A Little Bondage
Part Four of the "A Little Familiar" Series
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R (for language)
Warnings: None really, unless you need a warning for snark.
Disclaimer: Obviously not real and not meant to imply reality. This is crack, ladies and gentleman.
Authors Note: Written for meus_venator's prompt for the Kettle of Trouble meme. This is probably not at all what she had in mind when she gave that prompt, but it's where my warped mind chose to go with it, so here it is... Beta done as always by bumblebat79
Summary:Ever wonder how sorcerer's wind up with their familiars? Well J1, a mild mannered IT professional is about to discover that J2, the hipster in marketing isn't all he appears and the word 'Master' will never mean the same thing to him again.
Part One
Jared didn’t completely lose consciousness. His vision faded in and out, from black to white and all the colors in-between. He felt himself being moved as several hands grasped him and clumsily lifted him back into the office chair. Jared wasn’t really following the conversation, but he could tell that Jeremiah was pissed. Thankfully, at least this time, it wasn’t directed at Jared.
“… if you touch my brother again!” Jeremiah was shouting. He caught a name: Ethan or Evan or maybe Ewan fucking McGregor for all Jared could tell and he wondered if that wasn’t Baseball Bat’s real name. Jared’s head lolled back and he blinked as his vision started to right itself. Jeremiah was using his full height to his advantage, looming over the blond guy who’d dropped the bat and was now actively cowering under his brother’s glare. After sufficiently cowing the lackey, Jeremiah turned his attention back to Jared.
“Tie him to that chair,” he said, “while he’s still out of it.”
Jared struggled, or at least it felt like he did. His muscles may have fluttered ineffectually a bit but the next thing he knew was he was securely tied to that damn chair, his hands lashed to the arm rests and another rope around his waist. He wasn’t completely immobile as his legs weren’t tied; he could probably scoot around the office a bit. He laughed aloud as he imagined trying to fight his brother while bound to the wheeled chair. This set off Jeremiah’s ire at the lackey again and he reached out and soundly hit the man upside the head.
“If you fucked him up with that you can consider yourself unclaimed for good,” his brother growled, and suddenly it made sense - in a twisted sort of way. Jeremiah had already collected a parcel of familiars to claim - obviously unclaimed familiars who were just as desperate for a sorcerer to bond with that they either didn’t mind sharing or, and this was more likely, considered sharing a sorcerer to be a lesser evil than remaining unclaimed. Jared wondered if Jensen would soon be joining that little harem. After all, a sorcerer was a sorcerer and Jensen had never been interested in Jared before he realized that Jared was a sorcerer. And wasn’t that still a trip and a half? Jared, a sorcerer. He felt another laugh bubble out of him. That was like the sky turning plaid and everyone just being like, “Meh, it does that sometimes”.
It was the thought of Jensen that pulled Jared out of his stupor. He shook his head and blinked repeatedly, trying to order his thoughts. Jeremiah had Jensen! His Jensen.
“Give me back my familiar,” Jared demanded. “He’s mine.”
“This is your familiar? This little mouse?”
Jeremiah held Jensen in his hand, his grasp tight - probably too tight. The mouse was glaring up at Jeremiah with malice and Jared hoped that Jensen wouldn’t bite his brother. Not that Jeremiah didn’t deserve it, he absolutely did, but then Jeremiah might drop Jensen and for a little mouse that was a long, long way down.
“How hard do you think I’d have to squeeze him to make him pop?” Jeremiah taunted, holding Jensen close to Jared’s face. He tightened his grip and Jensen’s little eyes widened as he gasped.
“Stop being an asshole, Jer,” Jared said. “I like the mouse. Please don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything to you. Besides, I claimed him, so give him back.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I interrupted your little claiming,” Jeremiah said with some amusement. Jared’s brother crouched low and spoke softly into Jared’s ear. “I could have fucked him, you know. While you took your sweet time doing whatever it was you were doing outside. He thought I was you and he was more than ready to bend over this desk and let me - ouch! You little bitch!”
It took about half a second for Jared’s ears to stop ringing and to realize Jensen had in fact bit Jeremiah. A bead of blood welled up by his thumb and the mouse looked smug as hell.
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Jeremiah said, pulling one side of his upper lip into a sneer. “Otherwise my brother wouldn’t have looked twice at you. Really? A mouse, and an anthropomorphic one at that? Let me guess, you’re a gamer, and you live in your parent’s basement and you have no real life because no sorcerer worth his salt would claim you. Until my dimwitted brother came along, that is.”
Jensen dropped his head and looked to the side. His ears drooped a little, like they had earlier when Jensen had thought Jared was rejecting him.
“Fuck you,” Jensen managed to ground out. “You’re an asshole.”
Jared agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. “Leave him alone!” Jared insisted again. “It’s not like he can stop you.”
“You’re right,” Jeremiah said amiably. “He can’t do anything to stop me. But let’s see you claim this.”
With that Jeremiah dropped Jensen on the floor where he scrambled back to his feet to run - only to be smashed flat by Jeremiah’s booted foot.
