"You may feel a slight prick..." - Jared/Jensen NC-17
Title - “You may feel a slight prick…”
Author - queerly_it_is
Pairing - Jared/Jensen
Rating - NC-17 (like whoa)
Word Count - 2.8k
Warnings - Total kink-fest (Porn-With-Plot); medical examination, kinda-sorta-dubcon (not by the end though), use of a speculum, use of stirrups, sounding, dirty talk (no, seriously), slight comeplay, bottomingfromthetop!Jensen
Disclaimer - I own nothing. Real people have nothing to do with the shadows they’ve leant their images to here.
Summary - Fill for a medical!kink blindfold prompt. Jared has to get a physical, Dr. Ackles' examination methods are a little…unorthodox.
Authors Notes - So somehow while trying to write post!MysterySpot wincest and J2 werewolf/knotting fic; I wound up filling a blindfold prompt that caught my eye. Before I knew it nearly 3k of utter filth was sitting on the screen (honestly, there was porn in the summary), and I had a couple of new kinks. I didn't so much lose my RPF virginity as I did rip it up and throw it out the friggin' window. Apologies for the dreadful title, it popped into my head and just would not go away.
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Jared isn’t a huge fan of doctors.
It’s nothing personal, mind you - his momma raised him better than that - he just doesn’t like the idea of being around people who’re always near sick people.
That probably sounded personal.
It’s the main reason he’s avoided having a physical for some ten-plus years now; the thought of being poked and prodded not exactly appealing. Jared’s an affectionate guy; always going for a hug before a handshake, kiss on the cheek if he doesn’t think it’ll get taken the wrong way. But for all he’s free with the physical stuff, he doesn’t like the idea of being examined.
Sadly, now he’s got no choice.
He has a job offer - a damn good one - and he knows he’d be perfect for it, as do the guys that interviewed him last week, but the company wants to see the results of a physical proving he’s in good health before they hire him.
Jared really needs this job.
So he sits in the too-small plastic chair, in the too-white clinic waiting room, flicking through a four-month-old magazine, just hoping the nurse with the clipboard calls his name before the guy with the red nose and hacking cough turns to ask him the time again.
“Jared Padalecki?”
Seems he’s in luck.
He heaves himself outta the hard, uncomfortable seat, tingle of nerves as blood returns to his ass and upper thighs, and follows the tiny lady in the pink scrubs down the hall.
“Doctor Ackles will be right in, he’s just cleaning up” she says all this with the same have-a-nice-day perkiness that never fails to make him feel awkward, shows him into the exam room, and shuts the door.
With Herculean effort, he resists the urge to play with all the anatomical models scattered on the shelves to his left, oversized plastic eyeball seeming to follow him as he warily scans the STD posters on the wall.
It looks like every other examination room he’s ever been in, slight hint of disinfectant, white walls, light-blue linoleum floor showing the reflection of the fluorescent strip-lighting on the ceiling. Bed-slash-table thing perpendicular to the wall opposite the shelves; paper sheet draped over it, collapsible stirrups lying parallel to both sides. He’s got one hand reaching for a 1:1 scale heart model that looks stupidly small next to his palm when the door clicks and swings open.
“I am so sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. I was just…” The voice trails off, and Jared turns.
He tries not to stare. Pretty sure he fails. Pretty sure the doctor is staring, too.
The doctor is…well, stupidly gorgeous is the first thing that pops into his head.
The guy is tall - not as tall as Jared but it’s closer than ninety-percent of people he’s ever met -, well built; muscle showing clearly even through the long white coat, name tag reading “Dr. J. Ackles” pinned to one side. What really gets Jared though is his face. His eyes are green - the kind you usually see in old glass bottles - framed by long lashes that brush his cheeks, freckles, Jared notes, eyes dropping to probably the most pornographic set of lips he’s ever seen, on a guy or a girl.
“Mr Padalecki?” Dr Gorgeous asks, glancing at his clipboard.
“Jared” he responds on reflex, hand extending; brain not exactly operating right then.
“Nice to meet you Jayred” Texas drawl, and fuck that’s not helping the direction of Jared’s blood flow.
Neither is the fact that once he has Jared’s hand in his, he just kinda holds it, staring at the way Jared’s fingers wrap around his, the way his palm dwarfs the doc’s. The guy’s thumb brushes back-and-forth slightly, and Jared has to repress a small shiver.
“Well, you’re kind of a giant, huh Jayred?” Small smile drawing attention to those lips, what Jared would almost call heat in the doc’s voice. Fuck, he’s losing it.
“OK, so we’ll start with the usual stuff; heart, lungs, tonsils, and then move on to the…other areas.” The guy’s voice changes again, and Jared has to be imagining this.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I mean. That sounds…fine.” His voice actually cracks, something it hasn’t done in the twenty or so years since early puberty, and he just kinda trails off lamely at the end.
“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” Same heat, moss-green eyes flicking to Jared’s crotch.
Jared would kind of like to see a medical licence.
The doc gets Jared seated on the bed, pulls a penlight out of the white coat, shines it in Jared’s eyes, then reaches for a tongue-depressor. His brain kinda blanks-out at the innuendo.
