Fic || RPS (Jared/Jensen, Sam/Dean, NC17) || Dude Looks Like a Lady
Title: Dude Looks Like a Lady
Author: technosage
Characters: Jared/Jensen, Sam/Dean, and a short visit from Justin Hartley
Rating: NC-17. Angst, schmoop, blowjobs, fingering, lipstick...it's kinda kinky, yo. :)
Word Count: 3804
Spoilers/Warnings: … Um. Jared and Jensen got cast on Supernatural. I think we all know that. Right? I hope?
Disclaimer: Oh. I wish.
Summary: When Jensen's dressed like a Goth girl, Jared, god help him, can't stop forgetting his lines. A little break in Jared's trailer reveals the problem.
Notes: This is written as an "outtake" from Love in Disguise as if it had been an actual episode, you know, minus the ah, explicit scenes, and plus some more content on the hunt. It's all la_folle_allure and just_katarin's fault for porning at me at midnight.
Mad, mad love and massive squee to my babygirl, Lindsay, for handholding an RPS virgin and making me feel DAMNED pretty with her beta while still managing to make it a better fic. *kisses*
Jared's a laid back guy. Not like Sam, who's completely losing his cool over his brother being handled by a smooth-operating incubus with a thing for fag hags right now.
It's just that make-up has Jensen's pale green hooker eyes outlined in heavy black, and his mouth, Christ, his mouth is obscene. Black lip liner and blood-red lipstick so dark it looks black. Every so often he sips his "beer", and the juxtaposition of pink against black when he licks his lips after wrapping them around the bottle is just too goddamned much.
Especially when Justin sets his hand at Jen's lower back to lead him "out to the dance floor".
Jared's a laid back guy, really he is, but he swears to fucking god, if that blond bastard from Smallville doesn't get his hands off Jensen, he's going to tear them off.
"Jared."
There's a hand in front of his face.
"Padalecki."
It's doing that annoying little wave thing, like when someone's trying to get your attention.
"What?"
The PA attached to the hand shrugs, and Jensen strolls over, smirking.
"See, Jared, there's this thing we do. It's called acting. Well, there's this thing I do that's called acting, and this thing you do that we call acting when we're being generous-"
He shoots Jen an annoyed look, Sam bitchface #16 "You're not even close to as funny as you think you are." "Your point?"
"My point? Carly," Jensen asks over his shoulder to the PA with the hand, "how many times have we shot this scene?"
"Seventeen," comes the amused answer.
"Thanks," Jensen says smoothly, and returns his focus to Jared. "Seventeen, man. The hell? We haven't had to do seventeen retakes of any damned thing since we pulled you off the set of Gilmore Girls. You sick?"
Seventeen? He knew he'd blown his cues a few times, but shit, seventeen? He gives Jensen a hang-dog look, hoping the apology carries through his own black eyeliner and lipstick. "Sorry, man, no. Just…" I can't stop seeing that lipsticked pout around my dick. "Can't seem to focus."
Jensen leans in, all smug smirk and suggestion. "It's my legs, isn't it? Got a thing for fishnets, dontcha, Jay?"
Before Jared can answer, whisper filth across his ear like he really wants to, Jensen's hand's on his chest and he's laughing. "Baby bro's got a thing for Dean's legs," he announces to the entire set.
Across the soundstage, Hartley's laughing, too, and Jared decides he needs to put this scene to bed and get the hell out of here before he says or does something he regrets.
Like sliding his hand up under that skirt Jensen's got on and showing him just which part of his legs he has a thing for.
Or kissing the black-accented smirk off Jensen's way-too-pretty mouth.
* * *
Kripke calls "Action," and Jared swears he's getting his head in the game this time.
He's leaning against a plyboard bar prop, alternately drinking colored water out of a beer bottle and playing with the label, trying not to notice the dry ice steam raising his nipples - it's the chill, not Jensen sitting too close, in a skirt, fishnets and lipstick, prettier than any girl he's ever dated.
Sam's motivation is concern for Dean, and awkward discomfort at the knowledge his brother's going to take it up the ass to kill an incubus. He feels guilty - an almost constant Sam-state these days - that Dean's doing this so he doesn't have to.
The curvy blonde delivering her first Guild lines like a champ - because how hard is it to flirt with Jen? - is named Candace, just like her character. Jen's pulling off interested, though he has fucking no chemistry with women. Then he squeezes Jared's thigh and their gazes lock, brief and far hotter than even the incestuous overtones of this scene call for, and that's Jared's cue.
In Sam-space, he laces his fingers with Dean's, ignoring for now how good it feels to show this simple affection in public, and that fits Sam's motivation, too, always wanting more connection with Dean than Dean's comfortable with. He puts his arm up along the bar, behind Dean's shoulders.
"Sorry, Candace. Maybe some other time," Dean says with a little shrug. "You're not Sam's type."
Jen's line comes out just right, even Jared can hear it. And Candace's wistful smile - as much for the end of her screen debut, he thinks, as for the character situation - clicks right in. "Can't blame a girl for trying, I mean, hell, look at you two." She lifts a shoulder, smiles, then pushes out, "See you around, Deanna," before fading off camera.
It's no sweat to respond in Sam's dry, pissy tone, "The irony of that, on all levels, is staggering."
