Wanton Boys Are We (Jared/Jensen, NC17)
Ugh, I was doing this anon on spnkink_meme but the comment breaks are killing me. And it's not *that* kinky, so I shall own it and stop fighting the format.
[ And I am now hyperventilating having accidentally posted it for 10 seconds to Photo Scavenger. So sorry. I hope no one was scarred permanently. In my defence, there's something a bit screwy with posting - it let me tag with my own journal tags but post to a comm. Ack. Ack. Ack.]
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Wanton Boys Are We
Rating NC17 I guess; on the fluffier side though
Fandom and Pairing J2
Words 3300
Prompt Jensen is a Greek god or demigod who has just found his soulmate in Jared, the adorable new barista at the coffee shop he favors. Unfortunately, Aphrodite holds a grudge against Jensen and is going out of her way to sabotage his love life. [I may take this as a trope bingo fill too,
for the free space]
A/N Title hideously mangled in sense from the King Lear line: As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods. They kill us for their sport.
"You're not serious? He's a barfly."
"The term is barista," says Jensen, a little stiffly. He's a little tired of his mother's half-hearted attempts to understand the modern world. How obscure, really, is the word these days? If only mom ever got out of Athens, maybe she'd keep up a little better. Jensen gets out. Jensen has a new name, and knows what to call the guy that serves you your latte. Especially when the guy that serves you your latte is your destined soulmate.
"And that's who you fall for? Not The Most Beautiful Woman Ever ™?" (Yes, she pronounces the ™. That's what goddesshood does for your enunciation).
"You're really never going to let that go?" It's been several millennia. And Jensen isn’t convinced the Trojan War plot would have been improved by the insertion of yet another guy interested in Helen. He'd rather have had a chance at Achilles, tbh, big sulky tent thing notwithstanding.
"Never," says his mother.
(Aphrofuckingdite, thank you very much, and no Jensen isn't a cutesy cupid. She has other kids. Jensen is technically the god of the procreative and sexual urge; created from the foam on the rolling sea from which Aphrodite rose. Less technically, as unkind folks (aka Eros) like to point out, he's pretty much the god of spunk.
Which is appropriate, possibly. But fuck Eros anyway.
Some gods retain their relevance, even after the temples and cults are gone. Eros never goes out of style. Jensen's procreative style is very much in vogue just now (extreme worldwide contraception explosion notwithstanding), but nobody much expects a deity to be involved in the whole boy-meets-boy-meets-girl-meets-girl and uglies are bumped thing. So Jensen's power isn't what it was. Fucking Eros. Everybody loves a love god. Apparently.)
"But, anyway," Jensen tries to return to the point. "I'm gay, as I've been telling you for three thousand years. And I met a guy. A soulmate guy. He works in Starbucks, he's very cute, his name is Jared, and I'd love you to meet him."
His mother shrugs at him. "No, darling. That's never going to happen. You and he are not destined to last."
Jensen's not going to pretend he's unoffended. He can feel his ears getting red. "Hey, don't be saying that. He could totally be my forever soul mate. Why not?"
Aphrodite unfolds herself to her full height (about 75 metres; Jensen's neck cranes uncomfortably).
"BECAUSE I SAY SO," boomed the goddess.
Fuck.
*
Jensen met Jared when he was in dire need of a trippio macchiato, but he's pretty sure that didn't overly colour his judgement about the whole soulmate thing. Jensen drinks a buttload of coffee, and is often very pleased to see another generic coffeeshop. He never - well, almost never - screws the baristas.
Not that he's screwed Jared. Not yet. This is different. This is love.
And Aphrodite's kids? They know love.
Jensen collects his usual (grande cap, extra hot, extra foam - the macchiato was just an emergency thing), and stays to smile at Jared a little more. It's a busy time, unfortunately, no chance for their customary exchange of chat. No more than a quick glance, and then Jared's back to work.
Okay. It's possible Jared doesn't yet know he's Jensen's soulmate. Or even that he's Jensen's future boyfriend. (Jensen actually wanted a few tips from his mom before going into the whole soulmate thing headlong. See how well that worked?)
But Gen, who shares a shift with Jared more often than not, has assured Jensen he's available, interested, and more than ready to say yes to, as far as Gen knows, an introductory drink (preferably not coffee). Gen obviously doesn't know the parts about becoming Jensen's destined soulmate and (possibly, if he wants) achieving eternal life in the Mount Olympus Home for Cat-Fighting Superannuated Deities. Jensen, upon consideration, doesn't expect Jared will want that part. He'll deal. Later. Once he's talked to Jared, and, you know, asked him out.
*
The first time Jensen tries to ask Jared out, he thinks it's just coincidence.
