Fic: One of These Days - Part 2 (Jared/Jensen)
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17 -- Wordcount: 10,200
Warnings: Escort!AU, D/s, angst, nipple play, toys, dirty talk, comeplay, facial, a touch of glasses!kink, gobs of schmoop, stubborn!sub!Jensen and reluctant!Dom!Jared (yes, you read that right)
Notes: The much promised part 4 of the Escort!AU - follows All The Right Answers To All The Wrong Questions. Posted in two parts because massive fic is massive. I still have a couple of drabble ideas for these boys, so I'm not calling this verse done, but the main plot line is now finished. Hope this helps to satisfy some of your cravings, you sick little freaks *smishes you all* ;)
Summary - Jensen needs to understand some things about what he's feeling; Jared becomes his unwitting accomplice.
Back to Part 1 Cool air rushes in to take the place of where Jared was pressed up against his back just moments ago. It should be soothing with how overheated Jensen feels all the way through, but instead the breather is a burn like liquid nitrogen trickling down his nerves. He’s pissed off and humiliated and so help him, but his dick is still a hard, throbbing line dampening the pristine linens with precome. Of all the completely bizarre things he’s ever felt with Jared, this just might take the cake. Getting off on this had not been part of the forecast.
He hasn’t worked up the necessary coherency - positively huge amounts of his focus lost on the drag of metal against his tortured nipples on every breath - to lift his head up and look around before Jared’s back, kneeling next to him on the bed. The effect of being naked with someone who's fully clothed hadn't been part of Jensen's calculations either, but the subjugation of it goes straight to his head for the two or three miliseconds it takes for it to register what Jared’s got his hands wrapped around. The world narrows down after that because Jensen doesn’t have anywhere near enough braincells to focus on anything - even his own body - beyond the tube of lube in one of Jared’s hands and the built-for-intimidation, black silicone dildo in the other.
There is absolutely no way that Jensen is going to like where this is heading.
“No,” Jensen blurts without thinking. That’s probably going to get him into trouble, but still, honestly, no.
“Yes,” Jared chirps back easily, something a little too dark to match that tone coloring his expression. “You ever bottomed, Jenny?”
That slow boil of anger eats that the intelligent, rational parts of Jensen again - he really hates that nickname, which he knows Jared knows - and it’s just enough to have him firing back “Yes,” like a curse.
For what it's worth, that's not actually a lie; he has bottomed before. Twice. Once because it’s important to make compromises in a relationship, and then again to confirm that it wasn’t just the wrong guy or something but a genuine aversion to having things put in his ass. He does not get the impression that that argument is going to sway Jared on the matter, though. His sphincter makes a go at crawling inside of his body just from looking at the monstrosity in Jared’s hand.
Jared smirks, “Good,” and tosses the lube onto the bedspread where it rolls up against his side, shockingly cool and unavoidably there. “Get yourself ready for me.”
Jensen’s going to take a wild guess and say that it’s the phrasing that makes his body strobe with sharp, hot sparks, the ache in his chest and groin redouble. Jared probably didn't mean 'for me' as in 'for my giant, never-going-to-fit-in-that-tiny-orifice-of-yours cock' but the idea is… an idea. Jensen actually can’t get any farther with that line of thought because his mind gets stuck at the fork in the road between hot as hell and screaming pain.
Bright little prickles start up under the surface of his skin and just keep popping, blood like a shaken soda in his veins. He’s expecting some smart ass comment or another barked demand when he looks questioningly up at Jared - eyes begging for another way out despite his resolve to get through this no matter what it takes - but instead the larger man is leaning over to stretch himself out on the bed, lying on his side to face Jensen with a good foot of space between them all the way down. Jared looks at him blithely, like he’s above all of this or… or like he doesn’t think Jensen’s going to do it.
And, hey, Jensen might be a little nervous here - do they even make dildos bigger than that? - but he’s not backing out, alright? Jared can mock him and suck his lips sore and make him drool on himself or whatever the fuck, and he might not like it, but he’s sure as hell man enough to take it. And he’ll fucking well take Jared’s enormous - like, really, no human being could possibly have that hanging between their thighs and still walk right - dildo too, so don’t even think for one second that he can’t handle it.
Letting that self-righteous fever carry him, Jensen gets up to his knees and snatches the lube, squirting entirely too much of it on his fingers but it’s not his bed that’s getting dribbled all over, so fuck it. The chilly touch of a slick finger on his hole clears his head a little more than he’d really like. It’s been a long time since he’s done this and the furled opening feels so tight and small under the pad of his finger. But Jared’s still watching him like he’s just counting the seconds until Jensen cries uncle and that will, under no circumstances, be happening. Sometimes Jensen’s really not sure about his own survival instincts.
It doesn’t really burn when the first fingertip slides inside - slick enough it’s almost more surprise than sensation - but the dull heaviness of it is there. He exhales hard and tries for the first time to actively concentrate on the pulse-pulse-pulse of blood around his nipples to distract himself from his finger sliding in all the way to the webbing. After it's in there, though, it’s impossible not to squirm and clench as his muscles struggle to puzzle out exactly what it feels like inside of him.
A ticklish puff of air on the side of his face takes Jensen by surprise, makes him open his eyes when he hadn’t even realized they were closed and look directly into Jared’s. The intimacy of it hits him like a sucker punch; Jared laid out so close to him - he’d scooted in at some point while Jensen was occupied, but they’re still not touching - face pillowed on the bend of his own arm, intently watching whatever expression happens to be scrolling across Jensen’s face. He’d have put money down that Jared would have his eyes locked on Jensen’s hole while he did this - isn’t that the fucking point? - but Jensen could very well be lying here doing nothing at all for all the attention Jared seems to be paying to anything but Jensen’s face.
On the other hand, as soon as Jensen pauses, Jared jumps in with a gentle, “Don’t stop,” so maybe he's more attentive than he looks. Jensen pushes a second finger in, too early, too dry, but it gives him something else to focus on besides the way Jared’s studying him.
“You like it like that, Jenny?” Jared whispers against Jensen’s cheek, lips traversing a slow path up to Jensen's ear and doing nothing at all to help his body’s sudden inability to discern hot from cold, “Like it rough? Like the burn?” Jared’s tongue snakes around the curve of Jensen’s ear, his hand appearing out of nowhere to flirt fingertips around where Jensen’s splitting himself open. “Wanna be all puffy and tender later? Feel it every time you move around, remember how you fucked yourself for me.”
