RPS | NC-17 | But Instead
Title: But Instead
Words: ~2,600
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexes
Warnings: Smut for smut's sake
Summary: His mind fights this moment, tells him to stop before it goes somewhere they can’t explain away in the morning. But instead, Jensen’s fingers tighten in Jared’s hair, keeping him on his mouth as he leans back into the couch cushions, pushing his legs out in reply.
Notes: Read some good smut today (rhythmsextion and timehasa_way I'm lookin' atchoo) and wanted to do my own. Kidnasorta inspired by Pitbull’s “Uno, Dos, Tres, Quatro” (never thought I'd say that)
Jensen’s pretty sure he’s not drunk. And he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining things when he spots Jared constantly throwing him glances from where he stands with other members of the crew. The looks are long and hold Jensen tight in his chest, but Jared just turns away each time like he’s too busy with the conversation to do anything other than stare. Jensen’s not ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t even know about the looks if he wasn’t watching himself. But he can’t help that. Jared stands at least four inches above anyone else in his conversation, and he’s just got that ease to him that draws everyone in. Apparently, even Jensen.
Throughout the night, the looks drag on. Jensen finds himself looking for Jared even more than he normally does. His eyes lock on to his mouth as it shares stories. They look at the bulge in his throat that pops out when he knocks back a shot. And another. And one last one … and this time, the eyes follow a trail of liquor that leaks out from his lips, courses a tempting, wet trail down his chin. Jared’s tongue flicks out to grab what it can reach, and the rest is cleared away by his lengthy, slim index and middle fingers. Jensen wants to turn away, ignore this moment. But instead, he gulps and drains the rest of his beer.
When Jared looks over, raising his chin just so, Jensen inhales and demands another bottle.
Jensen steps out to the beer garden for a cigarette. He puffs in his relaxation and exhales his nerves, unable to forget the steady gaze, the heavy lids, and the solid eyes locked in to his. His relaxation is gone when Jared steps out with a couple guys who are lighting up themselves. It’s harder for him concentrate on the steady inhale and exhale of the nicotine and smoke when Jared’s eyes are watching him again. This time, they’re low, set on Jensen’s mouth as he drags from the cigarette, as the lips curl around the end. He thinks to smirk, cocky and assuredly, make a joke about how Jared can’t hide how great he thinks Jensen is. But instead, he takes an excessively long breath with his next puff, and then has to look away, dropping the butt to the ground and putting it out with the edge of his shoe.
Jared finds him not long after, sliding a strong grip to his shoulder, like any other time, but the warmth is new. “I’m gonna head out. You wanna go home?”
He’s thinking Not really because he wants to keep drinking and this is strange between them, and he’s not sure what to do about it. Jared’s hand drags along his back, palm pressed tight and then it’s gone, leaving a trail of heat that empties into a chill. The words I’d rather stay are coming on his tongue. But instead, Jensen reluctantly shivers, and with eyelids dropping low, he finishes his beer and nods.
Everything crackles in Jared’s truck as they take the ten minute ride back to the house. There’s no real conversation, just low hums of the local rock station keeping them company. Jensen likes this song. He hates it this moment.
Inside the house, Jared quietly salutes the dogs, lets them out, and leans against the doorway to the back lawn. He shoots semi-casual glances back to Jensen getting a bottle of water from the fridge and carefully looking back. When the dogs are done, Jared gathers them into the room where they sleep and he closes the door, softly, before joining Jensen in the kitchen.
“Have a good time?” Jensen asks, doing his best to keep his voice steady. This here is also uncomfortable and he hates it even more than the car ride.
“Yeah, it was cool,” Jared answers easily. He moves around Jensen to grab his own bottle of water.
“TV?” He hears Jared’s low Mmhmm and he settles into the couch, trying to find some mind-numbing movie to waste the time he needs for this moment to pass.
Jared falls into the couch, knees spread and bottle hanging from a giant palm off his thigh. Jensen can’t not watch it. It feels like he’s the one now who can’t stop looking, chancing glances from the corner of his eye every few minutes. Jared’s head lolls over, watching Jensen’s profile as he swallows more water, and Jensen’s pretty sure he’s eyeing his Adam’s apple. It’s startling and he doesn’t know what to do, so he just turns right back and catches Jared’s lazy eyes locked onto his face. He wants to ask if he’s okay, what’s wrong, what’s going on. But instead, all the words fail in his throat and he’s just breathing deeply at a measured pace and staring right back.
