[Fic] Work Yourself All Over Me - for dugindeep! ♥
IT'S DUGINDEEP'S BIRTHDAY, PEOPLE. I suck at buying gifts, so here's some porn!
WORK YOURSELF ALL OVER ME
Jensen/Jared. NC17.
3100 words.
Written on the auspicious occasion of dugindeep's birthday. Also fills a prompt from spnkink_meme: Jared has an exhibitionism streak a mile wide. Jensen gets off on watching other men drool over his gorgeously naked boyfriend. Stripper!Jared and Club Owner!Jensen. Word to your mother, these are not the same strippers as in The way you move ain't fair, you know. Unbeta'ed, but thanks to annabeth for giving it a thumbs up!
They look. They always look and Jensen has to let them. To their leisure, men's eyes saturated with liquor and lust as they watch the dancers flaunt themselves throughout Jensen's club. Cigar smoke lingers in the air like a sweet fog, makes the atmosphere richer and turns their blood to molasses.
Jensen has the perfect seat, the best view of the stage. His bar stool is never occupied; Nathan's fierce glances from behind the mahogany bar keep usurpers away. The wood of the seat is smooth, same with the length of bar top Jensen's fingers stroke as a poor substitute for warm skin. Customers inch their chairs closer to the stage, the lucky ones stake seats out hours before the main show just to catch a glimpse, hoping to leave with more than that.
They never will.
Jared's performance is an addiction and Jensen is beyond rehabilitation. No title distinguishes the tall Texan as their headliner, but everyone knows and pays him the respect that goes with it. Jared is the reason men come and buy bourbon by the bottle, enough alcohol to get them through the evening until Jared takes the stage. Some drink quickly to pass the time, slip twenties to the other dancers keeping them occupied. Others edge closer to masochism, sipping slowly and keeping their wits until the final hour. Every gentleman in the club is well-dressed, knowing Jensen and his particular standards. All meant to keep his investments safe. And as the owner, Jensen cuts the finest line in his own suit, designer material grateful to hang off his body, tailored to his shape.
His Jared -- his prize -- began as just another investment. Jensen met the lower half of him first, legs the size of Texas bent out from underneath Jensen's Audi R8. Hard muscle under rough denim, the product of years of labor, Jensen could tell he was beautiful just by looking. He'd wanted to fall between those spread knees, shoulder them further apart, instinctively knowing they'd wrap low on Jensen's hips. The rest of Jared's body unhinged his jaw and three days later he was walking off Jensen's stage with folded hundred dollar bills crisp between his fingers. That had been his first audition. He never required a second.
From blue collar routine to decadence, Jared could have stuck with being a mechanic but he wasn't difficult to sway. He tells Jensen the club is like a parallel universe, one where Jared is Beautiful and Jensen is Powerful. Together they bring roomfuls of men to their knees with empty pockets.
Jensen's eyes flick momentarily to the amber liquor in his glass, swirling with the tilt of his fingers. He's impatient with the number of patrons left in the club, too many bodies between him and the stage. He used to wonder which Jared got off on more: Jensen or the show. Now he knows that the show is for Jensen; Jared soaks up the energy in the room, potential for later when he's locked away with Jensen and it turns kinetic between them.
Jared is wanton grace on his stage, leather boots clicking across the varnished cherry as he moves where the noise is loudest. Drawn from edge to edge as if the men are pulling him with invisible strings, sliding smoothly and twisting his body for their pleasure and for Jensen's. Jared knows he's watching, never needs to question that green eyes follow him through moves and dips Jensen's experienced in an entirely different way. Sees the similarities in the way Jared moves for Jensen when they're alone and knows Jared holds something back on the stage. Never enough for his clientele to notice.
Down on his knees, Jared's belly dips towards the stage bringing his hips higher. Tight black shorts, a brand new pair, stretch enticingly over his ass. Lights catch on the slick material, playing up the shadows underneath which every man wants to see up close. Jared's cock under the black fabric, pushed to the limits of its elasticity, mirrored in the sleek varnish of the stage. Jared grinds down against his own reflection, mouth open in a manner which has his admirers fingering their tight pant-seams, hands disappearing into pockets for what little relief they'll find.