The last thing Jensen expects is the groan that blurbles out of his own throat; relief to have shied away from whatever that moment was shaping up to be back there and slide back into the filthy smut he had been anticipating out of this evening. Maybe just a little because of Jared's voice too, and the way it seems to lick like a flame at all of the delicate bits of Jensen's insides, a mollusk turned out of its shell. But in no way because of that 'for me' stuff or the idea of remembering Jared's eyes on him later while he can still feel the phantom weight of his fingers inside - that would be weird, and wrong, and Jared's just his roommate, ok?
He scrubs the sweat forming on his upper lip away on the back of his arm and tries to lose himself in the feel of the simmering heat in full bloom around the clamps, the gritty drag of his finger pushing in and out of his own body, the relentless pound of blood in his neglected cock.
"You've thought about it before, haven't you?" Jared mouths against him and all the air in Jensen's chest clots. "Yeah, wondered what it was like from the other side, to have me pushing you around." Two of his fingers massage around the outskirts of Jensen's opening, stroking and teasing and making the hair-trigger muscles flutter. "You can take another," he helpfully assesses, refusing to let up on the maddeningly soft petting until Jensen lines up a third finger and pushes in with a burst of tight, spiraling heat. All that solidified oxygen gets squeezed out of him on a high, hurt sound.
"I think you like it, Jenny," Jared's fucking lucky that Jensen's too busy trying to decide whether he's about to cry or come to deck him right now, "Think you'll never admit it, but you like it. That what you needed to figure out, huh? That you like somebody making you take it? Like being bent over and used with no chance to say no?" God damn him, just God fucking damn him and his stupid, long, perfect fingers toying with Jensen's cock, playing in the wetness on the crown; just enough to make him feel like his fucking bones are vibrating. "Like being my bitch."
Jared's voice smears dark along his skin; the sticky, invisible trails left in the wake of words Jensen's trying so very hard not to hear are nothing like the sparking feather of his fingers brushing down Jensen's spine, over the curve of his ass, back up to tick across his ribs, the barest glaze of his own precome marking each spot.
Every hair on Jensen's body is standing up straight, every follicle worked up and transmitting sensation. Then Jared's hand is back at his cock, cradling it, thumbnail catching with intent on the bundle of nerves under the head. Existence bleeds at the edges and he must jerk or jolt or something because the next thing he knows, his fingers accidentally find his prostate and all the reality he has left is drowned under a cascade of silver rain.
"Mmm, look at you," Jared groans, voice pure, debauched awe, "few fingers up that sweet little hole and you purr like a kitten." Which Jensen's almost positive he didn't, but he can't really get his tongue to form words, let alone find the air to argue when three fingers unexpectedly becomes four; Jared's long index finger sliding right in between his own. It shouldn't be anywhere close to as hot as it is.
Jared's starting to lose words around a series of moans that blur into the wet, open-mouthed kisses he's sucking all over Jensen's cheek and neck and shoulder, only little bits like 'so fucking tight' and 'want' and 'Jensen' slipping through. Jensen can't ask what he means, can't even come close to processing it because where he had been intentionally keeping away from his sweet spot, trying to stay in control, Jared's rubbing it constantly, only backing off to slam it again.
Orgasm is coasting along his system in a continuous thrum, the energy stopping up somewhere low and his gut and building, building. Jared's not making it any easier, turning those sloppy kisses into dull bites, just enough to have Jensen's nerves skittering in a dozen different directions at once. It's all too much and not enough and then Jared reaches beneath him and frees the clamps, blood roaring back into tormented flesh at the same time that he delivers another sharp jab to Jensen's prostate and that's the end of the line. His body's just not capable of containing that much sensation, pain and pleasure muting out to meaninglessness as Jensen rides it out on a yell, his whole being pumping out through the tip of his cock.
He comes back to a foggy washout of the world with Jared's hand pushing through his hair, his body still tingling and not yet in the pain he's almost certain will announce itself once the endorphins have left the building.
Jared lays a soft kiss against his temple and murmurs, "Not so easy to hold back, is it?"
The sharp smack to his ass is both unexpected enough and close enough on the heels of climax that it reverbs through Jensen like a crackle of lightning, banking the glow inside him to keep it humming low and warm when sense-memory tells his it should be fading. Then he's got another hand on him, the back of his neck this time, urging him down until his face is pressed against come-wet cloth.
He has neither the strength nor coordination to fight it when Jared rumbles at him to "Clean it up," so he just opens his mouth and lets the sharp taste of his own release explode across his palate.
***
Jensen licking his own come off of the sheets is the single hottest thing that Jared has ever seen, bar-fucking-none. Those swollen, red lips against white sheets, turning pale themselves as Jensen gracelessly works himself through the mess he made, as much of it staining his skin as making it into his mouth. Jared's going to die if he doesn't come right fucking now.
His fingers itch to put a collar around Jensen's pretty neck as it works to swallow what the flash of pink tongue laps up - knows exactly which one he'd use too; slim black with little studs all along the length and a sterling silver tag on the front with the letter 'J' transcribed in simple script. It's meant to stand for Jared, and it could mean Jensen, but Jared knows exactly what he'd see in it every time he looked at it glinting from the hollow of Jensen's throat - Jared's Jensen.
It's probably a good thing he doesn't have it here; if he ever got it on Jensen, he might not be able to stand taking it off again. There are other ways of marking him though; not as good, but still enough. One he's been fantasizing about since literally the moment he laid eyes on Jensen.
He tumbles himself off of the bed, lust-drunk and frustrated, and snatches up Jensen's coat off the back of the chair he left it hanging from. He roots around in the pockets until the solid shape of Jensen's spare glasses case meets his fingers. The spares are identical to Jensen's usual pair, always in his pocket just in case he loses a contact or needs a refraction lens to harness the sun and find the lost Ark of the Covenant or whatever the hell scenario Jensen imagines that keeps him so paranoid about always having a pair of glasses on hand. Right now it doesn't really matter - what Jared wants them for is a lot more form than function.
Jensen's stopped what he was doing by the time Jared gets back to the bed, leaning up on an elbow instead and staring at the sheets like he's trying to gather his wits back about him. That's essentially the last thing Jared wants, at least until his cock has quit trying to strangle itself inside of his pants. Knocking Jensen over onto his back doesn't take a lot of effort since he just sort of rolls - that whole pliant thing he's working births all kinds of filthy-hot ideas - and lets Jared straddle his chest and tuck the glasses behind his ears.
They sit a little askew, but again, form not function and Jared's way to occupied trying to dig the steel rod his dick has turned into out of his pants to even care about precision. He's so hard it's nearly purple by the time he gets it in hand, gritting his teeth around the too-much of at last getting some friction.