Dean lifts his beer to his lips, and Jared has to fight down the surge of lust, when those kohl-lined hazel-green eyes go unfocused like they do after Jen's been kissed, to pull concerned-Sam out of his ass. "Hey, Dean, slow down, okay?"
Dean growls, "I know what I'm doing, Sam," and Jared's struggling with Sam's mindset. Luckily the scene calls for him to look awkward about what exactly Dean's doing, so he manages, reminding himself for the seventeenth time that he's supposed to be brother playing bisexual best friend, not jealous boyfriend, when Hartley strolls up.
Sam eyes him up and down, and that's for real. Justin's pretty, nowhere near as pretty as Jen, but it's not a total stretch to act interested - except for how he already wants to put his fist through Justin's teeth. But the scene allows for that, too.
So, when Justin delivers his, "Are you with him?" Jared's got no problem with the bitchfaced 'yes' Sam's supposed to be thinking.
"Him?" Jen sells Deanna's silky laugh so hard it shivers up Jared's spine, then he shakes his head. "I'd screw my own brother first."
"Nice, D. Watch your mouth." This is precisely what Jared's doing when he lifts Sam's beer to his lips, then delivers the second part of line. "Never know when you might get hard up and need me to help you out."
He hit that out of the park, if the slight widening of Justin's eyes - perfectly in character - before he turns up his megawatt smile is any indication. "That being the case, would you care to dance?"
Sam looks on, concerned, fingers tense around his beer, while Dean's flirting. "Why stop at dancing?" Jen's Dean drawls, then stands. "I'm here for a hook-up and you're about as hookable as they come."
Jared arches an eyebrow a bit, telegraphing Sam's uncertainty about the plan, and how fast Dean's moving. Jen's hand on his arm is more intimate than the scene calls for. Dean's supposed to be seeking support, but it feels like he's reassuring Jared, which will tick him off later - that he's as transparent about this shit as Sam - but right now just occasions a worried are you okay? look from Sam.
"Is she always this forward?" Justin's incubus asks, sly.
He shrugs. "She's not much for cat-and-mouse," Dean isn't. "Hunts her prey and swallows it whole," he says, and sometimes he really, really hates Sera Gamble.
There's humor and lust in Justin's incubus-eyes. Jared's so not happy that the script's making some guy think about Jen's mouth on his dick, when Justin purrs, "Lucky, lucky mouse."
"Yeah. I hope the mouse appreciates what he's getting." It's sharp, but it's supposed to be. He's Dean's brother, playacting a bitchy bisexual.
"Aww, don't be jealous, Sammy." It's Jen's naughty-in-public purr, and he's glad for the tight leather pants with the fingers kneading his arm just like they do when Jen wants to be fucked. "There's plenty of pretty to go around." No. There. Is. Not. "Bet the gas station clerk is getting off work soon."
Jared lets it all hang out when Sam gives Dean a sly smile, then brushes his lips across Dean's cheek. "Yeah. Don't wait up."
"You either." Jen gives Justin a flirty pout, then Jared's on his feet, sticking his hand out for Justin's incubus. "Name's Sam. Maybe I'll see you after breakfast."
"Cut, and wrap, thank Gawd," Kripke sings out, and Jared couldn't have said it better himself.
* * *
Jared shuts the door to the trailer behind him, not bothering to lock it since Jensen's coming over. Jen fucking better be coming over, because they've got an entire afternoon of shooting still ahead of him and Jensen's pretty mouth is going to drive him insane if they don't do something, anything, before they have to get back on set.
Jen's mouth gets him in so damned much trouble. He wouldn't even be interested in guys if it weren't for Jensen's mouth.
Okay, so maybe that's not true, but still! It's so not fair that make-up put Jensen in that lipstick and then casting brought Justin around, because are they trying to get him brought up on assault charges?
He roots through the fridge, pushing the beer aside. Even though he'd kill for a beer right now, Jensen's black-lined lips and eyes are impairing his judgment plenty. Any more, and he might stop thinking about shoving him facedown over the hood of the Impala and just do it.
Letting the door slam on the fridge, he leans against the kitchenette counter and pops the top on a can of Coke. He chugs about half of it, then pressed the heel of his hand over his dick, just trying to get some relief. How the hell is he supposed to calmly watch some other pretty guy staring at his love--er, boyfriend's mouth like that anyway?
His thoughts run in circles, from Jen's pout to his dick to Justin's face to his fist and back to Jen's mouth. It has to be the leather pants cutting off circulation to his brain, because he can't seem to get passed it to calm down and think about the next scene.
He slugs down the rest of his Coke, crushes the can and pitches it at the waste basket at the end of the counter - and misses. That is just it. When he leans over to pick up the can, he almost passes out from the leather cutting into his cock. Where is Jensen any-fucking-way?
Grousing, he pushes a hand through his bangs, grabs his script, and sprawls on the couch. He opens the top two buttons on the pants, ignoring Mama's voice in his head telling him that being alone is no excuse for being a slob. He's not, he's just trying to encourage some circulation and blood flow north of the equator.
The next scene has Sam crouching by the wheel wall of some big passenger truck. The script says Ford F-150, but he'd stake a couple of rounds on set decoration using a Cherokee or Land Rover. It doesn't much matter, since it's only function is to screen Sam and the viewing audience from seeing Dean blow the incubus to death.
