Big Bang 2013: Have Hatred and Gravity Won - 2/19

Jul 18, 2013 16:09

Back to Masterpost

Part 2



Jared couldn’t concentrate on the words in his books and he couldn’t answer the questions he’d been set. Even if he could complete his homework, he no longer had a tutor. He closed his pages and took the short trip back to his living quarters. He took a deep breath to steady himself for the bloody, revolting mess he had left behind.

The slave, Jensen, was on his hands and knees scrubbing at a wide red stain. He remained unclothed, and Jared could see his muscles rippling as he worked. Angry welts on his back seemed to rearrange themselves as he flexed. He dipped a scrubbing brush into a pail of soapy water and brought it back to the floor to brush vigorously at the bloodstain. His every movement was awkwardly painful and the strain showed in the crease of his forehead and pinch of his mouth. He was absorbed in his self-appointed task, methodical and silent. Jared’s rug was gone and so was Fin.

Jared was baffled, and a little in awe of the man’s strength to continue, given the particulars of his evening. “What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to do anything.”

Jensen rocked back on his heels to kneel upright. Okay, so he was definitely still whole where it mattered, but it gave him no thrill to stare. Jared forced his gaze up. Jensen's hand smeared pink soapy water over his face, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I am cleaning, Master.”

If the man was being sarcastic then Jared couldn’t tell. “Where’s Fin?”

“The boy? I took his body to rest in one of the cool outhouses. He’ll be cleaned and I can bury him tomorrow, if that pleases, Master.” Jensen spoke in a soft low drawl. There wasn’t a hint of reproach in his manner, but Jared could sense the disapproval. He guessed that rebellion still lurked under the surface.

“There’s a furnace." Jared suggested. Pa usually insisted on it.

“It is shut-down for repairs until next week. It would be unhygienic to leave the body for so long.”

“Huh! Are you telling me my business?” Jared itched to beat the smugness out of him, but there was a measure of admiration too. He had withstood a harsh beating and kept some spirit.

"No, Master. It is what I overheard in the kitchen today, but you may want to check with your father, or with the household staff."

“Do whatever you want with the body as long as it is dealt with.” Jared yawned and waved him away. “I’m going to bed. You can leave everything until morning. Get somebody to wash and dress those wounds, eat, and then go to bed. Bring my breakfast at nine. I like my bacon crisp, and my egg poached, soft in the middle. Oh, and find some clothes.”

Jensen continued to kneel.

“Well go on then.”

Jensen still knelt, “Master, if I understand protocol correctly, your father does not want me returned to his ownership. I cannot use his staff quarters, clothes or even his slaves to clean my wounds.”

The slave was infuriatingly correct. Generally, Jared used slaves and sent them back to the housekeeper. He didn't have facilities for Jensen, or experience in keeping slaves. He scowled. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Jensen looked up at him through, thick, long lashes, “Whatever you will, Master.”

Jared raked his eyes over the neck, neatly circled with a black collar, lingered over Jensen’s firm chest and abs, then leered at the heavy, limp cock that nestled in neatly trimmed hair between muscular thighs.

"Mm. I can think of some things."

Jensen's open eye seemed to narrow, he was undoubtedly assured of his rights under The Slave Charter. "I don't think so. Unless you want me to top, Master?" There was a sarcastic undertone to the question.

Jared almost choked when his initial gulp of breath combined with a need to laugh. The put-down was unexpected, and peculiarly hot. There was every reason to consider it unacceptable, but it was hilarious to him. Perhaps it was hysteria, or maybe he had been too long without the company of anybody who still voiced their own mind. He laughed until tears ran down his face. “Fuck! You really think you have a choice, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, you're nothing special.” It was beyond a lie, the slave was gorgeous, but he wasn't Jared's type. He wasn’t looking for a challenge.



Jensen waited for Jared's temper. It was obvious he was used to sexual favors from the household slaves. Sex was nothing special to Jensen, and there was little he hadn't sold himself for once, but he wasn't a catcher, and he didn't give up his control, not ever again.

Jared laughed too long, and too loud. There was a definite note of hysteria in it. Jensen remembered how young he was, and supposed that alcohol and shock might do that to a kid.

When Jared calmed he pointed to his bathroom. "Use my shower. Don’t get blood on the towels. Clean up after you.”