The lid flips off his regular order, just as Jensen's trying a cool little lean and smile and, "Hey, Jare- Want to- Oh fuck!" as his suddenly non-rigid cup buckles, spills foam and coffee all over his bare hand, his shirt and (yes indeed) his pants.
Jared makes with helpful mopping up. (Not of the pants.) He also hangs around expectantly as Jensen recovers himself. But Jensen's not going to ask his soulmate out to a bar while he's head to toe soaked in brown fluid. He's not a fucking dryad, thank you.
*
The second time, when Jensen is struck dumb as he tries to say the words, "Go out with me sometime?", he's damn sure there's deity in his lovelife. But he doesn't manage to get the words out anyway. Jared looks confused.
*
The third time, a fucking arrow comes from nowhere and nearly kills Jensen's soulmate in the middle of Starbucks. Fucking Eros. Mama's boy.
Jared says, quite calmly considering the almost dying thing. "Jensen? There's something weird going on here. You want to get a drink and talk it out?"
"God, yes," says Jensen, fervently.
The drink is amazing, like Jensen knew it would be (once he'd taken the precaution of chaining Eros muzzled to his own bedroom door). It turns out Jared likes the right sports, the right teams, dances badly, laughs loudly and loves the ocean. (Okay, that's such a cliché, but if you were Jensen, created from primordial ocean, you'd love hearing Jared talk about swimming naked in the sea; the caress of salt water on skin, the taste on your lips… and also the way his eyes close and his cheeks flush a little as he gets totally turned on by the whole thing. Because he's Jensen's soulmate, okay? Keep up.)
"You remind me of the ocean," Jared says, eventually coming back to dry land and looking at Jensen with big deep-brown eyes that Jensen also kind of wants to swim in despite brown liquid not being his favourite thing just now.
And Jensen, who totally meant this part to come later, after a lot of very hot sex, says, "Yeah, well, I'm kind of part-ocean. Demi-god." He ducks his head with a combination of practiced faux modesty and very real kicking himself for fucking up so soon.
Jared is quiet. But not running away. "Huh," he says after a while. "Is that why the room lights up when you come in?"
Jensen blinks. A lot. "…No?" he mumbles, feeling his cheeks redden. Wow, this soulmate thing is also turning him into a thirteen year old girl. Awesome.
Jared's room-filling grin takes away a whole lot of the squirm factor. "Must be because we're soulmates, huh?"
There's a long pause. Jensen processes a number of things. Jared being his soulmate at all, which is a little unexpected after three long lonely millennia of meaningless sex. Jared not freaking even a little bit about the accidental deity-information slippage. Jared knowing anything at all about soulmates.
"You're a god too, right?"
Jared shrugs. "Not really. Mom was a nymph of some sort. She wasn't around a lot."
Nymphs are pretty shit mothers, all in all. Jensen shakes his head a little in sympathy. Jared shrugs back, again, not requiring it. "Dad was cool. And my stepmom… Daisy taught me to cook."
"And you love it." Jensen doesn't even know how he knows. He's only seen Jared steaming milk and making espresso. But he does even that with care and a smile. It makes Jensen love him more- Wait, want him more. No soulmate emotional talk till Jensen's sure it's reciprocal.
(He's kidding no one here.)
The evening passes fast. They're getting steadily closer and closer, settling into each other's personal space with the certainty of interlocking lips and the likelihood of interlocking much more, when-
Fucking Eros.
*
Jensen's ass takes a few days to heal. He may be superhuman, but an arrow to the butt cheek sucks. From his sickbed, Jensen talks to his mom and makes her promise to tell Eros not to borrow Artemis's bow and arrow any more. (Well, he can't use his own, right? Not that Jensen needs any more love-god bolts.) Aphrodite is a bitch when crossed, but fair, in her way.
When Jensen next makes it to Starbucks, Jared rushes over, leaving a queue of seven pissed commuters and a dangerously foaming milk jug. "You're okay!" He squeezes Jensen hard, lifting his feet clear off the floor. Jensen feels the solid flex of muscle all round his chest, arms and pecs working well.
That does it. He has been playing nice, and shy and appropriate, but Jensen wants this guy. He ducks his head a little, just enough to achieve lip-brush. Jared lets him down, and leans in. They kiss till there's a small explosion in the background. (Nothing to do with Eros; the milk over-boiled and tipped the jug.) No one in the café cheers. It's not that kind of moment.
"Tonight?" asks Jensen, panting slightly.
"Yeh," gasps Jared back, turning to his barista duties, with a little pink highlight on each cheekbone.
They are not, clearly, referring to a nice bar and a glass of merlot.
Eros is going to spend the night chained in a cave. With his liver being pecked out, if Jensen has his way.
This would be the part where Jared and Jensen get to the fucking.
*
Or, you know, not.
