That Stockholm Thing 4/7 (J2 AU, NC-17)
Title: That Stockholm Thing
Author: dijisun
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, mentions Jared/Sandy and Jensen/Danneel
Summary: Jensen gets kidnapped
Rating: NC-17, AU
Warnings: angst, language, some violence, DARK themes.
Disclaimer: never happened, all lies.
A/N: unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.
Jensen is not certain of exactly when the idea lodged in his mind and became as unshakable as Jared himself.
Some time between the first date and the fourth, between the second snow fall and the third, between the chaste kisses at Jensen’s door after every date and the toe-curling blowjobs in his bed most mornings. Some time between soaking up the heat in the tub out back with Jared and taking long hikes with him in the snow softened woods. At some unspecified point, Jensen got the unshakable idea that he needs to fuck Jared.
This, thrusting into Jared’s fist, is no longer enough. He throws the duvet off and rolls over, onto Jared. So damn hot how Jared shifts his legs apart, just opens them to him.
He sinks into the cradle of Jared’ hips, dips his head to kiss him, and like always the flare of heat takes over. It ambushes them both so that they’re rolling their hips, rutting. Mouths aligned and trading hot bursts of breath, cocks aligned and grinding through damp boxers. Bare chests, skin on skin, pebbled nipples and shuddering abdomens and tongues caught up in desperate fucking.
Jared arches his back, exhaling a breathy moan, and that sound cuts a swathe of pleasure through Jensen. He grinds down harder on Jared’s spurting dick, keeps going until he and Jared are one spent, tangled heap.
*
Jensen’s stomach growls. He glances at Jared in expectation.
‘Your turn,’ says Jared without looking away from the plasma screen.
Jared’s favourite phrase lately, your turn. Your turn to do the laundry. Your turn to chop wood. And now it seems Jensen’s days of being served are over, it’s his turn to fix lunch.
‘Well, what you waiting on?’ Jared sweeps his arm out, pointing at the kitchen, ‘get to it.’
‘Pause the movie.’
‘I’ll rewind it when you-’
‘No you won’t. You’ll narrate the parts I missed, which is no good to me ‘cause your narration skills suck. So pause the goddamn movie, Jared.’
Jared pulls a face and sticks his tongue out at Jensen, who takes the mature approach of wrestling the remote control out of Jared’s hand. He pauses the movie and strides to the kitchen, remote control triumphantly tucked in his belt.
Supplies are low. Cereal, a box of protein bars, a few cans of Baxter’s and a bag of rice in the cupboards. Cheese, butter and orange juice in the fridge. Bread, couple of pizzas, last two liters of frozen milk and some ground beef in the freezer. Lots of ice-cubes. No danger of them running out of ice-cubes.
He dumps the contents of three cans of tomato soup into a saucepan and grates some cheese. He watches the cheese bubble and melt on slices of bread under the grill, worried. Six, maybe seven days, they’ll be cleaned out even if they cut back on meals.
He carries the soup and grilled cheese sandwiches through to the living room. ‘Food situation’s getting critical,’ he says, setting the tray on the coffee table.
Jared won’t look at him but instead sits up stiff on the couch and bites into his sandwich, vicious as though it’ll bite him if he doesn’t bite it first. ‘Fine.’
Jensen frowns at Jared’s non-communicative stance, a rarity for Jared. ‘Tell me, what’s fine about running out of food in the depth of the Canadian winter?’
‘Plenty squirrel in them woods.’
‘Are you serious? I’m not eating rodents!’
‘Christ, Jensen, would you just drop it?’ Jared snaps. ‘Like I need you bitching at me on Thanksgiving day.’
That hits Jensen so hard he shuts up.
Thanksgiving.
‘American Thanksgiving?’
‘Only one I celebrate,’ Jared confirms. ‘Not that this’s much of a celebration.’
Jensen takes his empty dishes to the kitchen then goes to the hall closet, pulls on his parker and walking boots. Jared does the same and follows him out.
*
Seething. Boiling under his fleece-lined parker. Fists clenched and nails biting into the flesh of his palms. He kicks a clod of compacted snow into a tree trunk where it explodes silently, as though wary of disturbing the forest’s serenity.
Trees have no business being serene, not when Jensen is pissed as all hell.
He picks up his pace, anger notching up when Jared effortlessly lengthens his stride. It’s burning him, the fact that he can’t out-walk Jared, can’t outrun him. Out in the open or locked up in his room, it’s all the same because Jared controls his movements. Jared controls every last fucking aspect of his life, makes all the decisions.
Jared decided not to have an aerial, so TV’s good for watching movies and playing video games, but useless for transmitting news of what’s going on beyond the cabin. He decided not to have a calendar on display, so it’s impossible to track the days.
Jared decided that Jensen isn’t entitled to Thanksgiving, and he’s not talking about turkey and candied yams either. He’s talking about family; mom and dad, Mackenzie, Josh and his wife and son. They always, always spend Thanks Giving together back home in Richardson. Always.
As cut up as he is over not being there this year, his family’s got to be feeling a hundred times worse, figuring him for dead. God, his mom. Thinking about how this is breaking her heart makes his breath snag in his throat. Blue-green glaciers flow in suspended animation down the mountain crags up in the distance. He’s seeing the blue-green through a watery shimmer, eyes scalding hot.
He jams his hands into his pockets and turns round, retraces his steps. Jared keeps pace beside him all the way back to the cabin and up to his room. Jensen can make decisions, too. He decides to shut the door in Jared’s face, entreating hazel eyes notwithstanding.
Screw you, Padalecki.
*
That night, or rather, in the small hours of the next morning, Jensen’s awake when the shaft of hallway light slices a yellow path through the gloom. Jared is a motionless silhouette in the doorway. Creepy almost, the way he just stands there. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen, and Jensen’s feeling the tension in his spine, adrenalin spiking his pulse.
