Play Your Role
Title: Play Your Role
Characters: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1800
Summary: Written for the prompt: Jensen's always been skeptical about Jared's suggestion that they roleplay Wincest, but, what the hell, it is Jared's birthday.
Author's Note: Written for the Jared's birthday meme for lavishsqualor, hope you like it hon!! meeep!
Jensen was staring at his reflection. At Dean. He hadn't taken him off yet. He'd already wrapped on his scenes for the day. Jared was still finishing up on Sam's stuff. As much as he loved getting to work with other actors, he still missed Jared when their storylines diverged. And it didn't help that they'd both been way too tired when they got up that morning to start Jared's birthday properly. And with the whole having to get to work thing.
Jensen wanted to make it up to him. And he had wanted to do something special, he just hadn't been sure what. Until he stared it right in the face. Wincest. Jensen scrunched his nose a little and bit the corner of his lip. Jared had made the suggestion that they delve into a little roleplay on more than one occasion. It wasn't that Jensen didn't get it. Because he did, on some level. And it made way more sense to him than any other bullshit pairing he'd heard about.
The depth of the connection Sam and Dean shared was unparalleled. He could feel the more -the subtext- of what could be between them, when he was on the knife edge, and how it twisted his gut when Dean was pleading with Sam to believe in him. But it was filed heavily under lock and key within the vault that Dean quite expressly didn’t want touched. So if he went there?
He was worried that it would interfere with how he saw Sam and Dean when they were acting for real. He shook his head, scrubbing his hand down his face. He supposed he could just try viewing it as an alternate reality. Like in The End. Or that time Balthazar un-sunk the Titanic. Or when Zachariah had them playing corporate douchery. Yeah. Some dick angel was yanking their chain throwing them into some bizarro land to get their jollies.
Okay.
Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow resting on his knee, as he puffed out his cheeks on a sigh. He pushed his hand across his mouth. He could do this. He pulled out his phone and he text Jared to keep Sam on when he was done.
It was just really a matter of where they were going to do this. He didn’t really think the trailer was going to create the right atmosphere. But he wasn’t so sure he could keep up the nerve if they had to go all the way back to their apartment first. That left only one option. Jensen glanced down at his watch. He could maybe still catch Jim. Make sure that everyone cleared out on the dot.
Jensen had sent a follow up text to Jared: Come to the bunker -D.
And he lifted his own alcohol before heading there himself. The prop stuff wasn’t gonna cut it. When he walked into the library he flipped on a couple of the table lamps on the far table as he passed. Not bothering on the second, which was where he planned on sitting. He poured himself a glass, and set the bottle down. Taking hold of the back of the chair, arms straight, fists clenched, he closed his eyes. Twitch in his jaw, his posture shifting and he swallowed hard with a subtle shake of his head as he looked down at his glass as he let Dean surface.
He picked up the glass, rocking it back and forth between his thumb and fingers, swirling the contents before taking that first drink, and he sat down. That’s when the bunker door whined its protest at being opened. A familiar voice saying, “Dean?”
Dean licked his bottom lip and took another drink. Listening to the door close and the subsequent footsteps down the stairs.
“Dean, what are you doing all alone in the dark?”
“As opposed to?” in case Sam hadn’t noticed they were kind of low on friends, and unless Sam was here there was no one Dean could be sitting with, he cocked his brow, “What’s it look like I’m doing?” but then he shrugged, “Wanna join me?”
Sam took a breath as if to sigh but he didn’t fully commit to it, “Sure,” and he grabbed an empty glass for himself and then sat down across from Dean. Their knees knocking together. Sam didn’t say a word as Dean unscrewed the cap of the bottle, or as he poured the amber liquid into Sam’s glass before topping up his own. The bottle hitting the table with a heavy clunk as Dean put it back down.
Dean took a hold of his glass, but he didn’t pick it up, just slid his thumb along its rim. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him. Could sense that urge to ask Dean what was wrong. But he knew he wouldn’t.
Sam raised his glass and Dean clinked his to Sam’s. He wouldn’t leave him hanging, but if Sam had expected words to go with it, Dean didn’t have any. In the shadows Dean didn’t have it in him to pretend they had cause for a toast. He just stared at the glass in his hand, and then he knocked it back in one. Ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.
“Dean-”
“You remember how you asked me if I ever thought about settling down with another hunter?”
“Yeah-”
“What if-. What if I wanted that hunter to be you?”
“Me? Okay, how much did you drink while I was away?”