He's not thinking about how it's not real, how it's all just some kind of experiment or test to Jensen, how he's probably crashing and burning like a fucking kamikaze pilot and somehow proving Jensen right. He’s just thinking about Jensen; this gorgeous, smart, funny guy underneath him who puts up with Jared's flack and his needs and his general pain-in-the-ass self and never makes a big deal out of it that Jared's turned his life upside down or occasionally pretends to be his boyfriend in the sanctuary of his own thoughts. This guy, who drives his straight up the wall, makes him want to crawl out of his skin sometimes he feels so overcome with it. This guy he's completely head over heels for. Who he's never going to have.
It would be embarrassing how few strokes he ultimately lasts, but with his hand cupped around Jensen's jaw, feeling every reflexive bob of his Adam's apple against Jared's palm, blown green eyes hazing up at him from behind wire frames and a thin sheen of drying come, Jared seriously defies anybody to stick it out for longer.
Thick, milky ropes spatter onto glass and metal and sex-flushed, freckled skin; an obscene camouflage that's going to be burned into the back of Jared's eyelids until the day he dies.
Reluctantly, he flops over to the side and off of Jensen so that there's once again space between their bodies. His chest aches for reasons that have nothing to do with the jackhammer of his heartbeat and it's harshing the fuck out of the mellow that had just been roaring through him.
That got out of hand a lot faster than he'd have guessed.
"You're gonna tell me what the fuck that was all about now." It's not a request, couldn't possibly be taken as one, which is probably why in lieu of deflecting, Jensen peels the glasses off of his dirty face and says, "Chartreuse."
Jared's moving before he realizes he's about to, snatching the thin frames out of Jensen's hand and flinging them across the room. Jensen, idiotically, looks like he's actually about to lecture Jared for it and that is so not happening.
"We're not playing, Jensen," he growls, right up in the other man's face. In his experience, it's generally hard to have any kind of meaningful conversation when one person's face is covered in semen, but it's stunningly easy to ignore that at the moment, the unadulterated rage swelling in him pushing out even the pure sex appeal of having messed Jensen up so beautifully. "You're gonna tell me right fucking now because I'm your best fucking friend and I deserve to know what's going on, assmunch!"
"Assmunch? Really, Jay? What are we in eighth gra-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Jared's yelling, not knowing when he got hold of Jensen's shoulders besides the fact that he obviously must have because now he's using them to shake Jensen with all his might, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Christ, do you get what you just did to me? How fucking much that messes with my head? I can't- I can't take this shit, Jensen, I just can't!"
It takes an effort for Jensen to brush Jared's arms away, but he manages. His mouth tightens, like he's mad or hurt or Jared can't even tell what. Not like he's about to explain a fucking thing and that's all Jared really needs to know.
Getting up off the bed again is like peeling off a layer of skin with a hot butter knife, so Jared does it fast, trying to get it over with except it just won't end, keeps right on hurting. He's suddenly glad he didn't bother getting undressed for this; all he has to do his tuck himself back in and grab his stuff and he can go. Or hell, forget the stuff, get new stuff later, just get the fuck out of Dodge while he still can. It'll only buy him a few minutes since they're both going to be heading back to the same place and he doesn't have a clue what's going to happen then. Jensen'll probably go right back to ignoring him like he has been and Jared... Jared will deal. He can handle this. He's broken up with people before and this wasn't even a real relationship anywhere but in the land of make-believe. It'll be fine, piece of cake.
It doesn't even sound very convincing in his own mind.
"I needed to figure out if it was you." Jensen's voice is so soft that if the air conditioner had kicked on at that moment, Jared wouldn't have heard it.
His bag suddenly weighs a few hundred pounds extra, kind of like his lungs. It's not fair that Jensen can do this shit to him.
"I- I feel things," Jensen continues haltingly, and Jared stays but he can't turn to look because if he does, there's no way he's going to be able to walk out that door, "when we're... the way we are. And sometimes not when we're the way we are. It makes sense if it's just the sex. Psychologically I can understand that. But it's not always that way, so I needed to find out, whether it was you or the scene that makes me feel like this. Putting you in control was the easiest way to test it."
He says it all like it's the most logical thing in the world even though Jared's pretty sure isn't, not even a little.
"How do you figure that?" he prompts when it doesn't seem like Jensen's got any plans for going on.
The sigh that breaks across the space between them is so pained that it plucks at Jared's reflexes, making him compromise and turn his head to the side to see Jensen out of his peripheral vision. It looks like he's cleaning his glasses, which means he's already cleaned his face and it's ridiculous that that hurts too. Not like Jared expected him to just sit there with come all over his face. Jensen's also watching the carpet like it's going to make a run for it if his eyes aren't pinning it in place. Alright, fine, maybe it's a little more than just Jared's peripheral vision.
"I knew I wouldn't like subbing, so obviously, if I subbed for you and I still felt things, then it would mean that I felt something for you and if not then it would mean it was just the Dom thing that I get off on."
Jared pointedly chooses to ignore the fact that Jensen just said he let Jared put him through all of that knowing that he wouldn't like it because he's not sure he'll be able to stay standing under the weight of that level of guilt once it sets in and he's going to need to get the hell out of this room really fast in a minute. Now would be even better, but even though he knows the answer, even though he has known it from the very beginning, he still can't not ask.
"So which is it?"
Jensen takes a deep breath, pulls his eyes up to the wallpaper, and loses it on another sigh. Jared's knees go out from under him; completely and utterly pathetic, thirteen-year-old girl shit but it's not going to matter here in a second because everything in his ribcage is withering up and crumbling and there's really good odds that that'll kill him. Maybe Jensen will just think he had a heart attack.
"Shit! Jared! Are you ok?" Jensen's across the room and at his side in an instant, giving Jared something other than the wall he fell against to lean on. Oh joy, this is just going to keep getting worse. He wonders what he did to make the universe actually hate him.
But then Jensen keeps talking, running his mouth in an incessant stream of babble from which Jared susses out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know how it happened, but I promise, it's not going to interfere with anything. I'm going to keep it under control, ok? It's just a little crush, it happens to everyone eventually, right? I swear it's not going to get in the way of our arrangement, I'll keep it strictly professional, you don't have to worry."
Jared puts forth his best effort to tamp down the little flutter of hope that springs to life inside of him while he tries to rewind that moment and make sure he heard right.
"Wait wait wait. You're saying... You mean that you... you like me? Like, you want me?"
Holy shit, how can all of that magically shrinking stuff in his chest balloon up to twice its original size that fast?
Jensen bites his lip and Jared applies himself to not moaning because there's still the possibility that he hallucinated that whole ‘crush’ bit and in that case, kissing Jensen breathless would make this extra-super awkward.