‘I woke you,’ Jared whispers.
‘Was already awake.’
‘Want me to go away?’
‘Suddenly you give a damn what I want?’
‘Yeah I do. You wanted Thanksgiving and I’m sorry I fucked it up.’
Still Jared doesn’t get it? It’s not about a single special day. It’s about all the days he snatched from Jensen, all the days he plans to keep on snatching. Jensen’s not even angry anymore. He just wants his life back. He’s going to take it back one way or another.
Cold ripple of air as Jared pulls the duvet back, dip of the mattress as he lays down facing Jensen.
‘We’ll do Christmas,’ Jared promises, such a fucking dreamer.
Talking about how they’re going to decorate a tree, eat till they’re about to burst, drink till dawn. It’s going to be perfect, because Jared wants that, wants him to have the perfect Christmas. Maybe Jared’ll take photos of the perfect Yuletide and send them to Richardson, since that’s where he’ll be celebrating Christmas. At home, with his family.
‘Sounds like you got it all worked out,’ he idly says.
Jared’s quirky smile vanishes, expression broken open and raw with yearning. ‘Truth is, you’ve got me twisted up and spun round. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jen. Don’t know how to make you not hate me,’ his voice too, broken open and raw, seizing Jensen’s lungs up.
He and Jared, they both yearn for what the other can’t give. Can’t strong-arm someone into loving you, same way you can’t force a person to quit it with the futile fantasies and be ecstatic about dropping you off at the nearest bus depot.
‘Need you to do something for me,’ Jared pleads. ‘Lie to me, Jensen.’
God help him but he slides his leg between Jared’s, curls closer and lies. ‘Love you.’
Jared’s throat convulses, eyes falling shut. ‘Again. Say it.’
He repeats the lie, whispers it on Jared’s lips. Tangles his fingers in Jared’s hair and holds him in place for a kiss that goes deep and doesn’t feel like a lie.
Lightheaded, Jensen pulls back - barely. He drags in a breath, doesn’t get a chance to drag in another before Jared’s on him, fucking growling as he sinks his teeth into Jensen’s lip, and the sting of it hurts good, lets loose something hot and demanding inside of Jensen.
He fists the front of Jared’s t-shirt, drags it up and off. Jared is at it too, undressing Jensen with urgency. T-shirts sail to the floor, then boxer-briefs, and Jensen’s thinking he lucked out.
He is one lucky bastard to have all this spread out before him: tan skin smoothed over defined muscle, long limbs displayed in a pliant sprawl, midnight eyes and cherry lips. Thick, flushed cock twitching on a taut belly. Gorgeous on any given day, but like this, etched in light and shadow, Jared is unreal.
Fuck, Jensen almost doesn’t know what to do with him. Almost.
He taps Jared’s hip, says, ‘turn over,’ and grabs the lube off the nightstand as Jared rolls onto his hands and knees.
First time Jensen did this, he came. Couldn’t hold off, just humped the back of Jared’s thigh and came all over it, fingers deep inside Jared and clenched by that tight ass. Things are gonna end prematurely again if he doesn’t hurry up. He eases his fingers out, leaning over to smear a kiss in the dip of Jared’s spine as Jared hisses through his teeth.
‘You good, Jay? Need more slick?’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’m good.’
Jared lowers his chest to the mattress, face turned to the side and hands reaching back. Palms his ass cheeks, pulls them apart, and Jensen wants in. Like, now. Can’t wait - doesn’t. He lines up to Jared’s hole, pink and pouty and glossy with lube, rocks his hips and he’s nudging in.
Tight. So hot and tight, clamping down on his cock-head, resisting him. Way too late for that. He’s on fire here, and unless Jared says no, this tight little hole is gonna get fucked wide open. He grips Jared’s hips and pushes, flayed by shivery pleasure as the ring of muscle yields and he slides all the way in. He’s inside Jared. His cock is hard and throbbing inside Jared.
He pulls back a little, looks down at where Jared’s stretched around him, and thrusts back in. Jared’s mouth snaps open, no sound comes out. Silent participation is so not what Jensen has in mind. He needs to hear Jared. Needs it.
‘Every day,’ he says, and his voice could sand down stone it’s so rough. ‘Going to fuck you just like this. My dick inside you, every fucking day between now and Christmas. Just. Like. This.’
Grip hauling Jared into his thrusts, going in hard, driving sounds out of him, soft cusses and breathy groans, and each one of them stokes Jensen. What stokes him even more? Jared jacking himself off. Jared pushing back on him, squirming on his dick, taking it all like he can’t ever get enough.
Jared shaking and gasping his name, ‘Jensen, goddammit fuck, Jensen,’ knees sliding out from under him as Jensen pounds him, fucks him into the mattress.
Jared’s cusses cut off. He goes rigid, tense all over, but inside he’s clenching and unclenching in rhythmic pulses, and that is it for Jensen. Waves of pleasure break over him, crash through him. He’s sucking on the back of Jared’s neck and coming, choppy thrusts slipping through lube and come, hot and wet and just, damn.
It’s a while before he re-orientates.
He’s slumped over Jared who’s still in the recovery position - face planted in the pillows. Afraid he’ll suffocate the guy, Jensen gets off of him, sees the thin white trail running down Jared’s ball sac and thinks, double damn. They forgot to use a condom.
‘We, uh,’ he rubs his palm across his nape. ‘We weren’t safe.’
Jared lifts his head and twists round to look at him through half-mast eyes. ‘I don’t care,’ he says, voice gone croaky. ‘Do you?’
Does he care that Jared is filled with his come, that it’s marking Jared up on the inside? He leans over and lightly bites the swell of Jared’s ass, lays a smile on the place he just bit.
