SPN Fic: What's a fire and why does it burn? (3/3)
Title: What's a fire and why does it burn? (3/3)
Paring: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 21,700
Summary: Written for the j2_everafter challenge, for The Little Mermaid. A little bit Hans Christian Andersen, a little bit Disney, a whole lot of melodrama.
A/N: My dearest thanks to my beloved rivers_bend for the lightning-fast and thorough beta of an early draft of this story. All remaining errors in content or style are entirely mine.
Also, when I originally signed up to write this for last year's challenge, the incredible mkitty3 made some spectacular art. Please go HERE and leave her gushing feedback.
Part 1 here | Part 2 here
Part 3:
Jensen mounted. Joanna and the other high-ranking nobles were already astride their horses at the head of the party, preparing to ride out into the woods. The entire assemblage made a grand sight. Compared with the colorful, impractical cloaks and hats and sweeping feathers of the courtiers, Jensen’s staff was dressed plainly, but they moved strong and sure through the throng, the horses glossy and beautiful, the hounds a great bristling sea.
Turning in his seat- eyes scanning the crowd for a ready signal from his head huntsman, Sterling, that he was preparing to begin- Jensen recognized the gray at the back of the crowd, saddled with no rider. Just then he saw Jared join them, watched closely as he placed one foot in the stirrup and swung himself up, peering around as if astonished to find himself there. Jensen turned away so as not to be caught staring. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a lunatic out of relief and gratitude at Jared’s continued presence.
Unfortunately, Joanna’s eyes were keen. “Jensen, my sweet,” she said serenely, “I see I have some competition.”
Jensen knew Joanna didn’t desire him for herself. In fact, he was certain that his known preference for other men was one of the reasons she pursued him; he would happily avoid interfering with her liaisons, just as she would happily ignore his. She likely had several lovers, past and present, among the assembled party itself, all on her leash like the dogs in the pack. The thought of Jared being likened to those expendable, interchangeable men, the feeling that Jensen had treated him that way not minutes before, made bile rise in his throat.
“I don’t know what you might mean,” he replied, but, like an utter fool, he glanced in Jared’s direction. Joanna did as well, and saw Jared watching them.
The horns signaling the start of the hunt sounded and he kicked his mount into a trot. The hounds and huntsmen led the way, with Jensen remaining in the front of the crowd of riders next to his betrothed, the rest of the group trailing out along behind. Laughter and shouts rang up from the courtiers, some of them tipsy with holiday morning indulgence, some simply eager to ride and celebrate in company.
Jensen let the horse have its head, knowing it would follow the stalkers while they were still in sight, or at least stay with the rest of the company. He was distracted, thoughts rushing in all directions, when Joanna called for his attention.
“I have a theory,” she told him, “that I’d like to test.”
“Indeed,” Jensen said. “And what is that?”
She reined in, bringing her horse out in front of Jensen’s to stop them both and then suddenly slid forward, as if she was falling from the saddle. As Jensen automatically reached out to steady her, she knotted both hands in the lapels of his coat, dragging them together in an embrace and kissing him passionately on the mouth.
Shocked into stillness, Jensen received the kiss for several long seconds before disengaging and setting Joanna firmly back on her mount. The courtiers nearest them crowed and cheered the exchange, as if the two of them were a real couple.
“What was that all about?” he demanded, perplexed.
“Ah,” she said. “I was correct.”
She nodded behind him and Jensen turned to see Jared’s horse galloping away, speeding headlong toward a nearby copse of trees. Jensen didn’t waste a moment, just took off on the diagonal, kicking his horse’s flank and gripping with his knees as he pursued the runaway and its rider. As much as Joanna might like to take credit for this, Jensen feared that Jared had lost control of his untested, half-feral steed and was possibly headed for disaster.
Jensen urged his mount on through the underbrush. His anxiety warred with the familiar elation of the chase, both fueling him like a mix of fire and pitch. The direction, the pounding gallop meant nothing; Jared’s safety, his return to Jensen, was all that mattered.
His horse lunged up a low bank that he hadn’t realized was there and thence into the wood.
Once inside the cover of branches, Jensen pulled up abruptly and stared. Jared on his gray stood in a dappled clearing just inside the tree line, the horse’s rhythmic blowing the only sound. Jensen passed his hand over his eyes and blinked to clear them. While Jared’s horse was rock-solid, Jensen’s own horse sidled beneath him, harness rattling loud in his ears, as he gripped the reins in a too-tight fist.
Jensen conceded that Jared hadn’t been trapped on a runaway mount; he was, in fact, running away. And why wouldn’t he? Jensen had kissed him, for god’s sake, and then turned his back on him moments later for expediency's sake. Jensen had told Jared that he had no love or desire or respect for Joanna, and yet his own eyes now had what appeared to be proof of the lie. Certainly it must seem like a cruel charade of some sort, and, whatever Jared was, Jensen knew he was not one to play the typical games of court life.
Jared’s eyes locked with Jensen’s defiantly. He held himself in the saddle as if ready to hurtle away again at any moment, thighs pressed tight against his mount, jaw clenched and shoulders back. The greenery behind him fluttered gently in the breeze. He looked like a hero from a storybook.
Jensen throat grew thick with longing. He thought, You should have come sooner. You should have come when I had something to give.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry.” He thought about trying to explain, but then realized that it was for the best that Jared hate him. He opened his mouth to command Jared to leave and never return. Instead, he said, “Please, if you can- if you will, please come back to the castle.”
Jared didn’t move, Jensen didn’t breathe, and they might have stood there forever, but Jensen’s steadfast guards, left behind in his headlong rush, finally caught up to them.
*****
After the hunt was over, Jensen was tight-stretched, alert to Jared’s movements from afar as the crowd of nobles and servants streamed back into the castle. Even so, he almost missed it, just happened to catch sight of Jared being quickly escorted into one of the small antechambers by a group of six or maybe seven men. Men Jensen didn’t recognize.
Jensen tried to discreetly detach himself from the group of nobles who surrounded him, but they clung to him, continuing to spout inane compliments over his riding, his apparel, his servants, until finally Jensen simply turned and walked off, etiquette be damned.
He tried to devise a reasonable explanation for what he’d seen, but nothing innocent would come to mind, and the hackles on the back of his neck started to rise. Maybe it was foolishness; maybe his obsession with Jared was making him overreact. Jensen scanned the hall, identified Matthew and Charles as the nearest pair of guards, and summoned them with a gesture. He spoke in a low his voice, aware that a scene would make things worse, but with enough urgency that they would be prepared. “With me.”
He led them to the door he’d seen Jared and the others go through and threw it open, taking in the awful sight of Jared restrained by four men, struggling, one of the other men assaulting him, a punch to the kidney doubling Jared over in agony.
Matthew and Charles jerked their swords free, charging the group and shouting for the men to kneel down or be run through. Jensen found the long hunting knife that he had not yet unbelted gripped tight in his fist. He did not know himself to be a violent man, and yet he clung stiff-knuckled to the doorframe to keep himself from rushing into the melee and slitting the throats and the bellies of Jared’s attackers just to feel their blood run out over his hands.
In the end there was no violence; the men quickly yielded and were found to be Krupa’s retainers, nominally here as part of Joanna’s escort.
Jensen gave orders to Matthew and Charles. “Conduct them back to Krupa’s ship and ensure that they never set foot back on Ackles’ land. Ask the Captain to place several of our men at the foot of the gangway, just in case.”
The pair bowed and manhandled the offenders out of the room, leaving Jensen and Jared alone.
Jared met his eyes. Like an instant flame, it was there-the powerful awareness of Jared’s physical presence: of his body poised to fight, of where his shirt had been torn, revealing the very beginning of the strong line of his collarbone, of his mouth pressed into a flat and unyielding line. The windows were shuttered, tapers lit, and the candlelight caught and emphasized the curve of his brows and brought out glints of gold in his eyes.
Jensen didn’t think, just moved toward Jared, into him, forcing him up against the wall.
When his back hit the wall, Jared let out a gasp of breath which Jensen captured in a kiss, delving in deep then pulling back to lick and bite at Jared’s lips, seeking out that salt-spicy taste that he’d discovered in the stables that morning. He moved down to nuzzle at Jared’s jaw, behind his ear, Jared’s head falling back to expose the delicious length of his neck. He breathed out another tiny sigh, the sound of it touching a spark to tinder, fire racing along Jensen’s nerves, and without thinking he began yanking at Jared’s shirt where it tucked into his breeches.
Jared seemed paralyzed by the onslaught, passive and still. When Jensen began tugging at his clothes, he started to respond, but didn’t seem to know where to put his hands. They rested on Jensen’s shoulders for a moment and fluttered to his back, then shifted to his arms, almost as if to push Jensen away.
“What’s wrong? Are you injured?” Jensen pulled back, bringing them face-to-face, but Jared’s eyes dropped, not meeting his urgent gaze. Jensen’s stomach took a sickening lurch. “Are you… is this out of some sense of gratitude? Paying a debt? Am I-”
But before he say more or tear away, Jared gripped the back of Jensen’s neck, the other hand on his lower back and pulled him into his chest, pressing into Jensen’s hip so he could feel for himself the hard line of Jared’s arousal. Jared lifted one eyebrow and carefully mouthed a single word, No.