“I’m not-” Dean dropped his face into his hand and squeezed his temples, dragging his hand down his face, “I’m being serious.”
“Yeah, and I seriously think you’ve had one too many.”
“Damnit, Sam,” Dean said as he got to his feet, “shut up. I’m not screwing around here. I’m not trying to mess with you. And you know I’m not drunk. I wish,” he huffed, shaking his head, “Man, aren’t you tired of pretending we’re not enough?”
“Dean,” Sam’s voice packed with every unvoiced emotion, his eyes pleading as he stood up too, but Dean was doing this now. The can was open.
“It’s bullshit. It’s why we can’t heal. ‘Cause we keep denying ourselves. Keep holding back from each other. Because if we didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to toe that line anymore. And I think we try and tell ourselves that that’s what we want. What we have to hold ourselves to. Hold on to our last shred of normal. But we ain’t normal. Haven’t been. Not for a long time. And you never really were. Not really. You never got the chance.” And Dean still shouldered that guilt, he had been complicit in taking that chance away from his baby brother.
“Say it.”
“Say what?” and Dean swore if he even dared bring up that freak shit. He wasn’t saying that.
“Tell me that you want me, Dean. I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you, Sammy, you know I do,” he’d never verbalised it before, not in this context. But it had always been there. Buried down deep. And there had maybe been a couple of imitation guys over the years. Tall and lanky, with doofy hair that wasn’t just quite. They were never just quite.
“I want you too,” and Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss, mouths crashing together, arms wrapping around each other, slipping beneath flannel and canvas as layers were removed. Hands cataloguing every inch of flesh without need for tallying injuries.
They were both whole for once, and this was purely exploratory. The sense of urgency just as strong as it had ever been, but now Dean wanted to taste, though he was loathe to leave his brother’s lips. Sammy whined his agreement as he strayed to Sam’s throat to tease his pulse point and worked his way to the spot just below his ear.
“Dean, please.”
“Please what, Sammy?” Dean rumbled against the shell of his ear, tugging the lobe just so with his teeth, and he nipped along Sam’s jawline, returning to his lips for a kiss, their eyes locking as he pulled back.
Sam’s breath caught as Dean got his fingers down into his jeans, knuckles tickling his lower abdomen, thumbs smoothing over his belt, hands tugging, “Please,” Sam pled on a breath.
Dean grinned into the kiss as he unbuckled Sam’s belt, and he had the button popped before Sam could take another breath, “This what you want, Sammy?” Dean rasped as he slowly drew down the zipper. Sam letting out a gasp as Dean closed his hand over his cotton covered erection.
“Dean. Fuck. Please.”
Dean chuckled softly, smoothing his thumb back and forth over the head, made Sammy shiver, “All those big words in that big brain of yours…if I’d known it was this easy to break-”
“You’d have teased me to death sooner?”
Dean huffed a laugh, “You want more, Baby Brother? All you gotta do is ask.”
“Fuck.”
Dean smirked as the spot under his thumb got wet.
“Dean. Please. Suck my dick.”
Dean moved his hands to Sam’s sides, dropping to his knees as he tugged Sam’s jeans and boxer-briefs down his legs. Sam’s cock sprung free, pre-come beading as it pulsed out, Dean took a firm hold of the shaft as he lapped it up with his tongue, twirling it round the head. Sam gripped him tight, one hand on his shoulder and the other at the nape of his neck as Dean dragged his tongue down to the base.
He mouthed his way back to the crown to lap up more of Sam’s essence, and he really couldn’t help but smirk, “Like that, Baby Bro?”
“Such a fucking tease-” and that was when Dean dropped his head down, taking in as much of Sam’s dick as he could on the first go, “Uh-unh. Fuck. Dean.”
Dean took a hold of Sam at the base of his dick as he pulled up and sunk back down just that little bit more, Sam’s balls resting in the curve of his thumb and forefinger, Dean’s thumb brushing just behind Sam’s sac, and he felt Sam’s grip on him tighten. Sammy’s moans were honestly the hottest thing Dean had ever evoked out of anyone, and it had him harder than he could ever remember being. But he needed to take care of Sam first. He was a good big brother.
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s thighs to keep him on his feet when he tipped over the edge, hoarsely gasping Dean’s name as he came down Dean’s throat. Smirk returning to Dean’s lips as Sam trembled in his arms. He didn’t even have time to slink back on his heels before he was being tugged back up for a kiss.
“Fuck, Jensen.”
“Happy Birthday, Jay.”
