FIC: "Defy Gravity And Fly Like Jets" 1 /1
Title: "Defy Gravity And Fly Like Jets" 1 / 1
Author:
caramel_maddyarchived at
maddys_slash
Pairing: Jared Padalecki / Jensen Ackles
Word Count: 3,038
Genre: Relationships; M/M
Summary: Seven different days, seven different situations.
Rating/Warning: Hard R; Man-touching in sexual ways not quite explicit enough to be hardcore.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction!! Not true, never happened! I swear it on all the Piccadilly rentboys!
A/N: I had this idea to write a story with one steady stream of consciousness, but somehow the lines got a little blurry and I wound up actually having a set plot / traditional format. That said, I hope you enjoy!
Defy Gravity And Fly Like Jets
On a Monday night the liquor flows rich and thick like blood. You can breathe the distilled whiskey and gingered rum cocktails in the air, savor the taste on your tongue every time that you inhale. Jared has sampled three kinds of bourbon tonight and it has made him feel loose. He talks animatedly, throws his hands in every, which direction grinning, his face getting a little too close to Jensen’s when he laughs. The noise of the bar is almost deafening in a blazed blur of clinking glasses and cheering men. Hockey is big in Canada and the Toronto Maple Leafs have won yet again. Jared’s not really interested in the sport, but for some reason Jensen has started to love it and has dragged him down to the pub to watch the playoffs. The game is finally over and now they stand on line waiting to use the lavatory. This is where Jared starts being careless. This is where the touching starts.
It’s a simple act at first, really, nothing much to look into. It’s just the placing of a palm flat on a shoulder and a firm squeeze. Simple. Jensen smiles, looks away -he always looks away from Jared, never able to look him in the eye for more than a few moments before something tight and cautious coils and entwines throughout his gut. Then things escalate -the touching, slow, unintentionally dangerous. A squeezing hand and a thumb pressing into the bone above flesh through Jensen’s well-worn denim jacket. Jared smiles, stares into his eyes and an awkward silence pushes between them, light like a snow drift. Their eyes hold and not for the first time, Jared tries to think of a color to best describe Jensen’s. He thinks sometimes in sunlight they look emerald green; they shine when he smiles and sun soaks his freckled skin. At night, when it’s dark, sometimes they look hazel, like almond nutshells or sand wet from an ocean’s tide in August. But tonight, tonight in the dim light of the bar his eyes are a plain shade of green, nothing fancy or extraordinary about them yet Jared stares. Fascination is an afterthought.
He smiles, his fingers gently digging into Jensen’s shoulder and he wonders for a moment what would happen if he leaned in. Only inches separate them, most differed by Jared's four inch height advantage. He wonders what would happen if he brushed the tips of their noses together -just a soft and careful touch. He imagines how it would feel to hold their mouths close, and pressed tight, melding them together like nickels and pennies in a change jar. It would feel soft and cool like a glass of sweet tea.
Jared is curious; Jensen makes him feel this way. However, right now there are just too many people around -big, aggressive, macho types, so he lets the thought of risk fade, but Jared still stares, still touches.
Jensen stands stiff, rigidly silent. His lips hang askew as if he's waiting for his brain to send the signal to his mouth to speak only there is a disconnection. When he’s nervous, he gets this way. Jensen is always kind of shy and soft spoken, but when he’s nervous -like he is now, he’s as quiet as a church mouse on Easter Sunday and as tense as a pulled muscle.
Mentally, Jared chastises himself: stupid, stupid, stupid. With an uneasy grin he takes his hand off of Jensen’s shoulder and turns away, waiting silently for the line to thin out.
* * *
On a Tuesday they overshoot watching throughout the day as the sky unfurls from gold, blue-magenta and purple before the blue-black of night settles in. It’s February and the snow falls hard, fast and severe, six inches by the time shooting wraps just after midnight.
For some reason that remains to be explained, they live at different hotels -Jared’s forty-five minutes away, and Jensen’s an hour if the traffic is clear. The roads are bad tonight and their driver curses under his breath, says things like ‘...gonna take two fucking hours to get through this shit...’ and ‘...don’t cha know we haven’t had it this god damn bad is nearly five years?’