Jensen's fingers stroke along the bar top. His hands have felt the way Jared is able to arch his body and curve his spine. Every picture Jared makes while he's flaunting himself Jensen's seen ten times better. If the men between Jensen at the bar and Jared onstage only knew that they were nothing more than witnesses to their foreplay...Jensen smirks into his scotch. They've realized Jared's exhibition streak is longer than a runway; it keeps them coming back in hopes their dedication will come with some reward.
Jared's ass is inches from the crowd, these anonymous men knowing well the consequences of touch. Almost every inch of his body is on display and if Jensen were to let him, there would be no almost. Nothing hiding his cock from the hungry mouths and needy hands surrounding the stage; nothing tying him to Jensen. Muted spotlights caress Jared's skin and illuminate every facet of his tone. There are times Jared looks so beautiful, Jensen imagines this is just a dream. He'll wake up and discover that none of his dancers are able to match Jared's appeal, move in the way he does to make Jensen's body react.
No one wants to applaud at the end of Jared's performance -- no one wants it to end. They do anyway because they want to please Jared, hands coming together until the club rolls with thunder and Jared bows offstage a few thousand dollars richer. Jensen lets Nathan deal with last call. The burly bartender and Jensen's bouncers know the nightly drill to clear the club and close while Jensen leaves the floor behind after swallowing the last of his scotch. It burns Jensen's throat and he bites his tongue walking to his private office. It's richly appointed, leather sofa squared off against the sturdy form of his black oak desk. He tosses his jacket over the desk and toes his shoes off, settles on the sofa and starts unbuttoning his shirt at the collar.
He can recall the first time Jared came off stage and landed in Jensen's arms. It had been Jared's third week, putting more of himself into his performances than ever and Jensen had noticed the effect it was having on his newest dancer: red stain blooming high on Jared's cheekbones, sweating more than necessary. Jared's arousal was hard to miss but the men clamoring for his favor in the crowd drank it up like a fine wine. Seductive tones hidden under a musky aroma. But Jensen felt the notes of embarrassment, saw the shame Jared thought he should feel.
"I'm sorry," he'd said, apology in warm breath against Jensen's cheek. "I didn't mean to --"
"To what?" Jensen had questioned with no accusation. "To enjoy it as much as you did?"
"When you asked me to do this, I never thought I could -- that it would..."
"You don't need to tell me what it did to you," Jensen had whispered. "I already know."
The heat of him in that narrow hallway, not enough room for the smell of sex and lust to dissipate. Jared had hunched close. "Can I show you?"
Jensen will always remember that it was Jared who asked first, Jared who was the brave, strong one, and took that first step. After that, and Jensen's acceptance, every trace of embarrassment disappeared and Jensen got to see.
His dancer slips into the office wearing only his shorts and his boots. Jared savors strutting through the club in next to nothing, stragglers sticking around for a different kind of show. His serious face, expression under tight control, lets Jensen know that Jared's barely hanging on. Stoic silence and seductive pose, radiating his need, are incongruous with his Texan manner and charm away from the club, bringing more humor and love into Jensen's life than he thought possible or practical.
But that's not the Jared standing before him right now. Jensen has been hard since the show, unwilling to satisfy himself without Jared. There's a certain amount of satisfaction knowing his patrons are going home to get themselves off just by thinking about Jared, but Jensen gets the real thing.
"You were great tonight. It got you all worked up, didn't it?"
"A little intense," Jared admits, voice scratched from his dry throat.
"There's some water in the fridge if you want --"
"No."
Jensen grins as Jared steps between his knees, coming down with palms flat on Jensen's thighs.
"Do you need something?" Jared's eyes scream yes, but Jensen can take a little torture.
"Come on, Jen." Before Jared can slide a hand up to the crease in Jensen's slacks, Jensen pushes him away.
"Lose the rest of it." He has no interest in Jared's accessories. "Slowly."
