Sweet Charity Fic: Blues Will Be Blue (Chris/Jensen) NC-17
Title: Blues Will Be Blue
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Chris/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All fiction; none of this is true.
Beta: Thank you,
benitle and
leighm
Wordcount: 5,125
Summary: This is a college AU-it takes place in the rural southern U.S.
Notes: Written for
misskatieleigh, for Sweet Charity, who asked for a continuation of my ficlet, Truth, complete with kissing and Jensen singing onstage. -Thank you,
annkiri for helping me out with the singing terms, and
lissa_bear for providing advice about the music.
Part 1: Truth (previously posted - 1,000 words)
Title taken from The Red Strokes, by Garth Brooks.
Part 1: Truth (previously posted - 1,000 words) It would be helpful to read this ficlet first, although not completely necessary.
Part 2
Blues Will Be Blue
August 1996
Jensen paces while he waits for Chris. It’s not like he’s afraid Chris won’t show up, it’s just that he’s never gone out with people he doesn’t know very well. But a few minutes after nine he hears a scuffling sound outside his door, along with hushed voices, and he figures it’s his asshole friends dicking around. He yanks the door open to give them hell before they leave for the weekend, but it’s not Todd or Ryan or any of the other guys from his hometown.
It’s Chris.
And Chris isn’t alone.
There’s a girl with him, her hands on Chris’s chest. She’s got olive skin and dark eyes, and he can see that her arms are toned as she presses her palms against Chris’s shirt. She’s whispering furiously at him under her breath, eyes focused directly on his face.
Chris glances over and notices Jensen watching, and he tugs the girl to his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, Jensen. We were just having a little discussion,” he says, words clipped and short. He tilts his head toward her. “This is my girl, Lisa.”
Jensen opens his mouth, then closes it before he says something stupid. He can tell by the way Lisa’s skin flushes that the discussion wasn’t entirely pleasant, but he’s too shocked by Chris even having a girl to wonder what they were fighting about.
“Hi Lisa. Nice to meet you,” he says, trying to forget the way Chris leaned into him earlier that day, the way his breath felt against Jensen’s ear.
***
Juanita's is smoky and the tortilla chips are stale, but that doesn’t stop Jensen from eating them. Chris introduces Jensen to some of his buddies, but Jensen’s not in the mood for small talk, and he sits off by himself. He’s on his third bowl of chips when a girl from his Lit class slides into the seat next to him. Her name’s Leanne, and she fakes a shy grin.
“Good to see you outside of class,” he says, and when she asks if he wants to move away from the stage so they can talk, he turns his hands up in a helpless gesture, explaining that he’s there to see the performance.
She’s disappointed, but not deterred, and she scoots closer when Chris and his friend Steve start singing.
Despite it being the only thing most of his friends listen to, Jensen’s not as into Garth Brooks as everyone else. He likes the music okay, knows all the lyrics thanks to his brother’s CD collection, and he’s done his fair share of singing Friends in Low Places on bus rides back from baseball games, but it’s a little more mainstream than he prefers, not that he admits that out loud very often.
But as Chris sings If Tomorrow Never Comes, Jensen’s surprised at how good he is. He didn’t really expect much, even with Chris’s music major. Half his high school buddies think they can sing, and aren’t afraid to really belt it out, whether they’re in church or drunk at a Saturday night bonfire, never mind that they sound like shit.
By the second song, Jensen has to bite his lip to keep from smiling up at Chris. Leanne’s thankfully oblivious to the way Jensen’s looking at Chris, and she’s moved even closer. Jensen jerks when her knee rubs into his, but he gives her a tentative smile.
By the third song, she’s practically in his lap, and goddammit, now his dick’s hard. He’s not really attracted to her, despite the fact that she’s cute with short hair and caramel-brown eyes, but it’s been two months since he’s had anything other than his own hand. He stares over at Lisa, whose eyes are glued to Chris, figures that he doesn’t have anything to lose. He lets Leanne lean into him a little more, buys her a Coke.
He puts his arm around her shoulders, but Jensen’s eyes stay on the stage-he watches everything, memorizing the way Chris holds his microphone, the way he tilts his head to the side as he sings.
When it’s time to go, Leanne whispers in his ear. “I’m in Carmichael Hall,” and disappears with her friends.
Jensen barely notices-he sprawls out in his chair, staring at Chris as he packs up his equipment, muscles moving under his red t-shirt.
***
West Hall is old, but the showers have been renovated, thanks to private donors, alumni like Jensen’s dad and uncle. He stands under the spray, letting the hot water wash away the smoke and sweat, glad that all his friends have gone home for the weekend.
His dick’s been hard all night, thanks to watching Chris, and it didn’t help to have Leanne rubbing all over him. He runs his hand over his cock, remembering the way Chris’s fingers wrapped around the microphone, tries to imagine Chris’s hand on his dick. It’s a bit of a stretch because even though he’s always liked boys, he’s never touched one-when everyone in town knows your mother, from the grocery store clerk to the community lifeguard, secrets are impossible. And with fourteen people in your graduating class, there aren’t really a lot of choices for experimenting.
He closes his eyes and comes in less than a minute, thinking about the way Chris’s lips looked as he sang.
***
He’s grateful for the private room when he slides into bed; it means there are no questions, no reason to explain the half-grin on his face. He lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, mind wandering pleasantly until he drifts off to sleep.
He wakes up suddenly, startled out of sleep by a small scraping sound. He can see across his room, thanks to the yellow light from the streetlamp filtering in from outside, and when his eyes finally focus, Jensen jerks back, heart racing.
There’s someone in his room.
He sits up quickly, reaching for the golf club he keeps under his bed, tensing when he can’t reach it. He moves down, starts creeping off the end of the bed. He may not be able to get his club, but he’s sure as hell not going to lie in bed and wait to die in a goddamned dorm room.
He’s got both feet on the floor when the person speaks. "Nice alarm," the guy says, picking up Jensen's green John Deere clock. He turns the tractor upside down and spins one of the wheels.
Jensen exhales, sinking back onto the bed when he recognizes Chris’s voice. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He flops down onto his back. “How did you get in here?” It’s dark in the room, but Jensen can see the curve of Chris’s smirk.
“Picked the lock.”
Jensen doesn’t want to dwell on why he isn’t more pissed off by that. He rubs his hand over his face and tries to concentrate on something appropriate to say, something that’s not, Where’s Lisa, where’s your girl? Luckily, Chris is still fiddling with the clock and doesn’t seem to notice the lull before Jensen finally speaks. “Don’t tell me you don’t have one too,” Jensen says, propping himself up on one elbow
Chris laughs. “Mine’s a little older than yours, but I’ve still got it.” Chris puts the clock down and leans back against the wall. “I bet all the little kids in your family have those damn electric riding tractors too, instead of the normal Jeeps."
Jensen puts his arms behind his head, tries to look relaxed. "Yep."