Jensen hissed in pain as warm water sprayed onto his back. Jensen. He let the name echo in his head, because he had screwed up. He had seen the way President Padalecki treated his son, and noted Jared’s distaste for his own father. Jared’s seemingly meek manner had driven Jensen's split-second decision to direct his talk-back at him, as a way to test the kid’s loyalty. He had been flying blind, with no intel on the boy. He should have known better than that. Ross did know better than that. Now, he was in the wrong place, by the wrong person, and twenty five lashes was at least twice as many as he could have expected from the boy's Pa. The flaming agony of deep welts, and the red hot pain of the cut on his face were a cruel reminder that he couldn't afford to screw up.

Water ran red down the drain. Jensen wondered how he would get dry without getting blood on the towels but that was probably the least of his problems. He turned the shower off and considered his next move, but his thoughts were interrupted.

“I need to piss. Don’t mind me.” Jared rushed past to use the toilet. When done, he looked back over his shoulder at Jensen in the shower stall. “You’re still bleeding,” he commented, as he did up his fly.

Duh, genius! Jensen lowered his eyes and bit back his retort. He stood naked and dripping while Jared washed his hands. He couldn't work out a strategy for the, no-blood-on-the-towels thing, other than not using one.

“Here.” Jared held a gigantic and fluffy blue towel in front of him, “It doesn’t count if I get blood on it.” He draped it over Jensen’s shoulders and patted gently. “Wrap up in this, until I find something for you to wear.”

He shivered. He tried to convince himself it was just cold air. It had nothing to do with the chilling thought that this kid whipped him until he bled, then watched a boy being killed in cold blood, yet now offered comfort with soft eyes and a softer touch. Jared was vicious anger in one moment, yet soft words and puppy eyes in the next. Jensen was a pro who could kill the kid with a single wrench of his stupidly elegant neck, so he wasn't sure why it freaked him out. He buried his doubts and remembered his place. "Thank you, Master,” he said meekly.

“Cut the crap with me, Jensen. My name is Jared. Whatever your trader claimed to have achieved with you, I think it’s fucking obvious you’re not broken.” Jared shrugged his shoulders, and he looked all sorts of innocent. “I like it when you talk normally. It’s refreshing, assuming you don’t try to kill me, or anything silly like that.”

Jensen's mind whirred into overdrive trying to understand him, and it must have shown in his expression.

"It wasn't about you. You ruined my shirt. I had to," Jared arrogantly declared.

It was lucky that the swelling of Jensen's face slowed his speech, because it stopped him from asking how a splash of wine on a shirt merited twenty five lashes. He bit back the question, because he already knew the answer. He'd seen the interactions between Jared and his father, and just like Fin, Jensen's punishment had nothing to do with the crime, and everything to do with the relationship between father and son. Padalecki Senior was on a narcissistic power trip, but at least he was a known quantity. Jensen knew Jared’s history but there was next to nothing known about his motivations or state of mind. Jensen tried to remember what he was like at Jared's age, but he never had the opportunity to act-out until he joined the army, and then it was neatly channeled into controlled violence and killing. It wasn't a reassuring comparison.

Jared was as tall as Jensen, and he was good looking. His style was casual, with well fitted denims. Shiny brown hair made a soft halo around a face with fine features and strong jaw line. Exotic tip-tilted eyes sparkled hazel or maybe green or brown, with flecks of other colors which made them hard to categorize. He could be any college student, but he wasn’t. It could be easy to look at him, see his dimpled smile and forget who he was. Jensen wouldn't. Sophie was beautiful once, Jensen, no Ross, thought. He remembered her flawless skin and bright eyes, the way she was before she met Jared. He remembered the media coverage of her decimated corpse, and the frozen terror on the faces of slaves who were slaughtered when the President and his family fled their country home. He had wondered how stalwart, sensible, Sophie had fallen for him, but now he thought he understood.

Inside, anger bubbled, and he wanted to beat Jared to a pulp, or tie him up and make him suffer, but personal would only get him dead before he could achieve his goals. If revenge is a dish best served cold, then Jensen’s would be liquid nitrogen.