“Open wide for me, Jared” Not even close to a professional tone now, and Jared just kinda mindlessly obeys, mouth falling open - somewhat in surprise - tongue quickly pressed down by the bland-tasting wooden stick.
“Very good, Jared” The doc just sorta sighs the words, and Jared almost says ‘thank you’ before remembering that he can’t talk.
“Okay, take your shirt off for me” tone back to comforting-doctor now, contradicted by the way he licks his lips and his chest rises and falls a little quicker beneath the lab coat.
But the guy’s a doctor, so Jared does as he’s told.
Overshirt unbuttoned and hung on the chair the doc isn’t using, Jared pulls his t-shirt over his head, just sits there with it balled in his hands, not really sure what to do next.
The doc decides for him; takes the shirt from his hands gently, lays it on the seat of the chair, and puts one hand to the centre of Jared’s chest over the pounding beat of his heart, pushes ‘till he gets the idea and lies flat on his back, neck and head raised by the incline at one end of the table.
“Just gonna check you over.” Almost a mutter, like the guy’s talkin’ to himself.
Fingers running from the base of his throat, across the breadth of his shoulders, down over pecs and nipples - breath hitching slightly against his will, twitch of the doctor’s lips again - fanning out over his ribcage on both sides, tips of thumbs dipping into the grooves between his abs, before running down to his hips and stroking the cut of muscle leading to the waistband of his jeans.
“In pretty good shape there, Jayred.” More than an observation, less than a come-on.
“Th…thanks, I work out pretty regular, so.” He shrugs a little, paper sheet crinkling beneath him.
“Well, everything seems fine up here, time to check a little lower.” He’s not even bothering to hide the look in his eyes now. Jared doesn’t know why this is all hitting him so hard.
He pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he lifts his hips, jeans dragged smoothly down his thighs almost immediately, dropped onto the chair to join his shirts.
His face warms when he notices he’s half-hard, probably has been the whole time, briefs not hiding a damn thing.
“S’okay Jared” comforting tone now “happens to a lotta people.”
He’s wondering if that means Dr. Ackles is like this with all his patients, when a big, warm hand presses right against his cock through his briefs. His hips twitch up, involuntary, and the doc’s hand makes a circling motion as blood fills his dick all the way hard. His face gets warmer, slight dampness at the small of his back where he’s sweating, hair sticking to his forehead.
“That’s it, just gotta let it happen Jared.” Doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to let happen, his dick’s getting hard without any input from him, regardless. He makes some kinda noise, feels it vibrate in his throat, no idea what it is.
“Such a big boy, Jayred.” Fuck, hand pressing harder now, fingers closing to squeeze him a little with the words.
“What d’ya say we get these off, huh?” Little snap of elastic as the doc pulls the waistband back and lets it go, the unexpected jolt making his entire body twitch against the bed.
“Hmm, so responsive, that’s good” Again muttering to himself, like he’s taking notes.
Jared wonders if there’s a tape recorder in that lab coat.
Hands again reaching for his waistband, this time pulling his briefs down, tugging them off his ankles, again thrown onto the chair.
“Fuck, Jared, just look at you.” Wonder in the doc’s voice now, and Jared feels his blush spread halfway down his chest.
“Christ the things I wanna do to you…” He trails off, and this is now officially into pay-per-view territory here.
Before he can ask what, specifically, the doc is planning for him, the guy - Jared doesn’t even know his first name, that’s usually a rule before he lets someone fondle his dick - turns to the small desk next to the table, faces back toward Jared with a length of tape measure.
Okay, the guy’s definitely taking notes.
Jared is still completely hard.
The doc holds the end of the tape measure to the base of his dick, flat against his pelvis and runs it - much slower than is probably necessary - to the flared head, where he’s starting to leak a little, cock jumping when the material scrapes against him all the way up to the slit.
“Getting pretty wet there already, Jared” Tape measure abandoned on the desk, the doc flicks the pad of this right thumb over Jared’s slit. He moans, soft and low, and the doc does it again.
The doc pushes his hand against the pump-action bottle mounted to the wall, soft squirt of liquid into his palm, sticky-tacky sound as he rubs his fingers together.
Jared gets the general idea, even before the words “gotta do a prostate exam, just breathe slow and easy, try to relax.” He does his best, still jumping slightly at the slick, slightly-cold touch to skin behind his balls, running down to the rim of his hole.
The doc runs his finger around the edge a few times, muscle slowly relaxing, and his finger slides into Jared to the middle knuckle, making his back arch before the doc’s other hand abandons his cock and presses again on his chest.
He isn’t wearing gloves.
“Easy Jared just gotta check.” No more of an explanation offered, finger working in and out before the tip of a second pushes in, slight burn where he isn’t quite ready for it, abrupt press to his prostate making him whimper and bite his lip, moisture seeping from his slit. Repetitive motion of fingers, steadily fucking into him and making his breath catch.
“Gonna have to check your urethra, I think, all this slick.” Jared doesn’t think doctors usually do that, but that’s par for the course at this point.