Which, God, brings him right back around to Jensen's pretty fucking mouth and him crouching at Justin's feet.
He throws the script at the door, and it thwaps the incoming Jensen in the middle of the chest. Cool as ever - fucker - he catches it, identifies it, then sets it on the coffee table, all with a smirk that's even more annoying than ever when his lips are so red they're black. Arms crossing over his chest, Jen sets down on the arm of the couch, gives him a long once-over. His gaze dips and lingers where the leather gaps open over Jared's lower abs, then comes back to his face, eyebrow lifting. "'my interrupting something?" he drawls, sly.
Jared scowls.
"'Cuz I could come back, y'know."
His eyes close in frustration, mouth pursing in Sam bitchface #22 "fuck you, man".
"Just sayin'."
"Whyn't you try not saying for once?" He's aiming for a snarl, but his Texas is showing, thick and twangy 'cuz it's all just too damned much.
Unhooking his ankle from his knee, Jensen sets the foot on the ground and leans forward to stare Jared down. "Dude, the hell? Carly steal your gummi worms or some shit?"
"Some shit, yeah." Jared's being pissy, he knows he is, and it's not like him. But this thing with Jensen, it turns him inside out, and just when he thinks he's got a handle on it, finally, something like Justin happens and he's all tangled up again.
"Right." Jensen's eyes go flat. "Whatever the hell your problem is, Jay, you leave it in the trailer when you come back on set. You wanna talk about it? You know where to find me."
He gets up and heads for the door, and Jared just. Snaps. He's on his feet, getting in Jen's face and shoving him against the wall before he even knows what he's doing. "You wanna know what my problem is?" Those hooker eyes aren't giving anything away, but Jen's tense and his fists clench like he's trying hard not to swing. Jared kinda wishes he would, and give him an excuse to pop off, but he doesn't. Just meets his gaze steady, even though his heart's hammering against Jared's chest. For some reason that knocks the fight out of Jared.
"You wanna know what my problem is?" His voice slurs, soft and dangerous.
The mouth that haunts his thoughts starts a slow, smoky smile, eyes catching fire, and Jared's heart and dick lurch in tandem.
His hand moves through air that feels hot and thick like summer in Austin after a rain. Head tilting to collect Jensen's gaze, he drawls, "You have the filthiest fucking mouth, Jen," then smoothes the full lower curve with his thumb.
Jen lets out a shaky breath. "Jared…Jay…"
"Whole set's been staring at your pretty mouth all morning." Jen's cheeks flush. He hates when Jared calls him pretty, but he is. So fucking pretty he makes Jared ache sometimes. "s'making me crazy, Jen. Can't stop thinking about what it would look like, your lips painted like that, wrapped around my dick."
"So let me-"
"Shhh, baby, not yet. I want you to see yourself first." He presses his thumb down, crushing Jensen's lip. "C'mere."
Jen doesn't resist being pulled around in front of him. Just murmurs, "Fuck. Fuck, Jay," when Jared fits their hips together and strokes down the front of the ridiculous Goth shirt and skirt to press his hand over a cock that's as hard as his.
It's a good thing his trailer's not all that big, because their feet drag, moving across the floor in slow-time. He lowers his head to breathe Jen's heat, to lick a wide stripe along his throat.
Jen tilts his head out of the way with a quiet groan. "No teeth," he grits out.
Like Jared needs reminding he can't mark Jensen during shooting. As if that's not half the problem right there.
He's tempted to say "fuck it" and suck a deep purple bruise into Jen's neck, but the last thing they need is to give PR a reason to hook Jen up with some girl to explain it away. Right now, everyone thinks it's "sweet" that he and Jen are close "like Sam and Dean" (which ought to be a dead giveaway in his opinion). But if they caught wind of the truth… "Yeah, I know."
There's a hint of apology in Jen's eyes in the mirror, and for the first time, Jared thinks maybe having a mirrored closet isn't a mocking offense.
"Look at you, all whored up," Jared purrs across his ear. Both of them are wrecked, pupils blown, lips parted to suck in heavy breaths. "You're so fucking hot, Jen. God, just look at you."
"Cut it out, Jay. You know I hate that sh-" He works his hips against Jen's ass. "Shiiit."
Suddenly Jared's feeling a lot better about Jensen and Justin and he maybe doesn't even hate Sera Gamble. He laughs, a husky, heated sound. "Don't lie to me, Jen. Your dick's so hard, you'll go off like a fourth-of-July bottle rocket if I suck you."
The 'if' doesn't go unnoticed. Goth-black lips form a fallen angel pout, and Jared's done playing. He needs to see those lips wrapped around him. Hand going to Jen's face again, he thumbs down his cheekbone, then presses two fingers to his mouth. "Suck."
It's not a request, and Jen's eyes flash. He's no one's submissive, but he knows Jared, knows what he needs and gives it willingly enough. His lips part, pulling Jared's fingers into silky, wet heat.
His cock throbs, but he focuses on the vision in the glass. Perfect lips stretch into a wide 'o'; he's never seen anything more obscene than his fingers fucking Jen's mouth. "Pretty, isn't it, baby?"
