Mid-Afternoon Sun on Texas Sky (17/?)
Title: Mid-Afternoon Sun on Texas Sky
Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
This is a sequel to the previously ‘neverending story’, Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky. It finally ended.
Summary: Jensen and Jared go back to Texas for Christmas. Their relationship deepens and they take the next step… pr0n!
Spoilers: none to speak of
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Chapter Seventeen: Turnabout
Rating: Hard R/NC-17 for non-graphic sexual contact, m/m kissing, adult content, subject matter
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 2,445
Chapter Seventeen: Turnabout
Jared reaches blindly for me, groping with a hand, touching first my knee, fingers sliding up my leg to my waist before I catch his hand in mine, hold it between both of mine. His fingers are cold. I warm them.
He lets me draw him back, tug him across the cushions until he’s settled, back to my chest, wrapped in my arms with his head on my shoulder. I can and do easily reach beneath the hem of his shirt, slide my hands along the material of his pants until my fingertips brush bare skin. I feel him flinch, feel his abs tighten at the touch, but he takes a breath, relaxes against me.
I don’t go for the scars this time, instead, I avoid them, slide my fingers along clean, smooth, unmarred flesh, pushing his shirt up with the movement of my hands until I can feel his nipples against the pads of my fingers. He moves his head from side to side as I brush my fingers across his nipples, sight unseen, first a slow movement across, then up and down, until they harden enough for me to pinch between thumb and forefinger. He whimpers when I pinch, when the pressure of my touch increases to a point beyond gentle, and his back arches up from my chest.
His lips turn into my neck, warm and wet, and he latches on with his teeth, not hard, just enough so I know he’ll leave a mark. He mumbles something that could be my name as I move my hands from his chest to his waist, sliding my hands beneath the beltline of his pants, below the elastic waist of his boxers, tracing fingertips along the top of his line of pubic hair, tickling, pressing, tugging until he opens his mouth to make a sound that’s unintelligible, releasing my throat in the process.
I move fast, somehow managing in two fast movements, to strip Jared of his shirt, and to get him face-down on the couch with me on top of him without hurting either of us. Jared grunts when his own elbow falls into his midsection, but that’s the most of the injuries between us, meaning I must have done something right.
Jared wriggles around underneath me until he’s on his back, and we’re pressed chest-to-chest. I can feel him breathe even without my hands pressing to his bare chest. His nipples are reddened and slightly swollen against the pale peach of his skin, and he twitches when I swipe my tongue over one, then the other.
I swirl my tongue around one, press my lips to the skin and gently suck it between my teeth, biting lightly as I continue to tease it with my tongue. I give the other nipple the same treatment, flick each with my finger when I’m done, which earns me a cry from Jared as he sucks in a breath.
He slides his hands up my hips, grips the hems of my two shirts and pulls. “You’re still fully dressed…” He says when I look at him with a question in my eyes.
I help him in getting my shirts off, toss them to the floor on top of Jared’s discarded clothing. He lets me unbutton and unzip his jeans, slide my hand inside to rest my palm against the soft cotton of his boxers, over the hard heat of his cock. He’s only half erect, pushing against my hand, and I can feel the throbbing heat of him, the dampness of his pre-come soaking into the cotton undergarment.
My own cock fills my jeans uncomfortably, pressing against the fly, the zipper, and I’m sure Jared can feel my body’s interest in the proceedings seeing as my groin is settled against his hip and thigh. But this is about him right now, not me.
His fingers have found my nipples, and are kneading them gently. It’s arousing, feels nice, but my nipples aren’t quite as sensitive as Jared’s. Jared’s are still reddened and swollen, and the mere brushing of my fingertips over them causes him to whimper and writhe beneath me on the couch. He lifts his head from the armrest, drags his tongue from my collarbone to my throat and up to my jaw, over the curve of my chin until his tongue presses against my lips, seeking entrance to my mouth.
I let him press his tongue inside, lock our lips together as I slide my hand from his pants, bring myself down atop him and swallow his breath when he shifts and gasps as my weight comes down on his sensitized chest.