"I'm sorry, Jared, I really didn't mean to. It's ju-" Jared's hand over Jensen's mouth stems the flow of mixed messages because important parts of him are threatening to explode unless he gets a straight answer, like, now and for once, none of those parts are below the belt.
"Ok, look, you're gonna blink once for yes and twice for no, got it?" He's barely getting enough thin air - when the fuck did this hotel move to the top of Mount Everest - to get the words out, but he does, can't help himself from smiling a little when Jensen blinks once. "Alright, so... um, do you... do you like me? Romantically, I mean."
Hesitantly, Jensen blinks. The space between their eyes seems to heat up with the sheer energy Jared's pouring into it and he wants badly to bite his fingernails in anticipation, waiting for the next blink. Waiting and waiting and waiting.
"Muh contuhcts err dryin' uht, Jaruh," Jensen muffles from behind Jared's hand and it feels like his heart got a jump-start when he hadn't even noticed it skipping a beat.
Once. One blink. That means yes. Yes, Jensen likes him. Jensen likes him! Jared can feel the corners of his mouth catapult upward, grinning like a loon, dimples probably pushed deep into his cheeks and right now it doesn't even make him feel like a little kid because Jensen likes him!
He does eventually manage to convince his hand to stop hogging all of the prime Jensen's-mouth time, but Jensen's smile underneath it is unsteady at best.
He clears his throat and keeps green eyes focused on the ground again - occasionally sneaking up to peer at Jared from underneath his lashes - as he asks, "So, does that mean? Do you... like... me... too?"
Good God, this man is adorable. Absolutely fucking adorable. He can hobnob with social aristocracy and turn Jared into a quivering, fucked-out wreck without even breaking a sweat, but this - this thing that Jared's been a complete lack of subtle about - makes him shy?
Jensen's face doesn't crumple as Jared starts to shake his head, but his eyes sort of shut down, go blank somehow and Jared really needs to learn that trick sometime because that could totally come in handy, but now is not the time.
"Fuck like," he says, simultaneously leaning further and further forward as Jensen keeps leaning away, "Seriously, fuck like. I love you."
Jensen can't possibly bend any further back - his brief foray with yoga, which ended entirely too soon in Jared's opinion, hadn't given him nearly that kind of flexibility - so he has to go with it when Jared kisses him, even though his mouth is slack under Jared's and his eyes are still open when Jared's slip closed. It takes him way too long to respond, but when he does, it's with this soft, almost pained noise that get swallowed right into Jared where it warms him from the inside out.
The sound gets a bit louder when Jared pushes and they end up toppling flat on the floor, his mouth still firmly attached to Jensen's. At least until Jensen starts to squirm.
"What's wrong?" he slurs around Jensen's lips because he's waited a long fucking time for this and he's not wasting the opportunity on talking when he could be kissing.
"I’m naked," Jensen whines back, though he doesn't seem particularly inclined to relinquish Jared's mouth either.
Not exactly that Jared had forgotten - hello, it's naked Jensen, one does not forget that - but the reminder cranks the thermostat in his blood up another couple of notches. He rolls his hips down and now he is regretting not getting naked before; there's entirely too much fabric between his dick and Jensen.
Jensen moans quietly, cock slowly starting to thicken as he rocks up against Jared, and then tears his mouth away again. Tease.
"No, I mean I'm naked on a hotel floor," Jensen insists and his tone does not suggest he's feeling the same enthusiasm for that statement that Jared is. "I really question the hygiene."
Leaning up on his elbow puts way too much space between them, but it also affords Jared a view of Jensen's angry-kitten face which is totally worthy it. "Dude, you licked come off of the sheets," he points out, one finger stroking along the thin, dried film of it at the edge of Jensen's jaw. So. Fucking. Sexy. They have got to do that again - immediately if not sooner.
Jensen pulls another face, sliding into full-force, rained-on angry-kitten mode. "It was my come, and also, that was disgusting."
"Hottest thing ever."
"I am never doing that again."
"Aw, baby," and yes, he's nuzzling at Jensen's nose, because Jensen is the cutest thing in history and it is absolutely imperative that he be nuzzled, "I'm going to open up whole new worlds for you."
Jensen lets himself be cuddled for another minute or two, probably because Jared's laying on top of him and keeps his mouth occupied for most of that time with tender little kisses so there's no way for him to protest.
"Fine," he huffs at last, "Open up whole new worlds for me on the nice, recently-laundered sheets."
"First smart thing you've said all night." Jared's beaming; sun, it your fucking heart out.
"Fair warning," he adds as he's helping Jensen haul himself up off the floor and conveniently forgetting to let go of his hand afterward, "when we get to the bed, I'm going to hold you down and make out with you until we both get off again, and then I'm going to sleep on you."
"But I subbed this time!" Jensen complains. That face is going to be the death of Jared; he's never going to get anything done now that he's allowed to kiss it whenever he wants. Which he assumes he is, because he has a tongue ring that Jensen has been historically very enthusiastic about and Jared's so not above blow-jobbing his way to what he wants.
"Whine about it, why don'tcha?" He valiantly manages to suppress an elated giggle, because he is still a badass Dom and in possession of his own personal set of balls, so no giggling allowed. At least not externally, internal giggling is fine.
Jensen's eyes roll up to the ceiling. "You are a pain in the ass."
Jared smiles smugly and lets a hand roam down the curve of Jensen's lower back, middle finger slotting into his cleft to find the hot, slightly swollen ring of Jensen's hole. "You haven't even had more than a finger yet."
Jensen does a total crap job of covering his jolt-wince when Jared's fingertip circles through the leftover lube there and he should really feel worse about the fact that Jensen's obviously raw right now, but it's difficult to around the thrill steaming him up. He doesn't want to actually hurt Jensen, but a little sore is okay, a little sore just proves that it actually happened.
"And you aren't nearly as funny as you think you are," Jensen snarks at him, batting his hand away. Both the clamps and the lube gets delicately set aside on the nightstand, while Jensen only manages to pick up the dildo with two fingers like he suspects it might secretly be venomous and/or predatory. Maybe at some point Jared will admit he was never actually going to make Jensen take that, but why spoil the fun early?
"But you love me," he breezes, admirably covering the nervous little dance his stomach is doing.
"I didn't say that." Jensen slips under the sheets, hanging close to one side of the bed to avoid the wet spot right smack in the middle.
Jared's not upset, really, he's not. Jensen just now put it together that he likes Jared so it’s way too early to be throwing around things like love; he should be grateful that Jensen's not freaking out about having the L-word thrown out there in the first place. Plus, he still feels good enough about Jensen wanting him even a little bit to pay more than passing attention to the silent-movie flicker of disappointment at the back of his mind. Some of it must show on his face, though - as always, traitorous face - because Jensen gives him a measuring stare and tosses in, "But I'll take it under advisement."