Slow is a challenge; Jared no longer wants Jensen's eyes on him, he wants Jensen's hands and mouth. Whatever Jensen's going to give him. The dim light in the office suits him better, casting shadows in the cut of his muscles. His boots land next to Jensen's shoes, underwear stripped with little fanfare.
"I'm so hard, Jen." But Jared's body has already stated the obvious. Jensen's got an erection to match and Jared's fingers brush against him as Jared unbuttons and unzips his slacks to get inside. "I know you are, too. I felt you watching me -- God, it's amazing how much I love you seeing everything." Jared doesn't waste a breath straddling him on the couch. "Everybody looking, wanting what you have. That's your favorite part, isn't it?"
This is why Jensen would never ask Jared to give up his job. There are pieces he's willing to share when it brings them this kind of enjoyment. Jared with his long legs and dirty mouth, wrapping both around Jensen.
"You're the one who gets me so hard up there," Jared says. "Those men should be throwing money at you. The way you look at me -- makes me need the craziest things. Makes me want to do --" His words end at Jensen's lips, kissing him with a style all his own. Coaxing as if there's some part of Jensen left to convince. One of his hands drops back to Jensen's dick, wrapped loose. He doesn't stroke himself as if he's barely conscious of his own nakedness, every sense centered on Jensen and the attention is another kind of intoxication.
"What are you gonna do for me?" Jensen sets his fingers on Jared's lower lip. "Are you gonna give me my own show, right here?" His answer comes when Jared opens his mouth, sucks Jensen's fingers inside. "I want you right on this couch, bent over for me. Is that what you want?"
"I already showed you what I want," Jared hisses when Jensen bites his jaw, fingers slipping loose. "You were watching and I thought about sucking you off," he says, twist of his hand on the upstroke while Jensen bites his lip. "Dragging you up onstage where everyone could see you -- where I could show you off."
Jensen has never wanted to be a part of Jared's show, but he can picture the scene. Making Jared dance for him, around him, and listening to the moans of the crowd. Getting to touch him possessively in front of everyone, burning his mark into Jared’s skin.
"Maybe you could persuade me," he says, but that train of thought is already beyond Jared, replaced with Jensen's dick in his hands.
Jared's every move is perfectly executed. As fluent here as he is on the stage but his eyes rake frantically over Jensen, already a few steps ahead of Jared's hands. He eyes the triangle of revealed skin at Jensen's throat as he firmly strokes Jensen off. Focuses on Jensen's lips when he has to use both hands to yank at the tiny buttons on Jensen's iron-pressed shirt. And finally kisses Jensen again once he's been undressed to Jared's satisfaction.
"This is all I wanted," Jared says. "To get in here and strip you down." He's completely unashamed of his need, raw honesty in the filth. "I never stop thinking about you, like the way you stretched my throat last night."
Jensen remembers that vividly but the instant replay detours, the rhythm of Jared's writhing now superimposed over the erotic memory like a double exposure. Jared works his torso like it's a pole, caressing with constant contact.
"I thought about doing the same thing tonight, pulling your cock out and swallowing just the way you like it." Jared makes no effort to keep his voice low. Every word shivers down Jensen's spine, he'll never get used to the effect Jared's words have on him. "I miss the way it feels when you're not inside me." Undulating, bringing that hot skin within a breath of Jensen's mouth, Jared rubs his ass over Jensen's groin. Slick from sweat or something else, Jensen isn't sure, but Jared intercepts his delving fingers. "You can't wait either, can you?"
"You plannin' on teasing me all night?" He's too turned on to filter out the loose, native twang. Jared smirks, opens that devilishly dimpled mouth, but Jensen's there to swallow Jared's cut-off moan. They're bow-taut, chests pressed together, slick sounds covering the loss of Jared's voice. Kissing as if they have all the time in the world but their bodies have started the countdown. Jensen's nerves are frazzled and sharp, unable to miss a single sensation and sending them all to his overloaded brain. His fingers press deep inside of Jared, little resistance hindering them. "You opened yourself for me?" He would have noticed if Jared had finger fucked himself in his office just now, meaning he was -- "Oh fuck, Jared..."