Chris shakes his head. "Yeah, me too. My grandmother spends way too much time inside Cracker Barrel searching for sheets and dishes with John Deere smeared all over them," he says, pushing himself off the wall and coming to sit on the edge of Jensen’s bed.
Jensen stiffens. He didn’t know Chris would come this close.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Chris asks, and the smirk is gone.
Fun isn’t the right word-Jensen jacked off thinking about the way Chris’s voice sounded, the way he looked while he sang, and he figures that’s a little more than just fun. But no, he is not going to let Chris know all that, isn’t going let him have the upper hand. What did his brother always tell him? Act casual, Jensen. Act like you’ve got shit under control. It had been aimed at dating girls, but he figures he can improvise. “It was alright.”
“Next time you’ll have more fun. I promise,” Chris says. He pats Jensen’s knee over the pajama pants, and Jensen’s thankful again that he’s got a private dorm room.
He lets his hand linger, and Jensen tries, he tries so hard to hang onto his brother’s advice, but he opens his mouth. “Where’s Lisa?” Jesus, he’s so fucking stupid.
Chris shrugs. “At her house, I guess. Dunno.”
He thinks of Lisa, with her dark hair and even darker eyes, plastered all over Chris. “You don’t know?”
“No. I don’t,” Chris says, voice sharp. “Where’s Leanne?”
“Leanne?”
“Yeah. Leanne who was in your lap all night. Ring a bell?” Chris’s hand is making its way up his leg, over his knee, then up higher, palm flat over his thigh.
Jensen doesn’t know how Chris can be jealous, not when he’s the one with a girlfriend, but the note was there in his voice, loud and clear, but it doesn’t really matter because Chris’s hand on his leg is making his stomach roll over.
He shifts, until Chris’s hand is nearly on his ass. “Right. Leanne’s a nice girl.” Jensen grins when he hears Chris’s sharp intake of breath. “A very nice girl,” he says, and he’s about to chide Chris a little more but he’s interrupted by a loud crashing sound outside the door.
He goes still, mouth open. He hears Ryan’s voice, alongside Todd’s, who he’s been friends with since before preschool, yelling, “Jensen, you in there? Shoulda come with us, man, fucking awesome-“
Chris is off the bed and across the room before Jensen can even sit up.
“Fuck,” Jensen mutters under his breath. He gets up and cracks the door open, making sure to brace it with his hip so his fucktard friends can’t push their way in. “I thought y’all were going home?”
“Came back,” Ryan says proudly. “Got some action, so we came back-“
“Dude, look, I’m wasted, so come back tomorrow okay?” To Jensen’s relief they buy it, laughing and stumbling over each other until they fall into their room across the hall.
Chris is still across the room, his back flat against the cinderblock wall.
“They won’t come back,” Jensen says. He could kill both of them.
“I should go,” Chris says flatly, and he’s already moving toward the door. “I’ll see you around.”
***
August turns into September, and Jensen sees Chris almost every day, but they don’t talk, not really. They say hey and nod at each other, but there are no more invitations to Juanita’s and no more late-night visits. He goes home on the weekends, helps his dad with the crops and hangs out with Ryan and Todd and Brent, just like he’s done for the last eighteen years.
When the cold snap comes in October, Chris still hasn’t spoken to him. Jensen is insanely disappointed, even though he tries not to be. He reminds himself that he should have known better, and focuses on his classes.
During the weekdays, Leanne manages to cross Jensen’s path quite a few times. Jensen’s honest with her, tells her he’s not looking for anything serious, but she says she’s okay with that.
In early November, he takes her to see Romeo and Juliet. He likes the stylized retelling of the story, and so does she. After the movie, she chatters about how much she admires Claire Danes, while smiling up at him and holding onto his arm, and he feels like an ass for stringing her along. She’s a smart, attractive girl, and she deserves better than what Jensen’s been giving her. “You wanna come back to my room?” he asks her, for the first time.
Her smile is radiant when she nods.
He goes down on her. She’s clean and smells nice, but when she reaches for the button on his jeans, he stops her. “Already finished,” he says. It’s a lie, but it’s not right to use her like that when his mind is still on Chris. She stays for an hour or so, her head resting on his chest. They talk about the movie and all the people in their Literature class, and he walks her back to her dorm.
When he gets back to his room, there’s someone sitting on his bed. Jensen knows it’s Chris before he turns his light on.
“Did you fuck her?” Chris asks.
“No.” Jensen closes the door behind him, leans against it. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Chris gets up, comes to stand right in front of Jensen. “Feels like it’s my business,” he says. He leans in closer and touches Jensen’s cheek with his fingertips. “I can smell her on you.”
Jensen yanks his head to the side, away from Chris’s hand. “What the fuck, man? Since when is who I’m with any of your goddamn business?”
Chris’s hands move up, grab Jensen’s shoulders. “Got sick of watching you with her.”
Jensen pries Chris’s hands from his shoulders, shoves him backward. “Oh that’s rich.” He steps forward, gives Chris another good push. He can’t fucking believe Chris’s nerve-questioning him when Chris is the one with the problem. “What about Lisa?”
Chris lets Jensen shove him. “What about her?”
“She’s your girlfriend.” Jensen can hear how bitter his words sound, but he doesn’t care.
Chris just stands there, head cocked to the side. “Not really.” He pauses. “She’s not what I want.”
Jensen shakes his head. He wants to punch the smug look right off Chris’s face, but he stays where he is, arms rigid at his sides. “Why do you keep dating her then?” Jesus Christ, why does he have to sound so pathetic?
Chris laughs, crosses his arms. “Cause she does my laundry when my mom won’t.”
“You’re kidding,” Jensen says. His mother would slap him for even thinking something like that about a girl. “Are you always this much of an asshole?”
“Just to you, Jenny,” Chris says, but his voice is softer.
Jensen scoffs. He’s not falling for it, not yet. “Does she know about you?”
“No. Goddammit, she doesn’t. This isn’t Melrose Place. Girls around here don’t think gay is cute. They want a husband with a farm, a house with a mudroom, and a Suburban for the kids.” Chris crosses the room and sinks down onto Jensen’s bed. “I know, because I’ve had three of ‘em tell me.”
Fuck. Chris sounds so resigned, and Jensen can’t take it. He prefers the cocky bullshit to this. “Not just the girls, man,” he says, moving to sit beside Chris, making sure they aren’t touching. “That’s what everyone wants here.”
“Yeah,” Chris says, quietly. “Everyone but us.”
Jensen scoots closer, until his thigh is lined up with Chris’s. He sighs and leans in, resting his head on Chris’s shoulder. He feels Chris exhale, and then his arm comes up to wrap around Jensen’s shoulders. “We’re playing again next Friday night. If you wanna come.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. He shivers as Chris’s hand rubs up and down his arm. “I do.”
“Good,” Chris says, turning until his lips are against Jensen’s hair. “Be ready at 8:30.” He kisses Jensen’s head softly. “I gotta go.”