And really, wet spots get a bad rap, Jared thinks as he happily snuggles up against Jensen for some more of that thought-wrecking making out, the sheet clinging clammily to his hip with traces of saliva and leftover come. Cloud nine can seriously kiss his flawlessly tanned ass.
Back to Part 1 Cool air rushes in to take the place of where Jared was pressed up against his back just moments ago. It should be soothing with how overheated Jensen feels all the way through, but instead the breather is a burn like liquid nitrogen trickling down his nerves. He’s pissed off and humiliated and so help him, but his dick is still a hard, throbbing line dampening the pristine linens with precome. Of all the completely bizarre things he’s ever felt with Jared, this just might take the cake. Getting off on this had not been part of the forecast.
He hasn’t worked up the necessary coherency - positively huge amounts of his focus lost on the drag of metal against his tortured nipples on every breath - to lift his head up and look around before Jared’s back, kneeling next to him on the bed. The effect of being naked with someone who's fully clothed hadn't been part of Jensen's calculations either, but the subjugation of it goes straight to his head for the two or three miliseconds it takes for it to register what Jared’s got his hands wrapped around. The world narrows down after that because Jensen doesn’t have anywhere near enough braincells to focus on anything - even his own body - beyond the tube of lube in one of Jared’s hands and the built-for-intimidation, black silicone dildo in the other.
There is absolutely no way that Jensen is going to like where this is heading.
“No,” Jensen blurts without thinking. That’s probably going to get him into trouble, but still, honestly, no.
“Yes,” Jared chirps back easily, something a little too dark to match that tone coloring his expression. “You ever bottomed, Jenny?”
That slow boil of anger eats that the intelligent, rational parts of Jensen again - he really hates that nickname, which he knows Jared knows - and it’s just enough to have him firing back “Yes,” like a curse.
For what it's worth, that's not actually a lie; he has bottomed before. Twice. Once because it’s important to make compromises in a relationship, and then again to confirm that it wasn’t just the wrong guy or something but a genuine aversion to having things put in his ass. He does not get the impression that that argument is going to sway Jared on the matter, though. His sphincter makes a go at crawling inside of his body just from looking at the monstrosity in Jared’s hand.
Jared smirks, “Good,” and tosses the lube onto the bedspread where it rolls up against his side, shockingly cool and unavoidably there. “Get yourself ready for me.”
Jensen’s going to take a wild guess and say that it’s the phrasing that makes his body strobe with sharp, hot sparks, the ache in his chest and groin redouble. Jared probably didn't mean 'for me' as in 'for my giant, never-going-to-fit-in-that-tiny-orifice-of-yours cock' but the idea is… an idea. Jensen actually can’t get any farther with that line of thought because his mind gets stuck at the fork in the road between hot as hell and screaming pain.
Bright little prickles start up under the surface of his skin and just keep popping, blood like a shaken soda in his veins. He’s expecting some smart ass comment or another barked demand when he looks questioningly up at Jared - eyes begging for another way out despite his resolve to get through this no matter what it takes - but instead the larger man is leaning over to stretch himself out on the bed, lying on his side to face Jensen with a good foot of space between them all the way down. Jared looks at him blithely, like he’s above all of this or… or like he doesn’t think Jensen’s going to do it.
And, hey, Jensen might be a little nervous here - do they even make dildos bigger than that? - but he’s not backing out, alright? Jared can mock him and suck his lips sore and make him drool on himself or whatever the fuck, and he might not like it, but he’s sure as hell man enough to take it. And he’ll fucking well take Jared’s enormous - like, really, no human being could possibly have that hanging between their thighs and still walk right - dildo too, so don’t even think for one second that he can’t handle it.
Letting that self-righteous fever carry him, Jensen gets up to his knees and snatches the lube, squirting entirely too much of it on his fingers but it’s not his bed that’s getting dribbled all over, so fuck it. The chilly touch of a slick finger on his hole clears his head a little more than he’d really like. It’s been a long time since he’s done this and the furled opening feels so tight and small under the pad of his finger. But Jared’s still watching him like he’s just counting the seconds until Jensen cries uncle and that will, under no circumstances, be happening. Sometimes Jensen’s really not sure about his own survival instincts.
It doesn’t really burn when the first fingertip slides inside - slick enough it’s almost more surprise than sensation - but the dull heaviness of it is there. He exhales hard and tries for the first time to actively concentrate on the pulse-pulse-pulse of blood around his nipples to distract himself from his finger sliding in all the way to the webbing. After it's in there, though, it’s impossible not to squirm and clench as his muscles struggle to puzzle out exactly what it feels like inside of him.
A ticklish puff of air on the side of his face takes Jensen by surprise, makes him open his eyes when he hadn’t even realized they were closed and look directly into Jared’s. The intimacy of it hits him like a sucker punch; Jared laid out so close to him - he’d scooted in at some point while Jensen was occupied, but they’re still not touching - face pillowed on the bend of his own arm, intently watching whatever expression happens to be scrolling across Jensen’s face. He’d have put money down that Jared would have his eyes locked on Jensen’s hole while he did this - isn’t that the fucking point? - but Jensen could very well be lying here doing nothing at all for all the attention Jared seems to be paying to anything but Jensen’s face.
On the other hand, as soon as Jensen pauses, Jared jumps in with a gentle, “Don’t stop,” so maybe he's more attentive than he looks. Jensen pushes a second finger in, too early, too dry, but it gives him something else to focus on besides the way Jared’s studying him.
“You like it like that, Jenny?” Jared whispers against Jensen’s cheek, lips traversing a slow path up to Jensen's ear and doing nothing at all to help his body’s sudden inability to discern hot from cold, “Like it rough? Like the burn?” Jared’s tongue snakes around the curve of Jensen’s ear, his hand appearing out of nowhere to flirt fingertips around where Jensen’s splitting himself open. “Wanna be all puffy and tender later? Feel it every time you move around, remember how you fucked yourself for me.”
The last thing Jensen expects is the groan that blurbles out of his own throat; relief to have shied away from whatever that moment was shaping up to be back there and slide back into the filthy smut he had been anticipating out of this evening. Maybe just a little because of Jared's voice too, and the way it seems to lick like a flame at all of the delicate bits of Jensen's insides, a mollusk turned out of its shell. But in no way because of that 'for me' stuff or the idea of remembering Jared's eyes on him later while he can still feel the phantom weight of his fingers inside - that would be weird, and wrong, and Jared's just his roommate, ok?