He grunts into my mouth after a time, as my hands are stroking down his sides, sliding into his pants once again. “Stop…” He murmurs into my mouth.
I do, immediately. My hands slide easily out of the waistband of his pants, up his chest, to his shoulders. His hands come to my hips, rest at the edge of the material of my pants, half on the material, half on my skin.
“Jare?” I ask, reaching up with one hand to push hair from his face.
“Just… just give me a minute.” He whispers, breathing heavily, consciously swallowing nervousness and calming himself. He brings a hand to my hair, fingers gliding through closely shorn locks. My fingers tangle in longer, unkempt silken curls, pull and smooth.
“Jare… tell me…” I whisper, shifting skin to skin against him, drawing another groan from him when I move over his nipples.
He nods, lifts his arms and drapes them across my back loosely. I lower one hand to his hip, leave the other in his hair as he rolls, moving us both to our sides on the couch.
“At the game…” He starts slowly. “…when I went to the bathroom.” He slides one leg between mine, nudging the aching bulge at my crotch with his thigh, moves until we’re pressed closely together, then shifts, inches closer and closer, as if he can’t get close enough to me.
I look at him questioningly, and he turns a light shade of pink, his fingers tap nervously at the skin on my back, path a drumbeat to my hip before he murmurs, “…just… want to be close to you, Jen… …I feel safe with you…”
I slide my hand from his hip to his back, and as I squeeze, I can feel him relax just slightly, settle into me. I don’t have words to answer him, and it seems to be okay, because the words are just spilling from his mouth now.
“They were there… not all of them… I mean… two of them. And they couldn’t do anything… not in the bathroom at the game… not physically to hurt me at least…”
My arms tighten, my fingers jerk in his hair and he whimpers, a small, “Jens…” at the pain. I consciously release my grip and touch my lips to his hair instead, in a gentle kiss. His forehead moves against my chest, and his shoulders tremble. “They just… talked to me. Not… I didn’t say anything. They talked…”
“Those bastards…” I whisper. I should be comforting Jared right now, but all I can think of is how much I hate them, those people who did this to him. Was it not bad enough that they… beat him, hurt him, sodomized him and left him for dead? Put him in a coma and in the hospital for a week? They had to come back and scare him again? When he’s been doing so well at therapy, when he’s just been starting to really accept and let go of what happened? They had to do this to him? I force some semblance of calm into my voice, not wanting to scare Jared. “What did they say to you?”
His shoulders shift, and I feel him shrugging in my arms. He shakes his head and his hands lift helplessly several times before settling again on my body. “The same old… what they said before… just… again. And…just…” He pauses uncertainly for a minute. “…I don’t really remember word for word…”
He’s lying. He knows exactly what they said. It replays in his mind, in his dreams. I know, because his sleep’s been more disturbed recently than it usually is. He’s just trying to forget, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt so much.
I don’t press though, just hold him, and for a long time, we’re both silent and still.
The stillness is broken when Jared’s whole body trembles, and his shoulders shake. The silence is broken moments later, with a shuddering breath and a whispered “…I’m so sorry, Jenny…”
I push away from him just enough to be able to take his chin in hand, tilt his head up until I can look at him. “Jare… what are you apologizing for?”
There are tears streaked down his face, his eyes are swollen and red, he looks like he’s been crying for hours. And the expression in his eyes… my heart feels like it’s left my chest. I can’t breathe. There’s hope, but the fear and the pain and the uncertainty and just… everything… is right. there.
His lips are slick with sweat and tears and saliva. He looks down before raising those shining eyes back to mine. “Just… for all of this… I know… I’m sorry, Jen… I’m sorry…”
I can’t think of what to do to make this better. I can’t make it better. And that hurts more than anything. That Jared feels safe with me, that he trusts me… and that despite that, there’s still nothing I can do to take this away from him. There’s nothing I can do to take that lost look out of his eyes. I can’t make it better for him.