“Um. Okay. So there’s a pillow and a blanket, and you can lie on the towel,” Jared threw bedding from his own huge bed at the oversized sofa in his room. He triumphantly pulled something from a set of drawers, “and there’s jogging bottoms and a tee.” Clothes flew across the space to land in a heap by Jensen’s feet, “They might not fit very well, but anything is better than nothing, yeah. Not sure what we’re going to do about food, but you probably didn’t eat when we did.” An energy bar hit Jensen's shoulder and fell to the floor. “There’s drinking water on the stand. I prefer soda.”

Nothing in Jensen’s crappy day had prepared him for being treated like a school friend stopping over. He was certain he wasn’t allowed on the sofa, and he was going to bleed all over the tee-shirt. He put a finger to the heated pain of the cut on his face. The thought of Jared’s stark claim to ownership made him nauseous. Jensen swayed. He felt dizzy, the world was starting to spin, and his legs weren’t co-operating. Blood loss, low sugar level and shock, he supposed. He startled when he felt a hand on his arm and Jared was there, next to him, all warm breath and warm hands, firm muscle and concern, helping him into the clothes. “C’mon, everythin’ is pretty much trashed in here, you can’t make it worse.”

Jensen accepted the pants but pushed the tee-shirt back at him. “I’ll lie on my front.” He collapsed on the sofa, and Jared covered him with a blanket before peeling the wrapper off the energy bar for him.

“We could play X-Box if we weren’t so beat. Do you play X-Box?” Jared was still talking.

He'd been told to talk normally, so he didn't hold back. “Is this some sort of trick, Jared?” Jensen couldn’t figure him out.

Jared shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip. “No. I just, y’know. You’re in my room, and it’s kind of awkward, and when it’s awkward I talk, a lot.”

Jensen shuffled onto his side to look at Jared, “What’s awkward about it? I’m your slave.” He sighed, “Are you going to punish me in the morning, for sleeping here, Jared, just so I know?”

“No. No!” Jared swung his arms aimlessly and pointed to his bed, “I’m, um, going to read.” He retreated to sit with his comforter pulled around him and a lamp pooling light by his side. He flipped the switch to dim the main lights.

Jensen closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. His welts throbbed and his entire body thrummed on high alert. He was unrestrained, just five paces away from the person who was responsible for Sophie's death, and there was nothing except his professionalism stopping him taking revenge right there and then.

There was the sound of a page turning and then silence. He sensed Jared’s stare and this time it was Jensen who felt the need to break the silence. “You didn’t cuff me. I could kill you while you sleep.”

Jared huffed in amusement and looked over to lock eyes with him, “If you had any bite you wouldn’t be here. My father likes his slaves to look the part, but you are no hero, because he isn’t a fool. I’ll be first against the wall when the revolution comes. If you want to start early, feel free to try. Regardless of my condition, the guards will tear you to pieces. My advice is to wait for the revolution. Maybe you’ll get what you want while continuing to breathe.”

“Huh,” Jensen was sideswiped by the reply. He was sure he would, but right now he was overstepping boundaries, and he still couldn’t get a read on the kid. It didn’t bode well for his mission. He buried his head into his cushion and closed his eyes. He needed to rest.

“Jensen. Why do you test me, when you know I will take a whip to you? You’ve seen how quickly a mouth can be permanently silenced.” Jared sounded curious rather than angry.

Jensen decided not to lie, “You told me to speak normally. I'm not a naturally sweet person. I’m the only slave you have, and I am certain you are too spoiled to clean your mess or make your own meals.”

“Don’t count on it, Jensen.” The threat in Jared’s response was undisguised. He clicked the lamp off and the room became dark, “G’night, Jensen,” he said, and there was suddenly something childish, almost needy in it.

Oh, for god’s’ sake. “G’night, Jared,” Jensen buried his head into the pillow and let himself imagine all the painful things he could do to Jared Padalecki.

***

Jared snuffled and turned in his sleep. Jensen stilled and waited. He closed the door quietly and tiptoed back toward the couch. His recon. was a bust. If he wanted to get anywhere undetected, he would have to disable the cameras and pass through armed patrols. He paused to stare down at Jared, in his bed. He slept like an innocent child, with his covers strewn aside and his hair trailing on the pillow. Jensen's hand hovered by Jared’s face; two fingers and a thumb was all it would take, but he curled his fingers into his palm and drew back. Jared was his ticket through the security system and that meant building trust. His eyes flicked over Jared’s young body and back to the wide kissable mouth. He pondered on Jared’s erratic behavior, and his obvious need for a father’s approval. He wondered if the kid had ever been fucked, and a plan started to form. Yeah, Jared was going to be so fucked.