He notices he hasn’t protested, even once.
The doc reaches behind him one-handed, fingers still working him open; scissoring and stretching the muscle, he comes back with a black plastic case in his hand, thumbs the clasp open, rustle of packaging and Jared sees a glint of silver before a third finger gets added and he goes blank for a second, too-full and not-full-enough.
When he comes back to himself, three fingers screwing into him, angled just so, the doc is lowering a smooth, tiny metal rod toward his slit. He must make some kinda noise at that, get a shushing breath aimed at him softly, fingers pressing hard against the spot that makes his head swim, and he loses track again.
Then he feels the pressure in his dick, nothing he’s ever felt before, as the rod enters him. Filled from two sides, voice box completely useless, he sucks in air and tries to focus on the sight of gravity pulling the thin metal into his dick before the contractions of the inner muscles push it out again.
The guy’s face is completely focused, breath coming in quick pants, eyes blown black in the rooms harsh lighting.
He doesn’t look like a doctor.
“So perfect, so fucking good for me, Jared” First thing he’s said in a while, rough sound of his voice making Jared twitch, making the rod in his dick twitch. He moans, can’t help it, so fucking full.
“Got something else here for you, think you can take it. Know you can.” He’s pulling the stirrups up now, gently removes the little bit of metal from Jared’s cock, slit flared wide and precome leaking as the tip comes out, sudden relief of pressure making him dizzy.
The doc fits Jared’s legs into the stirrups, fingers slick-sliding out of his ass, Jared feeling suddenly empty, spread out and nothing in him. He whimpers, completely unconsciously, and lifts his hips.
“S’okay Jared, just gotta do this, then I’m gonna fuck myself down on this long, gorgeous cock. Fuck, want it in me so bad Jayred.” Accent thickening, voice dropping, and the thought of the sexy, fucking kinky bastard of an M.D. riding Jared’s dick when he’d so expected to be the one taking it makes it really hard to stay still.
The speculum helps with that.
Soft jangle of metal, and then cold touch to his ass where he’s already open to the air; legs braced apart and hole flexing not quite closed. The sensation of hard, unforgiving metal opening him, reaching where the doc’s fingers weren’t quite long enough, scrape over that sweet spot inside of him.
“That’s it, Jared.” Long sigh of words as the instrument gets all the way in. “Gonna keep you fucked wide and open while I got your cock in me, want to see your face when I spread the speculum as you come, filling me all up.”
Broken strangled moan from his chest, all pretence of not being on-board with this long-since abandoned, Jared tries to get his voice to work after what feels like hours.
“Y..yeah, want you to, God wanna be inside you.” Twitch of hips as the doc lowers his legs, shrugs outta the lab coat and drops his scrub pants.
He’s not wearing underwear.
He climbs on the bed, medical-grade frame easily taking their combined weight, and straddles Jared’s hips. Shuffle of his ass, thighs tensing, and the doc just lowers himself right onto Jared; no pause, no grimace of pain, eyes falling shut, face going slack.
He’s already lubed up.
“Fuuuck yeah, just like that.” Pelvis meeting Jared’s, he lifts up and drops back down, bouncing on Jared’s cock hard enough the handle of the speculum rattles a little. As if reminded, that damn smirk crosses his face again, reaches a hand behind himself, grasps the handle just enough to rub the metal inside Jared against his sweet spot.
“You gonna come, Jared? Gonna fill me up, get me all messy?” Breath coming faster, harder, hips lifting and dropping him, fuck he’s so tight.
“Wanted this the second I saw you, looking so fucking huge in that waiting room chair. Knew you'd feel so amazing all stuffed-up in me. God, come on, get me wet, mark me up. Wanna be fuckin‘ dripping with it.” Hand gripping the speculum again, slow squeeze of the handle, Jared’s inner walls spreading open, and fuck that’s the last straw.
He comes.
Shout muffled by the hand suddenly clamped over his mouth, Jared shoots what is probably the biggest load of his life inside the freaky doctor who's riding him like a pro. Soon as he feels the squelch of come around his cock, making the slide in-and-out so freaking smooth and wet, is when the doc comes all-fucking-over his chest; stomach, hips, a couple shots even making it to his neck.
Fuck.
The next time Jared can focus again, the doc is standing by the bed, wiping come off of him, movements languid and easy.
“Hey.” Weak croak of a voice, ass aching and empty, every limb made of lead.
“Hey, yourself.” Slow drawl, smile softer now, somehow.
“So.” He pauses, tries to think of what to say here “Don’t suppose you make house calls?” Smile as innocent as he can make it, fucked-out as he is right then.
Doc’s smile gets a little wider, he pulls a post-it from the lab coat he’s donned again, lifts Jared’s hand, and places it in his palm.
“Take that” he says, throwing empty packets into the trashcan, straightening the room back up, moving over to the door, hand pausing on the knob as he looks Jared in the eye “and call me in the morning.” Door clicks behind him, faint sound of steps moving down the hall.
Jared looks at his palm, yellow post-it stark against tanned skin, mouth stretching into a wide smile as he sees the string of numbers underneath a single word:
“Jensen”
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