Characters: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1800
Summary: Written for the prompt: Jensen's always been skeptical about Jared's suggestion that they roleplay Wincest, but, what the hell, it is Jared's birthday.
Author's Note: Written for the Jared's birthday meme for lavishsqualor, hope you like it hon!! meeep!
Jensen was staring at his reflection. At Dean. He hadn't taken him off yet. He'd already wrapped on his scenes for the day. Jared was still finishing up on Sam's stuff. As much as he loved getting to work with other actors, he still missed Jared when their storylines diverged. And it didn't help that they'd both been way too tired when they got up that morning to start Jared's birthday properly. And with the whole having to get to work thing.
Jensen wanted to make it up to him. And he had wanted to do something special, he just hadn't been sure what. Until he stared it right in the face. Wincest. Jensen scrunched his nose a little and bit the corner of his lip. Jared had made the suggestion that they delve into a little roleplay on more than one occasion. It wasn't that Jensen didn't get it. Because he did, on some level. And it made way more sense to him than any other bullshit pairing he'd heard about.
The depth of the connection Sam and Dean shared was unparalleled. He could feel the more -the subtext- of what could be between them, when he was on the knife edge, and how it twisted his gut when Dean was pleading with Sam to believe in him. But it was filed heavily under lock and key within the vault that Dean quite expressly didn’t want touched. So if he went there?
He was worried that it would interfere with how he saw Sam and Dean when they were acting for real. He shook his head, scrubbing his hand down his face. He supposed he could just try viewing it as an alternate reality. Like in The End. Or that time Balthazar un-sunk the Titanic. Or when Zachariah had them playing corporate douchery. Yeah. Some dick angel was yanking their chain throwing them into some bizarro land to get their jollies.
Okay.
Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, elbow resting on his knee, as he puffed out his cheeks on a sigh. He pushed his hand across his mouth. He could do this. He pulled out his phone and he text Jared to keep Sam on when he was done.
It was just really a matter of where they were going to do this. He didn’t really think the trailer was going to create the right atmosphere. But he wasn’t so sure he could keep up the nerve if they had to go all the way back to their apartment first. That left only one option. Jensen glanced down at his watch. He could maybe still catch Jim. Make sure that everyone cleared out on the dot.
Jensen had sent a follow up text to Jared: Come to the bunker -D.
And he lifted his own alcohol before heading there himself. The prop stuff wasn’t gonna cut it. When he walked into the library he flipped on a couple of the table lamps on the far table as he passed. Not bothering on the second, which was where he planned on sitting. He poured himself a glass, and set the bottle down. Taking hold of the back of the chair, arms straight, fists clenched, he closed his eyes. Twitch in his jaw, his posture shifting and he swallowed hard with a subtle shake of his head as he looked down at his glass as he let Dean surface.
He picked up the glass, rocking it back and forth between his thumb and fingers, swirling the contents before taking that first drink, and he sat down. That’s when the bunker door whined its protest at being opened. A familiar voice saying, “Dean?”
Dean licked his bottom lip and took another drink. Listening to the door close and the subsequent footsteps down the stairs.
“Dean, what are you doing all alone in the dark?”
“As opposed to?” in case Sam hadn’t noticed they were kind of low on friends, and unless Sam was here there was no one Dean could be sitting with, he cocked his brow, “What’s it look like I’m doing?” but then he shrugged, “Wanna join me?”
Sam took a breath as if to sigh but he didn’t fully commit to it, “Sure,” and he grabbed an empty glass for himself and then sat down across from Dean. Their knees knocking together. Sam didn’t say a word as Dean unscrewed the cap of the bottle, or as he poured the amber liquid into Sam’s glass before topping up his own. The bottle hitting the table with a heavy clunk as Dean put it back down.
Dean took a hold of his glass, but he didn’t pick it up, just slid his thumb along its rim. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him. Could sense that urge to ask Dean what was wrong. But he knew he wouldn’t.
Sam raised his glass and Dean clinked his to Sam’s. He wouldn’t leave him hanging, but if Sam had expected words to go with it, Dean didn’t have any. In the shadows Dean didn’t have it in him to pretend they had cause for a toast. He just stared at the glass in his hand, and then he knocked it back in one. Ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.
“Dean-”
“You remember how you asked me if I ever thought about settling down with another hunter?”
“Yeah-”
“What if-. What if I wanted that hunter to be you?”
“Me? Okay, how much did you drink while I was away?”
“I’m not-” Dean dropped his face into his hand and squeezed his temples, dragging his hand down his face, “I’m being serious.”