Jared woke with a start. He opened hazy eyes to a deep green eye, freckles, and full pink lips that smiled at him. It was seconds before he registered the other puffed eye, and the angry red scar that marred the beautiful face. He remembered the events of the evening before. I’m a dick, he decided. He shut his eyes again. “You’re still here,” he groaned.

“Of course I am. I am yours.” Jensen’s voice was low and soothing.

The scent of coffee and bacon wafted under Jared’s nostrils and he groaned again. “Oh my god that smells wonderful. What time is it?”

“Nine o’clock, sir. Apparently, I can use the kitchen, as long as I request an escort and don’t get in the way.” Jensen puffed a pillow, and Jared yawned and sat up. He leaned forward for Jensen to put a pillow behind his back. Fingers trailed softly over his shoulder as Jensen withdrew his hand, and Jared shivered. The touch felt good, but Jensen showed no sign that he noticed their contact.

Jensen knelt submissively by the bed while Jared ate. “I thought about what you said last night. You were right, I was out of order. I was trained better than that, and I am sorry, Master. It won’t happen again.”

Jared chewed a piece of bacon and swallowed. He looked thoughtful. “Good, just don’t go limp-noodle on me. Nobody has any spark around here.”

“I’ll try to find the right balance.” Jensen replied placidly.

He studied his slave. His face was bruised purple and red, one eye was reduced to the barest slit and his tempting, plump lips were swollen. The stripes on his back were oozing and shiny. Jensen was in obvious pain every time he moved. “You look like crap,” Jared commented.

Jensen didn’t reply.

“I could find some pain meds for you.” Jared palmed at his crotch and leered at his slave, “A favor for a favor. I only need your mouth.”

Jensen hesitated. “It doesn’t hurt.” Jared knew he was lying, but he let the slave continue speaking, “Shall I prepare the wash room for your cold shower?”

“What makes you think I’m giving you a choice?”

“I’m not a whore, Jared.”

“No, a whore has their freedom. You are less.”

“And you are a gentleman, Jared.” Jensen delivered the line without a hint of sarcasm.

His slave was quick-witted. A smile crossed Jared’s face. Jensen's sharp replies reminded him of someone else. He missed Sophie's smart-mouth. “See there’s your spark. I won't silence you today, because it amuses me.”

“Thank you, Jared.” His gratitude sounded genuine.

Jared left an egg and a piece of toast on his tray and offered it back to Jensen. “Eat this. It’s good. Clear the dishes, then you can finish cleaning my room. I’ll get a patrol to accompany you outside the building, so you can dig a grave for Fin, if you must.”

“That would be useful. How do I contact you for further instructions? Where will you be?”

“I’ll be back before you finish. It’s not like I have anywhere interesting to go,” Jared ground his teeth; his gilded cage frustrated him more every day. “I’ll be in the gym, a shower after that, and then the library.”



Jared's room overlooked a patch of lawn on the exterior of the ranch. Everything looked misty through thick, bullet-proof glass, and the small window didn't open. The room was large and comfortable but it wasn't luxurious. A huge bed topped with tasteful plain blue bedding dominated the space. The floor was an expanse of polished wood, broken up with thick rugs. Jensen had rolled Fin's body in a rug which was irretrievably bloodied, and he had removed it with the body, but there were more that would cover the space. There was a modest closet, filled with an assortment of mostly casual clothes. A chest of drawers, desk and occasional table were topped with clutter which included face wash and leather bracelets, batteries, combs, and all the paraphernalia of youth. A blue floor-length curtain hid an alcove with a neatly arranged miniature fridge, a water cooler, and a shelf with coffeemaker and mugs. A state of the art surround-sound movie and gaming system was the only obvious extravagance.

Jensen let routine housekeeping steady him. It reminded him of basic training in Padalecki’s army. Some days there had only been a toothbrush and the toe of his sergeant-major’s boot to enable his task. He had emerged tough and resourceful from that regime and used his skills to escape it entirely. There had been another initiation, after he tracked down JD and demanded a place as the youngest member of his team. He had cleaned toilets with toothbrushes, squeezed into rancid spaces, and run with a full backpack in equatorial rain and desert sun until his blisters had blisters. Even Misha had taken his part in beating him down. He’d come through it unscathed, and in the missions which followed, JD’s team had become family to him. He didn’t need the work any longer. He had a new life in a free country, any one of a number of identities, and the money in his off-shore accounts stacked to an obscene sum that he couldn't hope to spend in his lifetime. It wasn't about money any more. If it was, he wouldn’t be on his knees, in this tiny, mixed-up province, for anyone, regardless of the price.