"This has honestly never, ever happened to me before," says Jensen, thinking how familiar those words are from somewhere.
"Well, duh," says Jared, matter of factly. "I guess your little brother poking really, really obvious holes in your condom stash to stop you screwing your soulmate, on your mom's orders, isn't an everyday thing. Even every century, it's not gonna feel that familiar."
Jensen throws his third (emergency backup, for a really excellent night only) condom, just as useless as the others, into Jared's trash. His dick throbs sullenly. His dick has been looking forward to tonight. Really insistently.
Okay. New plan.
He rolls over, trying for a seductive look over his shoulder. "I'm immortal. And my uncle is the greatest healer in Olympus. Besides, you're practically a kid. How diseased can you be? "
Jared blushes, and mumbles a string of consonants in which the words "regularly tested" and "all clear" feature fuzzily.
"So fuck me," says Jensen, impatiently. Not his real preference, but…
"I'd… kind of rather not?" Jared sounds bashful. "I really, really prefer to bottom. I'm sorry if- I mean, I'm a big guy, people get the wrong idea. But I- I'm not a natural top."
Which in Jensen's world is generally a great thing. If only he could follow it up. But Jensen has had three thousand years to pick up infections that Jared's system has never met, and there will be no inadvertent killing of the soulmate, thank you. Jensen does not, at all, want to be doing the centuries-of-mourning kick. Not his style.
"It's okay," he says, gasps, "Just suck me." (Yeah. Not the classiest. But his dick is screaming, Jared wants to bottom for him, and Jensen is only human. In a metaphorical sense.)
Jared's wide, beautiful mouth widens a little more, as he noses down Jensen's belly. Little biting licks as he goes, building anticipation, till his lips close round the head of Jensen's throbbing, dripping, aching cock. And-
"Seriously. That has never happened to me before," says Jensen, miserably realizing where his earlier dialogue came from. Jared hums sympathetically, if not necessarily believingly, and tucks himself against Jensen's side. Trying, because he's a genuinely thoughtful guy, to pretend his own hard dick is perfectly quiescent. Jared, faced with a suddenly catastrophically impotent lover, isn't the kind to insist on showing off his own youthful vigour.
Except that Jensen knows - he fucking knows this is Aphrodite. Or Eros. Family, anyway, fucking with his fucking. And that is not on.
He wriggles down the bed till he can get a faceful of Jared's dick, burying his furious brain in the sight and smell and taste of bringing Jared off with mouth and fingers.
And no, it's not Perfect Soulmate Sex. But. It's some sex with his soulmate. So. Suck on that, Mom.
Or something less Freudian, maybe.
*
Jensen wakes to find Jared's hands on his ass. Which, thank you, is completely welcome and not triggering some anti-fuck curse for the moment. Jared murmurs, close in on the skin, "So, your brother shot you in the ass over me, huh?" It's only then that Jensen remembers his recent trauma. (Look, he's a deity. They heal quick. They're also pretty used to getting shot.)
Jared seems kind of impressed with the whole thing, and Jensen enjoys the feeling of being worshipped a little longer. He wants to turn over and sink his dick into Jared's warm, eager mouth.
Part A of the plan goes fine. Part B, not so much. Jensen looks down at his apologetic, flaccid cock and catches Jared's chin. That supportive look is still there. Of course it is. Jared's a great guy.
Jensen snaps. "Okay. Enough. I am going to find a way to fuck you, if I have to beg my own mother till my knees bleed."
Jared laughs, wide and generous, and Jensen tries to will his surging sex hormones to break through whatever mojo is holding him impotent. Not surprisingly, this not only doesn't work, it stresses him out. He's now pretty sure he'd have trouble getting hard at this exact moment even without the curse.
"Fuck." He heads for the shower.
Jared follows.
What follows is pretty inevitable and pleasant, but as Jensen watches Jared's come sluice down the shower drain, he can't help but think it's a long way from the spume on the surging ocean. Dammit.
*
"Moooooommm," Jensen can hardly bear to hear his voice, the teen whine coming back after centuries out of use. "I really wanna- I mean, I want to have sex with Jared. And it's not fair you and Eros putting the whammy on me. I'm a fucking god of fucking. Why for the love of god won't you let me fuck?"
(Seriously. He's a little afraid his balls might actually explode here. God of spunk is not a joke when you don’t get to fuck.)
Aphrodite raises a brow, not unsympathetic. "Sweetie, none of us minds if you want to fuck a godling. Or a mortal, come to that, so long as it's just a fleeting thing. This soulmate stuff… It's not good for a god to hook up with a mortal."
Jensen closes his eyes, grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this that doesn't end with anything exploding.
Oh. Well, duh.
"Mom? Did I mention his mom's a nymph?" A faithless no good nymph who left her son hanging, sure, but Aphrodite cares about this demi-deity shit.