After fifteen minutes spent slowly trudging through the slippery, icy white mess, Jensen drifts off into a state of slumber, his head resting against the window, lips parted in a languidly slack fashion. Jared watches him -mostly because he’s unable to fall asleep, but he’s also enchanted, romanced by the sight. Jensen looks so peaceful, so at rest.
Jared tells the driver not to bother going to Jensen’s hotel. No use being out in the storm longer than necessary. He shakes Jensen awake, asks if he’s cool with crashing at his place. With a grunt and dismissive hand wave Jensen agrees, more interested in sleep itself than where he’ll actually be getting it.
It takes them an hour and a half to reach Jared’s hotel. Jensen is like a zombie as they ride up the elevator. Twice Jared has to call out his name to wake him, shake him by the elbow to get him to walk without aide.
Jared has a king-sized bed in his room. There’s a sofa that sits in the corner facing the big screen televison set and he assumes that Jensen will sleep there. It’s big enough to sit three people and it’s comfortable, but Jensen doesn’t even glance in its direction. He goes straight towards the bed, is quiet as he kicks off his shoes. He’s out of his jeans in only a second, but keeps his T-shirt on. The blue parka and black hooded sweatshirt having long been cast to the floor as he crawls against the sheets.
"You’re sleeping there?" Jared asks only after the fact.
"Where else would I sleep?" Jensen answers back shortly, his eyes closed pulling a pillow to his chest.
The bed can easily fit them both and there is no use turning nothing into something.
Jared strips. Usually he sleeps in the suit of his birth, but given the present circumstances he keeps his boxers on only removing his shirt before slipping silently between the sheets, pulling the down comforter across his long, lean body.
He inhales. He exhales. He falls asleep.
It’s sometime later in the night -that technically is a morning, that Jared feels an arm curl around him. He forgets for a moment where he’s at and who he is with. All he knows is that there is a warm body beside him and an arm stretched across his stomach, the other pressing under his back. A leg wedges itself between his; a light dusting of hair tickles his calf and then he remembers who is in his bed.
"Jensen," Jared whispers."You up?"
"Nghh..." Jensen groans pulling him closer.
"Dude, you’re cuddling me," Jared almost wants to laugh. "Get up."
"Sleeping Jare, sleeping...." Jensen trails off his voice thick with sleep as he nestles his cheek on Jared’s shoulder mumbling something about being cold.
Jared thinks about pushing him away, but that thought is fleeting. He can smell Jensen’s hair, practically taste the peach shampoo and sweat on his tongue. He closes his eyes instead and falls back asleep to the feeling of Jensen breathing on his neck.
* * *
On a Wednesday morning, mistakes are made. Jensen wakes up first, the sound of him singing in the shower is what finally causes Jared to stir. He’s slow to move, stretches while still lying down and yawns. It’s when he sees the time on the clock that he springs out of the bed like the devil himself has just jumped up and bit him on the ass.
"Jensen, dude, we’re gonna be late," he yells. "Hurry up so I can take a shower! I can’t believe I didn’t get my wake-up call!"
"You did," Jensen yells back. " No work today, storms too bad -set’s closed!"
"Wait, so we have the day off?" Jared smiles already making his way back over to the bed.
"Don’t get too happy. Today we can play, but tomorrow just means extra work."
"Oh god, thanks for reminding me of that!"
Jared makes himself comfortable laying his head down on the soft cotton pillow intent to get at least another four hours of rest when Jensen comes out of the bathroom, water and soap glistening off his skin, a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
"You sleep," he asks to which Jared’s only response is a grunt. "Come on, let’s go do something."
"We’re snowed in." Jared groans pulling the pillow over his head.
"So, let’s find something to do inside the hotel. We never get a day off in the middle of the week. I’m sure we can find something."
"Later...sleep....must....now...."
"Oh come on," Jensen sighs pulling the blanket off of him. "Get up!"