I just hold him, as tight and as close as he’ll let me, pet his hair and run my other hand up and down the length of his spine as he shakes. It seems this is all I can ever do for him, comfort him, hold him… cry when he cries. He’s hurting so much.
I want to kill those bastards. For doing what they did in the first place, and then for whatever they said or did to him at the game, taking away what confidence he’d rebuilt for himself.
I could say I should have gone with him, but how was I to know? And I can’t be with him every hour of every day to make sure he’s okay, to make sure he’s safe. I can’t protect him from everything. I can’t even protect him from his past, from his nightmares now. I feel helpless like I’ve never felt before.
“Jare…” I whisper his name, over and over, until it’s a prayer from my lips.
He reaches his arms around my neck, around me, holding on desperately. He’s still shaking. “I’m sorry, Jenny…”
“Shhh…” I whisper into his hair. “…what for, Jare… what for?”
“I’m… a burden to you… I’m… just...” He shrugs, something I feel more than see, a slower, more deliberate and controlled up and down of his shoulders than the trembling I’ve become accustomed to. “…I’m not… I’m sorry, Jenny… I know you don’t… don’t want this… shouldn’t have to put up with me…” His lips are warm, wet, his words are hot breath against the skin of my neck.
“No, Jared.” I again take his chin, force him to look at me. “You are not a burden, okay? You’re not. And I don’t want to hear you say that again, okay? Don’t say it, don’t think it…” I dip my head to kiss him, I can taste the salt of his tears on his lips, swear I can taste pain and fear in his mouth. “I choose to be here with you… understand? I want to be here… and it’s okay to need someone, Jare… We all do sometimes.”
“I need… you.” He whispers.
“I’m here.” I tell him, simply.
“You might leave.” He sounds like he believes it. Like he believes I’ll turn away from him now, leave him when he needs me. He can’t be more wrong, and I wonder what would ever make him think that way.
“Not leaving you, Jare… I’m staying right here with you. Got me?”
He nods weakly, but there’s a look in his eye that says he doesn’t believe me, that he’s accepting my words, that he wants to believe them, but he doesn’t.
“Trust me, Jare…” I kiss him again, gently. “Please trust me. I’m not leaving you.”
He nods again, but doesn’t seem any closer to believing me than he did before. He untangles himself from me, and stands up. He blushes. “Bathroom…” He whispers, before quickly disappearing into the bedroom.
I shake my head, and get up, gather our shirts from the floor and go into the bedroom behind him, shivering slightly, not used to the cool air after being curled up so close to Jared for the last hour or so.
It’s getting close to dinnertime. Jared’s mom has some big dinner planned for our last night here, just the family and me, so nothing quite like Christmas dinner, but big nonetheless I hear. I sit at the edge of the bed. I was hoping to really work through some things with Jared today… at least have him really talk to me, tell me what happened, but time is running out. I know we’ll be able to talk while on the road tomorrow, but the car isn’t the place to really have the type of conversation that Jared and I need to.
Jared emerges from the bathroom, sits next to me on the bed. “You didn’t have to move.” He says quietly.
I shrug. “Yeah… we only have an hour or so until dinner…” I offer. Then, more truthfully, “…and it was cold without you there.” But I’m grinning when I say it.
He smiles, and raises his eyebrows at me. “We could…”
“Jare…”
He moves fast to straddle my legs, knees resting on the edge of the bed and sitting on my knees. He pushes on my shoulders, pushing me to the bed. “Come on, Jen…”
I shove hard against one of his shoulders, rolling into the movement, taking him around and under me, resting my hands on his shoulders and holding him. I kiss him, and when I draw away, look him in the eye. “I want to touch you, Jared. This time… I want to touch… Let me?”
Uncertainty and fear flicker in his eyes, and his body trembles beneath mine, but he nods, quietly acquiescing. “...O…o…okay.” He stutters.
