.0093 - You're the One I've Decided Is One of My Kind
Jensen/Jared
1,015 words
Prompt: proposal
Teaser: Jensen's sprawled across the bed with his head propped on the small of Jared's naked back, their bodies forming a crooked T...
Turning another page in his book, Jared glances over his shoulder at the man beside him and smiles.
Jensen's sprawled across the bed with his head propped on the small of Jared's naked back, their bodies forming a crooked T. His hair’s soft and tickling, making Jared bite his lower lip every time Jensen even slightly shifts to keep from giggling embarrassingly. Jensen’s eyes are closed, the thickness and length of his eyelashes, which never cease to amaze Jared, even more emphasized by the shadows the reading lamp casts on his face. His hands entwined, settled on his stomach, inadvertently rolling up the hem of his T-shirt and exposing the pale skin beneath.
There's a whistling of wind as it blows through the garden and fallen leaves, and wet squelching sounds as the passing cars splash through the slowly drying puddles.
Jared can hear the quiet country music that Jensen is listening to, even though Jensen’s got his headphones in. He can’t really understand the lyrics, hears actually only the louder strokes of guitar, but he still can tell that the way Jensen’s knees bounce at the edge of the bed is very out of sync. He frowns, confused, because if one of them has an ear for music, it’s definitely Jensen. Then he realizes that there’s no country rhythm to it, it’s just a random, restless motion.
Jensen’s been quiet for the whole day, lost in his thoughts and mostly distant, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Jared asked, tried to make him open up, but it had, just as usual, quite the opposite effect. Jensen claimed to be fine and that Jared didn’t need to worry. Jared did worry and he still does, but he knows there’s no good in trying to force Jensen to talk when he doesn’t want to.
Jared sighs and returns to his book, losing himself beneath the avalanche of snow that has buried his hero on the peaks of the Nanga Parbat Mountain.
He stirs again when Jensen sits up a moment later and leans over Jared to put his i-Pod on the nightstand beside him. Jared expects him to slide beneath the covers and curl up next to him, so he nearly jumps, startled, when Jensen’s moist lips brush over his shoulder, moving slowly towards the other.
Jensen’s touch is light, teasing, his breath caressing Jared’s skin hot and heavy, and when his tongue darts out, following the path of his mouth, Jared completely forgets what the purpose of the book before him even is. He’s half-hard instantly and he presses his hips to the mattress, desperate for any sort of friction. It really isn’t fair how responsive his body is to Jensen’s touch, his proximity. Still.
It shouldn’t be, not after the almost five years they’ve been together, plus minus the moments when they weren’t so certain what the thing between them actually was and how to deal with it. When they had no idea where their relationship, whatever kind at that time, was heading.
Leaving a trail of wet kisses along the length of Jared’s spine, Jensen pauses when he reaches the waistband of Jared’s jeans, but he doesn’t push them lower as Jared wants him to. Instead he straddles Jared’s thighs and sits down, his fingers moving across his back, raising goose bumps. Jared lets out a low moan and rests his chin on his folded arms, closing his eyes and relaxing beneath Jensen’s touches and warmth.
It takes a while before he realizes that the tips of Jensen’s fingers don’t just wander over his skin aimlessly, but in fact are drawing, painting invisible pictures of suns and variously shaped hearts and flowers. Anything that comes to Jensen’s mind, some things Jared can’t even recognize.
Then it changes and Jensen starts writing, tracing every letter of the alphabet upon Jared’s back. When he reaches Z, he starts again, but not from the beginning. His finger moves up and then crossways down, crossways up and straight down again.
“M,” Jared says, because Jensen’s stopped, obviously waiting. He figures he guessed right when Jensen drops a soft kiss right above the waistband of his pants.
Jensen keeps on writing, composing one letter after another: A. R. R. Y. M. E, and Jared earns a tiny kiss for each letter he guesses right. There are a couple of mistakes, but no punishment, which is definitely fair.
Jared puts the letters together, but he doesn’t realize the meaning of them. Not until he runs them through his head a few times. What? He’s a bit slow today. And tired. MARRYME. MARRYME. MARRYME… Marry me…
His eyes fly open then and he pushes himself up, rolling Jensen off himself so abruptly he nearly sends him toppling.
Regaining his equilibrium, Jensen gets to his knees to allow Jared to turn onto his back, and then sinks back down. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Jared with a nervous, open expression that makes him look so young and vulnerable, almost fragile.
It’s obvious he’s serious, but Jared can’t stop the question rolling off his tongue. “You mean it?” he asks as he places his hands on Jensen’s bare knees, sliding them over the fine, blonde hairs up to his thighs.
Jensen lowers his eyes, watching Jared’s palms glide slowly higher, teasing around the hems of his black boxers. Then his gaze flickers back to Jared, honest and penetrating. He rests his hands on Jared’s stomach, his fingers warm and visibly trembling. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I do. It’s… officially unofficial, because I… I don’t have a ring. Yet. But I mean it… I love you, Jared Padasomething.”
Jared smiles, his throat so constricted that no words can come through, his heart pounding like crazy, melting. He sits up and winds his arms around Jensen’s hips, drawing him closer, so close he feels like he could absorb him into his own heat. He presses a kiss against the smooth, sensitive skin beneath Jensen’s ear, and then writes his answer on Jensen’s pale thigh with the tip of his index finger: YES.