Black-lined lids flutter closed as Jen sinks into it, licking and slurping Jared's index and middle fingers like they're an Otter pop.
Jared's sight goes unfocused on a growl. "Watch," he insists. "Want you to see yourself. See what you do to me."
Jen's mascara-ed lashes fan his cheeks but his eyes open, pale greens searching Jared's face and avoiding his own - until he grinds into Jen's ass, provoking a moan that vibrates around his fingers and entraps them both in the mirror.
After that, they watch in rapt silence, his fingers sliding over Jen's tongue, Jen's fucking sinful mouth smearing several layers of lipstick all over them. Then he can't stand it anymore. "Enough."
Wide surprised eyes greet his in the mirror, and he can't help but chuckle, despite the constricted bloodflow to his cock making it hard to breathe. "Wanna come in your mouth."
"'Bout damned time," Jen snarls, then slips Jared's grasp to turn and drop to his knees.
He wastes no time getting Jared out of the leather and boxer-briefs. When they're around Jared's knees, Jensen leans in, swipes his tongue over Jared's leaking cockhead.
It's Jared's turn to curse, because christjesus that mouth is wrapping around his dick and it feels like parole from his own personal hell. He works his fingers into the black-tipped spikes of Jen's hair, pulls his head back to look into his eyes. "Real slow now. Wanna watch you smear that lipstick all over my cock."
Jen's eyes sparkle with humor and he can hear him thinking kinky bitch. But he does just like Jared asks, clamping his lipsticked mouth over the head and letting Jared push through nice and slow.
He's so damned hard, has been so damned hard for too long. Once Jen's nose bumps his groin, he's gone. Five or six quick pumps and he's shooting down Jen's throat in fast-hard bursts that make his hips burn and shred his voice with his raw moans.
"Goddamn, Jay," Jen purrs, hoarse, and as soon as he catches his breath, Jared swears he's gonna wipe the smirk off those now-pink lips.
He drops to his own knees in front of Jen, kisses ands licks his taste away. Jen moans into his mouth, pushing forward for more, but Jared urges him off.
"Can't, baby." He wants to, god, he really wants to kiss Jen until he's hard again then fuck him into the ground. "Gotta film soon." And they're already pushing it. Jen's gonna have to ice down his mouth and smear black over it before he goes back to make-up as it is. "Later," he murmurs, directing Jen to his hands and knees, facing the mirror.
He flips up the padded skirt, laughing softly at Jen's expression - three parts need and one part lethal fury - when he runs a hand up his leg from knee to thigh. "Got a thing for your…legs," he drawls with a lazy smirk, then tears a hole in the seat of the stupid fishnets.
"The hell, Jay? I gotta wear-" The first spit-slicked finger presses into his hole and the "those" is swallowed up by a rough moan.
"I know," he soothes, working in up to his knuckle.
"Fuck you," Jensen grits out, but Jared just grinds in deeper until his mouth stops spewing curses and he pushes back against Jared's hand. "C'mon, Jay."
"Say please," he says, opening Jen around another finger.
Jensen tries to glare but he's just too blown and it comes off looking like the sluttiest fuck-me plea ever.
Jared grins. "Say please."
Ass quivering around Jared's probing fingers, Jen makes a little whimpering noise. "Please."
"That's nice, Jen. I like that." To show him exactly how much, Jared reaches around his hips, slides his hand under the elastic of the stockings, and proceeds to jerk him off in firm strokes while rubbing down hard against his prostate.
Jensen bucks and twists like he's trying to get away and trying to fuck himself silly on Jared's long fingers all at once. It's the hottest thing they've ever done, for sure, them both watching his hands driving Jen crazy like this, and if he hadn't just come, he'd be over him in a heartbeat.
It's like Jensen hears the thought, because he shoves back, demanding more. Jared drives him harder, forcing him to his elbows and Jensen's dick gets stiffer, longer, in his palm.
There's a sudden jolt of slippery heat, then Jen's back flattens, stiff. Quick, Jared twists his fist to catch the hot bursts of his release.
When Jen's forehead drops to his arms, Jared slips his fingers free and snags one of his dirty t-shirts to wipe his hands.
Jensen's shaking his head, watching from beneath his lashes. He's so fucking beautiful like that, fucked out, blissed out, and smiling. "Anyone ever tell you you're a slob, Jared?"
"Yeah, my girlfriend tells me all the time," he counters, chucking the t-shirt at Jensen's head. "Jenny."
Jen sits up with a mock-scowl at the nickname, then tosses the t-shirt at his chest. "Wipe my lipstick off your dick, puppy."
Puppy about sums it up. Jensen might as well put him on a leash for the way he leads him around by his cock. "Shouldn't. Justin stands a much better chance of leaving the set with his pretty face intact if I don't."
Understanding, sharp and clear, widens Jensen's eyes. Jared shrugs, dropping Jen's gaze and feeling pretty damned stupid. "Figure the hole in your fishnets is only fair if I've gotta emote Sam listening to Dean suck some asshole incubus off."
"Such a jealous little bitch," Jen teases, but his voice is gruff and warm.
"You're the one wearing a skirt, bitch," he shoots back to cover the ridiculous warmth in his chest when Jensen gives him that small, real smile.
Jared's a laid back guy. Not like Sam who gets uptight over every fucking thing. He is. Really.
