aka jayaslash
Pairing: j2 AU
Rating: NC-17 (like way, way, way NC-17)
Word Count: 1,047, this part; 16,805 total
Summary:
Jensen Ackles is an undercover FBI agent. He’s been working for over three years to infiltrate a criminal human trafficking ring. He’s worked hard to gain entry into Diablo’s, one of New York’s most revered criminal masterminds, inner circle. Once he’s in, he witnesses horrific crimes, dozens of Americans kidnapped and sold into the international sex trade. He is determined to bring Diablo and all of his henchmen down.
Jared Padalecki is a naïve, innocent grocery store cashier who has spent the last four years doing little besides caring for his ailing mother. After her death, he finds himself alone and looking to make new friends. He hooks up with the wrong crowd at work and falls into Diablo’s hands. It’s up to Jensen to save the other man…but what will be the price?
Warnings: Heavy BDSM. Angst-filled.
Previously: Chapters 1-3, Chapters 4-7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14
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Chapter Fifteen
Jared palmed the cold steel surface of his new best friend before sliding it into the holster at his waist. His sweatshirt hid the gun completely from any lingering glances.
He’d been out of the hospital for four days. The Bureau had set him up in a little house about four blocks from his old neighborhood. He’d been given a shitload of instructions on how to live his life, on everything from what to eat to what to wear. They’d been a breath away from putting him in the federal witness protection program. Only the fact that Diablo and his main henchmen were locked up in federal prison had allowed him to resume his old life. Not that things hadn’t changed drastically in the few months he’d been away.
The first thing he’d discovered was that Ashley and Mike were holed up in his old house like an old married couple. They didn’t have a clue that Jared was back and didn’t seem to care. His minor surveillance on the place showed him that they weren’t losing any sleep over what they’d done to him. As much as Jared had wanted to confront them, he knew that it had to wait the mandatory three days it took for him to be approved to purchase a gun.
He didn’t have any plans to kill them. That wasn’t in the cards. He just wanted to protect himself. And he had to get back into the house because half of the money that he’d inherited from his mom was stashed in the floorboards of his bedroom. The rest was in a bank account that had magically been drained clean during his time away.
Honestly, Jared could care less about the house. He didn’t have the fondest memories of the place. It was the place where he’d been left alone, where his mother had died and he felt better away from it. Ashley and Mike were welcome to spend their drug-fueled nights there.
And Jared could actually care less about the money in the grand scheme of things, but the truth of the matter was that he needed the money if he had any hope of going after the thing he really wanted. The money would buy him a car, gas, food and a place to lay his head when he went in search of Jensen.
Jared had managed to piece together one vital bit of information before he’d left the hospital and he’d just have to wing it from there. Jensen was in Brownsville, Texas and that’s where Jared was headed.
Jared walked the familiar path to his old front door, gripping the handle of his gun in his palm. He knocked on the front door, being careful to step out of the line of sight of the front window and peephole. After a few moments, the door swung cautiously open and Jared stared at Ashley.
Her eyes widened and Jared pulled out the gun, cocking it and pressing it against the right temple of her dishwater blond head.
“Hi, Ash,” he said and smiled.
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Jensen swiped the back of his hand across his cheek, leaving behind a trail of dark earth, and ignored the glaring, pulsating sun that beat down on his bare back. He quickly buried his hand back in the dirt at his feet, yanking and pulling at the roots of a particularly stubborn bulb.
A hand on his back made him look over his shoulder and he caught a glimpse of Mario, the short squat good-natured foreman he’d befriended smiling down at him. Jensen grinned back.
“Hey, ¿cómo estás?” he called to Mario.
“Hey, gringo,” Mario grinned, always in a happy mood. “¿Quieres un poco las tortillas?” Mario lifted one grubby hand to wave the piping hot sack of tortillas he’d gotten from his sister Carmelita at Jensen. Jensen’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“Uh - yeah, sí, sí,” Jensen nodded, pulling the bulb free and wiping his hands on his dirty jeans. “I’m starving, man. Come on.”
Mario laughed.
“Tú siempre tienes hambre,” Mario said, leading the way to a shaded tree and plopping down. Jensen followed him.
“Hell, yeah, I’m always hungry,” Jensen agreed. “Especially when Carmelita cooks.”
Mario slid the Stetson from his head and sat it carefully on the grass beside him. Jensen sat next to him, taking the handkerchief that Mario offered him and getting his hands as clean as possible before taking the proffered tortillas and shoving them in his mouth.
“Carmelita, she wants…what do you call it - she wants to be your novia,” Mario teased lightly and Jensen rolled his eyes, laughing. He knew it was true but he was downplaying it as best he could. It wouldn’t be the first time he was forced to take up a relationship to solidify his cover, but he was doing everything in his power to prevent it from happening this time around.
He’d be spending months, probably years, ingraining himself into Mario’s life and family to get closer to Mario’s cousin Abelardo. Abelardo had deep ties with the immigrant smuggling ring and he was Jensen’s key to getting enough evidence for the Bureau to crack the case. Jensen did what he had to do get the job done. He always had. But the thought of having to touch Carmelita, of having to play that role with anybody but Jared made him anxious and threw him off his game.
Jared. Jensen allowed his mind the momentary luxury of holding on to that name, mentally caressing it and letting the memory of Jared in his arms wash over him before he refocused on the food in his hands.
Mario thought he was little more than a recovering drug addict, a dirt poor drifter who had been tossed away by his family after too many relapses. He thought that Jensen was the laughing, carefree drunken, bar-dwelling gringo who was so irresponsible that he couldn’t be bothered to get out of his motel bed without Mario knocking on his door for fifteen minutes at dawn. Jensen played the role to the hilt and his only hope of avoiding an entanglement with Carmelita was to shore up the perception that he was an endearing, but irresponsible fuck up, not worthy to lick Mario’s sister’s boots.
Continued...