She's smiling already, "Really? Oh, who?"
And of course he doesn't know.
*
Which is how Aphrodite comes to visit Starbucks, doubt and mild revulsion streaming off her as she encounters the real world, in all its steamed milky espresso glory.
Jensen orders himself a quadruple espresso with an extra shot, and Gen produces it without so much as a twitch of the eyebrow. "That's the Mom, huh?"
"Yeah." She's obviously heard at least something about the whole curse dilemma thing. Jensen really doesn't want to talk about unfortunate flaccidity with Gen. "Could you make her up something sweet? I don't know what, something special."
Jared's voice comes over Jensen's shoulder. "Caramel cream frap, Gen. And I'll take it over myself."
Jensen has a terrible urge to say no, to flee now. But the only way he got his mom in here is with the promise of nymph talk with Jared, so… "Okay. That'd be nice."
*
Aphrodite wrapping her lips around a frappucino straw is a sight to have grown men - and even gay close relatives - a little hypnotized, so the whole Meet the Parent(s) thing doesn't fully get started till she's had a good few gulps. (She seems pleased, incidentally, with the whole frap experience, if not the décor and clientele in this inoffensively normal branch of Starbucks. Jensen is cautiously optimistic.)
"So, Jared. You make coffee." It's not an awesome start, but Jared nods and talks enthusiastically about meeting people, helping them enjoy a few indulgent moments in the daily grind, and generally playing on the things a love goddess might understand about barista-ing. He leaves out the washing up and toilet cleaning. Jensen approves. It's becoming increasingly obvious to him that though Aphrodite thinks they could be soulmates because Jared's part nymph, Jensen really prefers the human parts of Jared. Including the sneaky ones.
"And your mother is…?" Aphrodite brings Jensen back from a pleased contemplation of the sheer Jared-ness of Jared.
"Well, my dad brought me with, with Sharon," says Jared, disastrously honest, but Jensen's desperate cough makes him remember his pre-meet briefing. "But my mother is Callianeira."
"Oooh!" And that syllable, right there? That's money in the bank for Jensen's desperate dick. Aphrodite is pleased. "A Nereid! Oh, but how perfect. We do love the sea, in our family, don't we Jensen?"
Jensen almost misses his cue to nod, because he may love Jared's human qualities, but he also does love the sea. Like, a lot. A lot, lot.
His brain has gone to a very happy place. He's going to fuck Jared in the ocean, salt water on bare brown skin, slicking up with come over and over - and let the waves carry their seed far out to sea. They won't be making a goddess, this time (which: good, see how much trouble they cause?), but something deep inside Jensen will be satisfied.
Jared keeps talking, Aphrodite keeps smiling, and towards the bottom of her frap she sends a text message to Eros that frees up Jensen's lovelife from their various curses and vendettas.
Jensen is, at bottom, a good son, so he doesn't just shout Yippeee! and go screw his boyfriend. They finish their drinks, though not before Aphrodite casually drops in what Jensen's actually a god of. Jared gets a little slack around the mouth, dreamy about the eyes, and it's probably for the best that he doesn't have to go back on shift today.
"Seriously?" Jared murmurs, as they wave goodbye to Aphrodite outside Starbucks. "You're the god of fucking?"
"One of them," says Jensen, modestly.
"And spunk?"
"Yeah," is all Jensen has to say, slow and drawly and blatant. Jared stumbles a little.
"My apartment. Now?"
Hell, yes.
*
So Jensen's the god of spunk, among other erotic and procreative purposes, and he's had three millennia to learn how to do it right. Turning Jared into a puddle of satisfied goo isn't too challenging, but the surprise is how Jensen gets gooified right along with him. Jared's tight as hell, sweetly apologetic as Jensen slowly works himself inside, and then gasping as Jensen screws his hips juuuust right, hitting the sweet spot on every- damn- tiiiime.
Jensen comes abruptly, surprising himself, filling the condom in urgent, endless pulses. Not the curse; just pent-up desire and frustration. It's not a very divine performance, but he just doesn't care. Jared's human enough to understand. In fact, Jared's pretty much there himself, shuddering with his hand on his own cock. All Jensen has to do is ride him through it. And this time, Jensen doesn't fuck it up.
They're entwined, noses rubbing, gasping smiling mouths playing lightly against each other in the mutually unspoken-congratulatory aftermath (the way everyone does when it's good - hey, universe! We just had sex! It was awesome!).
Jared says, "We should go to the coast."
Jensen nods.
Jared says, "I want to find some quiet place, in the ocean, where I can suck you till you come all over my face, and the waves wash me clean."
Jensen gasps, a little, though he tries to hide it - a guy has his pride. Then, fuck it, he kisses Jared deep. "Yes. Yesyesyes, we are doing that. Soon."