"I knew you'd like that," Jared says. "I could feel the stretch when I was up there, ready for you in case you couldn't control yourself."
Now that he knows, Jensen has no chance of controlling himself. He paws at Jared's back, feels muscles shift as Jared tries to get closer. A giant so malleable for Jensen's pleasure, so willing to bend whichever way Jensen's mood blows. Jensen gorges on hard flesh and smooth skin while Jared sneaks lube from his pocket. Cool drizzle over his cock, "I knew I wasn't the only one prepared," Jared says, eagerly transferring the lube from his fingers, sparing himself a quick re-prep. Jensen can't stop his hips from hitching up as soon as he feels Jared push down. They meet in the middle, both straining for balance and control, grappling. Jared's face falls slack for an instant when Jensen forces his cock up -- up and so deep, he knows that twinge -- before the feelings tighten.
No more talking, the sounds are enough. Forced from Jared's lips with every thrust and falling into Jensen's mouth. Jared bucks and teeters, moving wildly to feed the fire in his blood. Erratic motions driving Jensen crazy until they overbalance.
Jensen saves the moment before they topple over or worse, he slips out of Jared. He gets Jared's weight pressing him down into the leather cushions, sweat gathered in the dip of his spine. Miles of skin above him, Jensen's lost to the view and the way he's completely surrounded. Jared's eyes spark with sudden control, pumping Jensen's body to his last reserve. Nowhere to go but up, Jensen rolls his hips into Jared's rhythm, heart held in his chest by Jared's palms.
Jared's body is an insatiable force, bringing every single one of Jensen's fantasies to life more thoroughly than he imagines. The burn rushes through Jensen, fingers tightening on Jared's thighs where they bracket his chest -- Jared doesn't pause, riding Jensen until he comes with the heat clenching around him. Jared tilts his head back with an empty scream, every sound fucked out of him, and works himself down while Jensen's cock is still hard, not bothering to fist himself when he wants -- needs, craves -- only what Jensen can give him. He gets off moments later, Jensen twitching inside his body with every drop of come that falls on his chest.
After a few minutes to recover, Jared turns his head and brushes his nose along Jensen’s collarbone.
"Get the car," Jared says, half-incoherent.
"I'm kind of trapped, you know." Though Jensen's pulled out, he's still the middle of a couch-Jared sandwich. "You go get the car."
"I'm kind of naked," Jared counters, rolling towards the back of the couch and snuggling between Jensen and the leather, adorable in the way he's transformed from needy slut to mumbling cuddler. "At least you're wearing pants."
"No need to rush, I think everyone's gone."
Jensen lets the warmth and satiation settle. In a few minutes Jared's going to get impatient, eager to get home where Jensen's bed trumps even the nicest leather sofa. And, of course, where Jared can change and gorge himself from Jensen's overstocked fridge. There, a slight rumble from Jared's low chuckle.
"Hmm?"
"Just thinking," Jared says. "That was -- man, even when I expect it to be good, it's better." He kisses Jensen's throat then looks away without catching Jensen's soft smile. They work each other's bodies to the max, rough and needy, but Jensen has long since identified the feelings that linger beneath their almost-constant lust. Ready to get home himself, Jensen levers off the couch and inspects the damage Jared inflicted on his dress shirt.
"I don't know where I left my clothes," Jared mutters, eying Jensen's progress while he redresses.
"Do you need clothes? It takes five minutes to get home." Jared looks skeptical, Jensen's only half-teasing. "Maybe I want you naked and slouched low in my leather seat, touching yourself as I run every red light to get us home --"
"Fine!" Jared jumps up. "I'll get the car and meet you outside in two minutes." He swings open the door to Jensen's office and stalks through completely naked. Jensen's really-pretty-sure no one's left in the club, unless Nathan's still cleaning up in which case...poor Nathan. Smirking and buttoning his shirt, Jensen grabs his jacket and locks his office, realizing as he's halfway out the door that Jared never said he was going to find his clothes.
He doesn't bother waving goodnight to Nathan who's stuck like a statue behind the bar with a rag in his hand and an unattractively stupefied expression.