"I wanna sleep!"
"No," Jensen laughs. "Up! Now!"
"Would you stop that! Why are you so awake anyway? You’re SO not a morning person."
"Well I am today. Get up!"
"Dick!" Jared groans begrudgingly jumping out of the bed to retrieve his blanket. Jensen is quick, ready for war and pulls it out of Jared’s reach. The comforter is huge and Jared grabs it from another angle, gives it one hard tug sending Jensen crashing into him, the force making Jared stumble, trip over his feet and fall back pulling both Jensen and the comforter with him.
There’s startled laughter at first as they struggle to untangle themselves. The blanket is wrapped around Jensen’s legs and one of Jared’s arms, pinning him. They laugh harder realizing how ridiculous they must look and it doesn’t occur to either of them until Jensen shifts his weight to stand that through loose cotton and terrycloth their cocks touch. Jensen can feel Jared’s very unfamiliar pressure pushing against his thigh. The good-natured laughter stops.
The air becomes thick, thick like velvet curtains and tight like cramped spaces.
Skin-to-skin their stomachs touch. Jensen’s body is clean-soaped slick. His hair still wet, water drips down the sides of his face. Jared stares, his blue-brown eyes intense and focused on Jensen’s mouth, waiting for him say something, to break the tenseness of the moment.
Jensen exhales, his breath washing across Jared’s face, bathing him with cool mint. He shifts, arches his back and lifts his body. Their cocks press harder, pulled flesh to pulled flesh and Jared gasps, finds himself holding his breath. With his lips parted, Jensen tilts his head and presses his mouth to Jared’s. He kisses him with a tender caution.
Jared’s stone stuck in surprise, feels Jensen’s mouth on his, but can’t quite compute that he’s actually being kissed until he feels a warm tongue slither past his lips signifying that this moment is real. He’s too stunned to reach up and rest his hand along the flexing curve of Jensen’s spine, but he imagines that if he were more coherent, he would. He would trace his fingertips across the vertebra, count each and every single bone, but all he can manage to do is gasp. He doesn’t mean to bite Jensen’s tongue, but he does and Jensen grunts, pulls away, his face flushed a violent shade of red. He takes Jared’s happenstance for rejection and fumbles to stand, his hands clenching tightly to his towel.
He stutters an apology before practically running into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and leaving Jared alone stuck for words and stuck inside the comforter.
* * *
On a Thursday something else happens. The morning before hangs darkly above their heads like a rain cloud. All the things unspoken have remained just that. Jared tries to talk to Jensen, attempts to explain that he’s not upset, but Jensen goes out of his way to ignore him and makes it painfully obvious with resistive grunts and sharp rolls of the eyes that he doesn’t want to hear, think or speak about it. This goes on for hours until they break for lunch and Jared manages to corner Jensen at the condiments’ table.
"We gotta talk."
"No we don’t." Jensen doesn’t look at Jared while he speaks.
"Yes we do," Jared grunts. He’s trying to maintain some sense of composure, but he’s growing impatient and eager to settle the situation before it starts to fester.
"No we don’t! I made a mistake. End of it. Just let it go. I mean it dude, just let it go!" Jensen hisses grabbing a bottle of ketchup and pushing past him.
For once, Jared will listen and he makes no move to follow him.
* * *
On a Friday night Jared decides that it’s really bad to want to kiss your co-star, but even worse to want to sleep with them. The number one rule in show business -coming even before sleeping with your director, is sleeping with your co-star. It’s a bad idea. Really bad because those kind of relationships rarely last and when they end -which more than likely they do, they end badly. Still, despite knowing this, Jared finds himself hopping into a cab and heading to Jensen’s hotel. It’s not very late, barely after nine and he knows Jensen is there or at least he hopes he will be.
Jensen’s hotel has a lot of security. Jared has fans who love him, but Jensen down right has stalkers who show up wearing wedding rings and convince themselves that if they can get Jensen to somehow touch them he will fall madly in love and marriage will soon follow. People are delusional -psychotic, so as per Jensen’s request, all visitors have to wait down in the lobby for him to come down and personally escort them back up to his room.