***
Chris is just as good the second time as he was the first. Like most of Garth’s songs, The Dance is cheesier than Jensen prefers, but Chris’s voice makes it okay, and he can’t help but shiver when Chris looks right at him while he sings. Then Chris is grinning at him, and Jensen’s already started blushing when Chris says his name. He thinks he hears Chris telling him to come onstage, saying something like, Our buddy Jensen here is gonna sing with us, but the buzzing in his head is so loud he can’t tell for sure.
Then the guy next to him is shoving his shoulder, pushing him forward. He hears the scrape of the wooden chair leg against the concrete floor; people pat him on the back as he moves toward the stage, someone slaps him on the ass.
“You know the words to The Red Strokes?” Chris asks.
“Unfortunately,” Jensen mouths back, but he smiles.
Jensen’s sung in front of people in the church choir-he’s done a few solos and duets here and there, but those were for Christmas pageants, and that was fine, because no one but the moms and the grandmas really pay attention to something like that.
But this is different, he’s staring out at people he likes, people who might think he’s a big-ass loser if he fucks this up. Jesus Christ. He squeezes his fingernails into his palms and forces himself to suck it up, reminds himself it’s just a fucking hole in the wall in the middle of a cornfield.
He nods at Chris, lets him start, and then Jensen joins him on the second line.
Chris smiles over at him as he sings, wide and happy, and Jensen relaxes, forgetting about Christmas pageants and looking stupid and being nervous, only thinking about the sound of his voice blending with Chris’s.
When the song’s over, Jensen’s heart pounds and his knees shake while the small crowd cheers and whistles, but Jensen barely notices-after seeing Chris smile at him like that, nothing else seems important.
He’s about to head back to his seat when he feels a hand on his elbow, and then there’s just the flat hardness of the wall as Chris pushes him forward off the side of the stage. “Steve’ll take this next song,” he mumbles. Chris keeps walking, pulling him into a broom closet, both of them fumbling over a bucket and mops.
Jensen swallows roughly as Chris pushes the door closed, locks it. There are no windows; they’re in total darkness other than the dim slip of light coming through the door, and Jensen’s breathing hard, nearly panting by the time Chris’s fingertips brush over his forearm.
Chris leans in, close, wraps his hands around Jensen’s wrists, thumbs rubbing over the pulse points.
Jensen shudders and closes his eyes. He inhales the stale cleaners and moldy lemon-scented rags, but when Chris presses his lips against Jensen’s, all he can smell is Chris’s aftershave. He doesn’t have to tilt his head very far down or worry about whether he shaved well enough, and then he’s not thinking about anything but Chris as he opens his mouth and lets Chris’s tongue in.
Chris’s mouth is wet and sweet, and he tastes like Corona and salsa. Jensen licks back against Chris’s tongue, savoring. “Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Jensen asks.
“Was just tryin’ to keep from going nuts,” Chris ducks his head and breathes against Jensen’s neck. “Barely know you and you make me so fucking crazy.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” Jensen has to talk in between moans as Chris sucks at the spot right under his jaw. “In case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” Chris says, rubbing his thigh against Jensen’s erection.
***
Even after Friday night, Jensen doesn’t think things between him and Chris are going to be normal or anything close, but when Monday comes and he still hasn’t heard from him, he feels sick at his stomach.
He sees Chris around campus all week and forces himself to nod hello, say hey, what’s up. He’s friendly and casual-no matter how much he wants to go wrap himself around Chris and hang on. But he’s not going to give Chris the satisfaction. Jensen doesn’t beg.
On Tuesday, he tells Leanne he can’t see her anymore, and even though he’d warned her up front that he didn’t plan to be exclusive, he can’t help the stab of guilt when he sees the tears in her eyes.
On Friday, he’s leaving to go grab dinner, but when he opens the door, Chris is in the hallway, clutching a movie in his hand. He holds it up. “Thought we could watch 12 Monkeys,” he says, giving Jensen a half smile.
“Is Bruce Willis supposed to make me forget that you’ve been an asshole again?”
“Bruce Willis makes everything better.”
“You’re not off the hook.”
“I didn’t expect to be.” Chris exhales. “Jensen, you know it’s not you.”
Jensen raises his eyebrows. “I do?”
“Do I really have to spell this out? A buddy of mine from high school started seeing guys, and now everyone in my town calls him that queer, like it’s his goddamn name. And that’s nothing compared to what they did to my cousin.”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen says, and puts his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “But you do remember that I live here too? I know what it’s like.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Look, I get not wanting to do the whole coming out thing. I’m not saying you have to march in a parade. We can pretend.”
“Maybe,” Chris says quietly. He shakes his head and pulls his shoulders back, nudges Jensen with his hip. And then even softer, “I broke up with Lisa.”
Jensen stares, startled for a minute, not sure what he’s supposed to do with that information, especially after Chris has fucking ignored him for a week. He starts to move away, pissed that Chris thinks this could be so easy, but Chris blocks him, whispering, I’m sorry, in Jensen’s ear, and then he’s not thinking anymore because Chris is on him, pressing Jensen against the wall. Jensen kisses back, wrapping his arms around Chris’s neck, running one hand through his hair.
After about ten minutes, ten very good minutes with Chris’s tongue in his mouth and his cock pressed against Jensen’s leg, Chris squeezes Jensen’s waist, running his hands up and down his ribs. “You ever been with a guy before?” Chris murmurs against Jensen’s mouth.
“No.” A sliver of excitement runs through Jensen’s spine at the implication. “Just girls.”
Chris makes a sort of humming sound, and pulls Jensen even closer. “You want me to change that?”
Jensen nods.
“I’ll show you how good it can be.” Chris takes Jensen’s hands into his and turns him around, gently pressing Jensen’s palms against the wall. He slides his hands into Jensen’s jeans, rubs all over his ass before popping open the button and pushing them down. “You got any KY?”
“No,” Jensen says, surprised to be standing there with his hands against the wall and his pants down, but so turned on he doesn’t fucking care.
“What about lotion?”
“Bottom drawer.” He nods toward the drawer where he keeps the Aveeno he used after poison ivy was gone but his skin still itched.
Chris grabs the bottle, coats his finger in lotion, rubs them together, getting right up behind Jensen, mouthing at his neck. He wraps his free hand around Jensen’s cock, rubs one finger against Jensen’s ass, circling while Jensen sucks in a breath of air.
“Just wait,” Chris says.
Chris pushes one finger inside, slowly. It’s weird, but it’s doesn’t exactly hurt, and he strokes Jensen’s cock at the same time, which is really fucking nice.
“Okay?” Chris asks, scooting closer.
“Yeah.” Jensen manages to get that single word out, just barely.
“Relax,” Chris says, and he adds a second finger, just as slow. He keeps pushing until they’re both all the way in. He waits, licking all over Jensen’s jaw.
Jensen shivers. No one’s ever been behind him before, and god, he likes it. He’s breathing hard now, inhaling as Chris takes his left hand away and coats it in lotion too. Then it’s back, warm and slick and wrapped around Jensen’s cock.