Guy has a soulmate. Fuck pride.
***
[ And I am now hyperventilating having accidentally posted it for 10 seconds to Photo Scavenger. So sorry. I hope no one was scarred permanently. In my defence, there's something a bit screwy with posting - it let me tag with my own journal tags but post to a comm. Ack. Ack. Ack.]
Author Brutti ma buoni
Title Wanton Boys Are We
Rating NC17 I guess; on the fluffier side though
Fandom and Pairing J2
Words 3300
Prompt Jensen is a Greek god or demigod who has just found his soulmate in Jared, the adorable new barista at the coffee shop he favors. Unfortunately, Aphrodite holds a grudge against Jensen and is going out of her way to sabotage his love life. [I may take this as a trope bingo fill too,
for the free space]
A/N Title hideously mangled in sense from the King Lear line: As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods. They kill us for their sport.
"You're not serious? He's a barfly."
"The term is barista," says Jensen, a little stiffly. He's a little tired of his mother's half-hearted attempts to understand the modern world. How obscure, really, is the word these days? If only mom ever got out of Athens, maybe she'd keep up a little better. Jensen gets out. Jensen has a new name, and knows what to call the guy that serves you your latte. Especially when the guy that serves you your latte is your destined soulmate.
"And that's who you fall for? Not The Most Beautiful Woman Ever ™?" (Yes, she pronounces the ™. That's what goddesshood does for your enunciation).
"You're really never going to let that go?" It's been several millennia. And Jensen isn’t convinced the Trojan War plot would have been improved by the insertion of yet another guy interested in Helen. He'd rather have had a chance at Achilles, tbh, big sulky tent thing notwithstanding.
"Never," says his mother.
(Aphrofuckingdite, thank you very much, and no Jensen isn't a cutesy cupid. She has other kids. Jensen is technically the god of the procreative and sexual urge; created from the foam on the rolling sea from which Aphrodite rose. Less technically, as unkind folks (aka Eros) like to point out, he's pretty much the god of spunk.
Which is appropriate, possibly. But fuck Eros anyway.
Some gods retain their relevance, even after the temples and cults are gone. Eros never goes out of style. Jensen's procreative style is very much in vogue just now (extreme worldwide contraception explosion notwithstanding), but nobody much expects a deity to be involved in the whole boy-meets-boy-meets-girl-meets-girl and uglies are bumped thing. So Jensen's power isn't what it was. Fucking Eros. Everybody loves a love god. Apparently.)
"But, anyway," Jensen tries to return to the point. "I'm gay, as I've been telling you for three thousand years. And I met a guy. A soulmate guy. He works in Starbucks, he's very cute, his name is Jared, and I'd love you to meet him."
His mother shrugs at him. "No, darling. That's never going to happen. You and he are not destined to last."
Jensen's not going to pretend he's unoffended. He can feel his ears getting red. "Hey, don't be saying that. He could totally be my forever soul mate. Why not?"
Aphrodite unfolds herself to her full height (about 75 metres; Jensen's neck cranes uncomfortably).
"BECAUSE I SAY SO," boomed the goddess.
Fuck.
*
Jensen met Jared when he was in dire need of a trippio macchiato, but he's pretty sure that didn't overly colour his judgement about the whole soulmate thing. Jensen drinks a buttload of coffee, and is often very pleased to see another generic coffeeshop. He never - well, almost never - screws the baristas.
Not that he's screwed Jared. Not yet. This is different. This is love.
And Aphrodite's kids? They know love.
Jensen collects his usual (grande cap, extra hot, extra foam - the macchiato was just an emergency thing), and stays to smile at Jared a little more. It's a busy time, unfortunately, no chance for their customary exchange of chat. No more than a quick glance, and then Jared's back to work.
Okay. It's possible Jared doesn't yet know he's Jensen's soulmate. Or even that he's Jensen's future boyfriend. (Jensen actually wanted a few tips from his mom before going into the whole soulmate thing headlong. See how well that worked?)
But Gen, who shares a shift with Jared more often than not, has assured Jensen he's available, interested, and more than ready to say yes to, as far as Gen knows, an introductory drink (preferably not coffee). Gen obviously doesn't know the parts about becoming Jensen's destined soulmate and (possibly, if he wants) achieving eternal life in the Mount Olympus Home for Cat-Fighting Superannuated Deities. Jensen, upon consideration, doesn't expect Jared will want that part. He'll deal. Later. Once he's talked to Jared, and, you know, asked him out.
*
The first time Jensen tries to ask Jared out, he thinks it's just coincidence.
The lid flips off his regular order, just as Jensen's trying a cool little lean and smile and, "Hey, Jare- Want to- Oh fuck!" as his suddenly non-rigid cup buckles, spills foam and coffee all over his bare hand, his shirt and (yes indeed) his pants.