“I don’t understand, then,” Jensen said. “Why didn’t you-“ he was uncertain how to express it, it was just gut feeling: the awkwardness of the kiss, Jared’s lack of response, so different from this morning.
He looked up to see Jared’s face turn a deep shade of red.
“Are you-” Jensen couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. But it seemed so impossible to ask something like this, impossible for it to be true. “Are you…” Jensen struggled for the appropriate word, “...inexperienced?”
If it were even possible, Jared blushed brighter. There was a hot, tight knot forming under Jensen’s breastbone, part astonishment, part lust, mostly a desire to wrap Jared up and protect him from the awful, evil things of the world. From Jensen himself.
“How can this be? Whatever have you been waiting for?” Jensen let go and was pacing in bewilderment. He didn't even know why he was distressed, but there it was. As he passed close, Jared reached out for him, halting him with a hand on each shoulder and giving him a slight shake, then carefully put his hand to Jensen’s face, caressing his cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Where just moments before he’d been hot, now the pit in his stomach went cold.
“Me? No, it cannot be,” he whispered, wonder and pain all intertwined. “You deserve so much better, Jared, and I am bound to another path even if I was worthy of you. I've chosen to give the whole of myself to the kingdom, I will not leave you with dregs.”
Of course, Jared did not respond, did not insist or beg or yell or protest. He simply looked, blue-green eyes reading Jensen's, searching for something that would never be there.
“Will you come to the ball tonight? Please?” Jensen asked, his heart breaking. “I would not ask it of you, knowing… I am asking more than I merit. But where just a few days ago I’d convinced myself this would be an easy thing to do, I’m now finding myself in need of support in order to get through it. God knows, I wish it were otherwise.” He stepped closer-refusing to distance himself or try to pretend there was only friendship between them-and pulled Jared down by the back of the neck until their foreheads were resting together. “God knows, I wish you could be mine.”
Jared paled a little, holding himself very still. Finally, he gave several slow nods.
*****
The ball took place in the Great Hall of the palace, of course. Famous throughout the continent, twelve massive pillars supported the high ceiling. Set far up on the walls were windows of stained-glass images from generations of Ackles. When the sun hit them, they filled the hall with a blaze of jewel-toned light, but as it was night, they were dark.
Looking around, Jensen felt much else seemed muted, even though it was unlikely others would have noticed. The pillars, windows, bright tapestries, floor shining with mosaic-inlaid tiles and velvety carpets. Within it all moved Jensen’s guests, as bright as exotic birds in a flowering jungle, fluttering fans and flicking coattails.
Joanna was late. Whether she was late on account of the time it took her to discipline her retinue-if those men had actually been acting on her orders, Jared would likely be dead right now, or worse-or because she wished to make a grand entrance, Jensen wasn’t certain. Likely it was a bit of both, plus other reasons he’d not yet fathomed. But the heralds were calling to announce her arrival at last.
Her gown was green and her hair, bright as new-minted gold, was dressed high on her head and permitted to fall in a profusion of curls down her back, giving her a semblance of girlishness. Her skirts were worked in some dizzying pattern that shimmered and moved as the light caught it, with the result that watching her elegant march down the long hall gave Jensen a faint sense of sea-sickness.
Jensen moved forward to greet the woman who tomorrow would be his wife, walking stiffly down the ballroom floor like an animal executing a trick it had learned in fear of a yank on the chain if it did not perform adequately.
When he reached her, he bowed low over her hand and, for her ears only, murmured, “You sent your men to attack Jared.” He didn't believe it, but he intended to try to put her on the defensive if at all possible. It was unlikely.
She arched an eyebrow. “Ah, my dear, you know me better than that. If I’d wanted to be rid of him, I would be much more subtle. Poison-” she curtsied to him in turn, “smothering- “ she continued, rising and taking his proffered hand, “-a fall from a height.”
As if on cue, the musicians struck out with the first notes, combined them into melody. Joanna gracefully stepped into his arms and they commenced the first dance.
It was their last dance as well, Jensen was determined, and afterward he planted himself firmly in his seat on the dais. The central throne-his father’s still-remained empty, with Joanna appropriating Jensen’s sister’s. There they awaited the formal roll-call and introduction of guests, as the party swirled on beyond.
Jensen was confident Jared would not attend despite his promise. What reason would he have? What did he owe Jensen? Jensen told himself he was thankful that Jared would not have to witness this after all.
Once again, however, Jensen underestimated him, and Jared appeared amidst the other courtiers to be presented to the prince and his bride-to-be. If Jensen had thought Gabriel had outdone himself with Jared’s clothes at their first dinner, it was nothing compared to the perfection of Jared’s ball attire. And if Jensen had harbored any doubts about Jared’s unknown heritage, his conduct at the ball confirmed that he might well be royalty himself.
Jensen sat on his throne and tracked Jared’s progress around the room. He chose dance partners from among those who lacked them, asking without words to escort matrons and wallflowers out onto the floor, where he guided them around with such grace and skill that other guests stopped to watch. Also, from what Jensen deduced, Jared had indeed helped Sandra and, from the looks of it, Sophia and Genevieve as well, to sneak into the ball disguised as guests and helped ensure that they were accepted into the revelry.
Joanna watched Jared as he spun another passed-over young woman around the floor, “Your pet is quite lovely.” She leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Maybe you would share him with me?”
Jensen drew back. One look at his outraged face and she laughed, a titter behind her gloved hand. “How charming!” She glanced back over toward Jared, who was finished with his dance and stood glowering at them across the dance floor. “See how his look gives him away? Such heat, such jealousy when he sees you with me.” Her eyes narrowed speculatively. Then she turned back to Jensen, running her hand along her thigh to smooth the folds of her dress, saying languidly, “I do believe I’ll let you keep him… if you’ll let me watch sometimes.”
Jensen took a deep breath, willing himself not to respond, and pulled his gaze away from Jared’s.
He stood and held out a gracious arm to Joanna, giving no hint to the watchful crowd that he would rather seize a poisonous snake bare-handed. He escorted her past fluted columns through the massive white and gold doors into the grand dining room. As the crowd coalesced behind them into an elegant group to enter in to dinner, and he saw Jared head the opposite direction, slipping out of the ballroom and down the shadowed hall.
*****
By the end of the night, Jensen had taken a great deal to drink. There were infinite reasons to do so, all bad, and some of them had nothing to do with Jared.
He had danced attendance upon Joanna as was expected. Had praised her to the crowd and kissed her cheek decorously as the ball dragged on for too many hours. Had accepted toast after toast to the loss of his bachelorhood until he could no longer hope to stave off the coming of the next day. Had scanned the faces of the courtiers, but never seen the face he was searching for.
He stumbled a bit, walking through corridors silent save for the footfalls that he made. He walked a matrix of crossing hallways without faltering, as he had walked them almost every day of his life. Some were lit and others dark, but he fortunately encountered no one as he made his way to his rooms.
One more night, after which there would be no more worrying about the mounting debt of kingdom and his subjects, no hungry workers, no empty promises, no borrowing, no pretending. And truly, he would try to be a good husband. For his own honor’s sake, even if Joanna had none of her own. He wouldn’t even have to see her, mostly; it could be arranged.
In time he came, carried upright by pride and will alone, to the privacy of his own bedroom. Misha had long since retired, following Jensen’s standing order not to wait up.
His head throbbed, but he hardly noticed it, or the way he jarred one shoulder and then the other against the doorframe as he made his way to his dressing table. The abundance of liquor he'd consumed required he sit down, not trusting his balance. His eyes were stinging now. He closed them, but that was no good, either, because the room rolled like the deck of a sinking ship. He leaned his head sideways to rest it against the wall, breathing in and out, trying not to think.
Suddenly, he was angry. Angry that his father had whored him out, sold him to the highest bidder. That he had assented, and that he found himself at this dead end. He wanted to tear the room apart, rend the fabric of this life and slash his way into a different one. Jensen flung his arm out, swept everything from the dresser top onto the floor, except for one container of lotion. That, he picked up in order to throw against the wall, then stopped, panting.
He held the lotion cupped in both hands. He’d given everything he had to give; this was his opportunity to take something in return. Why couldn’t he have this one thing? This one thing he wanted more than anything else? The only thing he wanted.
He stood and stumbled into the connecting hall.
The moon was so low and full it could have been sitting right outside of Jared’s window. Its light flooded the room with silver, and even the shadows were blue, not black.
Jensen made his way over to Jared’s bedside. He looked down at the man's sleeping form, a thin blanket clinging to the curve of thigh and hip and pooled in the dip of his spine. The solid muscles of his back and shoulder were limned with moonlight. He was perfect, precious, untainted by the mire that sucked Jensen ever deeper.
And then Jensen knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t stand the thought of sullying Jared, sullying himself further in Jared’s eyes. Dropping the pot of lotion to the mattress and falling to his knees by the bedside, Jensen leaned his forehead down to rest against the cool, sleek sheets. He was aware he was swaying, shaking, too drunk and stupid to get up and go to his own room.
He had no idea how long he knelt there, the room spinning, until he felt hand in his hair and jerked up to see Jared awake, propped on one elbow.
In the moonlight Jared’s skin was as cool and white as a marble column. He delicately ran a fingertip across Jensen’s mouth, outlined his lips. He looked down at Jensen for a long moment, night-black eyes drinking Jensen in.