It burns long moments into his brain until Jared turns away, leans forward, and drops his water bottle to the table. Then he’s turning from his seated position, closing their gap and still watching. Jensen can’t tell if it’s predatory or possessive or what, but it’s burning in his chest and he wants relief, but is afraid of what that entails.
Jared’s hand presses into the cushion, just beside Jensen’s leg, and he leans closer. His voice drops, along with his eyes, like he can’t look at Jensen when he asks, “Lemme try something?”
His heart is thumping hard and loud in his head, and he wants to ask Like what?. But instead, he hears how the question would crack on his voice and slowly nods, eyelids dropping, eyelashes crowding his vision.
With a quick hand, Jared mans the remote to turn off the TV, leaving them in fuzzy silence. They’re inches away before Jensen can realize it and Jared’s hovering, his breath moist on Jensen’s mouth, arm resting just beyond him at the top of the couch. “I saw you watching me,” Jared murmurs, not moving any closer but not away either.
He wants to say You were watching me. But instead, he nods again, feeling how heavy the air is, heavier than this moment.
Jared closes in, mouth pressing into his and opening immediately, sucking on Jensen’s lips. On instinct, Jensen pushes right back, spreading his lips, taking Jared’s tongue, pressing just as hard in return. Jared’s hand slides over his jaw, back to his neck, holding possessively as they work against each other. Jensen thinks he should stop, he should pull away. This isn’t real, he’s imagining this moment. But instead, he sits up to get closer, chest to chest, his hand going Jared’s hair. His mind alarms him this is too much, he should stop. But instead, his fingers thread into the curls at the back of Jared’s neck, yanking, pulling, bringing him closer.
With heavy breathing, Jared pulls back just enough that the kiss breaks but they’re still in each other’s space. The eyes won’t look at Jensen’s. They’re looking down and his chest is puffing in and out and his nose is nearly whistling as it exhales loudly. It’s deafening compared to how gently he asks, “Lemme try something else?”
Jensen wants to actually ask this time, but instead the corner of his mouth picks up and he nods. The smile spreads further when the heel of Jared’s hand runs down his chest, the press of bone hard against his torso and even harder when it gets to the crest in his pants. The one Jensen didn’t even realize he had. Jared cups him through his jeans, fingers curling under and holding him in place. So slowly, he squeezes and it’s then that he looks up to Jensen, mouth parting when he sees the wash of sensation flicker in Jensen’s eyes. “You like that?”
“Fuck,” he mumbles back. Wants to say yes, yes, that there. But instead his eyes drop closed and his head nudges Jared’s. The pressure between their foreheads increase as the pressure of Jared’s hand swells and he starts massaging Jensen.
Jared’s nose and mouth tip up to Jensen’s cheek. He mumbles, “You looked so … God, tonight.”
Jensen’s mouth works open, feeling how rough the jeans are against his hard-on, but Jared’s hand just keeps on. The voice is heavy when he asks, “What? Tonight what?”
His mouth is back to hovering over Jensen’s, noses pressed together and lungs working overtime. “Lemme?”
While his hand flexes at the back of Jared’s neck, Jensen finally works the question out, “Let you what?”
Jared’s hand opens, releasing Jensen, and then it slides up the zipper and beneath his shirt. Fingers on his belly, soft and burning.
“God, J.”
The palm flattens just above his button, pressing meaningfully as he kisses again. Tongue pushing in, languid and thick, flicking at Jensen’s mouth, at his tongue, through his lips. As Jensen works right back, pressing back on the slick underside of Jared’s tongue, Jared murmurs, “Jen?”
His mind fights this moment, tells him to stop before it goes somewhere they can’t explain away in the morning. But instead, Jensen’s fingers tighten in Jared’s hair, keeping him on his mouth as he leans back into the couch cushions, pushing his legs out in reply.
Jared turns from the kiss, his temple lodged against Jensen’s forehead so he can watch his fingers pluck the button free, tug down the zipper. His hand slips into the jeans and Jensen’s legs go wider, further out to allow access, and Jared groans at the passage. The fingers spread out over Jensen’s boxers, an oh-so-thin veil between skin. He murmurs, “God, Jen.”
Jensen can’t manage words to respond, but instead his hips buck up into Jared’s touch, and again when he hears Jared’s groan. His eyes keep the same line as Jared’s, eyeing the length of Jared’s hand covering him, fingers disappearing into his pants on each stroke down. They aren’t even touching, the boxers still blocking the full sensation, but Jensen thinks it’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time. Until Jared begins to withdraw his hand and it’s in the air. They’ve crossed the boundary and Jared’s confidence is waning. Jensen thinks he should let it go, leave the room and just jack himself off in his own room. But instead, he mumbles, “Hey, c’mere,” as his hand slips from Jared’s neck and gropes his side. He tugs at Jared’s belt loop to shift him closer and the edges of his fingers tiptoe across denim until he can cup Jared, feel how hard he is right here, how much Jensen has gotten to him.