*
Jensen shrinks back against a tree trunk and holds his breath, listening out for Jared. All he hears is his drumming heart and the rush of blood in his ears. His jeans are splashed with big, wet circles. He has snow in his hair and down the collar of his parker, and also, he’s out of ammunition.
He scrambles to the next tree, bee-lining for the outer circle of trees with huge piles of snow banked up against them. He breaks into a run, and he’s close now, so close. Jared steps round from behind a tree, straight into his path.
Jensen halts, eyeing the load of snowballs Jared’s got cradled in one arm. ‘Okay. You win, I lose. Now, drop the snowballs. Please.’
Jared flashes a grin. It’s wide and evil. ‘Better run, dude.’
Jensen whirls on his heel and takes off, pursued by a blitz of slushy snowballs. Laughter, his and Jared’s, rings clear and bright in the woods.
*
Handsy is not a word Jensen would use to describe himself, until recently. It’s like he’s incapable of being in the same room as Jared without touching him. He’ll reach up and brush back the bangs tangling with Jared’s eye lashes before thinking it through, or skim his knuckles down Jared’s arm, or rub the small of his back. Creep up behind him and squeeze his arms around his waist, skate a palm down his chest to flatten the wrinkles in his shirt, or, you know, tweak his nipple.
Jared’ll mostly lean into the touches and return them, making it clear that touch is good. Touch makes the world a better place. Jensen’s all for a better world, he’s just not a handsy person. He should remind his hands of this fact - and his lips since they regularly suck on some part or other of Jared’s anatomy. Earlobe and hipbone, side of Jared’s throat…it’s really kinda slutty, all the unprecedented sucking.
Right now, he’s showing remarkable self-restraint by staying put on this end of the couch while Jared reads through the latest print-out of the script on the other end.
‘Not sure I’m not sold on the love interest idea,’ Jared says, brow scrunched. ‘Denton’s got his hands full with outlaws, no time for fucking around.’
‘Quickie, shoot out, quickie. Totally plausible,’ he’s looking at Jared’s splayed thighs. ‘Speaking of quickies…’
Jared’s eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Jesus, again?’
‘Yeah, it’s been an eventful week,’ he concedes, smug about it. ‘I’m surprised you can sit your butt down at all.’
‘Makes two of us,’ Jared ducks his eyes back to the script, and arousal sweeps through Jensen as he watches a rosy flush sweep into Jared’s face.
Jensen goes through life at a nice, steady lukewarm. He’s temperate in all things - coffee and acting aside. He doesn’t hate deeply or love deeply or want deeply, and so it scares him, the fact that just looking at Jared knocks him breathless with want.
What he should do is take a step back. Get up, say goodnight, go to his room. Jerk off.
What he does is get up, kick Jared’s feet farther apart and slide down between them, broad shoulders splaying Jared’s legs wider. He drags his hands up Jared’s thighs, blunt nails scraping on worn denim, and buries his face in Jared’s crotch.
‘Jensen,’ Jared curls his fingers in Jensen’s hair, tightens them as though to tug him off. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘Want to,’ he mouths at the soft bulge trapped behind Jared’s zipper. ‘Wanna do this, Jared. Let me.’
The first and only time he tried this, Jensen gagged, nearly choked on a combination of too much cock, too much ambition and not enough know-how. He’s wiser now, paces himself. Licks Jared from root to tip, swirls his tongue on the plump head getting it wet and shiny before ringing his lips around it.
Jared strains his hips upwards, throaty murmur buzzing Jensen. ‘You like that, Jen? Like my cock in your mouth?’
Well, duh. What’s not to like? Velvet head dragging along the roof of his mouth, thick vein pulsing on his tongue, cheeks bulging, feel of Jared going hard and heavy in his mouth, trickle of salty pre-come. Hell yeah he likes it. Damn shame he can’t cram it all in.
He fumbles with his belt buckle and shoves his hand down his pants. It’s awkward at first, beating off while sliding his mouth down Jared and trying to come out of it alive. But then Jared’s grip in his hair is guiding him, gentle pressure on the back of his head easing it up and down, and Jensen just goes with it. Bobs his head a little deeper each time, sucks a little harder, gets Jared swearing - always a good sign.
He turns his eyes up to look at Jared, and Jared goes very, very still.
Jensen, he’s feeling mighty. His mighty mouth has rendered Jared speechless and motionless. He smiles around the dick in his mouth, teases Jared with light flicks of his tongue and under-the-lashes glances.
‘So fucking pretty, your lips stretched around me like that,’ says Jared, his voice loose and lazy and uncoiling a ribbon of heat in Jensen’s balls. ‘Want me to fuck your mouth, that what you want, Jensen?’
Before he can gurgle in the affirmative, Jared manhandles him.
Hauls him up by the shoulders, turns him round, pushes his jeans down past his knees. He’s bare assed on Jared’s lap, his back molded to Jared’s chest, and he’s not sure what’s getting him hotter, being roughed up and tossed around, or feeling Jared - slick and hard - slide up between his thighs.
‘Squeeze tight,’ Jared’s hands slap down on his thighs, pushing them together. ‘Squeeze your legs on me and lay back, that’s all you got to do.’ Jared bands an arm around Jensen’s waist, hand of the other curling around his cock. ‘I’ll get you there, make you come so good you’ll be high for days.’
It’s not an empty promise. Jared gets him there with friction from his stroking fist, and friction on that sensitive spot behind his balls as Jared fucks between his tightly pressed thighs. He bites his fingers into Jared’s arm and hangs on. Jared’s hips move beneath him, power thrusting, yeah tossing him around, and it probably says something about him that he fucking loves being Jared’s rag doll.