Then Jared lay back, slid his arms above his head. The languid move presented Jensen his body like an offering: wide chest, the hint of soft hair under his arms, nipples the color of shadow in the moonlight, the sharp cut of his hipbones as they disappeared beneath the sheet.
Jensen sat fixed, unmoving, heat radiating from his chest down through his gut and loins. “You don’t want this. You don’t even know what this is.”
Jared simply stared into his eyes, then, without glancing away, pushed the sheet downward, kicking it off until he was completely bare.
Jensen felt his reason slip, loosed by the alcohol and chased away by his rising hunger.
“Have you done this before?”
Jared took a breath, a hitch of air, and neither nodded or shook his head, just sat up and pressed his mouth to Jensen’s. It was slow and soft but certain, and Jensen caught fire, rising up, grazing Jared’s bottom lip with his teeth, and kissing him deep, mouth open, tongue curling firm.
When he stood up Jared touched him without hesitation. His hands cupped Jensen firmly as he unbuttoned his breeches. Jensen was having trouble breathing as Jared shoved the material aside and freed him.
He felt as if he were being burned alive.
Jared’s fingers closed around Jensen’s cock, warm and stroking. Jensen sucked in his breath, put his hand on Jared’s shoulder, and tossed his head back. His whole body seemed to reach for Jared, to fuse and center on that touch. With his free hand, Jared slid his palm over Jensen’s hip, pushing the breeches down until Jensen could step out of them. Shirt and stockings followed until Jensen, too, was naked, Jared pulling him down on top of him, gasping at the full press of skin on skin.
That gasp brought back to Jensen that this was new to Jared, that these sensations so familiar to Jensen were ones that Jared was experiencing for the first time. A thrill of lust and solicitude rolled through him, and he reared back onto hands and knees to consider what to do.
Jared sprawled beneath him, hair wild in his eyes, chin lifted high, and Jensen could feel a slight trembling in his legs where they were twined, touching.
Jensen whispered, “I could weep, for wanting what you would give me.”
His head swam and he twisted to stretch out alongside Jared’s length. He rested the back of his hand in the center Jared’s broad chest and drew his knuckles slowly downward over his belly, playing through the light trail of hair under his navel, then followed that path with his tongue. Jared’s skin tasted clean and sharp, growing muskier as Jensen moved southward.
Jensen mouthed across Jared’s flank, wanting to hurry but forcing himself to tease, slowly moving along a rib, down to the point of his hipbone, a light brush of soft lips, heated breath, then a cooler stream of air. It made gooesbumps rise up on Jared’s skin, which made heat rush in Jensen’s belly, pumped blood into his cock.
He shifted to center himself between Jared’s thighs, pressing gently with his palms to open them up wider. Jared’s cock was full and hard, rising so that Jensen could easily have taken it into his mouth, but instead he spread his hands across Jared’s hips, his thumbs framing the base of his cock, stroking lightly there on either side.
He saw Jared’s chest heave, gulping air like he’d been sprinting, responsive to Jensen’s lightest touch, and Jensen found his own breath was coming hard, too. He slid one hand up to rub a thumb over one of Jared’s nipples, whisper-soft at first, then more and more firmly, skimming the other hand back and forth across Jared’s balls, until Jared was twitching, thrusting with his hips, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow. Jensen paused to soak in the sight of Jared, capture it forever, this power Jensen had to unmake him.
The minute he stopped, Jared pulled him upward into a kiss, for the first time taking ownership of Jensen’s mouth, demanding and frantic and so hungry he was starving. His hands scrabbled at Jensen’s body, his hips, cupped his ass, pulled them together to grind his cock up against Jensen’s, sending shocks up Jensen’s spine. The pressure building deep inside Jensen was overwhelming.
“I need you. I need to be in you. I knew you’d… I… Please, god, please.” He was half-whispering, half-sobbing, forehead pressed into the curve of Jared’s shoulder. "Let me have you," he breathed into Jared’s ear, feeling him quiver. Jared nodded his head so quickly, Jensen almost missed it, but he felt Jared arch up hard against him, legs opening further.
Jensen pulled away before he came just from that-Jared offering himself up-dizzy and swaying with the weight of alcohol and desire. He fumbled for the pot of lotion and scooped some onto his fingers.
“Turn over,” Jensen told him, his voice shaking.
At the first touch at his entrance, Jared tensed. Jensen was grateful then for the alcohol, it slowed things down, made everything hazy and thick, his finger deliberate and gentle, pressing carefully, shallow, inside Jared’s heat, then drawing back out to circle around his rim over and over. He could feel Jared begin to react again, his hands scrabbling restless and unproductive against the sheets. Jensen started stroking his fingers in deep, two for awhile, then three, stretching and spreading Jared apart.
He reached for more lotion, then slotted his fingers in at a new angle, felt Jared tighten and thrash when he pressed just right. That was it for Jensen, he slid up onto his knees behind Jared, between his legs.
Jensen’s cock was throbbing desperately, his whole body was wound like a spring, but he held himself back, moving careful and sure. He rested his hands lightly on Jared’s waist, fingers feathering the edges of his taut belly. Then Jensen slid his palms down an inch or two and tightened his grip, tilting Jared up a little, brushing the sensitive head of his cock around that soft, slicked-up puckered hole, using his thumbs to spread Jared’s cheeks even farther apart.
He shifted, eased into Jared, every motion crystalline, jangling along the edges of his nerves. Jensen felt the ring of muscle giving, the head of his cock slipping inside.
He moaned, on the trembling verge of finishing too soon, and focused on reaching around, fumbling over Jared’s hip. Finally he had Jared half-hard, hot and heavy in his palm. Struggling to keep himself from moving, thrusting, Jensen ran his fingers teasingly up and down Jared's cock, over the head and then down the length, combing through the silky curls at the base, gripping more and more firmly with each stroke.
A deep tremor ran through Jared and into him, then Jared reared back, quick, unexpected, bringing Jensen inside him further and further, his muscles squeezing so tight around every inch of Jensen it was nearly painful.
He could see Jared’s hands gripping the soft sheets, dangerously near to tearing them. The room was silent except for their panting breaths.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” At those whispered words, he felt the tension in Jared ease just a bit, his body unlocking and opening up to Jensen. He rocked shallowly at first, giving Jared time to get used to it, watching rapt as his dick slipped into that tight hole where no one else had been before. He took his time, easing out and then back in, rolling his hips to reach deep inside, feeling Jared’s cock swell and start to leak.
Jensen brought his hand to his mouth, sucking Jared’s taste from his fingers. Then he licked his palm and took Jared back in hand, thrusting in and jacking Jared, both in a steady, pounding rhythm.
He found himself babbling, “Wanted to have you, be with you like this the moment I saw you. Want to teach you to come just for me. Only me.” Losing what was left of his control, he plunged into Jared's body. “Wish I could hear you. Need to hear-hear you tell me-” he pumped again, deeper, “beg me-” found that spot and worked it, “-scream my name.”
Jared convulsed beneath him, muscles of his back rippling. He spilled thick and warm into Jensen’s hand. The spasms of Jared’s release pulsed around his cock where it was held deep inside, urging him on.
"Yes," Jensen choked out, "oh please, Jared-Jared-"
Another thrust, four, five times as his hips stuttered, then he stilled, seated inside Jared as far as he could go and every muscle taut while he came with a liquid rush, his mind blank.
Jensen let himself drop down onto Jared, melting into the smooth skin of his back. He could feel pounding against his ribs, but he didn’t know if it was his heart, or Jared’s.
He tilted them sideways, Jared just going with him, pliant and loose-limbed. Jensen pulled his arms in to grip Jared tight, and held himself inside. He rested his head on Jared’s shoulder, not so drunk now, furious with himself and ashamed, and still he didn’t want to let go.
“Jared. My god, I’ve got to marry her today,” he whispered into sweat-damp skin. He felt Jared jerk under him like a horse struck with a whip.
Jensen pulled back gently, anguished, knowing alcohol and exhaustion were not enough to excuse his offense. He rolled away hunching in on himself, sick and satiated, when Jared caught at his wrist.
Jared laid an undeserved kiss on his shoulder. Jensen reached for him, but Jared slipped away, out of bed, and over to the dark shadows of the window seat. The moon poured frozen light across his face.
Jensen knew he must get up and go to him. Explain. Ask for forgiveness, on his knees if necessary. But his head weighed one hundred pounds and the room swam in silver and his eyes closed against his will.
*****
Jensen woke up cold, blankets kicked down to the end of the bed. Jared’s bed.
Oh lord. What have I done?
He opened one eye just a slit and noticed that it was not quite dawn, the silver of moonlight had transformed to pale gray, and he was alone. Ignoring the pounding of his head and the sour bile threatening the back of his throat, Jensen sat up, scanning the room, empty. As far as he could tell, everything was in its proper place, everything except for Jared. He felt a sickening surge of remorse.
Jensen noticed something over by the window, so he rolled clumsily off the bed, and stumbled over. There he discovered a strange knife- its peculiar ornate handle affixed to a wicked blade- driven point-down, deep into the wooden surface of the seat.
He sat for a moment, staring dumbly at it, before heaving himself up and rushing through the connecting doors back to his room and praying that his servants had not yet arrived with the morning wash water and a demand for explanations.