Jared strode in, bringing the musky scent of sweat and exercise with him. “Looking good,” he remarked cheerfully, and flung a small packet at Jensen who caught it reflexively, in one hand. Jared’s eyebrows shot up, “Nice catch!” He dropped a sports bag to the floor by Jensen, and made for the bathroom, “Water pressure is pathetic in the gym. I came back for my shower. My sports wear needs to be washed, dried and folded back into the tote for tomorrow.”

Jensen turned the packet of Tylenol in his hand and looked to Jared for clarification.

“I’m an ass, and you’re a liar when you claim you don’t hurt. They’re for you. No strings attached. There’s not enough to kill you, so don’t think about taking them all at once.”

It was Jensen’s turn to be surprised. “Thanks.”

Jared’s suggestive tone returned, “I got ointment as well, but you can’t put it on your own back. There will be touching involved. I promise not to compromise your virginal reputation, unless you want me to.”

***He laid Jensen out shirtless on his bed, with his chest nestled into the silky coverlet, and a pillow under his head before pulling his pants down to expose the lacerations on his ass and thighs. Jared’s touch was unexpectedly gentle. Huge palms smoothed cool balm on red hot and stinging flesh. Jared leaned into the massage, his face a breath away from Jensen’s neck, making hairs stand on end and nerves tingle.

Jensen upped his game and shifted into Jared’s space, so his Master’s lips brushed lightly against the soft skin below his collar. He heard a hitch in Jared’s breath and it accompanied his own. His twisted tease was more erotic than any of the faceless and anonymous sex he indulged in. However sick Jensen was for enjoying it, Jared had a fit body and a thrilling touch that was inappropriate to his youth. Jensen resorted to the image of his first sergeant major to prevent an erection.

Jared wriggled the pants back up. Jensen wondered whose modesty he was trying to preserve. “Sit up.” He took Jensen’s hand to steady him and then sat beside him on the bed. He cupped Jensen’s chin in his hand and turned his face toward him. A finger scooped ointment from the pot and spread a light layer over the letters carved on Jensen’s cheek. “There, almost done,” he said, swiping the remainder from his finger to the edges of Jensen’s mouth. From the corner of his eye Jensen could see the obvious bulge of Jared’s erection under the cloth of his tight jeans. He schooled his face to neutral and let his hand relax. His forearm brushed against Jared’s thigh, as if by happy accident.

“Are you sure you don’t want something more?” Jared growled into Jensen’s ear.

Jensen sighed and fidgeted next to him, his ointment-slick skin slipped over Jared’s bare arm. He could sense the heat in Jared and hear his speeding breath. He let his voice drop to a husky whisper, “Only if you will let me fuck you.”

Jared barked a laugh, stood, and tugged Jensen to his feet. “Dream on. I’ll even let you jack off to that dream, as long as I can watch.” He smacked Jensen’s ass with a flat palm and the squelch of ointment.

“It’s not me who’s hard for it,” retorted Jensen.

Jared snapped the lid on the ointment. “I’m taking my shower. Don’t spy on me jerking off. You didn’t earn it.”

“I have a body to bury.” Jensen reminded him, and just like that, the playful mood was broken.

Jared bit his lip and looked down at the floor. He looked small in the moment. “Wear my old tee-shirt, and ask Corporal Hodge to escort you.”

***
He dug with a rhythmic clunk and thud of soil being displaced, and the corporal watched him. The earth was soft and peaty, easily cut with the large spade he was using. He side-eyed the compound fence and counted out the times between patrols, committing every detail to memory.

“You’ve a helluva set of muscles for an accountant,” the corporal remarked when Jensen finally threw his tool to the side and jumped to sit on the edge of the hole.

Jensen swung his head to look up at Corporal Hodge, he needed to be careful, “I’m not anything,” he said dully. “I used to be someone, and I ran a lot and worked out, but I guess everyone got the file on me, huh?” He wiped sweat from his brow and swigged water from a plastic bottle.