Jensen jerks as Chris strokes again, moving his fingers in and out at the same time.
It’s overwhelming, so much sensation that Jensen aches with it, and then he’s coming, all over the wall of his dorm. He sags a little bit, completely worn out but so fucking happy, and Chris is still behind him, erection pressed up against the side of Jensen’s ass.
The words are out of Jensen’s mouth before he can stop them. “You wanna come to my house for Thanksgiving?” So much for playing it cool.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Chris sighs against Jensen’s cheek and tugs him closer.
***
The two weeks before Thanksgiving pass in a blur. Chris comes to his dorm room every night, and they watch movies and play Tomb Raider, and they make out, a lot.
The night before they leave for Jensen’s house, Jensen spends the night in Chris’s room. He doesn’t mean to snoop, but several brochures for apartments are lying out, right on top of Chris’s books. Jensen frowns and looks at the addresses, sees Los Angeles in bold across the bottom.
“I’m moving to California,” Chris says, as if it’s no big deal. “In May, after I graduate.”
Jensen nods. He’s not going to say anything stupid or needy, and he’s definitely not going to puke, even though his stomach is churning. “Looks nice,” he says lamely. “I’ve been to Disneyland.”
Then Chris is kissing him, and undoing his pants, and for the first time, he goes down on Jensen.
Jensen’s never been sucked like this, with hands on his hips, soft licks all over the inside of his thighs, fingers in his ass.
He comes so hard he nearly passes out.
***
Jensen’s family loves Chris.
Chris knows how to fit in here; he knows how to talk about duck hunting, which blinds are the best and the best way to avoid getting fined by the Game and Fish Commission when you accidentally end up with twenty more dead ducks than the state allows. He bullshits with Jensen’s dad and cousins about all of it, even though Jensen knows he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of those things.
He eats the dressing and the egg custard pie and he nods appreciatively at the ten-point buck Jensen’s brother just shot, the body of the deer strapped precariously to the front of his uncle’s four-wheeler.
After dinner they sit in front of the fire-the weather’s finally cool enough that a fire feels good-and when no one’s looking, Chris lets his fingers rub over the top of Jensen’s knuckles.
Jensen’s so hard from that one touch that he can’t even concentrate on the football game blaring from his dad’s new television.
Once everyone’s in bed, Jensen drags Chris outside. They drive a half-mile down one of the gravel roads that divides the crops, and lie in the back of Chris’s truck, wrapped up in down blankets stolen from the linen closet. Jensen’s is blue with little white snowmen all over it. He knows that because he’s got his head under the blanket, hands fumbling for Chris’s belt buckle.
Jensen hasn’t done this yet, but he wants to. It’s cold and they’re in the middle of a field of soybeans, but he can see the flush of Chris’s cheeks in the moonlight.
He licks and sucks and kisses Chris’s cock, tasting him all over, marveling that he hasn’t done this sooner. “Shoulda done this the day I met you,” he says between licks.
“Goddamn,” Chris says, and he sounds like he’s choking. “You would have gone down on your knees in the parking lot?”
“Jesus,” Jensen says, and he has to reach down and pull his own cock out of his sweatpants-the thought of going to his knees in the parking lot for Chris making him throb.
***
“So. I was thinking, about when I graduate,” Chris says, lying on his back next to Jensen, both of them huddled close together in the back of the truck.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, and he wants to say, Thanks for leaving me, asshole, but he bites his tongue. He’s been trying not to think about May at all.
“I’ve got a job. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll cover the basics while I try the whole music thing.” Chris pauses. “You could come, if you wanted to.”
Jensen doesn’t say anything-he’s stunned. He never imagined that Chris would actually ask him to go, and while some people might think that was a sorry excuse for an invitation, Jensen knows that for Chris, the words, you could come actually mean, I really want you to.
Jensen loves his home, but he’s wondered about leaving for years now. He tries to imagine living in a place where Skoal cans aren’t the main form of highway litter, imagine a place where Chris might just let him in a little more, and he knows instantly that he needs to start looking for colleges in California.
“You don’t have to be an ass about it.” Chris scowls. “You can just say no.”
Jensen leans over and kisses Chris on the mouth. “Shut up, you dickhead.”
August 1997, Los Angeles, California
Jensen’s only been in Los Angeles for a week when classes start, which is barely enough time to get settled-his dorm room is still cluttered with boxes, but he’s got his books and laptop ready, so he figures the rest can wait.
It’s a tad overwhelming to actually attend class-the campus is huge, and there are people swarming everywhere, but he’s taking it easy this semester, only taking core classes. Because the last thing he’s going to do is flunk out. No fucking way, not after all the crap his family said about him just getting this out of his system so he can come back home and farm.
He smiles when he thinks about his family though-they weren’t unkind about the move exactly, just skeptical, and his dad is paying for a good deal of his expenses, so he can’t be too irritated. But he’s still not going back. He can’t explain it exactly, but he feels comfortable already, like he might just fit in here, in ways that he never did at home.
After classes are over, he’s exhausted, but fights the traffic anyway. He drives with the windows down-it’s warm, but the weather’s much milder than the muggy heat at home, and the smog’s not nearly as bad as he’d imagined. He makes it to Chris’s by four, just in time to see Chris walking up the front steps of his tiny apartment.
“Damn.” Chris sinks into a kitchen chair, loosens his tie. “Teaching is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Well, you are teaching sixth graders in a private school.” Jensen drops his bag by the door and comes to stand next to Chris, running his hand over the back of Chris’s neck.
“Snobby little bastards.” Chris laughs. “They aren’t too bad though-one of them can play the guitar like you wouldn’t believe.”
“A little prodigy?”
“Of course he is, since I’m the one teaching him. He might even be able to join me and Steve at our gig tonight,” Chris says, smirking as he pulls Jensen down onto his lap. “And speaking of prodigies, how was your first day of class?”
Jensen smiles. “Good.”
“You got into the University of Southern California, and all I get is a good?”
“Okay, mother.” Jensen scoots in closer to Chris, starts rattling off every mundane detail he can think of, just see how long Chris can last. “So, I had Human Anatomy, and I sat in the second row, next to this girl who’s majoring in Civil Engineering…” Jensen laughs at first, holding Chris’s hands down as Chris’s fingers start creeping up under his t-shirt. “And then I had Statistics-“
Chris doesn’t give up though, yanking his wrists free and skimming his hands along Jensen’s stomach. He grins up at Jensen, who finally surrenders, his voice fading into a moan as Chris mouths along his jaw.
-end-
Thanks again to benitle, for all the great suggestions, and to
leighm for all that patience, and to
annkiri for cheering me on. :D This was my first time to participate in Sweet Charity, and you guys made it so much fun.
misskatieleigh, I hope it's what you wanted! :D
Thanks again to
lissa_bear. I know very little about country music, and she made suggestions and sent me songs-her help was invaluable. Thanks also for pointing this out: YouTube video of Chris singing The Dance, by Garth Brooks.