Jared makes with helpful mopping up. (Not of the pants.) He also hangs around expectantly as Jensen recovers himself. But Jensen's not going to ask his soulmate out to a bar while he's head to toe soaked in brown fluid. He's not a fucking dryad, thank you.
*
The second time, when Jensen is struck dumb as he tries to say the words, "Go out with me sometime?", he's damn sure there's deity in his lovelife. But he doesn't manage to get the words out anyway. Jared looks confused.
*
The third time, a fucking arrow comes from nowhere and nearly kills Jensen's soulmate in the middle of Starbucks. Fucking Eros. Mama's boy.
Jared says, quite calmly considering the almost dying thing. "Jensen? There's something weird going on here. You want to get a drink and talk it out?"
"God, yes," says Jensen, fervently.
The drink is amazing, like Jensen knew it would be (once he'd taken the precaution of chaining Eros muzzled to his own bedroom door). It turns out Jared likes the right sports, the right teams, dances badly, laughs loudly and loves the ocean. (Okay, that's such a cliché, but if you were Jensen, created from primordial ocean, you'd love hearing Jared talk about swimming naked in the sea; the caress of salt water on skin, the taste on your lips… and also the way his eyes close and his cheeks flush a little as he gets totally turned on by the whole thing. Because he's Jensen's soulmate, okay? Keep up.)
"You remind me of the ocean," Jared says, eventually coming back to dry land and looking at Jensen with big deep-brown eyes that Jensen also kind of wants to swim in despite brown liquid not being his favourite thing just now.
And Jensen, who totally meant this part to come later, after a lot of very hot sex, says, "Yeah, well, I'm kind of part-ocean. Demi-god." He ducks his head with a combination of practiced faux modesty and very real kicking himself for fucking up so soon.
Jared is quiet. But not running away. "Huh," he says after a while. "Is that why the room lights up when you come in?"
Jensen blinks. A lot. "…No?" he mumbles, feeling his cheeks redden. Wow, this soulmate thing is also turning him into a thirteen year old girl. Awesome.
Jared's room-filling grin takes away a whole lot of the squirm factor. "Must be because we're soulmates, huh?"
There's a long pause. Jensen processes a number of things. Jared being his soulmate at all, which is a little unexpected after three long lonely millennia of meaningless sex. Jared not freaking even a little bit about the accidental deity-information slippage. Jared knowing anything at all about soulmates.
"You're a god too, right?"
Jared shrugs. "Not really. Mom was a nymph of some sort. She wasn't around a lot."
Nymphs are pretty shit mothers, all in all. Jensen shakes his head a little in sympathy. Jared shrugs back, again, not requiring it. "Dad was cool. And my stepmom… Daisy taught me to cook."
"And you love it." Jensen doesn't even know how he knows. He's only seen Jared steaming milk and making espresso. But he does even that with care and a smile. It makes Jensen love him more- Wait, want him more. No soulmate emotional talk till Jensen's sure it's reciprocal.
(He's kidding no one here.)
The evening passes fast. They're getting steadily closer and closer, settling into each other's personal space with the certainty of interlocking lips and the likelihood of interlocking much more, when-
Fucking Eros.
*
Jensen's ass takes a few days to heal. He may be superhuman, but an arrow to the butt cheek sucks. From his sickbed, Jensen talks to his mom and makes her promise to tell Eros not to borrow Artemis's bow and arrow any more. (Well, he can't use his own, right? Not that Jensen needs any more love-god bolts.) Aphrodite is a bitch when crossed, but fair, in her way.
When Jensen next makes it to Starbucks, Jared rushes over, leaving a queue of seven pissed commuters and a dangerously foaming milk jug. "You're okay!" He squeezes Jensen hard, lifting his feet clear off the floor. Jensen feels the solid flex of muscle all round his chest, arms and pecs working well.
That does it. He has been playing nice, and shy and appropriate, but Jensen wants this guy. He ducks his head a little, just enough to achieve lip-brush. Jared lets him down, and leans in. They kiss till there's a small explosion in the background. (Nothing to do with Eros; the milk over-boiled and tipped the jug.) No one in the café cheers. It's not that kind of moment.
"Tonight?" asks Jensen, panting slightly.
"Yeh," gasps Jared back, turning to his barista duties, with a little pink highlight on each cheekbone.
They are not, clearly, referring to a nice bar and a glass of merlot.
Eros is going to spend the night chained in a cave. With his liver being pecked out, if Jensen has his way.
This would be the part where Jared and Jensen get to the fucking.
*
Or, you know, not.
"This has honestly never, ever happened to me before," says Jensen, thinking how familiar those words are from somewhere.