Where was Jared? Where could he have gone? Would he have fled the palace, the country, left as suddenly as he’d arrived? Every second that went by, Jensen became more and more anxious, so that by the time he threw on pants and shirt, his heart was racing. Foregoing his boots and his coat, heedless of the guests that might observe his strange behavior, he shoved through the suite’s double doors at a near run, hard enough for them to slam back against the walls, making the soldiers on duty startle and shout.
As he hurtled down the hall, he called to them over his shoulder, “Stay there! Don’t follow me!” He knew they weren’t likely to obey the command, but he hoped it might delay them, buy him some time to find Jared, to… to… what? Rectify things? Apologize? Promise atonement? It sounded inadequate, even in his own head, certainly in person it would be much worse. But locating Jared was the best and only plan he could come up with at the moment.
He ran through the courtyard and through the gate on the seaside of the walls. He had no way of knowing whether Jared had left the palace or, if he had, whether he’d headed toward the water, but Jensen did not hesitate in his rush down the hill to the cliffs, the jagged terrain lacerating his bare feet. The rim of the sky was a mix of orange and lavender as the sun prepared to breach the horizon. Not a single cloud marred the sky.
Coming up the ridge, Jensen spied a now-familiar figure, small against the height of the rocks and the breadth of the horizon, slowly undressing, each item folded neatly in a pile. Still too far to even call out, Jensen ran on, watching in horror as Jared stood for a moment- poised naked on the cliff’s jagged lip-then disappeared over the edge.
A cry ripped out of Jensen, swallowed by the sound of wind and waves. The past year of isolation roared up in him, a tangle of yearning and sorrow curled on top of terror that he would make it to the cliff’s ledge only to see Jared’s body battered and lifeless in the dark waters below.
His feet were torn to ribbons on the rocks, but he sprinted onward, ignoring the pain, until he came to the spot where Jared had stood. He hadn’t given thought to what he might do once he arrived, but now he knew there was only one thing to do.
Jensen jumped.
The water was a brick wall, rushing cold into his mouth and nose. He couldn’t find which direction was up, the water dragging at his limbs, his chest bursting.
Then something was pulling at the back of his shirt, towing him swiftly upwards, and he had a disturbing sense of deja vu. He broke the surface like a shot and heaved in a lungful of air, harshly coughing and sputtering it back out.
He opened his eyes to Jared, both of his hands on Jensen, supporting him. The two of them floated face to face, oddly still, with none of the thrashing and bobbing Jensen usually associated with treading water. They were chest-high out of the water, which was odd, too, Jared holding him up with a vicelike grip on his biceps.
“What in god’s name did you think you were doing?” Jared gave him a rough shake. “You could’ve been killed!”
“You… Jared. You’re talking!” Jensen wondered if he were still passed out and dreaming, or if he’d hit his head in his leap from the cliff.
“Yes.” Jared’s face was bleak, eyes hard like Jensen had never seen them. Jared pulled away, drifting, putting some distance between them. “It appears I am.”
Without Jared’s support, Jensen struggled to try to keep afloat, even though the ocean swells were mild. Jared noticed his trouble and took hold of him again, supporting Jensen but keeping him at arm's length. “You must swim to shore,” Jared said. “The wedding is in a few hours.”
“No,” Jensen gasped. “No… Not without you.”
“What? You would abandon your kingdom?” Jared said it kindly, but Jensen heard the hurt sharpness behind it, as if he knew all the tones of Jared’s voice already.
Jensen looked to shore. They’d been swept far enough out by the current that he could just see the glass panes of the highest palace windows glistening in the morning sun.
“Besides, it’s too late now.” Jared’s jaw tightened as if to brace for a painful blow, then he reached out for Jensen’s free hand and pressed it against his ribs. He slowly pushed Jensen’s hand down to his waist and hip, and Jensen felt the transition from warm skin to cool, smooth scales.
He felt the smooth slide of scales along his bare feet, too, and remembered with a thrill of joy, that night of the storm at sea. “It was you? After the shipwreck?”
“Of course it was, Your Highness.”
“Say my name.”
“What?”
“Just say my name.”
“Jensen.”
“Say it again.”
This time is was barely a whisper. “Jensen.”
Jensen didn’t stop to deliberate or analyze or second-guess. He simply said, “I won’t leave you. I can’t. Nothing else matters, because I… I love you.”
He anchored one hand in Jared’s sea-dark hair and crushed their mouths together, rougher than he intended, but between desperation and fear and the rolling waves, finesse was beyond him. Jared’s arms came up, clutching Jensen around the shoulder and waist, fingers grinding muscle against bone.
They floated, embracing, for one second, two, and then a clap of thunder erupted from the bright, cloudless sky.
Jared cried out, and Jensen had to avert his eyes as a blinding light etched Jared’s outline. He slipped from Jensen’s reach as he writhed in pain, back arched, head thrown back. Jensen saw Jared’s tail for the first and last time as it seemed to split up the middle, forming into the shape of Jared’s legs as he cried out again and again.
Then it was Jensen's turn to support Jared, albeit with substantially less skill, as Jared floated, insensate. Jensen fumbled to keep Jared’s head above the gentle waves, managing to half-drown himself in the process. He settled on keeping one hand behind Jared’s neck, tilting his chin up, the other gripping his arm, floating, but not making any forward progress. Jensen knew he’d have to start them moving soon, because his awkward thrashing was tiring him quickly, but he felt-understandably, in his defense-stunned.
He discovered that he had not yet reached the limits of this marvel, when the two of them were surrounded in the water. Four men and four women, beautiful and strange, appeared in the sea surrounding them. Their hair was adorned with pearls and shells and delicate oddments. Clearly, these were Jared’s people.
They seemed ancient and alien, completely opposite from the instant recognition and comfort he had felt with Jared. They neither approached nor offered help, but watched him with bright, fathomless eyes, following at a distance as Jensen started to gracelessly tow Jared’s helpless, human form toward shore.
Jensen suddenly realized that they were, unfortunately, on the wrong side of the jetty from the beach. Rocks surrounded them, on all sides.
“Jared,” he called. “Jared, you have to wake up!” But there was still no response.
He looked to the merfolk in desperation, spitting out a mouthful of salt water, tamping down a rising panic. “Please, help us!” he begged.
He felt firm hands beneath and around him, lifting and pulling him toward the jetty. He laughed wildly, thinking for a moment that they were going to murder the both of them, throwing him and Jared onto the merciless jagged boulders. Instead, timing their movement to the surge of the waves, their rescuers heaved Jared half onto a hidden shelf of rock worn glossy-smooth from the incessant pounding of the waves, then Jensen himself. He scrabbled for purchase, finding just enough room for leverage and, with the last of his strength, pulled Jared the rest of the way free of the ocean’s grasp and onto the shelf beside him.
He sat for a moment with his back to the stone wall, gulping in gallons of air, tugging Jared, still unconscious, so that he lay pillowed on Jensen’s lap. He pushed Jared’s streaming hair away from his forehead and looked down at him. Checking for head wounds, he thought, laughing, shocked and giddy with relief.
It may have been minutes or hours later when Jared’s eyes fluttered and Jensen’s heart leapt when he heard Jared let out a groan. “Shhh,” he soothed. “I think we’re safe for now.”
Jared looked up at him, dazed, his voice muzzy. “Jensen?”
Jensen leaned over to give him a swift kiss. He couldn’t help it. “Yes.”
As he shifted, helping Jared to sit up, they were visited once again. This time dozens of mermaids swam forward, carrying gifts. One presented Jared with a circlet, another handed him a scepter, a third brought a chain-of-gold necklet that spanned his broad shoulders. Several together came forward with a huge chest not bright like the other gifts but encrusted with rust on the hinges and metal trim, barnacles and algae clinging to the sides, and set it on the rocks at Jensen’s right hand. Another chest and another and still more, until the entire shelf and the surrounding rocks were piled high with treasure.
“What is all this?” Jensen asked Jared in astonishment.
Jared simply shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “Um… I guess you could say it’s my dowry.”
*****
Jared finally convinced him that they must swim to shore, that they could not stay perched there, soaked and cold on the jetty.
“It’s alright, I’m a pretty good swimmer,” Jared teased and Jensen thought that maybe, perhaps they might have a happy ending out of this. That is, of course, not taking into account a hundred wedding guests and a bride likely to turn vicious upon jilting, all of whom awaited them when they got home.
Home. Jensen realized for the first time since he lost his family that there might come a time that the word would not bring him sorrow.
They left the treasure where it was, obviously, and struck out away from shore in order to get around the jetty and then redirected back toward land. Even without his tail, Jared was strong enough to tote Jensen along, and together they kicked and stroked and eventually ended up in the shallows along that stretch of beach so familiar to Jensen since the shipwreck.
Exhausted, they let the surge carry them in, crawling the last few feet up onto the soft, welcoming sands. Jensen flopped down, still half-submerged in the lapping surf; Jared fell down beside him. They lay still for a few minutes, letting the midday sun heat their skin.
“You’re naked, you know,” Jensen observed.
Jared looked down at himself, his surprise making Jensen laugh. Jared’s lips quirked. “I guess this will be awkward.”
“Not necessarily,” Jensen replied. He rolled over on top of Jared, pressing him into the warm sand and kissing his brow, the tip of his nose, his lips. “It could be quite convenient.”
“Yes, Sire,” Jared said, and kissed Jensen back.