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Chris/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All fiction; none of this is true.
Beta: Thank you,
benitle and
leighm
Wordcount: 5,125
Summary: This is a college AU-it takes place in the rural southern U.S.
Notes: Written for
misskatieleigh, for Sweet Charity, who asked for a continuation of my ficlet, Truth, complete with kissing and Jensen singing onstage. -Thank you,
annkiri for helping me out with the singing terms, and
lissa_bear for providing advice about the music.
Part 1: Truth (previously posted - 1,000 words)
Title taken from The Red Strokes, by Garth Brooks.
Part 1: Truth (previously posted - 1,000 words) It would be helpful to read this ficlet first, although not completely necessary.
Part 2
Blues Will Be Blue
August 1996
Jensen paces while he waits for Chris. It’s not like he’s afraid Chris won’t show up, it’s just that he’s never gone out with people he doesn’t know very well. But a few minutes after nine he hears a scuffling sound outside his door, along with hushed voices, and he figures it’s his asshole friends dicking around. He yanks the door open to give them hell before they leave for the weekend, but it’s not Todd or Ryan or any of the other guys from his hometown.
It’s Chris.
And Chris isn’t alone.
There’s a girl with him, her hands on Chris’s chest. She’s got olive skin and dark eyes, and he can see that her arms are toned as she presses her palms against Chris’s shirt. She’s whispering furiously at him under her breath, eyes focused directly on his face.
Chris glances over and notices Jensen watching, and he tugs the girl to his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, Jensen. We were just having a little discussion,” he says, words clipped and short. He tilts his head toward her. “This is my girl, Lisa.”
Jensen opens his mouth, then closes it before he says something stupid. He can tell by the way Lisa’s skin flushes that the discussion wasn’t entirely pleasant, but he’s too shocked by Chris even having a girl to wonder what they were fighting about.
“Hi Lisa. Nice to meet you,” he says, trying to forget the way Chris leaned into him earlier that day, the way his breath felt against Jensen’s ear.
***
Juanita's is smoky and the tortilla chips are stale, but that doesn’t stop Jensen from eating them. Chris introduces Jensen to some of his buddies, but Jensen’s not in the mood for small talk, and he sits off by himself. He’s on his third bowl of chips when a girl from his Lit class slides into the seat next to him. Her name’s Leanne, and she fakes a shy grin.
“Good to see you outside of class,” he says, and when she asks if he wants to move away from the stage so they can talk, he turns his hands up in a helpless gesture, explaining that he’s there to see the performance.
She’s disappointed, but not deterred, and she scoots closer when Chris and his friend Steve start singing.
Despite it being the only thing most of his friends listen to, Jensen’s not as into Garth Brooks as everyone else. He likes the music okay, knows all the lyrics thanks to his brother’s CD collection, and he’s done his fair share of singing Friends in Low Places on bus rides back from baseball games, but it’s a little more mainstream than he prefers, not that he admits that out loud very often.
But as Chris sings If Tomorrow Never Comes, Jensen’s surprised at how good he is. He didn’t really expect much, even with Chris’s music major. Half his high school buddies think they can sing, and aren’t afraid to really belt it out, whether they’re in church or drunk at a Saturday night bonfire, never mind that they sound like shit.
By the second song, Jensen has to bite his lip to keep from smiling up at Chris. Leanne’s thankfully oblivious to the way Jensen’s looking at Chris, and she’s moved even closer. Jensen jerks when her knee rubs into his, but he gives her a tentative smile.
By the third song, she’s practically in his lap, and goddammit, now his dick’s hard. He’s not really attracted to her, despite the fact that she’s cute with short hair and caramel-brown eyes, but it’s been two months since he’s had anything other than his own hand. He stares over at Lisa, whose eyes are glued to Chris, figures that he doesn’t have anything to lose. He lets Leanne lean into him a little more, buys her a Coke.
He puts his arm around her shoulders, but Jensen’s eyes stay on the stage-he watches everything, memorizing the way Chris holds his microphone, the way he tilts his head to the side as he sings.
When it’s time to go, Leanne whispers in his ear. “I’m in Carmichael Hall,” and disappears with her friends.
Jensen barely notices-he sprawls out in his chair, staring at Chris as he packs up his equipment, muscles moving under his red t-shirt.
***
West Hall is old, but the showers have been renovated, thanks to private donors, alumni like Jensen’s dad and uncle. He stands under the spray, letting the hot water wash away the smoke and sweat, glad that all his friends have gone home for the weekend.
His dick’s been hard all night, thanks to watching Chris, and it didn’t help to have Leanne rubbing all over him. He runs his hand over his cock, remembering the way Chris’s fingers wrapped around the microphone, tries to imagine Chris’s hand on his dick. It’s a bit of a stretch because even though he’s always liked boys, he’s never touched one-when everyone in town knows your mother, from the grocery store clerk to the community lifeguard, secrets are impossible. And with fourteen people in your graduating class, there aren’t really a lot of choices for experimenting.
He closes his eyes and comes in less than a minute, thinking about the way Chris’s lips looked as he sang.
***
He’s grateful for the private room when he slides into bed; it means there are no questions, no reason to explain the half-grin on his face. He lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, mind wandering pleasantly until he drifts off to sleep.
He wakes up suddenly, startled out of sleep by a small scraping sound. He can see across his room, thanks to the yellow light from the streetlamp filtering in from outside, and when his eyes finally focus, Jensen jerks back, heart racing.
There’s someone in his room.
He sits up quickly, reaching for the golf club he keeps under his bed, tensing when he can’t reach it. He moves down, starts creeping off the end of the bed. He may not be able to get his club, but he’s sure as hell not going to lie in bed and wait to die in a goddamned dorm room.
He’s got both feet on the floor when the person speaks. "Nice alarm," the guy says, picking up Jensen's green John Deere clock. He turns the tractor upside down and spins one of the wheels.
Jensen exhales, sinking back onto the bed when he recognizes Chris’s voice. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He flops down onto his back. “How did you get in here?” It’s dark in the room, but Jensen can see the curve of Chris’s smirk.
“Picked the lock.”
Jensen doesn’t want to dwell on why he isn’t more pissed off by that. He rubs his hand over his face and tries to concentrate on something appropriate to say, something that’s not, Where’s Lisa, where’s your girl? Luckily, Chris is still fiddling with the clock and doesn’t seem to notice the lull before Jensen finally speaks. “Don’t tell me you don’t have one too,” Jensen says, propping himself up on one elbow
Chris laughs. “Mine’s a little older than yours, but I’ve still got it.” Chris puts the clock down and leans back against the wall. “I bet all the little kids in your family have those damn electric riding tractors too, instead of the normal Jeeps."
Jensen puts his arms behind his head, tries to look relaxed. "Yep."
Chris shakes his head. "Yeah, me too. My grandmother spends way too much time inside Cracker Barrel searching for sheets and dishes with John Deere smeared all over them," he says, pushing himself off the wall and coming to sit on the edge of Jensen’s bed.