“No!” cried Jared, horrified. “No! You fucking bastard! You - you killed him!”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes and lifted his foot. Jared expected to see the gory remains of his familiar - Jensen - there, but all that remained was a puff of black smoke hanging on the air.
“Wha- where is he? What did you do? What did you do to Jensen?” Jared was practically hysterical, fighting against the ropes that tied him to that damn office chair.
Jeremiah’s minions - the other familiars - were laughing at him. He’d show them. He’d show every last one of them or die trying.
“You really are an idiot, Jared,” Jeremiah said and it sounded more like a resigned sigh of acceptance than an insult. If anything, Jared was more insulted by it than if had been shouted at him. Jeremiah turned to his followers. “Put him in the office with the familiar. Make sure they’re tied tight and can’t get out.”
Jeremiah leaned over Jared. “Don’t worry. As soon as I get the amulet and get out I’ll call in an anonymous tip so that you don’t stay tied up until Monday. Even I’m not that cruel. Just remember, by the time they get here and get you untied and processed, I’ll have claimed every one of these familiars. I’ll be unstoppable. If you don’t want people to die, I suggest you say you never saw your attacker. Got it?”
Jared was defeated. He hung his head and tried not to let his emotions get the better of him.
“Got it,” he said.
Jared didn’t fight as they rolled him through the office and stuffed him, of all places, into Mark Sheppard’s office. Jensen was - well, Jeremiah had made it clear that Jensen wasn’t dead, but Jared wasn’t sure just what exactly had happened to the little familiar. Grief welled up in his chest, hot and thick and paralyzing, augmented by the thrumming in his skull. What if Jensen was hurt? What if-
Jensen was tied up on the floor of the office, his hands and ankles bound. He lay there almost as if he was asleep, but if Jared focused he could detect the steady rise and fall of Jensen’s chest under his thin T-shirt. Jeremiah’s thugs paid no attention to Jensen’s prone body and rolled Jared to a stop about three feet away from him, close enough for Jared to reach out with one foot and prod him a little if he wanted to. He glared at his brother who stood in the doorway.
“If he’s hurt…”
In response Jeremiah only laughed, reaching down and running his long fingers through his wolf familiar’s fur.
“You know what, Jared? Come talk to me once you’ve found a real familiar, and not Fievel Goes West.”
“You know what, Jeremiah?” Jared countered. “Fuck off.”
“Mature, little brother,” Jeremiah said with derision. With that, he shut the door, locking Jared and Jensen in Mark’s unlit office.
“Perfect,” Jared sighed. “Just fucking perfect.”
Part Five
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: R (for language)
Warnings: None really, unless you need a warning for snark.
Disclaimer: Obviously not real and not meant to imply reality. This is crack, ladies and gentleman.
Authors Note: Written for meus_venator's prompt for the Kettle of Trouble meme. This is probably not at all what she had in mind when she gave that prompt, but it's where my warped mind chose to go with it, so here it is... Beta done as always by bumblebat79
Summary:Ever wonder how sorcerer's wind up with their familiars? Well J1, a mild mannered IT professional is about to discover that J2, the hipster in marketing isn't all he appears and the word 'Master' will never mean the same thing to him again.
Part One
Jared didn’t completely lose consciousness. His vision faded in and out, from black to white and all the colors in-between. He felt himself being moved as several hands grasped him and clumsily lifted him back into the office chair. Jared wasn’t really following the conversation, but he could tell that Jeremiah was pissed. Thankfully, at least this time, it wasn’t directed at Jared.
“… if you touch my brother again!” Jeremiah was shouting. He caught a name: Ethan or Evan or maybe Ewan fucking McGregor for all Jared could tell and he wondered if that wasn’t Baseball Bat’s real name. Jared’s head lolled back and he blinked as his vision started to right itself. Jeremiah was using his full height to his advantage, looming over the blond guy who’d dropped the bat and was now actively cowering under his brother’s glare. After sufficiently cowing the lackey, Jeremiah turned his attention back to Jared.
“Tie him to that chair,” he said, “while he’s still out of it.”
Jared struggled, or at least it felt like he did. His muscles may have fluttered ineffectually a bit but the next thing he knew was he was securely tied to that damn chair, his hands lashed to the arm rests and another rope around his waist. He wasn’t completely immobile as his legs weren’t tied; he could probably scoot around the office a bit. He laughed aloud as he imagined trying to fight his brother while bound to the wheeled chair. This set off Jeremiah’s ire at the lackey again and he reached out and soundly hit the man upside the head.
“If you fucked him up with that you can consider yourself unclaimed for good,” his brother growled, and suddenly it made sense - in a twisted sort of way. Jeremiah had already collected a parcel of familiars to claim - obviously unclaimed familiars who were just as desperate for a sorcerer to bond with that they either didn’t mind sharing or, and this was more likely, considered sharing a sorcerer to be a lesser evil than remaining unclaimed. Jared wondered if Jensen would soon be joining that little harem. After all, a sorcerer was a sorcerer and Jensen had never been interested in Jared before he realized that Jared was a sorcerer. And wasn’t that still a trip and a half? Jared, a sorcerer. He felt another laugh bubble out of him. That was like the sky turning plaid and everyone just being like, “Meh, it does that sometimes”.