The sound of air increases tenfold as Jared thrusts his hand back in and Jensen pushes his other hand to the back of Jared’s head, keeping him close. Jensen’s thumb releases Jared’s button and there’s another sharp inhale. The crackling of the zipper stalls Jared just long enough, as if he’s waiting for Jensen to stop there. But instead, Jensen slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, sliding down to spread over the slick of his head. Jared hisses at the impact and his hand stalls again, eyes watching Jensen’s hand slide down further into his pants, holding more of him, wide palm to fat cock, warmth everywhere. After a few moments, Jared finally moves, shifting back and spreading his legs just as Jensen is, allowing more access. Jensen pulls the elastic down, coaxing him out and then lightly holds him, so slowly stroking up and back down. Up and down. Jared hisses again and his hand squeezes against Jensen, fingers spreading open and over him.
Jensen’s beyond turned on, can’t believe the way Jared’s sounding against him, how distracted he is right here, and the power is intoxicating. He wants to make Jared squirm, run him fast through this. But instead, his hand never goes tight, it just fondles and runs the length of Jared’s shaft at a maddeningly slow and gently hold. Jared’s eating it all up, rutting into his hand and barely able to do anything in Jensen’s pants aside from grasp and release at random moments. Jensen feels a burn in his belly and it runs down into his groin, back into his dick, all caused by how he’s making Jared react. Fire wanting to get itself out and he wants Jared to do it, so he hitches up into the hold as he continues to push down on Jared’s cock, using the precome to slip-slide easily.
He finally catches up; Jared dips fingers within Jensen’s boxers, pulling him out and inhaling at the sight of how thick and pink he is, how the veins are solid up and down with how hard he is. Jared holds it, and as Jensen continues stroking him, building the flames inside his own body, he pumps, harder and faster than Jensen is but they both take it and aren’t surprised. Jensen’s careful movements, gentle and patient to Jared’s impulses, his drive to get to the end.
They’re watching each other. Jensen keeps his eyes trained on the slow flow of his own hand reaching the head and squeezing, then running down the base. Jared sucks in air at the same quick pace of his hand, driving Jensen’s brain to his dick. And their minds burn with this moment, etching it into memory as heat and passion and release. Because suddenly, they’re both jacking their hips into the other’s hands, increasing the pressure, increasing speed and friction. They’re both grunting and they’re both pushing foreheads against each other for support, like they need to touch up top and down below, a mixture of care and heady sex between them.
Jensen keeps hitching up, starts murmuring, “C’mon, J. Yeah, c’mon.” Jared’s hand stutters, the words, the softness and breath of Jensen’s voice going right along with the grace of his fingers stroking him, and he’s moaning. Jared’s hand squeezes harder, moves faster, waits for Jensen to cry from the pain of the friction. But instead, he’s humming high and just pumping right into Jared’s fist before he finally breaks, needles all over his skin, come all over Jared’s hand.
Seeing it, the white shine over his fingers, Jensen frantically fucking his hand through the orgasm, rockets Jared right over and he stutters out moans as his mouth fractures open and he shoots across Jensen’s hand and his own pants.
They huff air together and lean back into the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, hands still on each other for a few more moments until they release, Jared settling the messy hand on his stomach, almost relishing the fact that he’s got parts of Jensen soaking his shirt. Jensen rubs his hands over his thighs and they stay there while he stares at the empty screen on the wall.
Jensen chances a glance over, watches Jared’s profile, the pop of his Adam’s apple thick in his throat as he swallows. “Hey,” he says quietly, so many questions heavy on that one word.
Jared’s eyes slip closed and his fingers dig into his shirt, pressing hard into his stomach. There’s a tiny smile, one Jensen knows he’s trying to hide. “I’m good.”
He wants to say so much right here. But instead, Jensen says, “Yeah,” his Me, too implied.
Next | Breaking Good: No one around them suspects that they’d jacked each other off the night before. And for a bit of the night, they practically forget, too. Until they get home and Jensen watches Jared lean into the light of the open refrigerator, one arm up and holding it wide. It’s the most casual stance and the least likely thing to set him off, but Jensen feels Jared’s hand on him from the night before, and he immediately needs relief from that pressure.