He scrubs the sweat forming on his upper lip away on the back of his arm and tries to lose himself in the feel of the simmering heat in full bloom around the clamps, the gritty drag of his finger pushing in and out of his own body, the relentless pound of blood in his neglected cock.
"You've thought about it before, haven't you?" Jared mouths against him and all the air in Jensen's chest clots. "Yeah, wondered what it was like from the other side, to have me pushing you around." Two of his fingers massage around the outskirts of Jensen's opening, stroking and teasing and making the hair-trigger muscles flutter. "You can take another," he helpfully assesses, refusing to let up on the maddeningly soft petting until Jensen lines up a third finger and pushes in with a burst of tight, spiraling heat. All that solidified oxygen gets squeezed out of him on a high, hurt sound.
"I think you like it, Jenny," Jared's fucking lucky that Jensen's too busy trying to decide whether he's about to cry or come to deck him right now, "Think you'll never admit it, but you like it. That what you needed to figure out, huh? That you like somebody making you take it? Like being bent over and used with no chance to say no?" God damn him, just God fucking damn him and his stupid, long, perfect fingers toying with Jensen's cock, playing in the wetness on the crown; just enough to make him feel like his fucking bones are vibrating. "Like being my bitch."
Jared's voice smears dark along his skin; the sticky, invisible trails left in the wake of words Jensen's trying so very hard not to hear are nothing like the sparking feather of his fingers brushing down Jensen's spine, over the curve of his ass, back up to tick across his ribs, the barest glaze of his own precome marking each spot.
Every hair on Jensen's body is standing up straight, every follicle worked up and transmitting sensation. Then Jared's hand is back at his cock, cradling it, thumbnail catching with intent on the bundle of nerves under the head. Existence bleeds at the edges and he must jerk or jolt or something because the next thing he knows, his fingers accidentally find his prostate and all the reality he has left is drowned under a cascade of silver rain.
"Mmm, look at you," Jared groans, voice pure, debauched awe, "few fingers up that sweet little hole and you purr like a kitten." Which Jensen's almost positive he didn't, but he can't really get his tongue to form words, let alone find the air to argue when three fingers unexpectedly becomes four; Jared's long index finger sliding right in between his own. It shouldn't be anywhere close to as hot as it is.
Jared's starting to lose words around a series of moans that blur into the wet, open-mouthed kisses he's sucking all over Jensen's cheek and neck and shoulder, only little bits like 'so fucking tight' and 'want' and 'Jensen' slipping through. Jensen can't ask what he means, can't even come close to processing it because where he had been intentionally keeping away from his sweet spot, trying to stay in control, Jared's rubbing it constantly, only backing off to slam it again.
Orgasm is coasting along his system in a continuous thrum, the energy stopping up somewhere low and his gut and building, building. Jared's not making it any easier, turning those sloppy kisses into dull bites, just enough to have Jensen's nerves skittering in a dozen different directions at once. It's all too much and not enough and then Jared reaches beneath him and frees the clamps, blood roaring back into tormented flesh at the same time that he delivers another sharp jab to Jensen's prostate and that's the end of the line. His body's just not capable of containing that much sensation, pain and pleasure muting out to meaninglessness as Jensen rides it out on a yell, his whole being pumping out through the tip of his cock.
He comes back to a foggy washout of the world with Jared's hand pushing through his hair, his body still tingling and not yet in the pain he's almost certain will announce itself once the endorphins have left the building.
Jared lays a soft kiss against his temple and murmurs, "Not so easy to hold back, is it?"
The sharp smack to his ass is both unexpected enough and close enough on the heels of climax that it reverbs through Jensen like a crackle of lightning, banking the glow inside him to keep it humming low and warm when sense-memory tells his it should be fading. Then he's got another hand on him, the back of his neck this time, urging him down until his face is pressed against come-wet cloth.
He has neither the strength nor coordination to fight it when Jared rumbles at him to "Clean it up," so he just opens his mouth and lets the sharp taste of his own release explode across his palate.
***
Jensen licking his own come off of the sheets is the single hottest thing that Jared has ever seen, bar-fucking-none. Those swollen, red lips against white sheets, turning pale themselves as Jensen gracelessly works himself through the mess he made, as much of it staining his skin as making it into his mouth. Jared's going to die if he doesn't come right fucking now.
His fingers itch to put a collar around Jensen's pretty neck as it works to swallow what the flash of pink tongue laps up - knows exactly which one he'd use too; slim black with little studs all along the length and a sterling silver tag on the front with the letter 'J' transcribed in simple script. It's meant to stand for Jared, and it could mean Jensen, but Jared knows exactly what he'd see in it every time he looked at it glinting from the hollow of Jensen's throat - Jared's Jensen.
It's probably a good thing he doesn't have it here; if he ever got it on Jensen, he might not be able to stand taking it off again. There are other ways of marking him though; not as good, but still enough. One he's been fantasizing about since literally the moment he laid eyes on Jensen.
He tumbles himself off of the bed, lust-drunk and frustrated, and snatches up Jensen's coat off the back of the chair he left it hanging from. He roots around in the pockets until the solid shape of Jensen's spare glasses case meets his fingers. The spares are identical to Jensen's usual pair, always in his pocket just in case he loses a contact or needs a refraction lens to harness the sun and find the lost Ark of the Covenant or whatever the hell scenario Jensen imagines that keeps him so paranoid about always having a pair of glasses on hand. Right now it doesn't really matter - what Jared wants them for is a lot more form than function.
Jensen's stopped what he was doing by the time Jared gets back to the bed, leaning up on an elbow instead and staring at the sheets like he's trying to gather his wits back about him. That's essentially the last thing Jared wants, at least until his cock has quit trying to strangle itself inside of his pants. Knocking Jensen over onto his back doesn't take a lot of effort since he just sort of rolls - that whole pliant thing he's working births all kinds of filthy-hot ideas - and lets Jared straddle his chest and tuck the glasses behind his ears.
They sit a little askew, but again, form not function and Jared's way to occupied trying to dig the steel rod his dick has turned into out of his pants to even care about precision. He's so hard it's nearly purple by the time he gets it in hand, gritting his teeth around the too-much of at last getting some friction.
He's not thinking about how it's not real, how it's all just some kind of experiment or test to Jensen, how he's probably crashing and burning like a fucking kamikaze pilot and somehow proving Jensen right. He’s just thinking about Jensen; this gorgeous, smart, funny guy underneath him who puts up with Jared's flack and his needs and his general pain-in-the-ass self and never makes a big deal out of it that Jared's turned his life upside down or occasionally pretends to be his boyfriend in the sanctuary of his own thoughts. This guy, who drives his straight up the wall, makes him want to crawl out of his skin sometimes he feels so overcome with it. This guy he's completely head over heels for. Who he's never going to have.