Jensen's night is only beginning.
FIN.
WORK YOURSELF ALL OVER ME
Jensen/Jared. NC17.
3100 words.
Written on the auspicious occasion of dugindeep's birthday. Also fills a prompt from spnkink_meme: Jared has an exhibitionism streak a mile wide. Jensen gets off on watching other men drool over his gorgeously naked boyfriend. Stripper!Jared and Club Owner!Jensen. Word to your mother, these are not the same strippers as in The way you move ain't fair, you know. Unbeta'ed, but thanks to annabeth for giving it a thumbs up!
They look. They always look and Jensen has to let them. To their leisure, men's eyes saturated with liquor and lust as they watch the dancers flaunt themselves throughout Jensen's club. Cigar smoke lingers in the air like a sweet fog, makes the atmosphere richer and turns their blood to molasses.
Jensen has the perfect seat, the best view of the stage. His bar stool is never occupied; Nathan's fierce glances from behind the mahogany bar keep usurpers away. The wood of the seat is smooth, same with the length of bar top Jensen's fingers stroke as a poor substitute for warm skin. Customers inch their chairs closer to the stage, the lucky ones stake seats out hours before the main show just to catch a glimpse, hoping to leave with more than that.
They never will.
Jared's performance is an addiction and Jensen is beyond rehabilitation. No title distinguishes the tall Texan as their headliner, but everyone knows and pays him the respect that goes with it. Jared is the reason men come and buy bourbon by the bottle, enough alcohol to get them through the evening until Jared takes the stage. Some drink quickly to pass the time, slip twenties to the other dancers keeping them occupied. Others edge closer to masochism, sipping slowly and keeping their wits until the final hour. Every gentleman in the club is well-dressed, knowing Jensen and his particular standards. All meant to keep his investments safe. And as the owner, Jensen cuts the finest line in his own suit, designer material grateful to hang off his body, tailored to his shape.
His Jared -- his prize -- began as just another investment. Jensen met the lower half of him first, legs the size of Texas bent out from underneath Jensen's Audi R8. Hard muscle under rough denim, the product of years of labor, Jensen could tell he was beautiful just by looking. He'd wanted to fall between those spread knees, shoulder them further apart, instinctively knowing they'd wrap low on Jensen's hips. The rest of Jared's body unhinged his jaw and three days later he was walking off Jensen's stage with folded hundred dollar bills crisp between his fingers. That had been his first audition. He never required a second.
From blue collar routine to decadence, Jared could have stuck with being a mechanic but he wasn't difficult to sway. He tells Jensen the club is like a parallel universe, one where Jared is Beautiful and Jensen is Powerful. Together they bring roomfuls of men to their knees with empty pockets.
Jensen's eyes flick momentarily to the amber liquor in his glass, swirling with the tilt of his fingers. He's impatient with the number of patrons left in the club, too many bodies between him and the stage. He used to wonder which Jared got off on more: Jensen or the show. Now he knows that the show is for Jensen; Jared soaks up the energy in the room, potential for later when he's locked away with Jensen and it turns kinetic between them.
Jared is wanton grace on his stage, leather boots clicking across the varnished cherry as he moves where the noise is loudest. Drawn from edge to edge as if the men are pulling him with invisible strings, sliding smoothly and twisting his body for their pleasure and for Jensen's. Jared knows he's watching, never needs to question that green eyes follow him through moves and dips Jensen's experienced in an entirely different way. Sees the similarities in the way Jared moves for Jensen when they're alone and knows Jared holds something back on the stage. Never enough for his clientele to notice.
Down on his knees, Jared's belly dips towards the stage bringing his hips higher. Tight black shorts, a brand new pair, stretch enticingly over his ass. Lights catch on the slick material, playing up the shadows underneath which every man wants to see up close. Jared's cock under the black fabric, pushed to the limits of its elasticity, mirrored in the sleek varnish of the stage. Jared grinds down against his own reflection, mouth open in a manner which has his admirers fingering their tight pant-seams, hands disappearing into pockets for what little relief they'll find.