What it says though, he can’t decipher at the moment, because he’s coming. Splashing warm on his chin and chest, whole body just one locked down muscle, white-hot pleasure fusing his spine stiff. Jared gives a short, sharp grunt and a short, sharp thrust, and coats his thighs, arm squishing the air out of him.
They are both rag dolls limp on the couch, their damp fingers intertwined on Jensen’s thigh. He lolls his head on Jared’s shoulder, the lolling giving way to near whimpers when Jared licks his chin, long swipes cleaning the jizz off and rasping on his skin.
‘Fuck baby,’ Jared says, going for his lips.
He skates his tongue into Jared’s mouth in mute agreement.
*
It’s been five days since Thanks Giving. Jensen is strangely okay about the almost bare cupboards and the serving of ground beef sitting untouched in the dog bowls. Sadie and Harley are picky, won’t eat the congealed mounds of cooked mince. They trail Jared all over the house - except Jensen’s room, Sadie refuses to enter there - and push their noses against the back of Jared’s legs, Sadie pleading with big brown eyes and Harley whining.
Jensen’s okay with the dogs moping. But they are making Jared mope and he’s not okay with that. First of all, it’s a buzz kill in bed. Second of all…he forgot the second reason what with having to look at Jared’s tragic face.
He scoops up a handful of water and flings it at Jared.
Half-hearted smile and then Jared’s back to moping. Wide mouth set in a straight line, cat’s eyes gazing deeply into the bubbling hot tub.
Jensen sinks lower until his chin’s submerged in water, lets the heat distract him from the nagging in his belly. It’s not hunger. Hunger gnaws - and besides, he just had a bowl of soup. The nagging is more to do with Jared. The guy adores his mongrels, so Jensen doesn’t understand why he’s denying them Kibble.
‘Try freshly slain squirrel,’ he suggests. ‘Sadie and Harley would go for that.’
‘Not funny.’
‘Well, something funny’s going on. Not like you let your babies go hungry, Jared.’
‘I’ll go tomorrow.’
‘You said that yesterday.’
Jared won’t hold his gaze, cuts to where the dogs are fading away on the back porch. ‘I know. Sorry.’
Sorry. Jared’s been constantly sorry these past few days, apologizing for the lamest things. Mismatched socks. Forgetting to transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer. The needless apologies are another thing nagging Jensen.
‘Don’t gotta be sorry,’ he says. ‘Just fix it.’
‘It’s a long drive.’ Jared glances at the dogs again. ‘I could be gone a while.’
‘You’re worried about leaving the dogs, aren’t you?’ It would explain Jared’s lack of enthusiasm about getting the grocery shopping done. ‘You are dog-whipped, man. Total sap for those mutts.’
‘Look at them. Can you blame me?’
Jensen gets why Jared is attached to Harley. Sadie, though? ‘What, you don’t trust me to look after the kids while you’re out?’
‘Course I do,’ Jared says - too quickly? ‘I’ll get a list started. Any special requests?’
‘This year’s calendar. And a pack of silk boxers. A certain asshole ripped my last decent pair.’
‘Hey, I apologized for that.’
Yes he did. Too profusely.
*
Jensen wrings the cloth in the sink and wipes down the counters. Rinses and wrings the cloth again, crosses the kitchen to wipe down the breakfast bar. Jared’s behind, trailing him, and the dogs trail Jared. So basically Jensen’s had Jared, Harley and Sadie tripping on his heels for the best part of two days.
‘Dude.’ He turns to face Jared. ‘You’re doing it again, hovering.’
Jared scratches behind his earlobe, smiling sheepishly. ‘Sorry.’
God. He’s going to throw a party when Jared quits being sorry and finally re-stocks the cupboards. ‘Did you get started on that list yet?’
‘All done.’
‘Right. So what’s the hold up?’
Jared shrugs, his glance evasive.
Jensen’s had enough of this shit. He grasps Jared’s shoulders and shakes him. ‘You’re going tomorrow. First thing.’
‘But-’
‘No Jared, I mean it,’ he shakes Jared again.
Jared sways into him, arms looping around him and face mashed in the crook of his neck. Poor thing’s probably worn out with hunger.
He rubs between Jared’s shoulder blades, kneading, and says, ‘early night for you. Go on, I’ll finish up down here.’
Still, he doesn’t release Jared. Kneads both hands down Jared’s back, loosening the kinks and knots. Warmed by satisfaction when Jared hmms and sags onto him.
*
Their early morning routine is pretty much carved in stone. Usually he’s still muzzy with sleep when Jared comes into his room, and Jared will scoot up behind him and stroke him fully awake, or roll him on his back and blow him into consciousness. Hot mouth and sure hands, hoarse I love you’s branded just above his navel. It’s not an awful way to wake up.
This morning, Jared deviates from routine. Rolls him onto his belly and feathers kisses down his spine. They’re light, kind of tickly, and he smiles, too sleep-drugged to manage laughter.
‘What you doing, Jay?’
Jared runs a finger along the waistband of his boxers, back and forth, twice then three times. ‘Jensen,’ he tugs the waistband down, ‘I’m sorry, man.’
And a quick, sharp jab stings Jensen’s ass cheek, so unexpected he yelps, rearing his head up.
Jared, the fucking bastard, has the nerve to shush him. ‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ voice low and intimate, body draped over him like a lead blanket pinning him down.
With the sedative leaching the strength out of him, he has no hope of bucking Jared off. Can’t even cuss at him properly because his tongue’s as sluggish as the rest of him.
‘Bastard, you’re a fuckin’…why’d you have to go and ruin it?’ he slurs, eyelids heavy and slipping shut. ‘We were…you and me were doing…’ his head’s heavy too, wavering. He sinks his brow into the pillow, sighs, succumbs.