“We’re told what we need to know, to keep the President safe.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I know you’re here on your family’s honor, and I know your weak spot is your little sister. If you check out of the deal early, then she gets to pay her own debt, and I bet she’s as pretty as you are.”

Jensen played his part, nodded sadly, “Have you got family?”

Corporal Hodge shuffled his feet, “Yeah, man.”

“Then you get it?”

“I know you won’t give us any proper trouble, and I think you might be good for the kid, if you can hold your tongue. He needs a friend,” he paused and added, “Or even a father-figure.” The corporal stopped talking abruptly, and frowned, “Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t repeat it.”

Corporal Hodge had no idea how wrong he was about him. Jensen was trouble with a capital C for coup, and it didn’t harm to have leverage within the President’s security detail. “Holding my tongue!” quipped Jensen. He flashed his brightest smile at the soldier.

Jensen said a short prayer over Fin as he filled the first cold soil over the boy. He felt no emotion, only a soldier’s obligation to show respect for somebody’s son, brother or friend. He briefly wondered when it had become so easy to detach the part of him that cared, and how long he had been that way.



Jared twirled his pen in his hand and sighed. The numbers on the page made no sense. There wasn't anyone else his age at the ranch, and the staff weren't permitted to help him. It crossed his mind to seek his father's advice, but he rapidly dismissed it. It would only anger him.

He stood up and paced the quiet depths of the empty library, reading titles, and running his fingertips over the spines of books. He couldn’t concentrate, and it wasn’t because of equations he couldn’t solve. The slave, Jensen, unsettled him. Jared was seventeen, he understood enough to know that his dick ruled his mind a lot more than was good for him. Jensen wasn’t his type. Jared liked his conquests, small, submissive, and pliable, and this slave was none of those things, but he had wanted him from the moment he saw him. It was more than that though, he enjoyed his wit. Jared wanted more than sex, and he wasn’t sure he should explore the revelation. He stacked his books on the shiny oak desk before shutting his laptop down. He disconnected the network cable and stashed it carefully in its carrier. He didn’t want to lose his last link to sanity and the outside world.

Jensen was butt-naked and busy folding laundry when Jared returned to his room. Jared’s eyes roamed to the firm moons of his ass, where muscle rippled with every slight shift of his body. He barely avoided dropping the plate of sandwiches he was carrying, swallowed hard and raised his eyes quickly. “Y-you, don’t have any clothes on,” he stammered.

“They got muddy, so I washed them with your sports wear. I hope that’s alright.” Jensen turned to face Jared, full frontal and apparently without any self-consciousness.

Jared forced his gaze away from Jensen’s groin to focus on his face. He blushed crimson and had no idea where he suddenly acquired a stammer and an inability to maintain control around his naked slave, but his words weren’t coming out right, “Closet. Clothes. You should, you can take more, clothes. Now. Sweat pants and tee-shirt. Whatever fits.”

There was the faintest upturn to Jensen’s lips, as if he were trying not to laugh. Jared deposited his plate on the coffee table, turned and fled into the bathroom. The tap gushed and he splashed cold water on his face.

There was a rap on the door, “Jared, are you sick?”

“No, no,” Jared breathed deep and calmed himself, he was acting like a sixth grader, “I’m fine. Why don’t you find those clothes and I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, he emerged flushed and breathless, and Jensen was waiting for him, casual in a black v-neck tee which was tight over his chest, and sweat pants that rested on his hips. Jared’s room was spotless. Rugs had been rearranged to cover the space where Fin had fallen and the air conditioning was set at a perfect temperature. There was a glass of iced soda by his sandwiches, and cushions were plumped ready for him to sit on the sofa. Jared was starting to see the merits in having in his own slave, except that now there was nothing to do. He plopped himself down, scattering the neatly arranged cushions.

Jensen knelt at Jared’s side. “Do you need anything?” His drawl was low and calming.

Jared’s fingers scraped through Jensen’s hair. It was soft, despite its short, spiked style. “I’m bored,” he said as he reached to stroke the top of his collar.

“What do you usually do?”

“I do my own tidying, course work, work-out, read,  play with Fin.” He was bored and restless, still angry with his father and frustrated with Jensen, for no obvious reason except his refusal to be intimate. He didn't know what he wanted to do.

“Sounds dull.”