Jensen’s not very happy see him. In fact, Jensen is annoyed and doesn’t try to hide this fact.
"Dude, what are you doing here?"
"I wanna talk about the other day."
"Just leave it alone," he grunts. "I mean it Jared, it’s already embarrassing enough and I DON’T wanna think about it let alone talk about it!"
"There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! I’m serious! Look, we can stay out here arguing all god damn night where anyone can hear us or we can go upstairs and argue there either way, you’re gonna listen to what I gotta say! It’s your choice."
Jensen throws his hands up in resign, grunting as he storms away leaving Jared to follow him into the elevator.
"I’m not mad." Jared says cooly watching as the floor level sign for the third floor lights up. The doors open and Jensen remains quiet as he walks out. " I said I’m not mad that you...ya know...the kiss."
"I heard you." Jensen says coldly and Jared cringes. He cringes because Jensen is never cold -never. He’s never harsh, even when he’s angry he still manages to somehow seem even-tempered so to hear coldness in his voice makes Jared fall uneasy.
"What’s up with you?"
Jensen stays quiet as he swipes the key decoder card unlocking the door. They walk into the room. Jared thinks it smells like coconuts and Jensen’s tangy aftershave, but he doesn’t tell him that.
Now that he has him alone, he’s not sure how to do it. He had a plan, but now he’s not sure how and where to start. Jared’s mama always tells him that he over thinks things and while every now and again that’s not always a bad thing, more times than not it is. So Jared stops thinking and pulls Jensen by the collar of his cheap ‘stolen from wardrobe’ black button up shirt surprising him. He doesn’t slam him up against a wall, he pulls Jensen close to his chest until he can feel his heart beating through his shirt
"Last time I just wasn’t ready," he says firmly.
Jared is aware of the fact that he is holding his breath as he presses his mouth to Jensen’s. He will hold his breath until Jensen parts his lips. He will hold his breath until he feels the rough velvet of Jensen’s tongue sliding against his and he will hold his breath until Jensen stops holding his.
It takes two seconds to breath again and three seconds for Jensen to rest his hands at Jared’s waist.
* * *
On a Saturday morning that could still be considered a Friday night, Jensen jerks Jared off. It’s accidental, really. He’s just reaching for the remote -really, and instead grabs Jared’s cock. Jared is asleep at first, his long legs stretched out on the bed like tree trunks and when he feels the pressure on his dick he stirs.
"Hi," he says with a smirk. "What a wake-up call."
Jensen smiles back, presses his palm down, feels the soft, pliable flesh of Jared’s cock move under his fingertips. He’s unsure of himself as he slinks his hand down into Jared’s shorts. The heat isn’t very surprising, but the size is. Jared is huge, hung like a rodeo horse.
Jensen’s twinkling green eyes widen. "That ain’t never going inside of me," he laughs.
"I could talk you into it if I wanted to." Jared grins turning on his side facing him.
"Is that arrogance or confidence?" Jensen teases tightening his fist, stroking upwards.
"You know I could."Jared whimpers, closing his eyes as he feels the pressure of Jensen’s hand sliding up his cock. Thinking it’s only fair to return the favor he eagerly tugs at Jensen’s boxers ready for mutual, intimate exploration.
Jensen stares down at Jared's searching hand, mouth curled into a nervous, unsure grin. "We’re really about to do this, aren’t we?"
Jared’s smile and clenching fist provides the answer. He moves closer, wedges his arm under Jensen’s back. His fingertips stroke the bare skin, tracing circles and lines, counting the bones along his spine.
He gets to eight before he stops thinking and loses count against Jensen’s mouth.
* * *
Sunday is a day for rest and relaxation. They spend the entire morning and most of the afternoon laying in Jensen’s bed watching horrible Canadian public cable-access television. There’s a fuzzy eighth grade stage production of ‘Our Town’ on.
It’s pretty boring. Good to cuddle up and fall asleep to.