Jensen's fingers stroke along the bar top. His hands have felt the way Jared is able to arch his body and curve his spine. Every picture Jared makes while he's flaunting himself Jensen's seen ten times better. If the men between Jensen at the bar and Jared onstage only knew that they were nothing more than witnesses to their foreplay...Jensen smirks into his scotch. They've realized Jared's exhibition streak is longer than a runway; it keeps them coming back in hopes their dedication will come with some reward.
Jared's ass is inches from the crowd, these anonymous men knowing well the consequences of touch. Almost every inch of his body is on display and if Jensen were to let him, there would be no almost. Nothing hiding his cock from the hungry mouths and needy hands surrounding the stage; nothing tying him to Jensen. Muted spotlights caress Jared's skin and illuminate every facet of his tone. There are times Jared looks so beautiful, Jensen imagines this is just a dream. He'll wake up and discover that none of his dancers are able to match Jared's appeal, move in the way he does to make Jensen's body react.
No one wants to applaud at the end of Jared's performance -- no one wants it to end. They do anyway because they want to please Jared, hands coming together until the club rolls with thunder and Jared bows offstage a few thousand dollars richer. Jensen lets Nathan deal with last call. The burly bartender and Jensen's bouncers know the nightly drill to clear the club and close while Jensen leaves the floor behind after swallowing the last of his scotch. It burns Jensen's throat and he bites his tongue walking to his private office. It's richly appointed, leather sofa squared off against the sturdy form of his black oak desk. He tosses his jacket over the desk and toes his shoes off, settles on the sofa and starts unbuttoning his shirt at the collar.
He can recall the first time Jared came off stage and landed in Jensen's arms. It had been Jared's third week, putting more of himself into his performances than ever and Jensen had noticed the effect it was having on his newest dancer: red stain blooming high on Jared's cheekbones, sweating more than necessary. Jared's arousal was hard to miss but the men clamoring for his favor in the crowd drank it up like a fine wine. Seductive tones hidden under a musky aroma. But Jensen felt the notes of embarrassment, saw the shame Jared thought he should feel.
"I'm sorry," he'd said, apology in warm breath against Jensen's cheek. "I didn't mean to --"
"To what?" Jensen had questioned with no accusation. "To enjoy it as much as you did?"
"When you asked me to do this, I never thought I could -- that it would..."
"You don't need to tell me what it did to you," Jensen had whispered. "I already know."
The heat of him in that narrow hallway, not enough room for the smell of sex and lust to dissipate. Jared had hunched close. "Can I show you?"
Jensen will always remember that it was Jared who asked first, Jared who was the brave, strong one, and took that first step. After that, and Jensen's acceptance, every trace of embarrassment disappeared and Jensen got to see.
His dancer slips into the office wearing only his shorts and his boots. Jared savors strutting through the club in next to nothing, stragglers sticking around for a different kind of show. His serious face, expression under tight control, lets Jensen know that Jared's barely hanging on. Stoic silence and seductive pose, radiating his need, are incongruous with his Texan manner and charm away from the club, bringing more humor and love into Jensen's life than he thought possible or practical.
But that's not the Jared standing before him right now. Jensen has been hard since the show, unwilling to satisfy himself without Jared. There's a certain amount of satisfaction knowing his patrons are going home to get themselves off just by thinking about Jared, but Jensen gets the real thing.
"You were great tonight. It got you all worked up, didn't it?"
"A little intense," Jared admits, voice scratched from his dry throat.
"There's some water in the fridge if you want --"
"No."
Jensen grins as Jared steps between his knees, coming down with palms flat on Jensen's thighs.
"Do you need something?" Jared's eyes scream yes, but Jensen can take a little torture.
"Come on, Jen." Before Jared can slide a hand up to the crease in Jensen's slacks, Jensen pushes him away.
"Lose the rest of it." He has no interest in Jared's accessories. "Slowly."
Slow is a challenge; Jared no longer wants Jensen's eyes on him, he wants Jensen's hands and mouth. Whatever Jensen's going to give him. The dim light in the office suits him better, casting shadows in the cut of his muscles. His boots land next to Jensen's shoes, underwear stripped with little fanfare.