Chapter Five
Author: dijisun
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, mentions Jared/Sandy and Jensen/Danneel
Summary: Jensen gets kidnapped
Rating: NC-17, AU
Warnings: angst, language, some violence, DARK themes.
Disclaimer: never happened, all lies.
A/N: unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.
Jensen is not certain of exactly when the idea lodged in his mind and became as unshakable as Jared himself.
Some time between the first date and the fourth, between the second snow fall and the third, between the chaste kisses at Jensen’s door after every date and the toe-curling blowjobs in his bed most mornings. Some time between soaking up the heat in the tub out back with Jared and taking long hikes with him in the snow softened woods. At some unspecified point, Jensen got the unshakable idea that he needs to fuck Jared.
This, thrusting into Jared’s fist, is no longer enough. He throws the duvet off and rolls over, onto Jared. So damn hot how Jared shifts his legs apart, just opens them to him.
He sinks into the cradle of Jared’ hips, dips his head to kiss him, and like always the flare of heat takes over. It ambushes them both so that they’re rolling their hips, rutting. Mouths aligned and trading hot bursts of breath, cocks aligned and grinding through damp boxers. Bare chests, skin on skin, pebbled nipples and shuddering abdomens and tongues caught up in desperate fucking.
Jared arches his back, exhaling a breathy moan, and that sound cuts a swathe of pleasure through Jensen. He grinds down harder on Jared’s spurting dick, keeps going until he and Jared are one spent, tangled heap.
*
Jensen’s stomach growls. He glances at Jared in expectation.
‘Your turn,’ says Jared without looking away from the plasma screen.
Jared’s favourite phrase lately, your turn. Your turn to do the laundry. Your turn to chop wood. And now it seems Jensen’s days of being served are over, it’s his turn to fix lunch.
‘Well, what you waiting on?’ Jared sweeps his arm out, pointing at the kitchen, ‘get to it.’
‘Pause the movie.’
‘I’ll rewind it when you-’
‘No you won’t. You’ll narrate the parts I missed, which is no good to me ‘cause your narration skills suck. So pause the goddamn movie, Jared.’
Jared pulls a face and sticks his tongue out at Jensen, who takes the mature approach of wrestling the remote control out of Jared’s hand. He pauses the movie and strides to the kitchen, remote control triumphantly tucked in his belt.
Supplies are low. Cereal, a box of protein bars, a few cans of Baxter’s and a bag of rice in the cupboards. Cheese, butter and orange juice in the fridge. Bread, couple of pizzas, last two liters of frozen milk and some ground beef in the freezer. Lots of ice-cubes. No danger of them running out of ice-cubes.
He dumps the contents of three cans of tomato soup into a saucepan and grates some cheese. He watches the cheese bubble and melt on slices of bread under the grill, worried. Six, maybe seven days, they’ll be cleaned out even if they cut back on meals.
He carries the soup and grilled cheese sandwiches through to the living room. ‘Food situation’s getting critical,’ he says, setting the tray on the coffee table.
Jared won’t look at him but instead sits up stiff on the couch and bites into his sandwich, vicious as though it’ll bite him if he doesn’t bite it first. ‘Fine.’
Jensen frowns at Jared’s non-communicative stance, a rarity for Jared. ‘Tell me, what’s fine about running out of food in the depth of the Canadian winter?’
‘Plenty squirrel in them woods.’
‘Are you serious? I’m not eating rodents!’
‘Christ, Jensen, would you just drop it?’ Jared snaps. ‘Like I need you bitching at me on Thanksgiving day.’
That hits Jensen so hard he shuts up.
Thanksgiving.
‘American Thanksgiving?’
‘Only one I celebrate,’ Jared confirms. ‘Not that this’s much of a celebration.’
Jensen takes his empty dishes to the kitchen then goes to the hall closet, pulls on his parker and walking boots. Jared does the same and follows him out.
*
Seething. Boiling under his fleece-lined parker. Fists clenched and nails biting into the flesh of his palms. He kicks a clod of compacted snow into a tree trunk where it explodes silently, as though wary of disturbing the forest’s serenity.
Trees have no business being serene, not when Jensen is pissed as all hell.
He picks up his pace, anger notching up when Jared effortlessly lengthens his stride. It’s burning him, the fact that he can’t out-walk Jared, can’t outrun him. Out in the open or locked up in his room, it’s all the same because Jared controls his movements. Jared controls every last fucking aspect of his life, makes all the decisions.
Jared decided not to have an aerial, so TV’s good for watching movies and playing video games, but useless for transmitting news of what’s going on beyond the cabin. He decided not to have a calendar on display, so it’s impossible to track the days.
Jared decided that Jensen isn’t entitled to Thanksgiving, and he’s not talking about turkey and candied yams either. He’s talking about family; mom and dad, Mackenzie, Josh and his wife and son. They always, always spend Thanks Giving together back home in Richardson. Always.
As cut up as he is over not being there this year, his family’s got to be feeling a hundred times worse, figuring him for dead. God, his mom. Thinking about how this is breaking her heart makes his breath snag in his throat. Blue-green glaciers flow in suspended animation down the mountain crags up in the distance. He’s seeing the blue-green through a watery shimmer, eyes scalding hot.
He jams his hands into his pockets and turns round, retraces his steps. Jared keeps pace beside him all the way back to the cabin and up to his room. Jensen can make decisions, too. He decides to shut the door in Jared’s face, entreating hazel eyes notwithstanding.
Screw you, Padalecki.
*
That night, or rather, in the small hours of the next morning, Jensen’s awake when the shaft of hallway light slices a yellow path through the gloom. Jared is a motionless silhouette in the doorway. Creepy almost, the way he just stands there. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen, and Jensen’s feeling the tension in his spine, adrenalin spiking his pulse.