Jensen stiffens. He didn’t know Chris would come this close.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Chris asks, and the smirk is gone.
Fun isn’t the right word-Jensen jacked off thinking about the way Chris’s voice sounded, the way he looked while he sang, and he figures that’s a little more than just fun. But no, he is not going to let Chris know all that, isn’t going let him have the upper hand. What did his brother always tell him? Act casual, Jensen. Act like you’ve got shit under control. It had been aimed at dating girls, but he figures he can improvise. “It was alright.”
“Next time you’ll have more fun. I promise,” Chris says. He pats Jensen’s knee over the pajama pants, and Jensen’s thankful again that he’s got a private dorm room.
He lets his hand linger, and Jensen tries, he tries so hard to hang onto his brother’s advice, but he opens his mouth. “Where’s Lisa?” Jesus, he’s so fucking stupid.
Chris shrugs. “At her house, I guess. Dunno.”
He thinks of Lisa, with her dark hair and even darker eyes, plastered all over Chris. “You don’t know?”
“No. I don’t,” Chris says, voice sharp. “Where’s Leanne?”
“Leanne?”
“Yeah. Leanne who was in your lap all night. Ring a bell?” Chris’s hand is making its way up his leg, over his knee, then up higher, palm flat over his thigh.
Jensen doesn’t know how Chris can be jealous, not when he’s the one with a girlfriend, but the note was there in his voice, loud and clear, but it doesn’t really matter because Chris’s hand on his leg is making his stomach roll over.
He shifts, until Chris’s hand is nearly on his ass. “Right. Leanne’s a nice girl.” Jensen grins when he hears Chris’s sharp intake of breath. “A very nice girl,” he says, and he’s about to chide Chris a little more but he’s interrupted by a loud crashing sound outside the door.
He goes still, mouth open. He hears Ryan’s voice, alongside Todd’s, who he’s been friends with since before preschool, yelling, “Jensen, you in there? Shoulda come with us, man, fucking awesome-“
Chris is off the bed and across the room before Jensen can even sit up.
“Fuck,” Jensen mutters under his breath. He gets up and cracks the door open, making sure to brace it with his hip so his fucktard friends can’t push their way in. “I thought y’all were going home?”
“Came back,” Ryan says proudly. “Got some action, so we came back-“
“Dude, look, I’m wasted, so come back tomorrow okay?” To Jensen’s relief they buy it, laughing and stumbling over each other until they fall into their room across the hall.
Chris is still across the room, his back flat against the cinderblock wall.
“They won’t come back,” Jensen says. He could kill both of them.
“I should go,” Chris says flatly, and he’s already moving toward the door. “I’ll see you around.”
***
August turns into September, and Jensen sees Chris almost every day, but they don’t talk, not really. They say hey and nod at each other, but there are no more invitations to Juanita’s and no more late-night visits. He goes home on the weekends, helps his dad with the crops and hangs out with Ryan and Todd and Brent, just like he’s done for the last eighteen years.
When the cold snap comes in October, Chris still hasn’t spoken to him. Jensen is insanely disappointed, even though he tries not to be. He reminds himself that he should have known better, and focuses on his classes.
During the weekdays, Leanne manages to cross Jensen’s path quite a few times. Jensen’s honest with her, tells her he’s not looking for anything serious, but she says she’s okay with that.
In early November, he takes her to see Romeo and Juliet. He likes the stylized retelling of the story, and so does she. After the movie, she chatters about how much she admires Claire Danes, while smiling up at him and holding onto his arm, and he feels like an ass for stringing her along. She’s a smart, attractive girl, and she deserves better than what Jensen’s been giving her. “You wanna come back to my room?” he asks her, for the first time.
Her smile is radiant when she nods.
He goes down on her. She’s clean and smells nice, but when she reaches for the button on his jeans, he stops her. “Already finished,” he says. It’s a lie, but it’s not right to use her like that when his mind is still on Chris. She stays for an hour or so, her head resting on his chest. They talk about the movie and all the people in their Literature class, and he walks her back to her dorm.
When he gets back to his room, there’s someone sitting on his bed. Jensen knows it’s Chris before he turns his light on.
“Did you fuck her?” Chris asks.
“No.” Jensen closes the door behind him, leans against it. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Chris gets up, comes to stand right in front of Jensen. “Feels like it’s my business,” he says. He leans in closer and touches Jensen’s cheek with his fingertips. “I can smell her on you.”
Jensen yanks his head to the side, away from Chris’s hand. “What the fuck, man? Since when is who I’m with any of your goddamn business?”
Chris’s hands move up, grab Jensen’s shoulders. “Got sick of watching you with her.”
Jensen pries Chris’s hands from his shoulders, shoves him backward. “Oh that’s rich.” He steps forward, gives Chris another good push. He can’t fucking believe Chris’s nerve-questioning him when Chris is the one with the problem. “What about Lisa?”
Chris lets Jensen shove him. “What about her?”
“She’s your girlfriend.” Jensen can hear how bitter his words sound, but he doesn’t care.
Chris just stands there, head cocked to the side. “Not really.” He pauses. “She’s not what I want.”
Jensen shakes his head. He wants to punch the smug look right off Chris’s face, but he stays where he is, arms rigid at his sides. “Why do you keep dating her then?” Jesus Christ, why does he have to sound so pathetic?
Chris laughs, crosses his arms. “Cause she does my laundry when my mom won’t.”
“You’re kidding,” Jensen says. His mother would slap him for even thinking something like that about a girl. “Are you always this much of an asshole?”
“Just to you, Jenny,” Chris says, but his voice is softer.
Jensen scoffs. He’s not falling for it, not yet. “Does she know about you?”
“No. Goddammit, she doesn’t. This isn’t Melrose Place. Girls around here don’t think gay is cute. They want a husband with a farm, a house with a mudroom, and a Suburban for the kids.” Chris crosses the room and sinks down onto Jensen’s bed. “I know, because I’ve had three of ‘em tell me.”
Fuck. Chris sounds so resigned, and Jensen can’t take it. He prefers the cocky bullshit to this. “Not just the girls, man,” he says, moving to sit beside Chris, making sure they aren’t touching. “That’s what everyone wants here.”
“Yeah,” Chris says, quietly. “Everyone but us.”
Jensen scoots closer, until his thigh is lined up with Chris’s. He sighs and leans in, resting his head on Chris’s shoulder. He feels Chris exhale, and then his arm comes up to wrap around Jensen’s shoulders. “We’re playing again next Friday night. If you wanna come.”
“Yeah,” Jensen says. He shivers as Chris’s hand rubs up and down his arm. “I do.”
“Good,” Chris says, turning until his lips are against Jensen’s hair. “Be ready at 8:30.” He kisses Jensen’s head softly. “I gotta go.”