It's not his fault.
There's just something about Jensen's mouth.
Author: technosage
Characters: Jared/Jensen, Sam/Dean, and a short visit from Justin Hartley
Rating: NC-17. Angst, schmoop, blowjobs, fingering, lipstick...it's kinda kinky, yo. :)
Word Count: 3804
Spoilers/Warnings: … Um. Jared and Jensen got cast on Supernatural. I think we all know that. Right? I hope?
Disclaimer: Oh. I wish.
Summary: When Jensen's dressed like a Goth girl, Jared, god help him, can't stop forgetting his lines. A little break in Jared's trailer reveals the problem.
Notes: This is written as an "outtake" from Love in Disguise as if it had been an actual episode, you know, minus the ah, explicit scenes, and plus some more content on the hunt. It's all la_folle_allure and just_katarin's fault for porning at me at midnight.
Mad, mad love and massive squee to my babygirl, Lindsay, for handholding an RPS virgin and making me feel DAMNED pretty with her beta while still managing to make it a better fic. *kisses*
Jared's a laid back guy. Not like Sam, who's completely losing his cool over his brother being handled by a smooth-operating incubus with a thing for fag hags right now.
It's just that make-up has Jensen's pale green hooker eyes outlined in heavy black, and his mouth, Christ, his mouth is obscene. Black lip liner and blood-red lipstick so dark it looks black. Every so often he sips his "beer", and the juxtaposition of pink against black when he licks his lips after wrapping them around the bottle is just too goddamned much.
Especially when Justin sets his hand at Jen's lower back to lead him "out to the dance floor".
Jared's a laid back guy, really he is, but he swears to fucking god, if that blond bastard from Smallville doesn't get his hands off Jensen, he's going to tear them off.
"Jared."
There's a hand in front of his face.
"Padalecki."
It's doing that annoying little wave thing, like when someone's trying to get your attention.
"What?"
The PA attached to the hand shrugs, and Jensen strolls over, smirking.
"See, Jared, there's this thing we do. It's called acting. Well, there's this thing I do that's called acting, and this thing you do that we call acting when we're being generous-"
He shoots Jen an annoyed look, Sam bitchface #16 "You're not even close to as funny as you think you are." "Your point?"
"My point? Carly," Jensen asks over his shoulder to the PA with the hand, "how many times have we shot this scene?"
"Seventeen," comes the amused answer.
"Thanks," Jensen says smoothly, and returns his focus to Jared. "Seventeen, man. The hell? We haven't had to do seventeen retakes of any damned thing since we pulled you off the set of Gilmore Girls. You sick?"
Seventeen? He knew he'd blown his cues a few times, but shit, seventeen? He gives Jensen a hang-dog look, hoping the apology carries through his own black eyeliner and lipstick. "Sorry, man, no. Just…" I can't stop seeing that lipsticked pout around my dick. "Can't seem to focus."
Jensen leans in, all smug smirk and suggestion. "It's my legs, isn't it? Got a thing for fishnets, dontcha, Jay?"
Before Jared can answer, whisper filth across his ear like he really wants to, Jensen's hand's on his chest and he's laughing. "Baby bro's got a thing for Dean's legs," he announces to the entire set.
Across the soundstage, Hartley's laughing, too, and Jared decides he needs to put this scene to bed and get the hell out of here before he says or does something he regrets.
Like sliding his hand up under that skirt Jensen's got on and showing him just which part of his legs he has a thing for.
Or kissing the black-accented smirk off Jensen's way-too-pretty mouth.
* * *
Kripke calls "Action," and Jared swears he's getting his head in the game this time.
He's leaning against a plyboard bar prop, alternately drinking colored water out of a beer bottle and playing with the label, trying not to notice the dry ice steam raising his nipples - it's the chill, not Jensen sitting too close, in a skirt, fishnets and lipstick, prettier than any girl he's ever dated.
Sam's motivation is concern for Dean, and awkward discomfort at the knowledge his brother's going to take it up the ass to kill an incubus. He feels guilty - an almost constant Sam-state these days - that Dean's doing this so he doesn't have to.
The curvy blonde delivering her first Guild lines like a champ - because how hard is it to flirt with Jen? - is named Candace, just like her character. Jen's pulling off interested, though he has fucking no chemistry with women. Then he squeezes Jared's thigh and their gazes lock, brief and far hotter than even the incestuous overtones of this scene call for, and that's Jared's cue.
In Sam-space, he laces his fingers with Dean's, ignoring for now how good it feels to show this simple affection in public, and that fits Sam's motivation, too, always wanting more connection with Dean than Dean's comfortable with. He puts his arm up along the bar, behind Dean's shoulders.
"Sorry, Candace. Maybe some other time," Dean says with a little shrug. "You're not Sam's type."
Jen's line comes out just right, even Jared can hear it. And Candace's wistful smile - as much for the end of her screen debut, he thinks, as for the character situation - clicks right in. "Can't blame a girl for trying, I mean, hell, look at you two." She lifts a shoulder, smiles, then pushes out, "See you around, Deanna," before fading off camera.
It's no sweat to respond in Sam's dry, pissy tone, "The irony of that, on all levels, is staggering."