Salt water rolled up over them. How he loved the ocean.
Paring: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 21,700
Summary: Written for the j2_everafter challenge, for The Little Mermaid. A little bit Hans Christian Andersen, a little bit Disney, a whole lot of melodrama.
A/N: My dearest thanks to my beloved rivers_bend for the lightning-fast and thorough beta of an early draft of this story. All remaining errors in content or style are entirely mine.
Also, when I originally signed up to write this for last year's challenge, the incredible mkitty3 made some spectacular art. Please go HERE and leave her gushing feedback.
Part 1 here | Part 2 here
Part 3:
Jensen mounted. Joanna and the other high-ranking nobles were already astride their horses at the head of the party, preparing to ride out into the woods. The entire assemblage made a grand sight. Compared with the colorful, impractical cloaks and hats and sweeping feathers of the courtiers, Jensen’s staff was dressed plainly, but they moved strong and sure through the throng, the horses glossy and beautiful, the hounds a great bristling sea.
Turning in his seat- eyes scanning the crowd for a ready signal from his head huntsman, Sterling, that he was preparing to begin- Jensen recognized the gray at the back of the crowd, saddled with no rider. Just then he saw Jared join them, watched closely as he placed one foot in the stirrup and swung himself up, peering around as if astonished to find himself there. Jensen turned away so as not to be caught staring. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like a lunatic out of relief and gratitude at Jared’s continued presence.
Unfortunately, Joanna’s eyes were keen. “Jensen, my sweet,” she said serenely, “I see I have some competition.”
Jensen knew Joanna didn’t desire him for herself. In fact, he was certain that his known preference for other men was one of the reasons she pursued him; he would happily avoid interfering with her liaisons, just as she would happily ignore his. She likely had several lovers, past and present, among the assembled party itself, all on her leash like the dogs in the pack. The thought of Jared being likened to those expendable, interchangeable men, the feeling that Jensen had treated him that way not minutes before, made bile rise in his throat.
“I don’t know what you might mean,” he replied, but, like an utter fool, he glanced in Jared’s direction. Joanna did as well, and saw Jared watching them.
The horns signaling the start of the hunt sounded and he kicked his mount into a trot. The hounds and huntsmen led the way, with Jensen remaining in the front of the crowd of riders next to his betrothed, the rest of the group trailing out along behind. Laughter and shouts rang up from the courtiers, some of them tipsy with holiday morning indulgence, some simply eager to ride and celebrate in company.
Jensen let the horse have its head, knowing it would follow the stalkers while they were still in sight, or at least stay with the rest of the company. He was distracted, thoughts rushing in all directions, when Joanna called for his attention.
“I have a theory,” she told him, “that I’d like to test.”
“Indeed,” Jensen said. “And what is that?”
She reined in, bringing her horse out in front of Jensen’s to stop them both and then suddenly slid forward, as if she was falling from the saddle. As Jensen automatically reached out to steady her, she knotted both hands in the lapels of his coat, dragging them together in an embrace and kissing him passionately on the mouth.
Shocked into stillness, Jensen received the kiss for several long seconds before disengaging and setting Joanna firmly back on her mount. The courtiers nearest them crowed and cheered the exchange, as if the two of them were a real couple.
“What was that all about?” he demanded, perplexed.
“Ah,” she said. “I was correct.”
She nodded behind him and Jensen turned to see Jared’s horse galloping away, speeding headlong toward a nearby copse of trees. Jensen didn’t waste a moment, just took off on the diagonal, kicking his horse’s flank and gripping with his knees as he pursued the runaway and its rider. As much as Joanna might like to take credit for this, Jensen feared that Jared had lost control of his untested, half-feral steed and was possibly headed for disaster.
Jensen urged his mount on through the underbrush. His anxiety warred with the familiar elation of the chase, both fueling him like a mix of fire and pitch. The direction, the pounding gallop meant nothing; Jared’s safety, his return to Jensen, was all that mattered.
His horse lunged up a low bank that he hadn’t realized was there and thence into the wood.
Once inside the cover of branches, Jensen pulled up abruptly and stared. Jared on his gray stood in a dappled clearing just inside the tree line, the horse’s rhythmic blowing the only sound. Jensen passed his hand over his eyes and blinked to clear them. While Jared’s horse was rock-solid, Jensen’s own horse sidled beneath him, harness rattling loud in his ears, as he gripped the reins in a too-tight fist.
Jensen conceded that Jared hadn’t been trapped on a runaway mount; he was, in fact, running away. And why wouldn’t he? Jensen had kissed him, for god’s sake, and then turned his back on him moments later for expediency's sake. Jensen had told Jared that he had no love or desire or respect for Joanna, and yet his own eyes now had what appeared to be proof of the lie. Certainly it must seem like a cruel charade of some sort, and, whatever Jared was, Jensen knew he was not one to play the typical games of court life.
Jared’s eyes locked with Jensen’s defiantly. He held himself in the saddle as if ready to hurtle away again at any moment, thighs pressed tight against his mount, jaw clenched and shoulders back. The greenery behind him fluttered gently in the breeze. He looked like a hero from a storybook.
Jensen throat grew thick with longing. He thought, You should have come sooner. You should have come when I had something to give.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry.” He thought about trying to explain, but then realized that it was for the best that Jared hate him. He opened his mouth to command Jared to leave and never return. Instead, he said, “Please, if you can- if you will, please come back to the castle.”
Jared didn’t move, Jensen didn’t breathe, and they might have stood there forever, but Jensen’s steadfast guards, left behind in his headlong rush, finally caught up to them.
*****
After the hunt was over, Jensen was tight-stretched, alert to Jared’s movements from afar as the crowd of nobles and servants streamed back into the castle. Even so, he almost missed it, just happened to catch sight of Jared being quickly escorted into one of the small antechambers by a group of six or maybe seven men. Men Jensen didn’t recognize.
Jensen tried to discreetly detach himself from the group of nobles who surrounded him, but they clung to him, continuing to spout inane compliments over his riding, his apparel, his servants, until finally Jensen simply turned and walked off, etiquette be damned.
He tried to devise a reasonable explanation for what he’d seen, but nothing innocent would come to mind, and the hackles on the back of his neck started to rise. Maybe it was foolishness; maybe his obsession with Jared was making him overreact. Jensen scanned the hall, identified Matthew and Charles as the nearest pair of guards, and summoned them with a gesture. He spoke in a low his voice, aware that a scene would make things worse, but with enough urgency that they would be prepared. “With me.”
He led them to the door he’d seen Jared and the others go through and threw it open, taking in the awful sight of Jared restrained by four men, struggling, one of the other men assaulting him, a punch to the kidney doubling Jared over in agony.
Matthew and Charles jerked their swords free, charging the group and shouting for the men to kneel down or be run through. Jensen found the long hunting knife that he had not yet unbelted gripped tight in his fist. He did not know himself to be a violent man, and yet he clung stiff-knuckled to the doorframe to keep himself from rushing into the melee and slitting the throats and the bellies of Jared’s attackers just to feel their blood run out over his hands.
In the end there was no violence; the men quickly yielded and were found to be Krupa’s retainers, nominally here as part of Joanna’s escort.
Jensen gave orders to Matthew and Charles. “Conduct them back to Krupa’s ship and ensure that they never set foot back on Ackles’ land. Ask the Captain to place several of our men at the foot of the gangway, just in case.”
The pair bowed and manhandled the offenders out of the room, leaving Jensen and Jared alone.
Jared met his eyes. Like an instant flame, it was there-the powerful awareness of Jared’s physical presence: of his body poised to fight, of where his shirt had been torn, revealing the very beginning of the strong line of his collarbone, of his mouth pressed into a flat and unyielding line. The windows were shuttered, tapers lit, and the candlelight caught and emphasized the curve of his brows and brought out glints of gold in his eyes.
Jensen didn’t think, just moved toward Jared, into him, forcing him up against the wall.
When his back hit the wall, Jared let out a gasp of breath which Jensen captured in a kiss, delving in deep then pulling back to lick and bite at Jared’s lips, seeking out that salt-spicy taste that he’d discovered in the stables that morning. He moved down to nuzzle at Jared’s jaw, behind his ear, Jared’s head falling back to expose the delicious length of his neck. He breathed out another tiny sigh, the sound of it touching a spark to tinder, fire racing along Jensen’s nerves, and without thinking he began yanking at Jared’s shirt where it tucked into his breeches.
Jared seemed paralyzed by the onslaught, passive and still. When Jensen began tugging at his clothes, he started to respond, but didn’t seem to know where to put his hands. They rested on Jensen’s shoulders for a moment and fluttered to his back, then shifted to his arms, almost as if to push Jensen away.
“What’s wrong? Are you injured?” Jensen pulled back, bringing them face-to-face, but Jared’s eyes dropped, not meeting his urgent gaze. Jensen’s stomach took a sickening lurch. “Are you… is this out of some sense of gratitude? Paying a debt? Am I-”
But before he say more or tear away, Jared gripped the back of Jensen’s neck, the other hand on his lower back and pulled him into his chest, pressing into Jensen’s hip so he could feel for himself the hard line of Jared’s arousal. Jared lifted one eyebrow and carefully mouthed a single word, No.
“I don’t understand, then,” Jensen said. “Why didn’t you-“ he was uncertain how to express it, it was just gut feeling: the awkwardness of the kiss, Jared’s lack of response, so different from this morning.