"I'm so hard, Jen." But Jared's body has already stated the obvious. Jensen's got an erection to match and Jared's fingers brush against him as Jared unbuttons and unzips his slacks to get inside. "I know you are, too. I felt you watching me -- God, it's amazing how much I love you seeing everything." Jared doesn't waste a breath straddling him on the couch. "Everybody looking, wanting what you have. That's your favorite part, isn't it?"
This is why Jensen would never ask Jared to give up his job. There are pieces he's willing to share when it brings them this kind of enjoyment. Jared with his long legs and dirty mouth, wrapping both around Jensen.
"You're the one who gets me so hard up there," Jared says. "Those men should be throwing money at you. The way you look at me -- makes me need the craziest things. Makes me want to do --" His words end at Jensen's lips, kissing him with a style all his own. Coaxing as if there's some part of Jensen left to convince. One of his hands drops back to Jensen's dick, wrapped loose. He doesn't stroke himself as if he's barely conscious of his own nakedness, every sense centered on Jensen and the attention is another kind of intoxication.
"What are you gonna do for me?" Jensen sets his fingers on Jared's lower lip. "Are you gonna give me my own show, right here?" His answer comes when Jared opens his mouth, sucks Jensen's fingers inside. "I want you right on this couch, bent over for me. Is that what you want?"
"I already showed you what I want," Jared hisses when Jensen bites his jaw, fingers slipping loose. "You were watching and I thought about sucking you off," he says, twist of his hand on the upstroke while Jensen bites his lip. "Dragging you up onstage where everyone could see you -- where I could show you off."
Jensen has never wanted to be a part of Jared's show, but he can picture the scene. Making Jared dance for him, around him, and listening to the moans of the crowd. Getting to touch him possessively in front of everyone, burning his mark into Jared’s skin.
"Maybe you could persuade me," he says, but that train of thought is already beyond Jared, replaced with Jensen's dick in his hands.
Jared's every move is perfectly executed. As fluent here as he is on the stage but his eyes rake frantically over Jensen, already a few steps ahead of Jared's hands. He eyes the triangle of revealed skin at Jensen's throat as he firmly strokes Jensen off. Focuses on Jensen's lips when he has to use both hands to yank at the tiny buttons on Jensen's iron-pressed shirt. And finally kisses Jensen again once he's been undressed to Jared's satisfaction.
"This is all I wanted," Jared says. "To get in here and strip you down." He's completely unashamed of his need, raw honesty in the filth. "I never stop thinking about you, like the way you stretched my throat last night."
Jensen remembers that vividly but the instant replay detours, the rhythm of Jared's writhing now superimposed over the erotic memory like a double exposure. Jared works his torso like it's a pole, caressing with constant contact.
"I thought about doing the same thing tonight, pulling your cock out and swallowing just the way you like it." Jared makes no effort to keep his voice low. Every word shivers down Jensen's spine, he'll never get used to the effect Jared's words have on him. "I miss the way it feels when you're not inside me." Undulating, bringing that hot skin within a breath of Jensen's mouth, Jared rubs his ass over Jensen's groin. Slick from sweat or something else, Jensen isn't sure, but Jared intercepts his delving fingers. "You can't wait either, can you?"
"You plannin' on teasing me all night?" He's too turned on to filter out the loose, native twang. Jared smirks, opens that devilishly dimpled mouth, but Jensen's there to swallow Jared's cut-off moan. They're bow-taut, chests pressed together, slick sounds covering the loss of Jared's voice. Kissing as if they have all the time in the world but their bodies have started the countdown. Jensen's nerves are frazzled and sharp, unable to miss a single sensation and sending them all to his overloaded brain. His fingers press deep inside of Jared, little resistance hindering them. "You opened yourself for me?" He would have noticed if Jared had finger fucked himself in his office just now, meaning he was -- "Oh fuck, Jared..."
"I knew you'd like that," Jared says. "I could feel the stretch when I was up there, ready for you in case you couldn't control yourself."