Dean lifts his beer to his lips, and Jared has to fight down the surge of lust, when those kohl-lined hazel-green eyes go unfocused like they do after Jen's been kissed, to pull concerned-Sam out of his ass. "Hey, Dean, slow down, okay?"
Dean growls, "I know what I'm doing, Sam," and Jared's struggling with Sam's mindset. Luckily the scene calls for him to look awkward about what exactly Dean's doing, so he manages, reminding himself for the seventeenth time that he's supposed to be brother playing bisexual best friend, not jealous boyfriend, when Hartley strolls up.
Sam eyes him up and down, and that's for real. Justin's pretty, nowhere near as pretty as Jen, but it's not a total stretch to act interested - except for how he already wants to put his fist through Justin's teeth. But the scene allows for that, too.
So, when Justin delivers his, "Are you with him?" Jared's got no problem with the bitchfaced 'yes' Sam's supposed to be thinking.
"Him?" Jen sells Deanna's silky laugh so hard it shivers up Jared's spine, then he shakes his head. "I'd screw my own brother first."
"Nice, D. Watch your mouth." This is precisely what Jared's doing when he lifts Sam's beer to his lips, then delivers the second part of line. "Never know when you might get hard up and need me to help you out."
He hit that out of the park, if the slight widening of Justin's eyes - perfectly in character - before he turns up his megawatt smile is any indication. "That being the case, would you care to dance?"
Sam looks on, concerned, fingers tense around his beer, while Dean's flirting. "Why stop at dancing?" Jen's Dean drawls, then stands. "I'm here for a hook-up and you're about as hookable as they come."
Jared arches an eyebrow a bit, telegraphing Sam's uncertainty about the plan, and how fast Dean's moving. Jen's hand on his arm is more intimate than the scene calls for. Dean's supposed to be seeking support, but it feels like he's reassuring Jared, which will tick him off later - that he's as transparent about this shit as Sam - but right now just occasions a worried are you okay? look from Sam.
"Is she always this forward?" Justin's incubus asks, sly.
He shrugs. "She's not much for cat-and-mouse," Dean isn't. "Hunts her prey and swallows it whole," he says, and sometimes he really, really hates Sera Gamble.
There's humor and lust in Justin's incubus-eyes. Jared's so not happy that the script's making some guy think about Jen's mouth on his dick, when Justin purrs, "Lucky, lucky mouse."
"Yeah. I hope the mouse appreciates what he's getting." It's sharp, but it's supposed to be. He's Dean's brother, playacting a bitchy bisexual.
"Aww, don't be jealous, Sammy." It's Jen's naughty-in-public purr, and he's glad for the tight leather pants with the fingers kneading his arm just like they do when Jen wants to be fucked. "There's plenty of pretty to go around." No. There. Is. Not. "Bet the gas station clerk is getting off work soon."
Jared lets it all hang out when Sam gives Dean a sly smile, then brushes his lips across Dean's cheek. "Yeah. Don't wait up."
"You either." Jen gives Justin a flirty pout, then Jared's on his feet, sticking his hand out for Justin's incubus. "Name's Sam. Maybe I'll see you after breakfast."
"Cut, and wrap, thank Gawd," Kripke sings out, and Jared couldn't have said it better himself.
* * *
Jared shuts the door to the trailer behind him, not bothering to lock it since Jensen's coming over. Jen fucking better be coming over, because they've got an entire afternoon of shooting still ahead of him and Jensen's pretty mouth is going to drive him insane if they don't do something, anything, before they have to get back on set.
Jen's mouth gets him in so damned much trouble. He wouldn't even be interested in guys if it weren't for Jensen's mouth.
Okay, so maybe that's not true, but still! It's so not fair that make-up put Jensen in that lipstick and then casting brought Justin around, because are they trying to get him brought up on assault charges?
He roots through the fridge, pushing the beer aside. Even though he'd kill for a beer right now, Jensen's black-lined lips and eyes are impairing his judgment plenty. Any more, and he might stop thinking about shoving him facedown over the hood of the Impala and just do it.
Letting the door slam on the fridge, he leans against the kitchenette counter and pops the top on a can of Coke. He chugs about half of it, then pressed the heel of his hand over his dick, just trying to get some relief. How the hell is he supposed to calmly watch some other pretty guy staring at his love--er, boyfriend's mouth like that anyway?
His thoughts run in circles, from Jen's pout to his dick to Justin's face to his fist and back to Jen's mouth. It has to be the leather pants cutting off circulation to his brain, because he can't seem to get passed it to calm down and think about the next scene.
He slugs down the rest of his Coke, crushes the can and pitches it at the waste basket at the end of the counter - and misses. That is just it. When he leans over to pick up the can, he almost passes out from the leather cutting into his cock. Where is Jensen any-fucking-way?
Grousing, he pushes a hand through his bangs, grabs his script, and sprawls on the couch. He opens the top two buttons on the pants, ignoring Mama's voice in his head telling him that being alone is no excuse for being a slob. He's not, he's just trying to encourage some circulation and blood flow north of the equator.
The next scene has Sam crouching by the wheel wall of some big passenger truck. The script says Ford F-150, but he'd stake a couple of rounds on set decoration using a Cherokee or Land Rover. It doesn't much matter, since it's only function is to screen Sam and the viewing audience from seeing Dean blow the incubus to death.