‘I woke you,’ Jared whispers.
‘Was already awake.’
‘Want me to go away?’
‘Suddenly you give a damn what I want?’
‘Yeah I do. You wanted Thanksgiving and I’m sorry I fucked it up.’
Still Jared doesn’t get it? It’s not about a single special day. It’s about all the days he snatched from Jensen, all the days he plans to keep on snatching. Jensen’s not even angry anymore. He just wants his life back. He’s going to take it back one way or another.
Cold ripple of air as Jared pulls the duvet back, dip of the mattress as he lays down facing Jensen.
‘We’ll do Christmas,’ Jared promises, such a fucking dreamer.
Talking about how they’re going to decorate a tree, eat till they’re about to burst, drink till dawn. It’s going to be perfect, because Jared wants that, wants him to have the perfect Christmas. Maybe Jared’ll take photos of the perfect Yuletide and send them to Richardson, since that’s where he’ll be celebrating Christmas. At home, with his family.
‘Sounds like you got it all worked out,’ he idly says.
Jared’s quirky smile vanishes, expression broken open and raw with yearning. ‘Truth is, you’ve got me twisted up and spun round. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jen. Don’t know how to make you not hate me,’ his voice too, broken open and raw, seizing Jensen’s lungs up.
He and Jared, they both yearn for what the other can’t give. Can’t strong-arm someone into loving you, same way you can’t force a person to quit it with the futile fantasies and be ecstatic about dropping you off at the nearest bus depot.
‘Need you to do something for me,’ Jared pleads. ‘Lie to me, Jensen.’
God help him but he slides his leg between Jared’s, curls closer and lies. ‘Love you.’
Jared’s throat convulses, eyes falling shut. ‘Again. Say it.’
He repeats the lie, whispers it on Jared’s lips. Tangles his fingers in Jared’s hair and holds him in place for a kiss that goes deep and doesn’t feel like a lie.
Lightheaded, Jensen pulls back - barely. He drags in a breath, doesn’t get a chance to drag in another before Jared’s on him, fucking growling as he sinks his teeth into Jensen’s lip, and the sting of it hurts good, lets loose something hot and demanding inside of Jensen.
He fists the front of Jared’s t-shirt, drags it up and off. Jared is at it too, undressing Jensen with urgency. T-shirts sail to the floor, then boxer-briefs, and Jensen’s thinking he lucked out.
He is one lucky bastard to have all this spread out before him: tan skin smoothed over defined muscle, long limbs displayed in a pliant sprawl, midnight eyes and cherry lips. Thick, flushed cock twitching on a taut belly. Gorgeous on any given day, but like this, etched in light and shadow, Jared is unreal.
Fuck, Jensen almost doesn’t know what to do with him. Almost.
He taps Jared’s hip, says, ‘turn over,’ and grabs the lube off the nightstand as Jared rolls onto his hands and knees.
First time Jensen did this, he came. Couldn’t hold off, just humped the back of Jared’s thigh and came all over it, fingers deep inside Jared and clenched by that tight ass. Things are gonna end prematurely again if he doesn’t hurry up. He eases his fingers out, leaning over to smear a kiss in the dip of Jared’s spine as Jared hisses through his teeth.
‘You good, Jay? Need more slick?’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’m good.’
Jared lowers his chest to the mattress, face turned to the side and hands reaching back. Palms his ass cheeks, pulls them apart, and Jensen wants in. Like, now. Can’t wait - doesn’t. He lines up to Jared’s hole, pink and pouty and glossy with lube, rocks his hips and he’s nudging in.
Tight. So hot and tight, clamping down on his cock-head, resisting him. Way too late for that. He’s on fire here, and unless Jared says no, this tight little hole is gonna get fucked wide open. He grips Jared’s hips and pushes, flayed by shivery pleasure as the ring of muscle yields and he slides all the way in. He’s inside Jared. His cock is hard and throbbing inside Jared.
He pulls back a little, looks down at where Jared’s stretched around him, and thrusts back in. Jared’s mouth snaps open, no sound comes out. Silent participation is so not what Jensen has in mind. He needs to hear Jared. Needs it.
‘Every day,’ he says, and his voice could sand down stone it’s so rough. ‘Going to fuck you just like this. My dick inside you, every fucking day between now and Christmas. Just. Like. This.’
Grip hauling Jared into his thrusts, going in hard, driving sounds out of him, soft cusses and breathy groans, and each one of them stokes Jensen. What stokes him even more? Jared jacking himself off. Jared pushing back on him, squirming on his dick, taking it all like he can’t ever get enough.
Jared shaking and gasping his name, ‘Jensen, goddammit fuck, Jensen,’ knees sliding out from under him as Jensen pounds him, fucks him into the mattress.
Jared’s cusses cut off. He goes rigid, tense all over, but inside he’s clenching and unclenching in rhythmic pulses, and that is it for Jensen. Waves of pleasure break over him, crash through him. He’s sucking on the back of Jared’s neck and coming, choppy thrusts slipping through lube and come, hot and wet and just, damn.
It’s a while before he re-orientates.
He’s slumped over Jared who’s still in the recovery position - face planted in the pillows. Afraid he’ll suffocate the guy, Jensen gets off of him, sees the thin white trail running down Jared’s ball sac and thinks, double damn. They forgot to use a condom.
‘We, uh,’ he rubs his palm across his nape. ‘We weren’t safe.’
Jared lifts his head and twists round to look at him through half-mast eyes. ‘I don’t care,’ he says, voice gone croaky. ‘Do you?’
Does he care that Jared is filled with his come, that it’s marking Jared up on the inside? He leans over and lightly bites the swell of Jared’s ass, lays a smile on the place he just bit.