/FIN
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maddys_slash
FEEDBACK IS LOVE AND KEEPS ME WRITING :)
Author:
caramel_maddyarchived at
maddys_slash
Pairing: Jared Padalecki / Jensen Ackles
Word Count: 3,038
Genre: Relationships; M/M
Summary: Seven different days, seven different situations.
Rating/Warning: Hard R; Man-touching in sexual ways not quite explicit enough to be hardcore.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction!! Not true, never happened! I swear it on all the Piccadilly rentboys!
A/N: I had this idea to write a story with one steady stream of consciousness, but somehow the lines got a little blurry and I wound up actually having a set plot / traditional format. That said, I hope you enjoy!
Defy Gravity And Fly Like Jets
On a Monday night the liquor flows rich and thick like blood. You can breathe the distilled whiskey and gingered rum cocktails in the air, savor the taste on your tongue every time that you inhale. Jared has sampled three kinds of bourbon tonight and it has made him feel loose. He talks animatedly, throws his hands in every, which direction grinning, his face getting a little too close to Jensen’s when he laughs. The noise of the bar is almost deafening in a blazed blur of clinking glasses and cheering men. Hockey is big in Canada and the Toronto Maple Leafs have won yet again. Jared’s not really interested in the sport, but for some reason Jensen has started to love it and has dragged him down to the pub to watch the playoffs. The game is finally over and now they stand on line waiting to use the lavatory. This is where Jared starts being careless. This is where the touching starts.
It’s a simple act at first, really, nothing much to look into. It’s just the placing of a palm flat on a shoulder and a firm squeeze. Simple. Jensen smiles, looks away -he always looks away from Jared, never able to look him in the eye for more than a few moments before something tight and cautious coils and entwines throughout his gut. Then things escalate -the touching, slow, unintentionally dangerous. A squeezing hand and a thumb pressing into the bone above flesh through Jensen’s well-worn denim jacket. Jared smiles, stares into his eyes and an awkward silence pushes between them, light like a snow drift. Their eyes hold and not for the first time, Jared tries to think of a color to best describe Jensen’s. He thinks sometimes in sunlight they look emerald green; they shine when he smiles and sun soaks his freckled skin. At night, when it’s dark, sometimes they look hazel, like almond nutshells or sand wet from an ocean’s tide in August. But tonight, tonight in the dim light of the bar his eyes are a plain shade of green, nothing fancy or extraordinary about them yet Jared stares. Fascination is an afterthought.
He smiles, his fingers gently digging into Jensen’s shoulder and he wonders for a moment what would happen if he leaned in. Only inches separate them, most differed by Jared's four inch height advantage. He wonders what would happen if he brushed the tips of their noses together -just a soft and careful touch. He imagines how it would feel to hold their mouths close, and pressed tight, melding them together like nickels and pennies in a change jar. It would feel soft and cool like a glass of sweet tea.
Jared is curious; Jensen makes him feel this way. However, right now there are just too many people around -big, aggressive, macho types, so he lets the thought of risk fade, but Jared still stares, still touches.
Jensen stands stiff, rigidly silent. His lips hang askew as if he's waiting for his brain to send the signal to his mouth to speak only there is a disconnection. When he’s nervous, he gets this way. Jensen is always kind of shy and soft spoken, but when he’s nervous -like he is now, he’s as quiet as a church mouse on Easter Sunday and as tense as a pulled muscle.
Mentally, Jared chastises himself: stupid, stupid, stupid. With an uneasy grin he takes his hand off of Jensen’s shoulder and turns away, waiting silently for the line to thin out.
* * *
On a Tuesday they overshoot watching throughout the day as the sky unfurls from gold, blue-magenta and purple before the blue-black of night settles in. It’s February and the snow falls hard, fast and severe, six inches by the time shooting wraps just after midnight.
For some reason that remains to be explained, they live at different hotels -Jared’s forty-five minutes away, and Jensen’s an hour if the traffic is clear. The roads are bad tonight and their driver curses under his breath, says things like ‘...gonna take two fucking hours to get through this shit...’ and ‘...don’t cha know we haven’t had it this god damn bad is nearly five years?’