"Well, duh," says Jared, matter of factly. "I guess your little brother poking really, really obvious holes in your condom stash to stop you screwing your soulmate, on your mom's orders, isn't an everyday thing. Even every century, it's not gonna feel that familiar."
Jensen throws his third (emergency backup, for a really excellent night only) condom, just as useless as the others, into Jared's trash. His dick throbs sullenly. His dick has been looking forward to tonight. Really insistently.
Okay. New plan.
He rolls over, trying for a seductive look over his shoulder. "I'm immortal. And my uncle is the greatest healer in Olympus. Besides, you're practically a kid. How diseased can you be? "
Jared blushes, and mumbles a string of consonants in which the words "regularly tested" and "all clear" feature fuzzily.
"So fuck me," says Jensen, impatiently. Not his real preference, but…
"I'd… kind of rather not?" Jared sounds bashful. "I really, really prefer to bottom. I'm sorry if- I mean, I'm a big guy, people get the wrong idea. But I- I'm not a natural top."
Which in Jensen's world is generally a great thing. If only he could follow it up. But Jensen has had three thousand years to pick up infections that Jared's system has never met, and there will be no inadvertent killing of the soulmate, thank you. Jensen does not, at all, want to be doing the centuries-of-mourning kick. Not his style.
"It's okay," he says, gasps, "Just suck me." (Yeah. Not the classiest. But his dick is screaming, Jared wants to bottom for him, and Jensen is only human. In a metaphorical sense.)
Jared's wide, beautiful mouth widens a little more, as he noses down Jensen's belly. Little biting licks as he goes, building anticipation, till his lips close round the head of Jensen's throbbing, dripping, aching cock. And-
"Seriously. That has never happened to me before," says Jensen, miserably realizing where his earlier dialogue came from. Jared hums sympathetically, if not necessarily believingly, and tucks himself against Jensen's side. Trying, because he's a genuinely thoughtful guy, to pretend his own hard dick is perfectly quiescent. Jared, faced with a suddenly catastrophically impotent lover, isn't the kind to insist on showing off his own youthful vigour.
Except that Jensen knows - he fucking knows this is Aphrodite. Or Eros. Family, anyway, fucking with his fucking. And that is not on.
He wriggles down the bed till he can get a faceful of Jared's dick, burying his furious brain in the sight and smell and taste of bringing Jared off with mouth and fingers.
And no, it's not Perfect Soulmate Sex. But. It's some sex with his soulmate. So. Suck on that, Mom.
Or something less Freudian, maybe.
*
Jensen wakes to find Jared's hands on his ass. Which, thank you, is completely welcome and not triggering some anti-fuck curse for the moment. Jared murmurs, close in on the skin, "So, your brother shot you in the ass over me, huh?" It's only then that Jensen remembers his recent trauma. (Look, he's a deity. They heal quick. They're also pretty used to getting shot.)
Jared seems kind of impressed with the whole thing, and Jensen enjoys the feeling of being worshipped a little longer. He wants to turn over and sink his dick into Jared's warm, eager mouth.
Part A of the plan goes fine. Part B, not so much. Jensen looks down at his apologetic, flaccid cock and catches Jared's chin. That supportive look is still there. Of course it is. Jared's a great guy.
Jensen snaps. "Okay. Enough. I am going to find a way to fuck you, if I have to beg my own mother till my knees bleed."
Jared laughs, wide and generous, and Jensen tries to will his surging sex hormones to break through whatever mojo is holding him impotent. Not surprisingly, this not only doesn't work, it stresses him out. He's now pretty sure he'd have trouble getting hard at this exact moment even without the curse.
"Fuck." He heads for the shower.
Jared follows.
What follows is pretty inevitable and pleasant, but as Jensen watches Jared's come sluice down the shower drain, he can't help but think it's a long way from the spume on the surging ocean. Dammit.
*
"Moooooommm," Jensen can hardly bear to hear his voice, the teen whine coming back after centuries out of use. "I really wanna- I mean, I want to have sex with Jared. And it's not fair you and Eros putting the whammy on me. I'm a fucking god of fucking. Why for the love of god won't you let me fuck?"
(Seriously. He's a little afraid his balls might actually explode here. God of spunk is not a joke when you don’t get to fuck.)
Aphrodite raises a brow, not unsympathetic. "Sweetie, none of us minds if you want to fuck a godling. Or a mortal, come to that, so long as it's just a fleeting thing. This soulmate stuff… It's not good for a god to hook up with a mortal."
Jensen closes his eyes, grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this that doesn't end with anything exploding.
Oh. Well, duh.
"Mom? Did I mention his mom's a nymph?" A faithless no good nymph who left her son hanging, sure, but Aphrodite cares about this demi-deity shit.
She's smiling already, "Really? Oh, who?"