***
Chris is just as good the second time as he was the first. Like most of Garth’s songs, The Dance is cheesier than Jensen prefers, but Chris’s voice makes it okay, and he can’t help but shiver when Chris looks right at him while he sings. Then Chris is grinning at him, and Jensen’s already started blushing when Chris says his name. He thinks he hears Chris telling him to come onstage, saying something like, Our buddy Jensen here is gonna sing with us, but the buzzing in his head is so loud he can’t tell for sure.
Then the guy next to him is shoving his shoulder, pushing him forward. He hears the scrape of the wooden chair leg against the concrete floor; people pat him on the back as he moves toward the stage, someone slaps him on the ass.
“You know the words to The Red Strokes?” Chris asks.
“Unfortunately,” Jensen mouths back, but he smiles.
Jensen’s sung in front of people in the church choir-he’s done a few solos and duets here and there, but those were for Christmas pageants, and that was fine, because no one but the moms and the grandmas really pay attention to something like that.
But this is different, he’s staring out at people he likes, people who might think he’s a big-ass loser if he fucks this up. Jesus Christ. He squeezes his fingernails into his palms and forces himself to suck it up, reminds himself it’s just a fucking hole in the wall in the middle of a cornfield.
He nods at Chris, lets him start, and then Jensen joins him on the second line.
Chris smiles over at him as he sings, wide and happy, and Jensen relaxes, forgetting about Christmas pageants and looking stupid and being nervous, only thinking about the sound of his voice blending with Chris’s.
When the song’s over, Jensen’s heart pounds and his knees shake while the small crowd cheers and whistles, but Jensen barely notices-after seeing Chris smile at him like that, nothing else seems important.
He’s about to head back to his seat when he feels a hand on his elbow, and then there’s just the flat hardness of the wall as Chris pushes him forward off the side of the stage. “Steve’ll take this next song,” he mumbles. Chris keeps walking, pulling him into a broom closet, both of them fumbling over a bucket and mops.
Jensen swallows roughly as Chris pushes the door closed, locks it. There are no windows; they’re in total darkness other than the dim slip of light coming through the door, and Jensen’s breathing hard, nearly panting by the time Chris’s fingertips brush over his forearm.
Chris leans in, close, wraps his hands around Jensen’s wrists, thumbs rubbing over the pulse points.
Jensen shudders and closes his eyes. He inhales the stale cleaners and moldy lemon-scented rags, but when Chris presses his lips against Jensen’s, all he can smell is Chris’s aftershave. He doesn’t have to tilt his head very far down or worry about whether he shaved well enough, and then he’s not thinking about anything but Chris as he opens his mouth and lets Chris’s tongue in.
Chris’s mouth is wet and sweet, and he tastes like Corona and salsa. Jensen licks back against Chris’s tongue, savoring. “Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Jensen asks.
“Was just tryin’ to keep from going nuts,” Chris ducks his head and breathes against Jensen’s neck. “Barely know you and you make me so fucking crazy.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” Jensen has to talk in between moans as Chris sucks at the spot right under his jaw. “In case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” Chris says, rubbing his thigh against Jensen’s erection.
***
Even after Friday night, Jensen doesn’t think things between him and Chris are going to be normal or anything close, but when Monday comes and he still hasn’t heard from him, he feels sick at his stomach.
He sees Chris around campus all week and forces himself to nod hello, say hey, what’s up. He’s friendly and casual-no matter how much he wants to go wrap himself around Chris and hang on. But he’s not going to give Chris the satisfaction. Jensen doesn’t beg.
On Tuesday, he tells Leanne he can’t see her anymore, and even though he’d warned her up front that he didn’t plan to be exclusive, he can’t help the stab of guilt when he sees the tears in her eyes.
On Friday, he’s leaving to go grab dinner, but when he opens the door, Chris is in the hallway, clutching a movie in his hand. He holds it up. “Thought we could watch 12 Monkeys,” he says, giving Jensen a half smile.
“Is Bruce Willis supposed to make me forget that you’ve been an asshole again?”
“Bruce Willis makes everything better.”
“You’re not off the hook.”
“I didn’t expect to be.” Chris exhales. “Jensen, you know it’s not you.”
Jensen raises his eyebrows. “I do?”
“Do I really have to spell this out? A buddy of mine from high school started seeing guys, and now everyone in my town calls him that queer, like it’s his goddamn name. And that’s nothing compared to what they did to my cousin.”
“I’m sorry,” Jensen says, and puts his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “But you do remember that I live here too? I know what it’s like.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Look, I get not wanting to do the whole coming out thing. I’m not saying you have to march in a parade. We can pretend.”
“Maybe,” Chris says quietly. He shakes his head and pulls his shoulders back, nudges Jensen with his hip. And then even softer, “I broke up with Lisa.”
Jensen stares, startled for a minute, not sure what he’s supposed to do with that information, especially after Chris has fucking ignored him for a week. He starts to move away, pissed that Chris thinks this could be so easy, but Chris blocks him, whispering, I’m sorry, in Jensen’s ear, and then he’s not thinking anymore because Chris is on him, pressing Jensen against the wall. Jensen kisses back, wrapping his arms around Chris’s neck, running one hand through his hair.
After about ten minutes, ten very good minutes with Chris’s tongue in his mouth and his cock pressed against Jensen’s leg, Chris squeezes Jensen’s waist, running his hands up and down his ribs. “You ever been with a guy before?” Chris murmurs against Jensen’s mouth.
“No.” A sliver of excitement runs through Jensen’s spine at the implication. “Just girls.”
Chris makes a sort of humming sound, and pulls Jensen even closer. “You want me to change that?”
Jensen nods.
“I’ll show you how good it can be.” Chris takes Jensen’s hands into his and turns him around, gently pressing Jensen’s palms against the wall. He slides his hands into Jensen’s jeans, rubs all over his ass before popping open the button and pushing them down. “You got any KY?”
“No,” Jensen says, surprised to be standing there with his hands against the wall and his pants down, but so turned on he doesn’t fucking care.
“What about lotion?”
“Bottom drawer.” He nods toward the drawer where he keeps the Aveeno he used after poison ivy was gone but his skin still itched.
Chris grabs the bottle, coats his finger in lotion, rubs them together, getting right up behind Jensen, mouthing at his neck. He wraps his free hand around Jensen’s cock, rubs one finger against Jensen’s ass, circling while Jensen sucks in a breath of air.
“Just wait,” Chris says.
Chris pushes one finger inside, slowly. It’s weird, but it’s doesn’t exactly hurt, and he strokes Jensen’s cock at the same time, which is really fucking nice.
“Okay?” Chris asks, scooting closer.
“Yeah.” Jensen manages to get that single word out, just barely.
“Relax,” Chris says, and he adds a second finger, just as slow. He keeps pushing until they’re both all the way in. He waits, licking all over Jensen’s jaw.
Jensen shivers. No one’s ever been behind him before, and god, he likes it. He’s breathing hard now, inhaling as Chris takes his left hand away and coats it in lotion too. Then it’s back, warm and slick and wrapped around Jensen’s cock.