After fifteen minutes spent slowly trudging through the slippery, icy white mess, Jensen drifts off into a state of slumber, his head resting against the window, lips parted in a languidly slack fashion. Jared watches him -mostly because he’s unable to fall asleep, but he’s also enchanted, romanced by the sight. Jensen looks so peaceful, so at rest.
Jared tells the driver not to bother going to Jensen’s hotel. No use being out in the storm longer than necessary. He shakes Jensen awake, asks if he’s cool with crashing at his place. With a grunt and dismissive hand wave Jensen agrees, more interested in sleep itself than where he’ll actually be getting it.
It takes them an hour and a half to reach Jared’s hotel. Jensen is like a zombie as they ride up the elevator. Twice Jared has to call out his name to wake him, shake him by the elbow to get him to walk without aide.
Jared has a king-sized bed in his room. There’s a sofa that sits in the corner facing the big screen televison set and he assumes that Jensen will sleep there. It’s big enough to sit three people and it’s comfortable, but Jensen doesn’t even glance in its direction. He goes straight towards the bed, is quiet as he kicks off his shoes. He’s out of his jeans in only a second, but keeps his T-shirt on. The blue parka and black hooded sweatshirt having long been cast to the floor as he crawls against the sheets.
"You’re sleeping there?" Jared asks only after the fact.
"Where else would I sleep?" Jensen answers back shortly, his eyes closed pulling a pillow to his chest.
The bed can easily fit them both and there is no use turning nothing into something.
Jared strips. Usually he sleeps in the suit of his birth, but given the present circumstances he keeps his boxers on only removing his shirt before slipping silently between the sheets, pulling the down comforter across his long, lean body.
He inhales. He exhales. He falls asleep.
It’s sometime later in the night -that technically is a morning, that Jared feels an arm curl around him. He forgets for a moment where he’s at and who he is with. All he knows is that there is a warm body beside him and an arm stretched across his stomach, the other pressing under his back. A leg wedges itself between his; a light dusting of hair tickles his calf and then he remembers who is in his bed.
"Jensen," Jared whispers."You up?"
"Nghh..." Jensen groans pulling him closer.
"Dude, you’re cuddling me," Jared almost wants to laugh. "Get up."
"Sleeping Jare, sleeping...." Jensen trails off his voice thick with sleep as he nestles his cheek on Jared’s shoulder mumbling something about being cold.
Jared thinks about pushing him away, but that thought is fleeting. He can smell Jensen’s hair, practically taste the peach shampoo and sweat on his tongue. He closes his eyes instead and falls back asleep to the feeling of Jensen breathing on his neck.
* * *
On a Wednesday morning, mistakes are made. Jensen wakes up first, the sound of him singing in the shower is what finally causes Jared to stir. He’s slow to move, stretches while still lying down and yawns. It’s when he sees the time on the clock that he springs out of the bed like the devil himself has just jumped up and bit him on the ass.
"Jensen, dude, we’re gonna be late," he yells. "Hurry up so I can take a shower! I can’t believe I didn’t get my wake-up call!"
"You did," Jensen yells back. " No work today, storms too bad -set’s closed!"
"Wait, so we have the day off?" Jared smiles already making his way back over to the bed.
"Don’t get too happy. Today we can play, but tomorrow just means extra work."
"Oh god, thanks for reminding me of that!"
Jared makes himself comfortable laying his head down on the soft cotton pillow intent to get at least another four hours of rest when Jensen comes out of the bathroom, water and soap glistening off his skin, a white towel wrapped tightly around his waist.
"You sleep," he asks to which Jared’s only response is a grunt. "Come on, let’s go do something."
"We’re snowed in." Jared groans pulling the pillow over his head.
"So, let’s find something to do inside the hotel. We never get a day off in the middle of the week. I’m sure we can find something."
"Later...sleep....must....now...."
"Oh come on," Jensen sighs pulling the blanket off of him. "Get up!"