Which, God, brings him right back around to Jensen's pretty fucking mouth and him crouching at Justin's feet.
He throws the script at the door, and it thwaps the incoming Jensen in the middle of the chest. Cool as ever - fucker - he catches it, identifies it, then sets it on the coffee table, all with a smirk that's even more annoying than ever when his lips are so red they're black. Arms crossing over his chest, Jen sets down on the arm of the couch, gives him a long once-over. His gaze dips and lingers where the leather gaps open over Jared's lower abs, then comes back to his face, eyebrow lifting. "'my interrupting something?" he drawls, sly.
Jared scowls.
"'Cuz I could come back, y'know."
His eyes close in frustration, mouth pursing in Sam bitchface #22 "fuck you, man".
"Just sayin'."
"Whyn't you try not saying for once?" He's aiming for a snarl, but his Texas is showing, thick and twangy 'cuz it's all just too damned much.
Unhooking his ankle from his knee, Jensen sets the foot on the ground and leans forward to stare Jared down. "Dude, the hell? Carly steal your gummi worms or some shit?"
"Some shit, yeah." Jared's being pissy, he knows he is, and it's not like him. But this thing with Jensen, it turns him inside out, and just when he thinks he's got a handle on it, finally, something like Justin happens and he's all tangled up again.
"Right." Jensen's eyes go flat. "Whatever the hell your problem is, Jay, you leave it in the trailer when you come back on set. You wanna talk about it? You know where to find me."
He gets up and heads for the door, and Jared just. Snaps. He's on his feet, getting in Jen's face and shoving him against the wall before he even knows what he's doing. "You wanna know what my problem is?" Those hooker eyes aren't giving anything away, but Jen's tense and his fists clench like he's trying hard not to swing. Jared kinda wishes he would, and give him an excuse to pop off, but he doesn't. Just meets his gaze steady, even though his heart's hammering against Jared's chest. For some reason that knocks the fight out of Jared.
"You wanna know what my problem is?" His voice slurs, soft and dangerous.
The mouth that haunts his thoughts starts a slow, smoky smile, eyes catching fire, and Jared's heart and dick lurch in tandem.
His hand moves through air that feels hot and thick like summer in Austin after a rain. Head tilting to collect Jensen's gaze, he drawls, "You have the filthiest fucking mouth, Jen," then smoothes the full lower curve with his thumb.
Jen lets out a shaky breath. "Jared…Jay…"
"Whole set's been staring at your pretty mouth all morning." Jen's cheeks flush. He hates when Jared calls him pretty, but he is. So fucking pretty he makes Jared ache sometimes. "s'making me crazy, Jen. Can't stop thinking about what it would look like, your lips painted like that, wrapped around my dick."
"So let me-"
"Shhh, baby, not yet. I want you to see yourself first." He presses his thumb down, crushing Jensen's lip. "C'mere."
Jen doesn't resist being pulled around in front of him. Just murmurs, "Fuck. Fuck, Jay," when Jared fits their hips together and strokes down the front of the ridiculous Goth shirt and skirt to press his hand over a cock that's as hard as his.
It's a good thing his trailer's not all that big, because their feet drag, moving across the floor in slow-time. He lowers his head to breathe Jen's heat, to lick a wide stripe along his throat.
Jen tilts his head out of the way with a quiet groan. "No teeth," he grits out.
Like Jared needs reminding he can't mark Jensen during shooting. As if that's not half the problem right there.
He's tempted to say "fuck it" and suck a deep purple bruise into Jen's neck, but the last thing they need is to give PR a reason to hook Jen up with some girl to explain it away. Right now, everyone thinks it's "sweet" that he and Jen are close "like Sam and Dean" (which ought to be a dead giveaway in his opinion). But if they caught wind of the truth… "Yeah, I know."
There's a hint of apology in Jen's eyes in the mirror, and for the first time, Jared thinks maybe having a mirrored closet isn't a mocking offense.
"Look at you, all whored up," Jared purrs across his ear. Both of them are wrecked, pupils blown, lips parted to suck in heavy breaths. "You're so fucking hot, Jen. God, just look at you."
"Cut it out, Jay. You know I hate that sh-" He works his hips against Jen's ass. "Shiiit."
Suddenly Jared's feeling a lot better about Jensen and Justin and he maybe doesn't even hate Sera Gamble. He laughs, a husky, heated sound. "Don't lie to me, Jen. Your dick's so hard, you'll go off like a fourth-of-July bottle rocket if I suck you."
The 'if' doesn't go unnoticed. Goth-black lips form a fallen angel pout, and Jared's done playing. He needs to see those lips wrapped around him. Hand going to Jen's face again, he thumbs down his cheekbone, then presses two fingers to his mouth. "Suck."
It's not a request, and Jen's eyes flash. He's no one's submissive, but he knows Jared, knows what he needs and gives it willingly enough. His lips part, pulling Jared's fingers into silky, wet heat.
His cock throbs, but he focuses on the vision in the glass. Perfect lips stretch into a wide 'o'; he's never seen anything more obscene than his fingers fucking Jen's mouth. "Pretty, isn't it, baby?"
Black-lined lids flutter closed as Jen sinks into it, licking and slurping Jared's index and middle fingers like they're an Otter pop.