*
Jensen shrinks back against a tree trunk and holds his breath, listening out for Jared. All he hears is his drumming heart and the rush of blood in his ears. His jeans are splashed with big, wet circles. He has snow in his hair and down the collar of his parker, and also, he’s out of ammunition.
He scrambles to the next tree, bee-lining for the outer circle of trees with huge piles of snow banked up against them. He breaks into a run, and he’s close now, so close. Jared steps round from behind a tree, straight into his path.
Jensen halts, eyeing the load of snowballs Jared’s got cradled in one arm. ‘Okay. You win, I lose. Now, drop the snowballs. Please.’
Jared flashes a grin. It’s wide and evil. ‘Better run, dude.’
Jensen whirls on his heel and takes off, pursued by a blitz of slushy snowballs. Laughter, his and Jared’s, rings clear and bright in the woods.
*
Handsy is not a word Jensen would use to describe himself, until recently. It’s like he’s incapable of being in the same room as Jared without touching him. He’ll reach up and brush back the bangs tangling with Jared’s eye lashes before thinking it through, or skim his knuckles down Jared’s arm, or rub the small of his back. Creep up behind him and squeeze his arms around his waist, skate a palm down his chest to flatten the wrinkles in his shirt, or, you know, tweak his nipple.
Jared’ll mostly lean into the touches and return them, making it clear that touch is good. Touch makes the world a better place. Jensen’s all for a better world, he’s just not a handsy person. He should remind his hands of this fact - and his lips since they regularly suck on some part or other of Jared’s anatomy. Earlobe and hipbone, side of Jared’s throat…it’s really kinda slutty, all the unprecedented sucking.
Right now, he’s showing remarkable self-restraint by staying put on this end of the couch while Jared reads through the latest print-out of the script on the other end.
‘Not sure I’m not sold on the love interest idea,’ Jared says, brow scrunched. ‘Denton’s got his hands full with outlaws, no time for fucking around.’
‘Quickie, shoot out, quickie. Totally plausible,’ he’s looking at Jared’s splayed thighs. ‘Speaking of quickies…’
Jared’s eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Jesus, again?’
‘Yeah, it’s been an eventful week,’ he concedes, smug about it. ‘I’m surprised you can sit your butt down at all.’
‘Makes two of us,’ Jared ducks his eyes back to the script, and arousal sweeps through Jensen as he watches a rosy flush sweep into Jared’s face.
Jensen goes through life at a nice, steady lukewarm. He’s temperate in all things - coffee and acting aside. He doesn’t hate deeply or love deeply or want deeply, and so it scares him, the fact that just looking at Jared knocks him breathless with want.
What he should do is take a step back. Get up, say goodnight, go to his room. Jerk off.
What he does is get up, kick Jared’s feet farther apart and slide down between them, broad shoulders splaying Jared’s legs wider. He drags his hands up Jared’s thighs, blunt nails scraping on worn denim, and buries his face in Jared’s crotch.
‘Jensen,’ Jared curls his fingers in Jensen’s hair, tightens them as though to tug him off. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘Want to,’ he mouths at the soft bulge trapped behind Jared’s zipper. ‘Wanna do this, Jared. Let me.’
The first and only time he tried this, Jensen gagged, nearly choked on a combination of too much cock, too much ambition and not enough know-how. He’s wiser now, paces himself. Licks Jared from root to tip, swirls his tongue on the plump head getting it wet and shiny before ringing his lips around it.
Jared strains his hips upwards, throaty murmur buzzing Jensen. ‘You like that, Jen? Like my cock in your mouth?’
Well, duh. What’s not to like? Velvet head dragging along the roof of his mouth, thick vein pulsing on his tongue, cheeks bulging, feel of Jared going hard and heavy in his mouth, trickle of salty pre-come. Hell yeah he likes it. Damn shame he can’t cram it all in.
He fumbles with his belt buckle and shoves his hand down his pants. It’s awkward at first, beating off while sliding his mouth down Jared and trying to come out of it alive. But then Jared’s grip in his hair is guiding him, gentle pressure on the back of his head easing it up and down, and Jensen just goes with it. Bobs his head a little deeper each time, sucks a little harder, gets Jared swearing - always a good sign.
He turns his eyes up to look at Jared, and Jared goes very, very still.
Jensen, he’s feeling mighty. His mighty mouth has rendered Jared speechless and motionless. He smiles around the dick in his mouth, teases Jared with light flicks of his tongue and under-the-lashes glances.
‘So fucking pretty, your lips stretched around me like that,’ says Jared, his voice loose and lazy and uncoiling a ribbon of heat in Jensen’s balls. ‘Want me to fuck your mouth, that what you want, Jensen?’
Before he can gurgle in the affirmative, Jared manhandles him.
Hauls him up by the shoulders, turns him round, pushes his jeans down past his knees. He’s bare assed on Jared’s lap, his back molded to Jared’s chest, and he’s not sure what’s getting him hotter, being roughed up and tossed around, or feeling Jared - slick and hard - slide up between his thighs.
‘Squeeze tight,’ Jared’s hands slap down on his thighs, pushing them together. ‘Squeeze your legs on me and lay back, that’s all you got to do.’ Jared bands an arm around Jensen’s waist, hand of the other curling around his cock. ‘I’ll get you there, make you come so good you’ll be high for days.’
It’s not an empty promise. Jared gets him there with friction from his stroking fist, and friction on that sensitive spot behind his balls as Jared fucks between his tightly pressed thighs. He bites his fingers into Jared’s arm and hangs on. Jared’s hips move beneath him, power thrusting, yeah tossing him around, and it probably says something about him that he fucking loves being Jared’s rag doll.