Previously known as: Unofficially Mine...
1,015 words
Prompt: proposal
Teaser: Jensen's sprawled across the bed with his head propped on the small of Jared's naked back, their bodies forming a crooked T...
Turning another page in his book, Jared glances over his shoulder at the man beside him and smiles.
Jensen's sprawled across the bed with his head propped on the small of Jared's naked back, their bodies forming a crooked T. His hair’s soft and tickling, making Jared bite his lower lip every time Jensen even slightly shifts to keep from giggling embarrassingly. Jensen’s eyes are closed, the thickness and length of his eyelashes, which never cease to amaze Jared, even more emphasized by the shadows the reading lamp casts on his face. His hands entwined, settled on his stomach, inadvertently rolling up the hem of his T-shirt and exposing the pale skin beneath.
There's a whistling of wind as it blows through the garden and fallen leaves, and wet squelching sounds as the passing cars splash through the slowly drying puddles.
Jared can hear the quiet country music that Jensen is listening to, even though Jensen’s got his headphones in. He can’t really understand the lyrics, hears actually only the louder strokes of guitar, but he still can tell that the way Jensen’s knees bounce at the edge of the bed is very out of sync. He frowns, confused, because if one of them has an ear for music, it’s definitely Jensen. Then he realizes that there’s no country rhythm to it, it’s just a random, restless motion.
Jensen’s been quiet for the whole day, lost in his thoughts and mostly distant, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Jared asked, tried to make him open up, but it had, just as usual, quite the opposite effect. Jensen claimed to be fine and that Jared didn’t need to worry. Jared did worry and he still does, but he knows there’s no good in trying to force Jensen to talk when he doesn’t want to.
Jared sighs and returns to his book, losing himself beneath the avalanche of snow that has buried his hero on the peaks of the Nanga Parbat Mountain.
He stirs again when Jensen sits up a moment later and leans over Jared to put his i-Pod on the nightstand beside him. Jared expects him to slide beneath the covers and curl up next to him, so he nearly jumps, startled, when Jensen’s moist lips brush over his shoulder, moving slowly towards the other.
Jensen’s touch is light, teasing, his breath caressing Jared’s skin hot and heavy, and when his tongue darts out, following the path of his mouth, Jared completely forgets what the purpose of the book before him even is. He’s half-hard instantly and he presses his hips to the mattress, desperate for any sort of friction. It really isn’t fair how responsive his body is to Jensen’s touch, his proximity. Still.
It shouldn’t be, not after the almost five years they’ve been together, plus minus the moments when they weren’t so certain what the thing between them actually was and how to deal with it. When they had no idea where their relationship, whatever kind at that time, was heading.
Leaving a trail of wet kisses along the length of Jared’s spine, Jensen pauses when he reaches the waistband of Jared’s jeans, but he doesn’t push them lower as Jared wants him to. Instead he straddles Jared’s thighs and sits down, his fingers moving across his back, raising goose bumps. Jared lets out a low moan and rests his chin on his folded arms, closing his eyes and relaxing beneath Jensen’s touches and warmth.
It takes a while before he realizes that the tips of Jensen’s fingers don’t just wander over his skin aimlessly, but in fact are drawing, painting invisible pictures of suns and variously shaped hearts and flowers. Anything that comes to Jensen’s mind, some things Jared can’t even recognize.
Then it changes and Jensen starts writing, tracing every letter of the alphabet upon Jared’s back. When he reaches Z, he starts again, but not from the beginning. His finger moves up and then crossways down, crossways up and straight down again.
“M,” Jared says, because Jensen’s stopped, obviously waiting. He figures he guessed right when Jensen drops a soft kiss right above the waistband of his pants.
Jensen keeps on writing, composing one letter after another: A. R. R. Y. M. E, and Jared earns a tiny kiss for each letter he guesses right. There are a couple of mistakes, but no punishment, which is definitely fair.
Jared puts the letters together, but he doesn’t realize the meaning of them. Not until he runs them through his head a few times. What? He’s a bit slow today. And tired. MARRYME. MARRYME. MARRYME… Marry me…
His eyes fly open then and he pushes himself up, rolling Jensen off himself so abruptly he nearly sends him toppling.
Regaining his equilibrium, Jensen gets to his knees to allow Jared to turn onto his back, and then sinks back down. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Jared with a nervous, open expression that makes him look so young and vulnerable, almost fragile.
It’s obvious he’s serious, but Jared can’t stop the question rolling off his tongue. “You mean it?” he asks as he places his hands on Jensen’s bare knees, sliding them over the fine, blonde hairs up to his thighs.
Jensen lowers his eyes, watching Jared’s palms glide slowly higher, teasing around the hems of his black boxers. Then his gaze flickers back to Jared, honest and penetrating. He rests his hands on Jared’s stomach, his fingers warm and visibly trembling. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I do. It’s… officially unofficial, because I… I don’t have a ring. Yet. But I mean it… I love you, Jared Padasomething.”
Jared smiles, his throat so constricted that no words can come through, his heart pounding like crazy, melting. He sits up and winds his arms around Jensen’s hips, drawing him closer, so close he feels like he could absorb him into his own heat. He presses a kiss against the smooth, sensitive skin beneath Jensen’s ear, and then writes his answer on Jensen’s pale thigh with the tip of his index finger: YES.
Previously known as: Unofficially Mine...