It would be embarrassing how few strokes he ultimately lasts, but with his hand cupped around Jensen's jaw, feeling every reflexive bob of his Adam's apple against Jared's palm, blown green eyes hazing up at him from behind wire frames and a thin sheen of drying come, Jared seriously defies anybody to stick it out for longer.
Thick, milky ropes spatter onto glass and metal and sex-flushed, freckled skin; an obscene camouflage that's going to be burned into the back of Jared's eyelids until the day he dies.
Reluctantly, he flops over to the side and off of Jensen so that there's once again space between their bodies. His chest aches for reasons that have nothing to do with the jackhammer of his heartbeat and it's harshing the fuck out of the mellow that had just been roaring through him.
That got out of hand a lot faster than he'd have guessed.
"You're gonna tell me what the fuck that was all about now." It's not a request, couldn't possibly be taken as one, which is probably why in lieu of deflecting, Jensen peels the glasses off of his dirty face and says, "Chartreuse."
Jared's moving before he realizes he's about to, snatching the thin frames out of Jensen's hand and flinging them across the room. Jensen, idiotically, looks like he's actually about to lecture Jared for it and that is so not happening.
"We're not playing, Jensen," he growls, right up in the other man's face. In his experience, it's generally hard to have any kind of meaningful conversation when one person's face is covered in semen, but it's stunningly easy to ignore that at the moment, the unadulterated rage swelling in him pushing out even the pure sex appeal of having messed Jensen up so beautifully. "You're gonna tell me right fucking now because I'm your best fucking friend and I deserve to know what's going on, assmunch!"
"Assmunch? Really, Jay? What are we in eighth gra-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Jared's yelling, not knowing when he got hold of Jensen's shoulders besides the fact that he obviously must have because now he's using them to shake Jensen with all his might, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Christ, do you get what you just did to me? How fucking much that messes with my head? I can't- I can't take this shit, Jensen, I just can't!"
It takes an effort for Jensen to brush Jared's arms away, but he manages. His mouth tightens, like he's mad or hurt or Jared can't even tell what. Not like he's about to explain a fucking thing and that's all Jared really needs to know.
Getting up off the bed again is like peeling off a layer of skin with a hot butter knife, so Jared does it fast, trying to get it over with except it just won't end, keeps right on hurting. He's suddenly glad he didn't bother getting undressed for this; all he has to do his tuck himself back in and grab his stuff and he can go. Or hell, forget the stuff, get new stuff later, just get the fuck out of Dodge while he still can. It'll only buy him a few minutes since they're both going to be heading back to the same place and he doesn't have a clue what's going to happen then. Jensen'll probably go right back to ignoring him like he has been and Jared... Jared will deal. He can handle this. He's broken up with people before and this wasn't even a real relationship anywhere but in the land of make-believe. It'll be fine, piece of cake.
It doesn't even sound very convincing in his own mind.
"I needed to figure out if it was you." Jensen's voice is so soft that if the air conditioner had kicked on at that moment, Jared wouldn't have heard it.
His bag suddenly weighs a few hundred pounds extra, kind of like his lungs. It's not fair that Jensen can do this shit to him.
"I- I feel things," Jensen continues haltingly, and Jared stays but he can't turn to look because if he does, there's no way he's going to be able to walk out that door, "when we're... the way we are. And sometimes not when we're the way we are. It makes sense if it's just the sex. Psychologically I can understand that. But it's not always that way, so I needed to find out, whether it was you or the scene that makes me feel like this. Putting you in control was the easiest way to test it."
He says it all like it's the most logical thing in the world even though Jared's pretty sure isn't, not even a little.
"How do you figure that?" he prompts when it doesn't seem like Jensen's got any plans for going on.
The sigh that breaks across the space between them is so pained that it plucks at Jared's reflexes, making him compromise and turn his head to the side to see Jensen out of his peripheral vision. It looks like he's cleaning his glasses, which means he's already cleaned his face and it's ridiculous that that hurts too. Not like Jared expected him to just sit there with come all over his face. Jensen's also watching the carpet like it's going to make a run for it if his eyes aren't pinning it in place. Alright, fine, maybe it's a little more than just Jared's peripheral vision.
"I knew I wouldn't like subbing, so obviously, if I subbed for you and I still felt things, then it would mean that I felt something for you and if not then it would mean it was just the Dom thing that I get off on."
Jared pointedly chooses to ignore the fact that Jensen just said he let Jared put him through all of that knowing that he wouldn't like it because he's not sure he'll be able to stay standing under the weight of that level of guilt once it sets in and he's going to need to get the hell out of this room really fast in a minute. Now would be even better, but even though he knows the answer, even though he has known it from the very beginning, he still can't not ask.
"So which is it?"
Jensen takes a deep breath, pulls his eyes up to the wallpaper, and loses it on another sigh. Jared's knees go out from under him; completely and utterly pathetic, thirteen-year-old girl shit but it's not going to matter here in a second because everything in his ribcage is withering up and crumbling and there's really good odds that that'll kill him. Maybe Jensen will just think he had a heart attack.
"Shit! Jared! Are you ok?" Jensen's across the room and at his side in an instant, giving Jared something other than the wall he fell against to lean on. Oh joy, this is just going to keep getting worse. He wonders what he did to make the universe actually hate him.
But then Jensen keeps talking, running his mouth in an incessant stream of babble from which Jared susses out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know how it happened, but I promise, it's not going to interfere with anything. I'm going to keep it under control, ok? It's just a little crush, it happens to everyone eventually, right? I swear it's not going to get in the way of our arrangement, I'll keep it strictly professional, you don't have to worry."
Jared puts forth his best effort to tamp down the little flutter of hope that springs to life inside of him while he tries to rewind that moment and make sure he heard right.
"Wait wait wait. You're saying... You mean that you... you like me? Like, you want me?"
Holy shit, how can all of that magically shrinking stuff in his chest balloon up to twice its original size that fast?
Jensen bites his lip and Jared applies himself to not moaning because there's still the possibility that he hallucinated that whole ‘crush’ bit and in that case, kissing Jensen breathless would make this extra-super awkward.
"I'm sorry, Jared, I really didn't mean to. It's ju-" Jared's hand over Jensen's mouth stems the flow of mixed messages because important parts of him are threatening to explode unless he gets a straight answer, like, now and for once, none of those parts are below the belt.
"Ok, look, you're gonna blink once for yes and twice for no, got it?" He's barely getting enough thin air - when the fuck did this hotel move to the top of Mount Everest - to get the words out, but he does, can't help himself from smiling a little when Jensen blinks once. "Alright, so... um, do you... do you like me? Romantically, I mean."