What it says though, he can’t decipher at the moment, because he’s coming. Splashing warm on his chin and chest, whole body just one locked down muscle, white-hot pleasure fusing his spine stiff. Jared gives a short, sharp grunt and a short, sharp thrust, and coats his thighs, arm squishing the air out of him.
They are both rag dolls limp on the couch, their damp fingers intertwined on Jensen’s thigh. He lolls his head on Jared’s shoulder, the lolling giving way to near whimpers when Jared licks his chin, long swipes cleaning the jizz off and rasping on his skin.
‘Fuck baby,’ Jared says, going for his lips.
He skates his tongue into Jared’s mouth in mute agreement.
*
It’s been five days since Thanks Giving. Jensen is strangely okay about the almost bare cupboards and the serving of ground beef sitting untouched in the dog bowls. Sadie and Harley are picky, won’t eat the congealed mounds of cooked mince. They trail Jared all over the house - except Jensen’s room, Sadie refuses to enter there - and push their noses against the back of Jared’s legs, Sadie pleading with big brown eyes and Harley whining.
Jensen’s okay with the dogs moping. But they are making Jared mope and he’s not okay with that. First of all, it’s a buzz kill in bed. Second of all…he forgot the second reason what with having to look at Jared’s tragic face.
He scoops up a handful of water and flings it at Jared.
Half-hearted smile and then Jared’s back to moping. Wide mouth set in a straight line, cat’s eyes gazing deeply into the bubbling hot tub.
Jensen sinks lower until his chin’s submerged in water, lets the heat distract him from the nagging in his belly. It’s not hunger. Hunger gnaws - and besides, he just had a bowl of soup. The nagging is more to do with Jared. The guy adores his mongrels, so Jensen doesn’t understand why he’s denying them Kibble.
‘Try freshly slain squirrel,’ he suggests. ‘Sadie and Harley would go for that.’
‘Not funny.’
‘Well, something funny’s going on. Not like you let your babies go hungry, Jared.’
‘I’ll go tomorrow.’
‘You said that yesterday.’
Jared won’t hold his gaze, cuts to where the dogs are fading away on the back porch. ‘I know. Sorry.’
Sorry. Jared’s been constantly sorry these past few days, apologizing for the lamest things. Mismatched socks. Forgetting to transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer. The needless apologies are another thing nagging Jensen.
‘Don’t gotta be sorry,’ he says. ‘Just fix it.’
‘It’s a long drive.’ Jared glances at the dogs again. ‘I could be gone a while.’
‘You’re worried about leaving the dogs, aren’t you?’ It would explain Jared’s lack of enthusiasm about getting the grocery shopping done. ‘You are dog-whipped, man. Total sap for those mutts.’
‘Look at them. Can you blame me?’
Jensen gets why Jared is attached to Harley. Sadie, though? ‘What, you don’t trust me to look after the kids while you’re out?’
‘Course I do,’ Jared says - too quickly? ‘I’ll get a list started. Any special requests?’
‘This year’s calendar. And a pack of silk boxers. A certain asshole ripped my last decent pair.’
‘Hey, I apologized for that.’
Yes he did. Too profusely.
*
Jensen wrings the cloth in the sink and wipes down the counters. Rinses and wrings the cloth again, crosses the kitchen to wipe down the breakfast bar. Jared’s behind, trailing him, and the dogs trail Jared. So basically Jensen’s had Jared, Harley and Sadie tripping on his heels for the best part of two days.
‘Dude.’ He turns to face Jared. ‘You’re doing it again, hovering.’
Jared scratches behind his earlobe, smiling sheepishly. ‘Sorry.’
God. He’s going to throw a party when Jared quits being sorry and finally re-stocks the cupboards. ‘Did you get started on that list yet?’
‘All done.’
‘Right. So what’s the hold up?’
Jared shrugs, his glance evasive.
Jensen’s had enough of this shit. He grasps Jared’s shoulders and shakes him. ‘You’re going tomorrow. First thing.’
‘But-’
‘No Jared, I mean it,’ he shakes Jared again.
Jared sways into him, arms looping around him and face mashed in the crook of his neck. Poor thing’s probably worn out with hunger.
He rubs between Jared’s shoulder blades, kneading, and says, ‘early night for you. Go on, I’ll finish up down here.’
Still, he doesn’t release Jared. Kneads both hands down Jared’s back, loosening the kinks and knots. Warmed by satisfaction when Jared hmms and sags onto him.
*
Their early morning routine is pretty much carved in stone. Usually he’s still muzzy with sleep when Jared comes into his room, and Jared will scoot up behind him and stroke him fully awake, or roll him on his back and blow him into consciousness. Hot mouth and sure hands, hoarse I love you’s branded just above his navel. It’s not an awful way to wake up.
This morning, Jared deviates from routine. Rolls him onto his belly and feathers kisses down his spine. They’re light, kind of tickly, and he smiles, too sleep-drugged to manage laughter.
‘What you doing, Jay?’
Jared runs a finger along the waistband of his boxers, back and forth, twice then three times. ‘Jensen,’ he tugs the waistband down, ‘I’m sorry, man.’
And a quick, sharp jab stings Jensen’s ass cheek, so unexpected he yelps, rearing his head up.
Jared, the fucking bastard, has the nerve to shush him. ‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ voice low and intimate, body draped over him like a lead blanket pinning him down.
With the sedative leaching the strength out of him, he has no hope of bucking Jared off. Can’t even cuss at him properly because his tongue’s as sluggish as the rest of him.
‘Bastard, you’re a fuckin’…why’d you have to go and ruin it?’ he slurs, eyelids heavy and slipping shut. ‘We were…you and me were doing…’ his head’s heavy too, wavering. He sinks his brow into the pillow, sighs, succumbs.
Chapter Five