He looked up to see Jared’s face turn a deep shade of red.
“Are you-” Jensen couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. But it seemed so impossible to ask something like this, impossible for it to be true. “Are you…” Jensen struggled for the appropriate word, “...inexperienced?”
If it were even possible, Jared blushed brighter. There was a hot, tight knot forming under Jensen’s breastbone, part astonishment, part lust, mostly a desire to wrap Jared up and protect him from the awful, evil things of the world. From Jensen himself.
“How can this be? Whatever have you been waiting for?” Jensen let go and was pacing in bewilderment. He didn't even know why he was distressed, but there it was. As he passed close, Jared reached out for him, halting him with a hand on each shoulder and giving him a slight shake, then carefully put his hand to Jensen’s face, caressing his cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Where just moments before he’d been hot, now the pit in his stomach went cold.
“Me? No, it cannot be,” he whispered, wonder and pain all intertwined. “You deserve so much better, Jared, and I am bound to another path even if I was worthy of you. I've chosen to give the whole of myself to the kingdom, I will not leave you with dregs.”
Of course, Jared did not respond, did not insist or beg or yell or protest. He simply looked, blue-green eyes reading Jensen's, searching for something that would never be there.
“Will you come to the ball tonight? Please?” Jensen asked, his heart breaking. “I would not ask it of you, knowing… I am asking more than I merit. But where just a few days ago I’d convinced myself this would be an easy thing to do, I’m now finding myself in need of support in order to get through it. God knows, I wish it were otherwise.” He stepped closer-refusing to distance himself or try to pretend there was only friendship between them-and pulled Jared down by the back of the neck until their foreheads were resting together. “God knows, I wish you could be mine.”
Jared paled a little, holding himself very still. Finally, he gave several slow nods.
*****
The ball took place in the Great Hall of the palace, of course. Famous throughout the continent, twelve massive pillars supported the high ceiling. Set far up on the walls were windows of stained-glass images from generations of Ackles. When the sun hit them, they filled the hall with a blaze of jewel-toned light, but as it was night, they were dark.
Looking around, Jensen felt much else seemed muted, even though it was unlikely others would have noticed. The pillars, windows, bright tapestries, floor shining with mosaic-inlaid tiles and velvety carpets. Within it all moved Jensen’s guests, as bright as exotic birds in a flowering jungle, fluttering fans and flicking coattails.
Joanna was late. Whether she was late on account of the time it took her to discipline her retinue-if those men had actually been acting on her orders, Jared would likely be dead right now, or worse-or because she wished to make a grand entrance, Jensen wasn’t certain. Likely it was a bit of both, plus other reasons he’d not yet fathomed. But the heralds were calling to announce her arrival at last.
Her gown was green and her hair, bright as new-minted gold, was dressed high on her head and permitted to fall in a profusion of curls down her back, giving her a semblance of girlishness. Her skirts were worked in some dizzying pattern that shimmered and moved as the light caught it, with the result that watching her elegant march down the long hall gave Jensen a faint sense of sea-sickness.
Jensen moved forward to greet the woman who tomorrow would be his wife, walking stiffly down the ballroom floor like an animal executing a trick it had learned in fear of a yank on the chain if it did not perform adequately.
When he reached her, he bowed low over her hand and, for her ears only, murmured, “You sent your men to attack Jared.” He didn't believe it, but he intended to try to put her on the defensive if at all possible. It was unlikely.
She arched an eyebrow. “Ah, my dear, you know me better than that. If I’d wanted to be rid of him, I would be much more subtle. Poison-” she curtsied to him in turn, “smothering- “ she continued, rising and taking his proffered hand, “-a fall from a height.”
As if on cue, the musicians struck out with the first notes, combined them into melody. Joanna gracefully stepped into his arms and they commenced the first dance.
It was their last dance as well, Jensen was determined, and afterward he planted himself firmly in his seat on the dais. The central throne-his father’s still-remained empty, with Joanna appropriating Jensen’s sister’s. There they awaited the formal roll-call and introduction of guests, as the party swirled on beyond.
Jensen was confident Jared would not attend despite his promise. What reason would he have? What did he owe Jensen? Jensen told himself he was thankful that Jared would not have to witness this after all.
Once again, however, Jensen underestimated him, and Jared appeared amidst the other courtiers to be presented to the prince and his bride-to-be. If Jensen had thought Gabriel had outdone himself with Jared’s clothes at their first dinner, it was nothing compared to the perfection of Jared’s ball attire. And if Jensen had harbored any doubts about Jared’s unknown heritage, his conduct at the ball confirmed that he might well be royalty himself.
Jensen sat on his throne and tracked Jared’s progress around the room. He chose dance partners from among those who lacked them, asking without words to escort matrons and wallflowers out onto the floor, where he guided them around with such grace and skill that other guests stopped to watch. Also, from what Jensen deduced, Jared had indeed helped Sandra and, from the looks of it, Sophia and Genevieve as well, to sneak into the ball disguised as guests and helped ensure that they were accepted into the revelry.
Joanna watched Jared as he spun another passed-over young woman around the floor, “Your pet is quite lovely.” She leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Maybe you would share him with me?”
Jensen drew back. One look at his outraged face and she laughed, a titter behind her gloved hand. “How charming!” She glanced back over toward Jared, who was finished with his dance and stood glowering at them across the dance floor. “See how his look gives him away? Such heat, such jealousy when he sees you with me.” Her eyes narrowed speculatively. Then she turned back to Jensen, running her hand along her thigh to smooth the folds of her dress, saying languidly, “I do believe I’ll let you keep him… if you’ll let me watch sometimes.”
Jensen took a deep breath, willing himself not to respond, and pulled his gaze away from Jared’s.
He stood and held out a gracious arm to Joanna, giving no hint to the watchful crowd that he would rather seize a poisonous snake bare-handed. He escorted her past fluted columns through the massive white and gold doors into the grand dining room. As the crowd coalesced behind them into an elegant group to enter in to dinner, and he saw Jared head the opposite direction, slipping out of the ballroom and down the shadowed hall.
*****
By the end of the night, Jensen had taken a great deal to drink. There were infinite reasons to do so, all bad, and some of them had nothing to do with Jared.
He had danced attendance upon Joanna as was expected. Had praised her to the crowd and kissed her cheek decorously as the ball dragged on for too many hours. Had accepted toast after toast to the loss of his bachelorhood until he could no longer hope to stave off the coming of the next day. Had scanned the faces of the courtiers, but never seen the face he was searching for.
He stumbled a bit, walking through corridors silent save for the footfalls that he made. He walked a matrix of crossing hallways without faltering, as he had walked them almost every day of his life. Some were lit and others dark, but he fortunately encountered no one as he made his way to his rooms.
One more night, after which there would be no more worrying about the mounting debt of kingdom and his subjects, no hungry workers, no empty promises, no borrowing, no pretending. And truly, he would try to be a good husband. For his own honor’s sake, even if Joanna had none of her own. He wouldn’t even have to see her, mostly; it could be arranged.
In time he came, carried upright by pride and will alone, to the privacy of his own bedroom. Misha had long since retired, following Jensen’s standing order not to wait up.
His head throbbed, but he hardly noticed it, or the way he jarred one shoulder and then the other against the doorframe as he made his way to his dressing table. The abundance of liquor he'd consumed required he sit down, not trusting his balance. His eyes were stinging now. He closed them, but that was no good, either, because the room rolled like the deck of a sinking ship. He leaned his head sideways to rest it against the wall, breathing in and out, trying not to think.
Suddenly, he was angry. Angry that his father had whored him out, sold him to the highest bidder. That he had assented, and that he found himself at this dead end. He wanted to tear the room apart, rend the fabric of this life and slash his way into a different one. Jensen flung his arm out, swept everything from the dresser top onto the floor, except for one container of lotion. That, he picked up in order to throw against the wall, then stopped, panting.
He held the lotion cupped in both hands. He’d given everything he had to give; this was his opportunity to take something in return. Why couldn’t he have this one thing? This one thing he wanted more than anything else? The only thing he wanted.
He stood and stumbled into the connecting hall.
The moon was so low and full it could have been sitting right outside of Jared’s window. Its light flooded the room with silver, and even the shadows were blue, not black.
Jensen made his way over to Jared’s bedside. He looked down at the man's sleeping form, a thin blanket clinging to the curve of thigh and hip and pooled in the dip of his spine. The solid muscles of his back and shoulder were limned with moonlight. He was perfect, precious, untainted by the mire that sucked Jensen ever deeper.
And then Jensen knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t stand the thought of sullying Jared, sullying himself further in Jared’s eyes. Dropping the pot of lotion to the mattress and falling to his knees by the bedside, Jensen leaned his forehead down to rest against the cool, sleek sheets. He was aware he was swaying, shaking, too drunk and stupid to get up and go to his own room.
He had no idea how long he knelt there, the room spinning, until he felt hand in his hair and jerked up to see Jared awake, propped on one elbow.
In the moonlight Jared’s skin was as cool and white as a marble column. He delicately ran a fingertip across Jensen’s mouth, outlined his lips. He looked down at Jensen for a long moment, night-black eyes drinking Jensen in.