Hesitantly, Jensen blinks. The space between their eyes seems to heat up with the sheer energy Jared's pouring into it and he wants badly to bite his fingernails in anticipation, waiting for the next blink. Waiting and waiting and waiting.
"Muh contuhcts err dryin' uht, Jaruh," Jensen muffles from behind Jared's hand and it feels like his heart got a jump-start when he hadn't even noticed it skipping a beat.
Once. One blink. That means yes. Yes, Jensen likes him. Jensen likes him! Jared can feel the corners of his mouth catapult upward, grinning like a loon, dimples probably pushed deep into his cheeks and right now it doesn't even make him feel like a little kid because Jensen likes him!
He does eventually manage to convince his hand to stop hogging all of the prime Jensen's-mouth time, but Jensen's smile underneath it is unsteady at best.
He clears his throat and keeps green eyes focused on the ground again - occasionally sneaking up to peer at Jared from underneath his lashes - as he asks, "So, does that mean? Do you... like... me... too?"
Good God, this man is adorable. Absolutely fucking adorable. He can hobnob with social aristocracy and turn Jared into a quivering, fucked-out wreck without even breaking a sweat, but this - this thing that Jared's been a complete lack of subtle about - makes him shy?
Jensen's face doesn't crumple as Jared starts to shake his head, but his eyes sort of shut down, go blank somehow and Jared really needs to learn that trick sometime because that could totally come in handy, but now is not the time.
"Fuck like," he says, simultaneously leaning further and further forward as Jensen keeps leaning away, "Seriously, fuck like. I love you."
Jensen can't possibly bend any further back - his brief foray with yoga, which ended entirely too soon in Jared's opinion, hadn't given him nearly that kind of flexibility - so he has to go with it when Jared kisses him, even though his mouth is slack under Jared's and his eyes are still open when Jared's slip closed. It takes him way too long to respond, but when he does, it's with this soft, almost pained noise that get swallowed right into Jared where it warms him from the inside out.
The sound gets a bit louder when Jared pushes and they end up toppling flat on the floor, his mouth still firmly attached to Jensen's. At least until Jensen starts to squirm.
"What's wrong?" he slurs around Jensen's lips because he's waited a long fucking time for this and he's not wasting the opportunity on talking when he could be kissing.
"I’m naked," Jensen whines back, though he doesn't seem particularly inclined to relinquish Jared's mouth either.
Not exactly that Jared had forgotten - hello, it's naked Jensen, one does not forget that - but the reminder cranks the thermostat in his blood up another couple of notches. He rolls his hips down and now he is regretting not getting naked before; there's entirely too much fabric between his dick and Jensen.
Jensen moans quietly, cock slowly starting to thicken as he rocks up against Jared, and then tears his mouth away again. Tease.
"No, I mean I'm naked on a hotel floor," Jensen insists and his tone does not suggest he's feeling the same enthusiasm for that statement that Jared is. "I really question the hygiene."
Leaning up on his elbow puts way too much space between them, but it also affords Jared a view of Jensen's angry-kitten face which is totally worthy it. "Dude, you licked come off of the sheets," he points out, one finger stroking along the thin, dried film of it at the edge of Jensen's jaw. So. Fucking. Sexy. They have got to do that again - immediately if not sooner.
Jensen pulls another face, sliding into full-force, rained-on angry-kitten mode. "It was my come, and also, that was disgusting."
"Hottest thing ever."
"I am never doing that again."
"Aw, baby," and yes, he's nuzzling at Jensen's nose, because Jensen is the cutest thing in history and it is absolutely imperative that he be nuzzled, "I'm going to open up whole new worlds for you."
Jensen lets himself be cuddled for another minute or two, probably because Jared's laying on top of him and keeps his mouth occupied for most of that time with tender little kisses so there's no way for him to protest.
"Fine," he huffs at last, "Open up whole new worlds for me on the nice, recently-laundered sheets."
"First smart thing you've said all night." Jared's beaming; sun, it your fucking heart out.
"Fair warning," he adds as he's helping Jensen haul himself up off the floor and conveniently forgetting to let go of his hand afterward, "when we get to the bed, I'm going to hold you down and make out with you until we both get off again, and then I'm going to sleep on you."
"But I subbed this time!" Jensen complains. That face is going to be the death of Jared; he's never going to get anything done now that he's allowed to kiss it whenever he wants. Which he assumes he is, because he has a tongue ring that Jensen has been historically very enthusiastic about and Jared's so not above blow-jobbing his way to what he wants.
"Whine about it, why don'tcha?" He valiantly manages to suppress an elated giggle, because he is still a badass Dom and in possession of his own personal set of balls, so no giggling allowed. At least not externally, internal giggling is fine.
Jensen's eyes roll up to the ceiling. "You are a pain in the ass."
Jared smiles smugly and lets a hand roam down the curve of Jensen's lower back, middle finger slotting into his cleft to find the hot, slightly swollen ring of Jensen's hole. "You haven't even had more than a finger yet."
Jensen does a total crap job of covering his jolt-wince when Jared's fingertip circles through the leftover lube there and he should really feel worse about the fact that Jensen's obviously raw right now, but it's difficult to around the thrill steaming him up. He doesn't want to actually hurt Jensen, but a little sore is okay, a little sore just proves that it actually happened.
"And you aren't nearly as funny as you think you are," Jensen snarks at him, batting his hand away. Both the clamps and the lube gets delicately set aside on the nightstand, while Jensen only manages to pick up the dildo with two fingers like he suspects it might secretly be venomous and/or predatory. Maybe at some point Jared will admit he was never actually going to make Jensen take that, but why spoil the fun early?
"But you love me," he breezes, admirably covering the nervous little dance his stomach is doing.
"I didn't say that." Jensen slips under the sheets, hanging close to one side of the bed to avoid the wet spot right smack in the middle.
Jared's not upset, really, he's not. Jensen just now put it together that he likes Jared so it’s way too early to be throwing around things like love; he should be grateful that Jensen's not freaking out about having the L-word thrown out there in the first place. Plus, he still feels good enough about Jensen wanting him even a little bit to pay more than passing attention to the silent-movie flicker of disappointment at the back of his mind. Some of it must show on his face, though - as always, traitorous face - because Jensen gives him a measuring stare and tosses in, "But I'll take it under advisement."
And really, wet spots get a bad rap, Jared thinks as he happily snuggles up against Jensen for some more of that thought-wrecking making out, the sheet clinging clammily to his hip with traces of saliva and leftover come. Cloud nine can seriously kiss his flawlessly tanned ass.