“Not all of it.” Jared could feel Jensen lean into him with an involuntary shudder as his fingertip circled the sensitive nub at the top of his spine.

“You can play,” Jensen offered.

Jared drew breath.

“There’s a stack of X-Box games. Which should I put in for you?”

Jared breathed out with the hint of a laugh, “You bitch! Do you play CoD?”

Jensen looked up at him with creased brow.

Jared shook his head and his mop of hair moved with it, “Man. It is much more interesting with two. You did have a life, right? Before you got into the shit that put you in that collar.”

“Yeah, sort of boring, I wasn’t much into blowing people away.” Jensen picked up Forza, “Now, fast cars, I get. Used to have …,” Jensen trailed off, “Doesn’t matter.”

“You miss it? Your old life?” Jared was curious.

Jensen glared up at him, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Jared twisted a hand into his collar and jerked it in warning, tight enough to constrict Jensen's breath for a moment. Jensen lowered his eyes and Jared released it without a word.

Jared didn’t believe slavery was a nice choice to make, but it wasn’t like it was non-consensual in their country. People got into trouble, they had debts they couldn’t pay, or were convicted for minor crimes and didn't want to serve their time in the cut throat atmosphere of a Monkota prison. The regime got flak for their stance on slavery, but it was introduced years before his father came to power. “Some people don’t miss it,” he said, “The crap that’s out there; some never have homes or a bed. Their family gets money for food, or whatever. They get a place and regular meals. Statistically, it’s safer than prison. Having a purpose can restore confidence. A lot are content.”

“What are you, the slavery spin-doctor? Because, being less than a whore is such a confidence boost, and then we get our brains shot out.” Jensen sounded bitter.

Jared's hand yanked viciously at Jensen's collar once more, and he was tempted to hit him, but he sighed instead. He knew he'd told Jensen to speak out, but right now he couldn't handle his hate. “That shouldn’t have happened, but there was just as much chance of Fin being killed on the street if he was homeless.” He could feel Jensen’s stare and he didn’t want to clash with him again, “Didn’t your trainer tell you that talk-back and politics are banned for a slave? Put the damn racing game in, sit on the sofa, and grab a controller. I get first pick of car. One of those sandwiches is for you, so eat it.”

They sat close to see the screen. Their knees touched and Jensen was a substantial, warm presence by Jared's side, smelling earthy and cinnamon and male. They both leaned with the movement of their on-screen cars and it took them into each other's space in an easy way. Jared trash-talked Jensen and he got a thrill when Jensen trash talked back. The game was evenly matched and when it was down to the wire with just one race remaining Jared upped the ante. “If I win I get to kiss you,” he suggested.

Jensen scowled, “Are you always this horny?”

“I’m seventeen. It’s not like I can go to a bar or nightclub. We’re both stuck here.”

Jensen put his controller down and turned to face Jared, “Jared, I don’t know what you’re looking for but I’m not Fin. I am far too old for you. You should be smoking weed, getting drunk, and getting laid by someone your own age.  You’re a brat. I feel like a pervert just considering it.”

Jared ignored the insult. He almost bounced with excitement, “But I can’t go anywhere else, nor can you, and you are considering it?”

“Jared …” Jensen palmed his face and shook his head, “Okay, how about, if you win, you get to kiss me and if I win, I get to kiss you, and that’s it. It’s just a kiss.”

The concept confused Jared, he replayed the words in his head, “That’s the same thing. I still get to kiss you,” he finally remarked.

“Oh, no baby boy, it's not the same thing at all.” Jensen growled, and it sent a tingle down Jared’s spine that curled his toes.

“You’re on!”

Jensen's car skidded past the checkered flag seconds before Jared's. He put his controller down and looked at Jared. His open eye seemed to sparkle a little greener, and long eyelashes fluttered. “It was a silly bet and you own me. You don’t have to.”

“I’m not a pussy, Jensen. It’s just a kiss.”

Jensen’s grin was pure filth and promise. “You do have a very kissable mouth. Are you going to let me show you how the grown-ups play?”

Jesus. Jared’s thinking brain deserted him because that was unexpectedly hot, and since when had he wanted to be anybody’s little bitch? He nodded soundlessly.

Jensen licked his lips and they shone, plump and enticing, “Lock the door, Jared.”