It was the thought of Jensen that pulled Jared out of his stupor. He shook his head and blinked repeatedly, trying to order his thoughts. Jeremiah had Jensen! His Jensen.
“Give me back my familiar,” Jared demanded. “He’s mine.”
“This is your familiar? This little mouse?”
Jeremiah held Jensen in his hand, his grasp tight - probably too tight. The mouse was glaring up at Jeremiah with malice and Jared hoped that Jensen wouldn’t bite his brother. Not that Jeremiah didn’t deserve it, he absolutely did, but then Jeremiah might drop Jensen and for a little mouse that was a long, long way down.
“How hard do you think I’d have to squeeze him to make him pop?” Jeremiah taunted, holding Jensen close to Jared’s face. He tightened his grip and Jensen’s little eyes widened as he gasped.
“Stop being an asshole, Jer,” Jared said. “I like the mouse. Please don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything to you. Besides, I claimed him, so give him back.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I interrupted your little claiming,” Jeremiah said with some amusement. Jared’s brother crouched low and spoke softly into Jared’s ear. “I could have fucked him, you know. While you took your sweet time doing whatever it was you were doing outside. He thought I was you and he was more than ready to bend over this desk and let me - ouch! You little bitch!”
It took about half a second for Jared’s ears to stop ringing and to realize Jensen had in fact bit Jeremiah. A bead of blood welled up by his thumb and the mouse looked smug as hell.
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Jeremiah said, pulling one side of his upper lip into a sneer. “Otherwise my brother wouldn’t have looked twice at you. Really? A mouse, and an anthropomorphic one at that? Let me guess, you’re a gamer, and you live in your parent’s basement and you have no real life because no sorcerer worth his salt would claim you. Until my dimwitted brother came along, that is.”
Jensen dropped his head and looked to the side. His ears drooped a little, like they had earlier when Jensen had thought Jared was rejecting him.
“Fuck you,” Jensen managed to ground out. “You’re an asshole.”
Jared agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. “Leave him alone!” Jared insisted again. “It’s not like he can stop you.”
“You’re right,” Jeremiah said amiably. “He can’t do anything to stop me. But let’s see you claim this.”
With that Jeremiah dropped Jensen on the floor where he scrambled back to his feet to run - only to be smashed flat by Jeremiah’s booted foot.
“No!” cried Jared, horrified. “No! You fucking bastard! You - you killed him!”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes and lifted his foot. Jared expected to see the gory remains of his familiar - Jensen - there, but all that remained was a puff of black smoke hanging on the air.
“Wha- where is he? What did you do? What did you do to Jensen?” Jared was practically hysterical, fighting against the ropes that tied him to that damn office chair.
Jeremiah’s minions - the other familiars - were laughing at him. He’d show them. He’d show every last one of them or die trying.
“You really are an idiot, Jared,” Jeremiah said and it sounded more like a resigned sigh of acceptance than an insult. If anything, Jared was more insulted by it than if had been shouted at him. Jeremiah turned to his followers. “Put him in the office with the familiar. Make sure they’re tied tight and can’t get out.”
Jeremiah leaned over Jared. “Don’t worry. As soon as I get the amulet and get out I’ll call in an anonymous tip so that you don’t stay tied up until Monday. Even I’m not that cruel. Just remember, by the time they get here and get you untied and processed, I’ll have claimed every one of these familiars. I’ll be unstoppable. If you don’t want people to die, I suggest you say you never saw your attacker. Got it?”
Jared was defeated. He hung his head and tried not to let his emotions get the better of him.
“Got it,” he said.
Jared didn’t fight as they rolled him through the office and stuffed him, of all places, into Mark Sheppard’s office. Jensen was - well, Jeremiah had made it clear that Jensen wasn’t dead, but Jared wasn’t sure just what exactly had happened to the little familiar. Grief welled up in his chest, hot and thick and paralyzing, augmented by the thrumming in his skull. What if Jensen was hurt? What if-
Jensen was tied up on the floor of the office, his hands and ankles bound. He lay there almost as if he was asleep, but if Jared focused he could detect the steady rise and fall of Jensen’s chest under his thin T-shirt. Jeremiah’s thugs paid no attention to Jensen’s prone body and rolled Jared to a stop about three feet away from him, close enough for Jared to reach out with one foot and prod him a little if he wanted to. He glared at his brother who stood in the doorway.
“If he’s hurt…”
In response Jeremiah only laughed, reaching down and running his long fingers through his wolf familiar’s fur.
“You know what, Jared? Come talk to me once you’ve found a real familiar, and not Fievel Goes West.”
“You know what, Jeremiah?” Jared countered. “Fuck off.”
“Mature, little brother,” Jeremiah said with derision. With that, he shut the door, locking Jared and Jensen in Mark’s unlit office.
“Perfect,” Jared sighed. “Just fucking perfect.”
Part Five