“Yeah, and I seriously think you’ve had one too many.”
“Damnit, Sam,” Dean said as he got to his feet, “shut up. I’m not screwing around here. I’m not trying to mess with you. And you know I’m not drunk. I wish,” he huffed, shaking his head, “Man, aren’t you tired of pretending we’re not enough?”
“Dean,” Sam’s voice packed with every unvoiced emotion, his eyes pleading as he stood up too, but Dean was doing this now. The can was open.
“It’s bullshit. It’s why we can’t heal. ‘Cause we keep denying ourselves. Keep holding back from each other. Because if we didn’t, we wouldn’t be able to toe that line anymore. And I think we try and tell ourselves that that’s what we want. What we have to hold ourselves to. Hold on to our last shred of normal. But we ain’t normal. Haven’t been. Not for a long time. And you never really were. Not really. You never got the chance.” And Dean still shouldered that guilt, he had been complicit in taking that chance away from his baby brother.
“Say it.”
“Say what?” and Dean swore if he even dared bring up that freak shit. He wasn’t saying that.
“Tell me that you want me, Dean. I need to hear you say it.”
“I want you, Sammy, you know I do,” he’d never verbalised it before, not in this context. But it had always been there. Buried down deep. And there had maybe been a couple of imitation guys over the years. Tall and lanky, with doofy hair that wasn’t just quite. They were never just quite.
“I want you too,” and Sam grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss, mouths crashing together, arms wrapping around each other, slipping beneath flannel and canvas as layers were removed. Hands cataloguing every inch of flesh without need for tallying injuries.
They were both whole for once, and this was purely exploratory. The sense of urgency just as strong as it had ever been, but now Dean wanted to taste, though he was loathe to leave his brother’s lips. Sammy whined his agreement as he strayed to Sam’s throat to tease his pulse point and worked his way to the spot just below his ear.
“Dean, please.”
“Please what, Sammy?” Dean rumbled against the shell of his ear, tugging the lobe just so with his teeth, and he nipped along Sam’s jawline, returning to his lips for a kiss, their eyes locking as he pulled back.
Sam’s breath caught as Dean got his fingers down into his jeans, knuckles tickling his lower abdomen, thumbs smoothing over his belt, hands tugging, “Please,” Sam pled on a breath.
Dean grinned into the kiss as he unbuckled Sam’s belt, and he had the button popped before Sam could take another breath, “This what you want, Sammy?” Dean rasped as he slowly drew down the zipper. Sam letting out a gasp as Dean closed his hand over his cotton covered erection.
“Dean. Fuck. Please.”
Dean chuckled softly, smoothing his thumb back and forth over the head, made Sammy shiver, “All those big words in that big brain of yours…if I’d known it was this easy to break-”
“You’d have teased me to death sooner?”
Dean huffed a laugh, “You want more, Baby Brother? All you gotta do is ask.”
“Fuck.”
Dean smirked as the spot under his thumb got wet.
“Dean. Please. Suck my dick.”
Dean moved his hands to Sam’s sides, dropping to his knees as he tugged Sam’s jeans and boxer-briefs down his legs. Sam’s cock sprung free, pre-come beading as it pulsed out, Dean took a firm hold of the shaft as he lapped it up with his tongue, twirling it round the head. Sam gripped him tight, one hand on his shoulder and the other at the nape of his neck as Dean dragged his tongue down to the base.
He mouthed his way back to the crown to lap up more of Sam’s essence, and he really couldn’t help but smirk, “Like that, Baby Bro?”
“Such a fucking tease-” and that was when Dean dropped his head down, taking in as much of Sam’s dick as he could on the first go, “Uh-unh. Fuck. Dean.”
Dean took a hold of Sam at the base of his dick as he pulled up and sunk back down just that little bit more, Sam’s balls resting in the curve of his thumb and forefinger, Dean’s thumb brushing just behind Sam’s sac, and he felt Sam’s grip on him tighten. Sammy’s moans were honestly the hottest thing Dean had ever evoked out of anyone, and it had him harder than he could ever remember being. But he needed to take care of Sam first. He was a good big brother.
Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s thighs to keep him on his feet when he tipped over the edge, hoarsely gasping Dean’s name as he came down Dean’s throat. Smirk returning to Dean’s lips as Sam trembled in his arms. He didn’t even have time to slink back on his heels before he was being tugged back up for a kiss.
“Fuck, Jensen.”
“Happy Birthday, Jay.”