Now that he knows, Jensen has no chance of controlling himself. He paws at Jared's back, feels muscles shift as Jared tries to get closer. A giant so malleable for Jensen's pleasure, so willing to bend whichever way Jensen's mood blows. Jensen gorges on hard flesh and smooth skin while Jared sneaks lube from his pocket. Cool drizzle over his cock, "I knew I wasn't the only one prepared," Jared says, eagerly transferring the lube from his fingers, sparing himself a quick re-prep. Jensen can't stop his hips from hitching up as soon as he feels Jared push down. They meet in the middle, both straining for balance and control, grappling. Jared's face falls slack for an instant when Jensen forces his cock up -- up and so deep, he knows that twinge -- before the feelings tighten.
No more talking, the sounds are enough. Forced from Jared's lips with every thrust and falling into Jensen's mouth. Jared bucks and teeters, moving wildly to feed the fire in his blood. Erratic motions driving Jensen crazy until they overbalance.
Jensen saves the moment before they topple over or worse, he slips out of Jared. He gets Jared's weight pressing him down into the leather cushions, sweat gathered in the dip of his spine. Miles of skin above him, Jensen's lost to the view and the way he's completely surrounded. Jared's eyes spark with sudden control, pumping Jensen's body to his last reserve. Nowhere to go but up, Jensen rolls his hips into Jared's rhythm, heart held in his chest by Jared's palms.
Jared's body is an insatiable force, bringing every single one of Jensen's fantasies to life more thoroughly than he imagines. The burn rushes through Jensen, fingers tightening on Jared's thighs where they bracket his chest -- Jared doesn't pause, riding Jensen until he comes with the heat clenching around him. Jared tilts his head back with an empty scream, every sound fucked out of him, and works himself down while Jensen's cock is still hard, not bothering to fist himself when he wants -- needs, craves -- only what Jensen can give him. He gets off moments later, Jensen twitching inside his body with every drop of come that falls on his chest.
After a few minutes to recover, Jared turns his head and brushes his nose along Jensen’s collarbone.
"Get the car," Jared says, half-incoherent.
"I'm kind of trapped, you know." Though Jensen's pulled out, he's still the middle of a couch-Jared sandwich. "You go get the car."
"I'm kind of naked," Jared counters, rolling towards the back of the couch and snuggling between Jensen and the leather, adorable in the way he's transformed from needy slut to mumbling cuddler. "At least you're wearing pants."
"No need to rush, I think everyone's gone."
Jensen lets the warmth and satiation settle. In a few minutes Jared's going to get impatient, eager to get home where Jensen's bed trumps even the nicest leather sofa. And, of course, where Jared can change and gorge himself from Jensen's overstocked fridge. There, a slight rumble from Jared's low chuckle.
"Hmm?"
"Just thinking," Jared says. "That was -- man, even when I expect it to be good, it's better." He kisses Jensen's throat then looks away without catching Jensen's soft smile. They work each other's bodies to the max, rough and needy, but Jensen has long since identified the feelings that linger beneath their almost-constant lust. Ready to get home himself, Jensen levers off the couch and inspects the damage Jared inflicted on his dress shirt.
"I don't know where I left my clothes," Jared mutters, eying Jensen's progress while he redresses.
"Do you need clothes? It takes five minutes to get home." Jared looks skeptical, Jensen's only half-teasing. "Maybe I want you naked and slouched low in my leather seat, touching yourself as I run every red light to get us home --"
"Fine!" Jared jumps up. "I'll get the car and meet you outside in two minutes." He swings open the door to Jensen's office and stalks through completely naked. Jensen's really-pretty-sure no one's left in the club, unless Nathan's still cleaning up in which case...poor Nathan. Smirking and buttoning his shirt, Jensen grabs his jacket and locks his office, realizing as he's halfway out the door that Jared never said he was going to find his clothes.
He doesn't bother waving goodnight to Nathan who's stuck like a statue behind the bar with a rag in his hand and an unattractively stupefied expression.
Jensen's night is only beginning.
FIN.