Jensen jerks as Chris strokes again, moving his fingers in and out at the same time.
It’s overwhelming, so much sensation that Jensen aches with it, and then he’s coming, all over the wall of his dorm. He sags a little bit, completely worn out but so fucking happy, and Chris is still behind him, erection pressed up against the side of Jensen’s ass.
The words are out of Jensen’s mouth before he can stop them. “You wanna come to my house for Thanksgiving?” So much for playing it cool.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Chris sighs against Jensen’s cheek and tugs him closer.
***
The two weeks before Thanksgiving pass in a blur. Chris comes to his dorm room every night, and they watch movies and play Tomb Raider, and they make out, a lot.
The night before they leave for Jensen’s house, Jensen spends the night in Chris’s room. He doesn’t mean to snoop, but several brochures for apartments are lying out, right on top of Chris’s books. Jensen frowns and looks at the addresses, sees Los Angeles in bold across the bottom.
“I’m moving to California,” Chris says, as if it’s no big deal. “In May, after I graduate.”
Jensen nods. He’s not going to say anything stupid or needy, and he’s definitely not going to puke, even though his stomach is churning. “Looks nice,” he says lamely. “I’ve been to Disneyland.”
Then Chris is kissing him, and undoing his pants, and for the first time, he goes down on Jensen.
Jensen’s never been sucked like this, with hands on his hips, soft licks all over the inside of his thighs, fingers in his ass.
He comes so hard he nearly passes out.
***
Jensen’s family loves Chris.
Chris knows how to fit in here; he knows how to talk about duck hunting, which blinds are the best and the best way to avoid getting fined by the Game and Fish Commission when you accidentally end up with twenty more dead ducks than the state allows. He bullshits with Jensen’s dad and cousins about all of it, even though Jensen knows he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of those things.
He eats the dressing and the egg custard pie and he nods appreciatively at the ten-point buck Jensen’s brother just shot, the body of the deer strapped precariously to the front of his uncle’s four-wheeler.
After dinner they sit in front of the fire-the weather’s finally cool enough that a fire feels good-and when no one’s looking, Chris lets his fingers rub over the top of Jensen’s knuckles.
Jensen’s so hard from that one touch that he can’t even concentrate on the football game blaring from his dad’s new television.
Once everyone’s in bed, Jensen drags Chris outside. They drive a half-mile down one of the gravel roads that divides the crops, and lie in the back of Chris’s truck, wrapped up in down blankets stolen from the linen closet. Jensen’s is blue with little white snowmen all over it. He knows that because he’s got his head under the blanket, hands fumbling for Chris’s belt buckle.
Jensen hasn’t done this yet, but he wants to. It’s cold and they’re in the middle of a field of soybeans, but he can see the flush of Chris’s cheeks in the moonlight.
He licks and sucks and kisses Chris’s cock, tasting him all over, marveling that he hasn’t done this sooner. “Shoulda done this the day I met you,” he says between licks.
“Goddamn,” Chris says, and he sounds like he’s choking. “You would have gone down on your knees in the parking lot?”
“Jesus,” Jensen says, and he has to reach down and pull his own cock out of his sweatpants-the thought of going to his knees in the parking lot for Chris making him throb.
***
“So. I was thinking, about when I graduate,” Chris says, lying on his back next to Jensen, both of them huddled close together in the back of the truck.
“Yeah,” Jensen says, and he wants to say, Thanks for leaving me, asshole, but he bites his tongue. He’s been trying not to think about May at all.
“I’ve got a job. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll cover the basics while I try the whole music thing.” Chris pauses. “You could come, if you wanted to.”
Jensen doesn’t say anything-he’s stunned. He never imagined that Chris would actually ask him to go, and while some people might think that was a sorry excuse for an invitation, Jensen knows that for Chris, the words, you could come actually mean, I really want you to.
Jensen loves his home, but he’s wondered about leaving for years now. He tries to imagine living in a place where Skoal cans aren’t the main form of highway litter, imagine a place where Chris might just let him in a little more, and he knows instantly that he needs to start looking for colleges in California.
“You don’t have to be an ass about it.” Chris scowls. “You can just say no.”
Jensen leans over and kisses Chris on the mouth. “Shut up, you dickhead.”
August 1997, Los Angeles, California
Jensen’s only been in Los Angeles for a week when classes start, which is barely enough time to get settled-his dorm room is still cluttered with boxes, but he’s got his books and laptop ready, so he figures the rest can wait.
It’s a tad overwhelming to actually attend class-the campus is huge, and there are people swarming everywhere, but he’s taking it easy this semester, only taking core classes. Because the last thing he’s going to do is flunk out. No fucking way, not after all the crap his family said about him just getting this out of his system so he can come back home and farm.
He smiles when he thinks about his family though-they weren’t unkind about the move exactly, just skeptical, and his dad is paying for a good deal of his expenses, so he can’t be too irritated. But he’s still not going back. He can’t explain it exactly, but he feels comfortable already, like he might just fit in here, in ways that he never did at home.
After classes are over, he’s exhausted, but fights the traffic anyway. He drives with the windows down-it’s warm, but the weather’s much milder than the muggy heat at home, and the smog’s not nearly as bad as he’d imagined. He makes it to Chris’s by four, just in time to see Chris walking up the front steps of his tiny apartment.
“Damn.” Chris sinks into a kitchen chair, loosens his tie. “Teaching is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Well, you are teaching sixth graders in a private school.” Jensen drops his bag by the door and comes to stand next to Chris, running his hand over the back of Chris’s neck.
“Snobby little bastards.” Chris laughs. “They aren’t too bad though-one of them can play the guitar like you wouldn’t believe.”
“A little prodigy?”
“Of course he is, since I’m the one teaching him. He might even be able to join me and Steve at our gig tonight,” Chris says, smirking as he pulls Jensen down onto his lap. “And speaking of prodigies, how was your first day of class?”
Jensen smiles. “Good.”
“You got into the University of Southern California, and all I get is a good?”
“Okay, mother.” Jensen scoots in closer to Chris, starts rattling off every mundane detail he can think of, just see how long Chris can last. “So, I had Human Anatomy, and I sat in the second row, next to this girl who’s majoring in Civil Engineering…” Jensen laughs at first, holding Chris’s hands down as Chris’s fingers start creeping up under his t-shirt. “And then I had Statistics-“
Chris doesn’t give up though, yanking his wrists free and skimming his hands along Jensen’s stomach. He grins up at Jensen, who finally surrenders, his voice fading into a moan as Chris mouths along his jaw.
-end-
Thanks again to benitle, for all the great suggestions, and to
leighm for all that patience, and to
annkiri for cheering me on. :D This was my first time to participate in Sweet Charity, and you guys made it so much fun.
misskatieleigh, I hope it's what you wanted! :D
Thanks again to
lissa_bear. I know very little about country music, and she made suggestions and sent me songs-her help was invaluable. Thanks also for pointing this out: YouTube video of Chris singing The Dance, by Garth Brooks.