Then Jared lay back, slid his arms above his head. The languid move presented Jensen his body like an offering: wide chest, the hint of soft hair under his arms, nipples the color of shadow in the moonlight, the sharp cut of his hipbones as they disappeared beneath the sheet.
Jensen sat fixed, unmoving, heat radiating from his chest down through his gut and loins. “You don’t want this. You don’t even know what this is.”
Jared simply stared into his eyes, then, without glancing away, pushed the sheet downward, kicking it off until he was completely bare.
Jensen felt his reason slip, loosed by the alcohol and chased away by his rising hunger.
“Have you done this before?”
Jared took a breath, a hitch of air, and neither nodded or shook his head, just sat up and pressed his mouth to Jensen’s. It was slow and soft but certain, and Jensen caught fire, rising up, grazing Jared’s bottom lip with his teeth, and kissing him deep, mouth open, tongue curling firm.
When he stood up Jared touched him without hesitation. His hands cupped Jensen firmly as he unbuttoned his breeches. Jensen was having trouble breathing as Jared shoved the material aside and freed him.
He felt as if he were being burned alive.
Jared’s fingers closed around Jensen’s cock, warm and stroking. Jensen sucked in his breath, put his hand on Jared’s shoulder, and tossed his head back. His whole body seemed to reach for Jared, to fuse and center on that touch. With his free hand, Jared slid his palm over Jensen’s hip, pushing the breeches down until Jensen could step out of them. Shirt and stockings followed until Jensen, too, was naked, Jared pulling him down on top of him, gasping at the full press of skin on skin.
That gasp brought back to Jensen that this was new to Jared, that these sensations so familiar to Jensen were ones that Jared was experiencing for the first time. A thrill of lust and solicitude rolled through him, and he reared back onto hands and knees to consider what to do.
Jared sprawled beneath him, hair wild in his eyes, chin lifted high, and Jensen could feel a slight trembling in his legs where they were twined, touching.
Jensen whispered, “I could weep, for wanting what you would give me.”
His head swam and he twisted to stretch out alongside Jared’s length. He rested the back of his hand in the center Jared’s broad chest and drew his knuckles slowly downward over his belly, playing through the light trail of hair under his navel, then followed that path with his tongue. Jared’s skin tasted clean and sharp, growing muskier as Jensen moved southward.
Jensen mouthed across Jared’s flank, wanting to hurry but forcing himself to tease, slowly moving along a rib, down to the point of his hipbone, a light brush of soft lips, heated breath, then a cooler stream of air. It made gooesbumps rise up on Jared’s skin, which made heat rush in Jensen’s belly, pumped blood into his cock.
He shifted to center himself between Jared’s thighs, pressing gently with his palms to open them up wider. Jared’s cock was full and hard, rising so that Jensen could easily have taken it into his mouth, but instead he spread his hands across Jared’s hips, his thumbs framing the base of his cock, stroking lightly there on either side.
He saw Jared’s chest heave, gulping air like he’d been sprinting, responsive to Jensen’s lightest touch, and Jensen found his own breath was coming hard, too. He slid one hand up to rub a thumb over one of Jared’s nipples, whisper-soft at first, then more and more firmly, skimming the other hand back and forth across Jared’s balls, until Jared was twitching, thrusting with his hips, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow. Jensen paused to soak in the sight of Jared, capture it forever, this power Jensen had to unmake him.
The minute he stopped, Jared pulled him upward into a kiss, for the first time taking ownership of Jensen’s mouth, demanding and frantic and so hungry he was starving. His hands scrabbled at Jensen’s body, his hips, cupped his ass, pulled them together to grind his cock up against Jensen’s, sending shocks up Jensen’s spine. The pressure building deep inside Jensen was overwhelming.
“I need you. I need to be in you. I knew you’d… I… Please, god, please.” He was half-whispering, half-sobbing, forehead pressed into the curve of Jared’s shoulder. "Let me have you," he breathed into Jared’s ear, feeling him quiver. Jared nodded his head so quickly, Jensen almost missed it, but he felt Jared arch up hard against him, legs opening further.
Jensen pulled away before he came just from that-Jared offering himself up-dizzy and swaying with the weight of alcohol and desire. He fumbled for the pot of lotion and scooped some onto his fingers.
“Turn over,” Jensen told him, his voice shaking.
At the first touch at his entrance, Jared tensed. Jensen was grateful then for the alcohol, it slowed things down, made everything hazy and thick, his finger deliberate and gentle, pressing carefully, shallow, inside Jared’s heat, then drawing back out to circle around his rim over and over. He could feel Jared begin to react again, his hands scrabbling restless and unproductive against the sheets. Jensen started stroking his fingers in deep, two for awhile, then three, stretching and spreading Jared apart.
He reached for more lotion, then slotted his fingers in at a new angle, felt Jared tighten and thrash when he pressed just right. That was it for Jensen, he slid up onto his knees behind Jared, between his legs.
Jensen’s cock was throbbing desperately, his whole body was wound like a spring, but he held himself back, moving careful and sure. He rested his hands lightly on Jared’s waist, fingers feathering the edges of his taut belly. Then Jensen slid his palms down an inch or two and tightened his grip, tilting Jared up a little, brushing the sensitive head of his cock around that soft, slicked-up puckered hole, using his thumbs to spread Jared’s cheeks even farther apart.
He shifted, eased into Jared, every motion crystalline, jangling along the edges of his nerves. Jensen felt the ring of muscle giving, the head of his cock slipping inside.
He moaned, on the trembling verge of finishing too soon, and focused on reaching around, fumbling over Jared’s hip. Finally he had Jared half-hard, hot and heavy in his palm. Struggling to keep himself from moving, thrusting, Jensen ran his fingers teasingly up and down Jared's cock, over the head and then down the length, combing through the silky curls at the base, gripping more and more firmly with each stroke.
A deep tremor ran through Jared and into him, then Jared reared back, quick, unexpected, bringing Jensen inside him further and further, his muscles squeezing so tight around every inch of Jensen it was nearly painful.
He could see Jared’s hands gripping the soft sheets, dangerously near to tearing them. The room was silent except for their panting breaths.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” At those whispered words, he felt the tension in Jared ease just a bit, his body unlocking and opening up to Jensen. He rocked shallowly at first, giving Jared time to get used to it, watching rapt as his dick slipped into that tight hole where no one else had been before. He took his time, easing out and then back in, rolling his hips to reach deep inside, feeling Jared’s cock swell and start to leak.
Jensen brought his hand to his mouth, sucking Jared’s taste from his fingers. Then he licked his palm and took Jared back in hand, thrusting in and jacking Jared, both in a steady, pounding rhythm.
He found himself babbling, “Wanted to have you, be with you like this the moment I saw you. Want to teach you to come just for me. Only me.” Losing what was left of his control, he plunged into Jared's body. “Wish I could hear you. Need to hear-hear you tell me-” he pumped again, deeper, “beg me-” found that spot and worked it, “-scream my name.”
Jared convulsed beneath him, muscles of his back rippling. He spilled thick and warm into Jensen’s hand. The spasms of Jared’s release pulsed around his cock where it was held deep inside, urging him on.
"Yes," Jensen choked out, "oh please, Jared-Jared-"
Another thrust, four, five times as his hips stuttered, then he stilled, seated inside Jared as far as he could go and every muscle taut while he came with a liquid rush, his mind blank.
Jensen let himself drop down onto Jared, melting into the smooth skin of his back. He could feel pounding against his ribs, but he didn’t know if it was his heart, or Jared’s.
He tilted them sideways, Jared just going with him, pliant and loose-limbed. Jensen pulled his arms in to grip Jared tight, and held himself inside. He rested his head on Jared’s shoulder, not so drunk now, furious with himself and ashamed, and still he didn’t want to let go.
“Jared. My god, I’ve got to marry her today,” he whispered into sweat-damp skin. He felt Jared jerk under him like a horse struck with a whip.
Jensen pulled back gently, anguished, knowing alcohol and exhaustion were not enough to excuse his offense. He rolled away hunching in on himself, sick and satiated, when Jared caught at his wrist.
Jared laid an undeserved kiss on his shoulder. Jensen reached for him, but Jared slipped away, out of bed, and over to the dark shadows of the window seat. The moon poured frozen light across his face.
Jensen knew he must get up and go to him. Explain. Ask for forgiveness, on his knees if necessary. But his head weighed one hundred pounds and the room swam in silver and his eyes closed against his will.
*****
Jensen woke up cold, blankets kicked down to the end of the bed. Jared’s bed.
Oh lord. What have I done?
He opened one eye just a slit and noticed that it was not quite dawn, the silver of moonlight had transformed to pale gray, and he was alone. Ignoring the pounding of his head and the sour bile threatening the back of his throat, Jensen sat up, scanning the room, empty. As far as he could tell, everything was in its proper place, everything except for Jared. He felt a sickening surge of remorse.
Jensen noticed something over by the window, so he rolled clumsily off the bed, and stumbled over. There he discovered a strange knife- its peculiar ornate handle affixed to a wicked blade- driven point-down, deep into the wooden surface of the seat.
He sat for a moment, staring dumbly at it, before heaving himself up and rushing through the connecting doors back to his room and praying that his servants had not yet arrived with the morning wash water and a demand for explanations.