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Characters/Pairing: Jensen Ackles / Jared Padalecki
POV: Jensen Ackles
Author's Notes: It’s fiction. That means it’s not real, folks. Jensen and Jared are real people. So is Eric Kripke. The show “Supernatural” is a real TV show on the WB11. If anything else in this is real, I wasn’t aware of it.
This is a sequel to the previously ‘neverending story’, Early Mornings and Late Nights Under Overcast Sky. It finally ended.
Summary: Jensen and Jared go back to Texas for Christmas. Their relationship deepens and they take the next step… pr0n!
Spoilers: none to speak of
-------------------------
Chapter Seventeen: Turnabout
Rating: Hard R/NC-17 for non-graphic sexual contact, m/m kissing, adult content, subject matter
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Word Count: 2,445
Chapter Seventeen: Turnabout
Jared reaches blindly for me, groping with a hand, touching first my knee, fingers sliding up my leg to my waist before I catch his hand in mine, hold it between both of mine. His fingers are cold. I warm them.
He lets me draw him back, tug him across the cushions until he’s settled, back to my chest, wrapped in my arms with his head on my shoulder. I can and do easily reach beneath the hem of his shirt, slide my hands along the material of his pants until my fingertips brush bare skin. I feel him flinch, feel his abs tighten at the touch, but he takes a breath, relaxes against me.
I don’t go for the scars this time, instead, I avoid them, slide my fingers along clean, smooth, unmarred flesh, pushing his shirt up with the movement of my hands until I can feel his nipples against the pads of my fingers. He moves his head from side to side as I brush my fingers across his nipples, sight unseen, first a slow movement across, then up and down, until they harden enough for me to pinch between thumb and forefinger. He whimpers when I pinch, when the pressure of my touch increases to a point beyond gentle, and his back arches up from my chest.
His lips turn into my neck, warm and wet, and he latches on with his teeth, not hard, just enough so I know he’ll leave a mark. He mumbles something that could be my name as I move my hands from his chest to his waist, sliding my hands beneath the beltline of his pants, below the elastic waist of his boxers, tracing fingertips along the top of his line of pubic hair, tickling, pressing, tugging until he opens his mouth to make a sound that’s unintelligible, releasing my throat in the process.
I move fast, somehow managing in two fast movements, to strip Jared of his shirt, and to get him face-down on the couch with me on top of him without hurting either of us. Jared grunts when his own elbow falls into his midsection, but that’s the most of the injuries between us, meaning I must have done something right.
Jared wriggles around underneath me until he’s on his back, and we’re pressed chest-to-chest. I can feel him breathe even without my hands pressing to his bare chest. His nipples are reddened and slightly swollen against the pale peach of his skin, and he twitches when I swipe my tongue over one, then the other.
I swirl my tongue around one, press my lips to the skin and gently suck it between my teeth, biting lightly as I continue to tease it with my tongue. I give the other nipple the same treatment, flick each with my finger when I’m done, which earns me a cry from Jared as he sucks in a breath.
He slides his hands up my hips, grips the hems of my two shirts and pulls. “You’re still fully dressed…” He says when I look at him with a question in my eyes.
I help him in getting my shirts off, toss them to the floor on top of Jared’s discarded clothing. He lets me unbutton and unzip his jeans, slide my hand inside to rest my palm against the soft cotton of his boxers, over the hard heat of his cock. He’s only half erect, pushing against my hand, and I can feel the throbbing heat of him, the dampness of his pre-come soaking into the cotton undergarment.
My own cock fills my jeans uncomfortably, pressing against the fly, the zipper, and I’m sure Jared can feel my body’s interest in the proceedings seeing as my groin is settled against his hip and thigh. But this is about him right now, not me.
His fingers have found my nipples, and are kneading them gently. It’s arousing, feels nice, but my nipples aren’t quite as sensitive as Jared’s. Jared’s are still reddened and swollen, and the mere brushing of my fingertips over them causes him to whimper and writhe beneath me on the couch. He lifts his head from the armrest, drags his tongue from my collarbone to my throat and up to my jaw, over the curve of my chin until his tongue presses against my lips, seeking entrance to my mouth.