"I wanna sleep!"
"No," Jensen laughs. "Up! Now!"
"Would you stop that! Why are you so awake anyway? You’re SO not a morning person."
"Well I am today. Get up!"
"Dick!" Jared groans begrudgingly jumping out of the bed to retrieve his blanket. Jensen is quick, ready for war and pulls it out of Jared’s reach. The comforter is huge and Jared grabs it from another angle, gives it one hard tug sending Jensen crashing into him, the force making Jared stumble, trip over his feet and fall back pulling both Jensen and the comforter with him.
There’s startled laughter at first as they struggle to untangle themselves. The blanket is wrapped around Jensen’s legs and one of Jared’s arms, pinning him. They laugh harder realizing how ridiculous they must look and it doesn’t occur to either of them until Jensen shifts his weight to stand that through loose cotton and terrycloth their cocks touch. Jensen can feel Jared’s very unfamiliar pressure pushing against his thigh. The good-natured laughter stops.
The air becomes thick, thick like velvet curtains and tight like cramped spaces.
Skin-to-skin their stomachs touch. Jensen’s body is clean-soaped slick. His hair still wet, water drips down the sides of his face. Jared stares, his blue-brown eyes intense and focused on Jensen’s mouth, waiting for him say something, to break the tenseness of the moment.
Jensen exhales, his breath washing across Jared’s face, bathing him with cool mint. He shifts, arches his back and lifts his body. Their cocks press harder, pulled flesh to pulled flesh and Jared gasps, finds himself holding his breath. With his lips parted, Jensen tilts his head and presses his mouth to Jared’s. He kisses him with a tender caution.
Jared’s stone stuck in surprise, feels Jensen’s mouth on his, but can’t quite compute that he’s actually being kissed until he feels a warm tongue slither past his lips signifying that this moment is real. He’s too stunned to reach up and rest his hand along the flexing curve of Jensen’s spine, but he imagines that if he were more coherent, he would. He would trace his fingertips across the vertebra, count each and every single bone, but all he can manage to do is gasp. He doesn’t mean to bite Jensen’s tongue, but he does and Jensen grunts, pulls away, his face flushed a violent shade of red. He takes Jared’s happenstance for rejection and fumbles to stand, his hands clenching tightly to his towel.
He stutters an apology before practically running into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and leaving Jared alone stuck for words and stuck inside the comforter.
* * *
On a Thursday something else happens. The morning before hangs darkly above their heads like a rain cloud. All the things unspoken have remained just that. Jared tries to talk to Jensen, attempts to explain that he’s not upset, but Jensen goes out of his way to ignore him and makes it painfully obvious with resistive grunts and sharp rolls of the eyes that he doesn’t want to hear, think or speak about it. This goes on for hours until they break for lunch and Jared manages to corner Jensen at the condiments’ table.
"We gotta talk."
"No we don’t." Jensen doesn’t look at Jared while he speaks.
"Yes we do," Jared grunts. He’s trying to maintain some sense of composure, but he’s growing impatient and eager to settle the situation before it starts to fester.
"No we don’t! I made a mistake. End of it. Just let it go. I mean it dude, just let it go!" Jensen hisses grabbing a bottle of ketchup and pushing past him.
For once, Jared will listen and he makes no move to follow him.
* * *
On a Friday night Jared decides that it’s really bad to want to kiss your co-star, but even worse to want to sleep with them. The number one rule in show business -coming even before sleeping with your director, is sleeping with your co-star. It’s a bad idea. Really bad because those kind of relationships rarely last and when they end -which more than likely they do, they end badly. Still, despite knowing this, Jared finds himself hopping into a cab and heading to Jensen’s hotel. It’s not very late, barely after nine and he knows Jensen is there or at least he hopes he will be.
Jensen’s hotel has a lot of security. Jared has fans who love him, but Jensen down right has stalkers who show up wearing wedding rings and convince themselves that if they can get Jensen to somehow touch them he will fall madly in love and marriage will soon follow. People are delusional -psychotic, so as per Jensen’s request, all visitors have to wait down in the lobby for him to come down and personally escort them back up to his room.