Words: ~2,600
Rating: NC-17 - swearing and sexes
Warnings: Smut for smut's sake
Summary: His mind fights this moment, tells him to stop before it goes somewhere they can’t explain away in the morning. But instead, Jensen’s fingers tighten in Jared’s hair, keeping him on his mouth as he leans back into the couch cushions, pushing his legs out in reply.
Notes: Read some good smut today (rhythmsextion and timehasa_way I'm lookin' atchoo) and wanted to do my own. Kidnasorta inspired by Pitbull’s “Uno, Dos, Tres, Quatro” (never thought I'd say that)
Jensen’s pretty sure he’s not drunk. And he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining things when he spots Jared constantly throwing him glances from where he stands with other members of the crew. The looks are long and hold Jensen tight in his chest, but Jared just turns away each time like he’s too busy with the conversation to do anything other than stare. Jensen’s not ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t even know about the looks if he wasn’t watching himself. But he can’t help that. Jared stands at least four inches above anyone else in his conversation, and he’s just got that ease to him that draws everyone in. Apparently, even Jensen.
Throughout the night, the looks drag on. Jensen finds himself looking for Jared even more than he normally does. His eyes lock on to his mouth as it shares stories. They look at the bulge in his throat that pops out when he knocks back a shot. And another. And one last one … and this time, the eyes follow a trail of liquor that leaks out from his lips, courses a tempting, wet trail down his chin. Jared’s tongue flicks out to grab what it can reach, and the rest is cleared away by his lengthy, slim index and middle fingers. Jensen wants to turn away, ignore this moment. But instead, he gulps and drains the rest of his beer.
When Jared looks over, raising his chin just so, Jensen inhales and demands another bottle.
Jensen steps out to the beer garden for a cigarette. He puffs in his relaxation and exhales his nerves, unable to forget the steady gaze, the heavy lids, and the solid eyes locked in to his. His relaxation is gone when Jared steps out with a couple guys who are lighting up themselves. It’s harder for him concentrate on the steady inhale and exhale of the nicotine and smoke when Jared’s eyes are watching him again. This time, they’re low, set on Jensen’s mouth as he drags from the cigarette, as the lips curl around the end. He thinks to smirk, cocky and assuredly, make a joke about how Jared can’t hide how great he thinks Jensen is. But instead, he takes an excessively long breath with his next puff, and then has to look away, dropping the butt to the ground and putting it out with the edge of his shoe.
Jared finds him not long after, sliding a strong grip to his shoulder, like any other time, but the warmth is new. “I’m gonna head out. You wanna go home?”
He’s thinking Not really because he wants to keep drinking and this is strange between them, and he’s not sure what to do about it. Jared’s hand drags along his back, palm pressed tight and then it’s gone, leaving a trail of heat that empties into a chill. The words I’d rather stay are coming on his tongue. But instead, Jensen reluctantly shivers, and with eyelids dropping low, he finishes his beer and nods.
Everything crackles in Jared’s truck as they take the ten minute ride back to the house. There’s no real conversation, just low hums of the local rock station keeping them company. Jensen likes this song. He hates it this moment.
Inside the house, Jared quietly salutes the dogs, lets them out, and leans against the doorway to the back lawn. He shoots semi-casual glances back to Jensen getting a bottle of water from the fridge and carefully looking back. When the dogs are done, Jared gathers them into the room where they sleep and he closes the door, softly, before joining Jensen in the kitchen.
“Have a good time?” Jensen asks, doing his best to keep his voice steady. This here is also uncomfortable and he hates it even more than the car ride.
“Yeah, it was cool,” Jared answers easily. He moves around Jensen to grab his own bottle of water.
“TV?” He hears Jared’s low Mmhmm and he settles into the couch, trying to find some mind-numbing movie to waste the time he needs for this moment to pass.
Jared falls into the couch, knees spread and bottle hanging from a giant palm off his thigh. Jensen can’t not watch it. It feels like he’s the one now who can’t stop looking, chancing glances from the corner of his eye every few minutes. Jared’s head lolls over, watching Jensen’s profile as he swallows more water, and Jensen’s pretty sure he’s eyeing his Adam’s apple. It’s startling and he doesn’t know what to do, so he just turns right back and catches Jared’s lazy eyes locked onto his face. He wants to ask if he’s okay, what’s wrong, what’s going on. But instead, all the words fail in his throat and he’s just breathing deeply at a measured pace and staring right back.