I let him press his tongue inside, lock our lips together as I slide my hand from his pants, bring myself down atop him and swallow his breath when he shifts and gasps as my weight comes down on his sensitized chest.
He grunts into my mouth after a time, as my hands are stroking down his sides, sliding into his pants once again. “Stop…” He murmurs into my mouth.
I do, immediately. My hands slide easily out of the waistband of his pants, up his chest, to his shoulders. His hands come to my hips, rest at the edge of the material of my pants, half on the material, half on my skin.
“Jare?” I ask, reaching up with one hand to push hair from his face.
“Just… just give me a minute.” He whispers, breathing heavily, consciously swallowing nervousness and calming himself. He brings a hand to my hair, fingers gliding through closely shorn locks. My fingers tangle in longer, unkempt silken curls, pull and smooth.
“Jare… tell me…” I whisper, shifting skin to skin against him, drawing another groan from him when I move over his nipples.
He nods, lifts his arms and drapes them across my back loosely. I lower one hand to his hip, leave the other in his hair as he rolls, moving us both to our sides on the couch.
“At the game…” He starts slowly. “…when I went to the bathroom.” He slides one leg between mine, nudging the aching bulge at my crotch with his thigh, moves until we’re pressed closely together, then shifts, inches closer and closer, as if he can’t get close enough to me.
I look at him questioningly, and he turns a light shade of pink, his fingers tap nervously at the skin on my back, path a drumbeat to my hip before he murmurs, “…just… want to be close to you, Jen… …I feel safe with you…”
I slide my hand from his hip to his back, and as I squeeze, I can feel him relax just slightly, settle into me. I don’t have words to answer him, and it seems to be okay, because the words are just spilling from his mouth now.
“They were there… not all of them… I mean… two of them. And they couldn’t do anything… not in the bathroom at the game… not physically to hurt me at least…”
My arms tighten, my fingers jerk in his hair and he whimpers, a small, “Jens…” at the pain. I consciously release my grip and touch my lips to his hair instead, in a gentle kiss. His forehead moves against my chest, and his shoulders tremble. “They just… talked to me. Not… I didn’t say anything. They talked…”
“Those bastards…” I whisper. I should be comforting Jared right now, but all I can think of is how much I hate them, those people who did this to him. Was it not bad enough that they… beat him, hurt him, sodomized him and left him for dead? Put him in a coma and in the hospital for a week? They had to come back and scare him again? When he’s been doing so well at therapy, when he’s just been starting to really accept and let go of what happened? They had to do this to him? I force some semblance of calm into my voice, not wanting to scare Jared. “What did they say to you?”
His shoulders shift, and I feel him shrugging in my arms. He shakes his head and his hands lift helplessly several times before settling again on my body. “The same old… what they said before… just… again. And…just…” He pauses uncertainly for a minute. “…I don’t really remember word for word…”
He’s lying. He knows exactly what they said. It replays in his mind, in his dreams. I know, because his sleep’s been more disturbed recently than it usually is. He’s just trying to forget, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt so much.
I don’t press though, just hold him, and for a long time, we’re both silent and still.
The stillness is broken when Jared’s whole body trembles, and his shoulders shake. The silence is broken moments later, with a shuddering breath and a whispered “…I’m so sorry, Jenny…”
I push away from him just enough to be able to take his chin in hand, tilt his head up until I can look at him. “Jare… what are you apologizing for?”
There are tears streaked down his face, his eyes are swollen and red, he looks like he’s been crying for hours. And the expression in his eyes… my heart feels like it’s left my chest. I can’t breathe. There’s hope, but the fear and the pain and the uncertainty and just… everything… is right. there.
His lips are slick with sweat and tears and saliva. He looks down before raising those shining eyes back to mine. “Just… for all of this… I know… I’m sorry, Jen… I’m sorry…”
I can’t think of what to do to make this better. I can’t make it better. And that hurts more than anything. That Jared feels safe with me, that he trusts me… and that despite that, there’s still nothing I can do to take this away from him. There’s nothing I can do to take that lost look out of his eyes. I can’t make it better for him.