Where was Jared? Where could he have gone? Would he have fled the palace, the country, left as suddenly as he’d arrived? Every second that went by, Jensen became more and more anxious, so that by the time he threw on pants and shirt, his heart was racing. Foregoing his boots and his coat, heedless of the guests that might observe his strange behavior, he shoved through the suite’s double doors at a near run, hard enough for them to slam back against the walls, making the soldiers on duty startle and shout.
As he hurtled down the hall, he called to them over his shoulder, “Stay there! Don’t follow me!” He knew they weren’t likely to obey the command, but he hoped it might delay them, buy him some time to find Jared, to… to… what? Rectify things? Apologize? Promise atonement? It sounded inadequate, even in his own head, certainly in person it would be much worse. But locating Jared was the best and only plan he could come up with at the moment.
He ran through the courtyard and through the gate on the seaside of the walls. He had no way of knowing whether Jared had left the palace or, if he had, whether he’d headed toward the water, but Jensen did not hesitate in his rush down the hill to the cliffs, the jagged terrain lacerating his bare feet. The rim of the sky was a mix of orange and lavender as the sun prepared to breach the horizon. Not a single cloud marred the sky.
Coming up the ridge, Jensen spied a now-familiar figure, small against the height of the rocks and the breadth of the horizon, slowly undressing, each item folded neatly in a pile. Still too far to even call out, Jensen ran on, watching in horror as Jared stood for a moment- poised naked on the cliff’s jagged lip-then disappeared over the edge.
A cry ripped out of Jensen, swallowed by the sound of wind and waves. The past year of isolation roared up in him, a tangle of yearning and sorrow curled on top of terror that he would make it to the cliff’s ledge only to see Jared’s body battered and lifeless in the dark waters below.
His feet were torn to ribbons on the rocks, but he sprinted onward, ignoring the pain, until he came to the spot where Jared had stood. He hadn’t given thought to what he might do once he arrived, but now he knew there was only one thing to do.
Jensen jumped.
The water was a brick wall, rushing cold into his mouth and nose. He couldn’t find which direction was up, the water dragging at his limbs, his chest bursting.
Then something was pulling at the back of his shirt, towing him swiftly upwards, and he had a disturbing sense of deja vu. He broke the surface like a shot and heaved in a lungful of air, harshly coughing and sputtering it back out.
He opened his eyes to Jared, both of his hands on Jensen, supporting him. The two of them floated face to face, oddly still, with none of the thrashing and bobbing Jensen usually associated with treading water. They were chest-high out of the water, which was odd, too, Jared holding him up with a vicelike grip on his biceps.
“What in god’s name did you think you were doing?” Jared gave him a rough shake. “You could’ve been killed!”
“You… Jared. You’re talking!” Jensen wondered if he were still passed out and dreaming, or if he’d hit his head in his leap from the cliff.
“Yes.” Jared’s face was bleak, eyes hard like Jensen had never seen them. Jared pulled away, drifting, putting some distance between them. “It appears I am.”
Without Jared’s support, Jensen struggled to try to keep afloat, even though the ocean swells were mild. Jared noticed his trouble and took hold of him again, supporting Jensen but keeping him at arm's length. “You must swim to shore,” Jared said. “The wedding is in a few hours.”
“No,” Jensen gasped. “No… Not without you.”
“What? You would abandon your kingdom?” Jared said it kindly, but Jensen heard the hurt sharpness behind it, as if he knew all the tones of Jared’s voice already.
Jensen looked to shore. They’d been swept far enough out by the current that he could just see the glass panes of the highest palace windows glistening in the morning sun.
“Besides, it’s too late now.” Jared’s jaw tightened as if to brace for a painful blow, then he reached out for Jensen’s free hand and pressed it against his ribs. He slowly pushed Jensen’s hand down to his waist and hip, and Jensen felt the transition from warm skin to cool, smooth scales.
He felt the smooth slide of scales along his bare feet, too, and remembered with a thrill of joy, that night of the storm at sea. “It was you? After the shipwreck?”
“Of course it was, Your Highness.”
“Say my name.”
“What?”
“Just say my name.”
“Jensen.”
“Say it again.”
This time is was barely a whisper. “Jensen.”
Jensen didn’t stop to deliberate or analyze or second-guess. He simply said, “I won’t leave you. I can’t. Nothing else matters, because I… I love you.”
He anchored one hand in Jared’s sea-dark hair and crushed their mouths together, rougher than he intended, but between desperation and fear and the rolling waves, finesse was beyond him. Jared’s arms came up, clutching Jensen around the shoulder and waist, fingers grinding muscle against bone.
They floated, embracing, for one second, two, and then a clap of thunder erupted from the bright, cloudless sky.
Jared cried out, and Jensen had to avert his eyes as a blinding light etched Jared’s outline. He slipped from Jensen’s reach as he writhed in pain, back arched, head thrown back. Jensen saw Jared’s tail for the first and last time as it seemed to split up the middle, forming into the shape of Jared’s legs as he cried out again and again.
Then it was Jensen's turn to support Jared, albeit with substantially less skill, as Jared floated, insensate. Jensen fumbled to keep Jared’s head above the gentle waves, managing to half-drown himself in the process. He settled on keeping one hand behind Jared’s neck, tilting his chin up, the other gripping his arm, floating, but not making any forward progress. Jensen knew he’d have to start them moving soon, because his awkward thrashing was tiring him quickly, but he felt-understandably, in his defense-stunned.
He discovered that he had not yet reached the limits of this marvel, when the two of them were surrounded in the water. Four men and four women, beautiful and strange, appeared in the sea surrounding them. Their hair was adorned with pearls and shells and delicate oddments. Clearly, these were Jared’s people.
They seemed ancient and alien, completely opposite from the instant recognition and comfort he had felt with Jared. They neither approached nor offered help, but watched him with bright, fathomless eyes, following at a distance as Jensen started to gracelessly tow Jared’s helpless, human form toward shore.
Jensen suddenly realized that they were, unfortunately, on the wrong side of the jetty from the beach. Rocks surrounded them, on all sides.
“Jared,” he called. “Jared, you have to wake up!” But there was still no response.
He looked to the merfolk in desperation, spitting out a mouthful of salt water, tamping down a rising panic. “Please, help us!” he begged.
He felt firm hands beneath and around him, lifting and pulling him toward the jetty. He laughed wildly, thinking for a moment that they were going to murder the both of them, throwing him and Jared onto the merciless jagged boulders. Instead, timing their movement to the surge of the waves, their rescuers heaved Jared half onto a hidden shelf of rock worn glossy-smooth from the incessant pounding of the waves, then Jensen himself. He scrabbled for purchase, finding just enough room for leverage and, with the last of his strength, pulled Jared the rest of the way free of the ocean’s grasp and onto the shelf beside him.
He sat for a moment with his back to the stone wall, gulping in gallons of air, tugging Jared, still unconscious, so that he lay pillowed on Jensen’s lap. He pushed Jared’s streaming hair away from his forehead and looked down at him. Checking for head wounds, he thought, laughing, shocked and giddy with relief.
It may have been minutes or hours later when Jared’s eyes fluttered and Jensen’s heart leapt when he heard Jared let out a groan. “Shhh,” he soothed. “I think we’re safe for now.”
Jared looked up at him, dazed, his voice muzzy. “Jensen?”
Jensen leaned over to give him a swift kiss. He couldn’t help it. “Yes.”
As he shifted, helping Jared to sit up, they were visited once again. This time dozens of mermaids swam forward, carrying gifts. One presented Jared with a circlet, another handed him a scepter, a third brought a chain-of-gold necklet that spanned his broad shoulders. Several together came forward with a huge chest not bright like the other gifts but encrusted with rust on the hinges and metal trim, barnacles and algae clinging to the sides, and set it on the rocks at Jensen’s right hand. Another chest and another and still more, until the entire shelf and the surrounding rocks were piled high with treasure.
“What is all this?” Jensen asked Jared in astonishment.
Jared simply shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “Um… I guess you could say it’s my dowry.”
*****
Jared finally convinced him that they must swim to shore, that they could not stay perched there, soaked and cold on the jetty.
“It’s alright, I’m a pretty good swimmer,” Jared teased and Jensen thought that maybe, perhaps they might have a happy ending out of this. That is, of course, not taking into account a hundred wedding guests and a bride likely to turn vicious upon jilting, all of whom awaited them when they got home.
Home. Jensen realized for the first time since he lost his family that there might come a time that the word would not bring him sorrow.
They left the treasure where it was, obviously, and struck out away from shore in order to get around the jetty and then redirected back toward land. Even without his tail, Jared was strong enough to tote Jensen along, and together they kicked and stroked and eventually ended up in the shallows along that stretch of beach so familiar to Jensen since the shipwreck.
Exhausted, they let the surge carry them in, crawling the last few feet up onto the soft, welcoming sands. Jensen flopped down, still half-submerged in the lapping surf; Jared fell down beside him. They lay still for a few minutes, letting the midday sun heat their skin.
“You’re naked, you know,” Jensen observed.
Jared looked down at himself, his surprise making Jensen laugh. Jared’s lips quirked. “I guess this will be awkward.”
“Not necessarily,” Jensen replied. He rolled over on top of Jared, pressing him into the warm sand and kissing his brow, the tip of his nose, his lips. “It could be quite convenient.”
“Yes, Sire,” Jared said, and kissed Jensen back.
Salt water rolled up over them. How he loved the ocean.