Jensen’s not very happy see him. In fact, Jensen is annoyed and doesn’t try to hide this fact.
"Dude, what are you doing here?"
"I wanna talk about the other day."
"Just leave it alone," he grunts. "I mean it Jared, it’s already embarrassing enough and I DON’T wanna think about it let alone talk about it!"
"There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! I’m serious! Look, we can stay out here arguing all god damn night where anyone can hear us or we can go upstairs and argue there either way, you’re gonna listen to what I gotta say! It’s your choice."
Jensen throws his hands up in resign, grunting as he storms away leaving Jared to follow him into the elevator.
"I’m not mad." Jared says cooly watching as the floor level sign for the third floor lights up. The doors open and Jensen remains quiet as he walks out. " I said I’m not mad that you...ya know...the kiss."
"I heard you." Jensen says coldly and Jared cringes. He cringes because Jensen is never cold -never. He’s never harsh, even when he’s angry he still manages to somehow seem even-tempered so to hear coldness in his voice makes Jared fall uneasy.
"What’s up with you?"
Jensen stays quiet as he swipes the key decoder card unlocking the door. They walk into the room. Jared thinks it smells like coconuts and Jensen’s tangy aftershave, but he doesn’t tell him that.
Now that he has him alone, he’s not sure how to do it. He had a plan, but now he’s not sure how and where to start. Jared’s mama always tells him that he over thinks things and while every now and again that’s not always a bad thing, more times than not it is. So Jared stops thinking and pulls Jensen by the collar of his cheap ‘stolen from wardrobe’ black button up shirt surprising him. He doesn’t slam him up against a wall, he pulls Jensen close to his chest until he can feel his heart beating through his shirt
"Last time I just wasn’t ready," he says firmly.
Jared is aware of the fact that he is holding his breath as he presses his mouth to Jensen’s. He will hold his breath until Jensen parts his lips. He will hold his breath until he feels the rough velvet of Jensen’s tongue sliding against his and he will hold his breath until Jensen stops holding his.
It takes two seconds to breath again and three seconds for Jensen to rest his hands at Jared’s waist.
* * *
On a Saturday morning that could still be considered a Friday night, Jensen jerks Jared off. It’s accidental, really. He’s just reaching for the remote -really, and instead grabs Jared’s cock. Jared is asleep at first, his long legs stretched out on the bed like tree trunks and when he feels the pressure on his dick he stirs.
"Hi," he says with a smirk. "What a wake-up call."
Jensen smiles back, presses his palm down, feels the soft, pliable flesh of Jared’s cock move under his fingertips. He’s unsure of himself as he slinks his hand down into Jared’s shorts. The heat isn’t very surprising, but the size is. Jared is huge, hung like a rodeo horse.
Jensen’s twinkling green eyes widen. "That ain’t never going inside of me," he laughs.
"I could talk you into it if I wanted to." Jared grins turning on his side facing him.
"Is that arrogance or confidence?" Jensen teases tightening his fist, stroking upwards.
"You know I could."Jared whimpers, closing his eyes as he feels the pressure of Jensen’s hand sliding up his cock. Thinking it’s only fair to return the favor he eagerly tugs at Jensen’s boxers ready for mutual, intimate exploration.
Jensen stares down at Jared's searching hand, mouth curled into a nervous, unsure grin. "We’re really about to do this, aren’t we?"
Jared’s smile and clenching fist provides the answer. He moves closer, wedges his arm under Jensen’s back. His fingertips stroke the bare skin, tracing circles and lines, counting the bones along his spine.
He gets to eight before he stops thinking and loses count against Jensen’s mouth.
* * *
Sunday is a day for rest and relaxation. They spend the entire morning and most of the afternoon laying in Jensen’s bed watching horrible Canadian public cable-access television. There’s a fuzzy eighth grade stage production of ‘Our Town’ on.
It’s pretty boring. Good to cuddle up and fall asleep to.
/FIN
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