And of course he doesn't know.
*
Which is how Aphrodite comes to visit Starbucks, doubt and mild revulsion streaming off her as she encounters the real world, in all its steamed milky espresso glory.
Jensen orders himself a quadruple espresso with an extra shot, and Gen produces it without so much as a twitch of the eyebrow. "That's the Mom, huh?"
"Yeah." She's obviously heard at least something about the whole curse dilemma thing. Jensen really doesn't want to talk about unfortunate flaccidity with Gen. "Could you make her up something sweet? I don't know what, something special."
Jared's voice comes over Jensen's shoulder. "Caramel cream frap, Gen. And I'll take it over myself."
Jensen has a terrible urge to say no, to flee now. But the only way he got his mom in here is with the promise of nymph talk with Jared, so… "Okay. That'd be nice."
*
Aphrodite wrapping her lips around a frappucino straw is a sight to have grown men - and even gay close relatives - a little hypnotized, so the whole Meet the Parent(s) thing doesn't fully get started till she's had a good few gulps. (She seems pleased, incidentally, with the whole frap experience, if not the décor and clientele in this inoffensively normal branch of Starbucks. Jensen is cautiously optimistic.)
"So, Jared. You make coffee." It's not an awesome start, but Jared nods and talks enthusiastically about meeting people, helping them enjoy a few indulgent moments in the daily grind, and generally playing on the things a love goddess might understand about barista-ing. He leaves out the washing up and toilet cleaning. Jensen approves. It's becoming increasingly obvious to him that though Aphrodite thinks they could be soulmates because Jared's part nymph, Jensen really prefers the human parts of Jared. Including the sneaky ones.
"And your mother is…?" Aphrodite brings Jensen back from a pleased contemplation of the sheer Jared-ness of Jared.
"Well, my dad brought me with, with Sharon," says Jared, disastrously honest, but Jensen's desperate cough makes him remember his pre-meet briefing. "But my mother is Callianeira."
"Oooh!" And that syllable, right there? That's money in the bank for Jensen's desperate dick. Aphrodite is pleased. "A Nereid! Oh, but how perfect. We do love the sea, in our family, don't we Jensen?"
Jensen almost misses his cue to nod, because he may love Jared's human qualities, but he also does love the sea. Like, a lot. A lot, lot.
His brain has gone to a very happy place. He's going to fuck Jared in the ocean, salt water on bare brown skin, slicking up with come over and over - and let the waves carry their seed far out to sea. They won't be making a goddess, this time (which: good, see how much trouble they cause?), but something deep inside Jensen will be satisfied.
Jared keeps talking, Aphrodite keeps smiling, and towards the bottom of her frap she sends a text message to Eros that frees up Jensen's lovelife from their various curses and vendettas.
Jensen is, at bottom, a good son, so he doesn't just shout Yippeee! and go screw his boyfriend. They finish their drinks, though not before Aphrodite casually drops in what Jensen's actually a god of. Jared gets a little slack around the mouth, dreamy about the eyes, and it's probably for the best that he doesn't have to go back on shift today.
"Seriously?" Jared murmurs, as they wave goodbye to Aphrodite outside Starbucks. "You're the god of fucking?"
"One of them," says Jensen, modestly.
"And spunk?"
"Yeah," is all Jensen has to say, slow and drawly and blatant. Jared stumbles a little.
"My apartment. Now?"
Hell, yes.
*
So Jensen's the god of spunk, among other erotic and procreative purposes, and he's had three millennia to learn how to do it right. Turning Jared into a puddle of satisfied goo isn't too challenging, but the surprise is how Jensen gets gooified right along with him. Jared's tight as hell, sweetly apologetic as Jensen slowly works himself inside, and then gasping as Jensen screws his hips juuuust right, hitting the sweet spot on every- damn- tiiiime.
Jensen comes abruptly, surprising himself, filling the condom in urgent, endless pulses. Not the curse; just pent-up desire and frustration. It's not a very divine performance, but he just doesn't care. Jared's human enough to understand. In fact, Jared's pretty much there himself, shuddering with his hand on his own cock. All Jensen has to do is ride him through it. And this time, Jensen doesn't fuck it up.
They're entwined, noses rubbing, gasping smiling mouths playing lightly against each other in the mutually unspoken-congratulatory aftermath (the way everyone does when it's good - hey, universe! We just had sex! It was awesome!).
Jared says, "We should go to the coast."
Jensen nods.
Jared says, "I want to find some quiet place, in the ocean, where I can suck you till you come all over my face, and the waves wash me clean."
Jensen gasps, a little, though he tries to hide it - a guy has his pride. Then, fuck it, he kisses Jared deep. "Yes. Yesyesyes, we are doing that. Soon."
Guy has a soulmate. Fuck pride.
***