Jared’s senses returned. “I can’t, what if …,”

“Do you want anyone to see us kissing?” Jensen’s voice was, honey-sweet and soothing, “I was an accountant, that’s all. Not about to hurt anyone. Not even you.”

Jared crossed the room in three strides to key in the combination, and was back, standing by Jensen, arms hugged around himself like a shy schoolboy.

“Sit down, Jared.”

Jared sat awkwardly next to Jensen.

Fingers tangled in his hair and traced over his jaw. Jensen leaned in, hot breath on Jared’s neck, to whisper in his ear. “Relax. You’re my Master. You can stop me any time.”

Jared nodded his understanding, but he was already breathing fast, hyper aware of Jensen’s lips which brushed the skin of his neck in a series of feather light kisses and then developed into firm suction against the roughness of his chin. Jensen wrapped his large palm around Jared’s jaw and his thumb teased the side of Jared's mouth as he tilted his face up for better access. Jared took the hint and suckled wetly at the tip of Jensen’s thumb.

Jensen murmured encouragement, “Oh, who would have known? Such a baby boy for me.”

Jared thought he should feel some shame, but it was too good. When Jensen shoved him by his shoulders, into the back of the sofa, and hooked his leg over Jared’s lap he let it happen with a moan of approval, and his lips parted in invitation. Jensen’s mouth crashed down on his with a force he had never known. His lips were slick and demanding, and his tongue forced immediate access to explore every part of his mouth and wrap Jared’s tongue with suction, and the slightest nip of teeth.

This wasn’t amateur fumbling, or the tentative need to please by a slave for his master. It wasn’t anything he’d had before. Jared arched his back and pressed back. The sensation was overwhelming, like being devoured, and he couldn’t get his breath. Jensen didn’t stop, and Jared didn’t want him to. Rough skin with a hint of stubble rubbed sore against his face. He was sure his lips must be red and puffed. When Jensen finally pulled away with the soft smack of suction releasing, Jared was dizzy and gasping for breath, but his mouth chased for more. Jensen smoothed his thumb over his lips, collected the saliva that drooled there, pushed it between Jared’s lips, and let him suck it clean.

“Hmm. I don’t think you know yourself, Jared.” Jensen’s smug comment pulled Jared from his haze. He was suddenly cold. All contact with Jensen was lost as the man stood and adjusted his clothes, before reaching to slide the game disc from the consul, buffing it and replacing it in its cover.

“Huh,” Jared was lost for words. He was ridiculously turned on, thoroughly confused, and he wanted more, but it wasn’t the deal, and he wouldn’t push it. Most days he wasn’t a total douche-bag. “You should clear away the plate and organize Supper. I have to go and see Pa,” he flailed, looking for an excuse, “He gets antsy if he doesn’t have an opportunity to shout at me every day. You should stay here, away from him.”

“He said he didn’t want to see you,” Jensen remarked.

“He was drunk. He says that every time we argue. He’ll still be pissed if I don’t.” Jared knew it was true, even as he said it, and his arousal faded rapidly.

“Does that mean he will want me back?” Jensen looked anxious.

Jared didn’t glance at Jensen as he left the room. “God, no! If he hasn’t come for you, then he’s already replaced you.”



Jensen dabbed a finger to his mouth. The taste of Jared lingered on him. It was as if youth had its own flavor; minty, sweet and delicious. He thought it could be addictive. Did he taste that way once? Memories clamored to be heard, but he wouldn't listen. He pushed them into the darkest recess of his mind.

He waited two minutes before he locked the door using the code Jared had inadvertently shown him. He grabbed the laptop bag to examine the contents. Sure enough, between the computer, the charger, and a pad of paper covered with math, he found a network cable. Jensen grinned and replaced it all before conducting a hands and knees search of the wall near to Jared’s television and games consul. He hit gold. There was a connection. The President’s advisers wouldn’t risk Wi-Fi for the main system, but there was a possibility their network could be hacked using Jared’s log-in. The more Jensen got to know Jared, the more he believed his plan would work. The kid was spoiled, and unpredictable, with a poor sense of morality, but Corporal Hodge was right, Jared was lonely and needy for approval. Jensen could work with that.

Jensen double checked that everything was back in place. He unlocked the door and set off to the kitchen to collect Supper.

Part three

au, age play, nc-17, slavery, underage, j2, prostitution, have hatred and gravity won

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