I just hold him, as tight and as close as he’ll let me, pet his hair and run my other hand up and down the length of his spine as he shakes. It seems this is all I can ever do for him, comfort him, hold him… cry when he cries. He’s hurting so much.
I want to kill those bastards. For doing what they did in the first place, and then for whatever they said or did to him at the game, taking away what confidence he’d rebuilt for himself.
I could say I should have gone with him, but how was I to know? And I can’t be with him every hour of every day to make sure he’s okay, to make sure he’s safe. I can’t protect him from everything. I can’t even protect him from his past, from his nightmares now. I feel helpless like I’ve never felt before.
“Jare…” I whisper his name, over and over, until it’s a prayer from my lips.
He reaches his arms around my neck, around me, holding on desperately. He’s still shaking. “I’m sorry, Jenny…”
“Shhh…” I whisper into his hair. “…what for, Jare… what for?”
“I’m… a burden to you… I’m… just...” He shrugs, something I feel more than see, a slower, more deliberate and controlled up and down of his shoulders than the trembling I’ve become accustomed to. “…I’m not… I’m sorry, Jenny… I know you don’t… don’t want this… shouldn’t have to put up with me…” His lips are warm, wet, his words are hot breath against the skin of my neck.
“No, Jared.” I again take his chin, force him to look at me. “You are not a burden, okay? You’re not. And I don’t want to hear you say that again, okay? Don’t say it, don’t think it…” I dip my head to kiss him, I can taste the salt of his tears on his lips, swear I can taste pain and fear in his mouth. “I choose to be here with you… understand? I want to be here… and it’s okay to need someone, Jare… We all do sometimes.”
“I need… you.” He whispers.
“I’m here.” I tell him, simply.
“You might leave.” He sounds like he believes it. Like he believes I’ll turn away from him now, leave him when he needs me. He can’t be more wrong, and I wonder what would ever make him think that way.
“Not leaving you, Jare… I’m staying right here with you. Got me?”
He nods weakly, but there’s a look in his eye that says he doesn’t believe me, that he’s accepting my words, that he wants to believe them, but he doesn’t.
“Trust me, Jare…” I kiss him again, gently. “Please trust me. I’m not leaving you.”
He nods again, but doesn’t seem any closer to believing me than he did before. He untangles himself from me, and stands up. He blushes. “Bathroom…” He whispers, before quickly disappearing into the bedroom.
I shake my head, and get up, gather our shirts from the floor and go into the bedroom behind him, shivering slightly, not used to the cool air after being curled up so close to Jared for the last hour or so.
It’s getting close to dinnertime. Jared’s mom has some big dinner planned for our last night here, just the family and me, so nothing quite like Christmas dinner, but big nonetheless I hear. I sit at the edge of the bed. I was hoping to really work through some things with Jared today… at least have him really talk to me, tell me what happened, but time is running out. I know we’ll be able to talk while on the road tomorrow, but the car isn’t the place to really have the type of conversation that Jared and I need to.
Jared emerges from the bathroom, sits next to me on the bed. “You didn’t have to move.” He says quietly.
I shrug. “Yeah… we only have an hour or so until dinner…” I offer. Then, more truthfully, “…and it was cold without you there.” But I’m grinning when I say it.
He smiles, and raises his eyebrows at me. “We could…”
“Jare…”
He moves fast to straddle my legs, knees resting on the edge of the bed and sitting on my knees. He pushes on my shoulders, pushing me to the bed. “Come on, Jen…”
I shove hard against one of his shoulders, rolling into the movement, taking him around and under me, resting my hands on his shoulders and holding him. I kiss him, and when I draw away, look him in the eye. “I want to touch you, Jared. This time… I want to touch… Let me?”
Uncertainty and fear flicker in his eyes, and his body trembles beneath mine, but he nods, quietly acquiescing. “...O…o…okay.” He stutters.
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