Jared's sight goes unfocused on a growl. "Watch," he insists. "Want you to see yourself. See what you do to me."
Jen's mascara-ed lashes fan his cheeks but his eyes open, pale greens searching Jared's face and avoiding his own - until he grinds into Jen's ass, provoking a moan that vibrates around his fingers and entraps them both in the mirror.
After that, they watch in rapt silence, his fingers sliding over Jen's tongue, Jen's fucking sinful mouth smearing several layers of lipstick all over them. Then he can't stand it anymore. "Enough."
Wide surprised eyes greet his in the mirror, and he can't help but chuckle, despite the constricted bloodflow to his cock making it hard to breathe. "Wanna come in your mouth."
"'Bout damned time," Jen snarls, then slips Jared's grasp to turn and drop to his knees.
He wastes no time getting Jared out of the leather and boxer-briefs. When they're around Jared's knees, Jensen leans in, swipes his tongue over Jared's leaking cockhead.
It's Jared's turn to curse, because christjesus that mouth is wrapping around his dick and it feels like parole from his own personal hell. He works his fingers into the black-tipped spikes of Jen's hair, pulls his head back to look into his eyes. "Real slow now. Wanna watch you smear that lipstick all over my cock."
Jen's eyes sparkle with humor and he can hear him thinking kinky bitch. But he does just like Jared asks, clamping his lipsticked mouth over the head and letting Jared push through nice and slow.
He's so damned hard, has been so damned hard for too long. Once Jen's nose bumps his groin, he's gone. Five or six quick pumps and he's shooting down Jen's throat in fast-hard bursts that make his hips burn and shred his voice with his raw moans.
"Goddamn, Jay," Jen purrs, hoarse, and as soon as he catches his breath, Jared swears he's gonna wipe the smirk off those now-pink lips.
He drops to his own knees in front of Jen, kisses ands licks his taste away. Jen moans into his mouth, pushing forward for more, but Jared urges him off.
"Can't, baby." He wants to, god, he really wants to kiss Jen until he's hard again then fuck him into the ground. "Gotta film soon." And they're already pushing it. Jen's gonna have to ice down his mouth and smear black over it before he goes back to make-up as it is. "Later," he murmurs, directing Jen to his hands and knees, facing the mirror.
He flips up the padded skirt, laughing softly at Jen's expression - three parts need and one part lethal fury - when he runs a hand up his leg from knee to thigh. "Got a thing for your…legs," he drawls with a lazy smirk, then tears a hole in the seat of the stupid fishnets.
"The hell, Jay? I gotta wear-" The first spit-slicked finger presses into his hole and the "those" is swallowed up by a rough moan.
"I know," he soothes, working in up to his knuckle.
"Fuck you," Jensen grits out, but Jared just grinds in deeper until his mouth stops spewing curses and he pushes back against Jared's hand. "C'mon, Jay."
"Say please," he says, opening Jen around another finger.
Jensen tries to glare but he's just too blown and it comes off looking like the sluttiest fuck-me plea ever.
Jared grins. "Say please."
Ass quivering around Jared's probing fingers, Jen makes a little whimpering noise. "Please."
"That's nice, Jen. I like that." To show him exactly how much, Jared reaches around his hips, slides his hand under the elastic of the stockings, and proceeds to jerk him off in firm strokes while rubbing down hard against his prostate.
Jensen bucks and twists like he's trying to get away and trying to fuck himself silly on Jared's long fingers all at once. It's the hottest thing they've ever done, for sure, them both watching his hands driving Jen crazy like this, and if he hadn't just come, he'd be over him in a heartbeat.
It's like Jensen hears the thought, because he shoves back, demanding more. Jared drives him harder, forcing him to his elbows and Jensen's dick gets stiffer, longer, in his palm.
There's a sudden jolt of slippery heat, then Jen's back flattens, stiff. Quick, Jared twists his fist to catch the hot bursts of his release.
When Jen's forehead drops to his arms, Jared slips his fingers free and snags one of his dirty t-shirts to wipe his hands.
Jensen's shaking his head, watching from beneath his lashes. He's so fucking beautiful like that, fucked out, blissed out, and smiling. "Anyone ever tell you you're a slob, Jared?"
"Yeah, my girlfriend tells me all the time," he counters, chucking the t-shirt at Jensen's head. "Jenny."
Jen sits up with a mock-scowl at the nickname, then tosses the t-shirt at his chest. "Wipe my lipstick off your dick, puppy."
Puppy about sums it up. Jensen might as well put him on a leash for the way he leads him around by his cock. "Shouldn't. Justin stands a much better chance of leaving the set with his pretty face intact if I don't."
Understanding, sharp and clear, widens Jensen's eyes. Jared shrugs, dropping Jen's gaze and feeling pretty damned stupid. "Figure the hole in your fishnets is only fair if I've gotta emote Sam listening to Dean suck some asshole incubus off."
"Such a jealous little bitch," Jen teases, but his voice is gruff and warm.
"You're the one wearing a skirt, bitch," he shoots back to cover the ridiculous warmth in his chest when Jensen gives him that small, real smile.
Jared's a laid back guy. Not like Sam who gets uptight over every fucking thing. He is. Really.
It's not his fault.
There's just something about Jensen's mouth.