It burns long moments into his brain until Jared turns away, leans forward, and drops his water bottle to the table. Then he’s turning from his seated position, closing their gap and still watching. Jensen can’t tell if it’s predatory or possessive or what, but it’s burning in his chest and he wants relief, but is afraid of what that entails.
Jared’s hand presses into the cushion, just beside Jensen’s leg, and he leans closer. His voice drops, along with his eyes, like he can’t look at Jensen when he asks, “Lemme try something?”
His heart is thumping hard and loud in his head, and he wants to ask Like what?. But instead, he hears how the question would crack on his voice and slowly nods, eyelids dropping, eyelashes crowding his vision.
With a quick hand, Jared mans the remote to turn off the TV, leaving them in fuzzy silence. They’re inches away before Jensen can realize it and Jared’s hovering, his breath moist on Jensen’s mouth, arm resting just beyond him at the top of the couch. “I saw you watching me,” Jared murmurs, not moving any closer but not away either.
He wants to say You were watching me. But instead, he nods again, feeling how heavy the air is, heavier than this moment.
Jared closes in, mouth pressing into his and opening immediately, sucking on Jensen’s lips. On instinct, Jensen pushes right back, spreading his lips, taking Jared’s tongue, pressing just as hard in return. Jared’s hand slides over his jaw, back to his neck, holding possessively as they work against each other. Jensen thinks he should stop, he should pull away. This isn’t real, he’s imagining this moment. But instead, he sits up to get closer, chest to chest, his hand going Jared’s hair. His mind alarms him this is too much, he should stop. But instead, his fingers thread into the curls at the back of Jared’s neck, yanking, pulling, bringing him closer.
With heavy breathing, Jared pulls back just enough that the kiss breaks but they’re still in each other’s space. The eyes won’t look at Jensen’s. They’re looking down and his chest is puffing in and out and his nose is nearly whistling as it exhales loudly. It’s deafening compared to how gently he asks, “Lemme try something else?”
Jensen wants to actually ask this time, but instead the corner of his mouth picks up and he nods. The smile spreads further when the heel of Jared’s hand runs down his chest, the press of bone hard against his torso and even harder when it gets to the crest in his pants. The one Jensen didn’t even realize he had. Jared cups him through his jeans, fingers curling under and holding him in place. So slowly, he squeezes and it’s then that he looks up to Jensen, mouth parting when he sees the wash of sensation flicker in Jensen’s eyes. “You like that?”
“Fuck,” he mumbles back. Wants to say yes, yes, that there. But instead his eyes drop closed and his head nudges Jared’s. The pressure between their foreheads increase as the pressure of Jared’s hand swells and he starts massaging Jensen.
Jared’s nose and mouth tip up to Jensen’s cheek. He mumbles, “You looked so … God, tonight.”
Jensen’s mouth works open, feeling how rough the jeans are against his hard-on, but Jared’s hand just keeps on. The voice is heavy when he asks, “What? Tonight what?”
His mouth is back to hovering over Jensen’s, noses pressed together and lungs working overtime. “Lemme?”
While his hand flexes at the back of Jared’s neck, Jensen finally works the question out, “Let you what?”
Jared’s hand opens, releasing Jensen, and then it slides up the zipper and beneath his shirt. Fingers on his belly, soft and burning.
“God, J.”
The palm flattens just above his button, pressing meaningfully as he kisses again. Tongue pushing in, languid and thick, flicking at Jensen’s mouth, at his tongue, through his lips. As Jensen works right back, pressing back on the slick underside of Jared’s tongue, Jared murmurs, “Jen?”
His mind fights this moment, tells him to stop before it goes somewhere they can’t explain away in the morning. But instead, Jensen’s fingers tighten in Jared’s hair, keeping him on his mouth as he leans back into the couch cushions, pushing his legs out in reply.
Jared turns from the kiss, his temple lodged against Jensen’s forehead so he can watch his fingers pluck the button free, tug down the zipper. His hand slips into the jeans and Jensen’s legs go wider, further out to allow access, and Jared groans at the passage. The fingers spread out over Jensen’s boxers, an oh-so-thin veil between skin. He murmurs, “God, Jen.”
Jensen can’t manage words to respond, but instead his hips buck up into Jared’s touch, and again when he hears Jared’s groan. His eyes keep the same line as Jared’s, eyeing the length of Jared’s hand covering him, fingers disappearing into his pants on each stroke down. They aren’t even touching, the boxers still blocking the full sensation, but Jensen thinks it’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time. Until Jared begins to withdraw his hand and it’s in the air. They’ve crossed the boundary and Jared’s confidence is waning. Jensen thinks he should let it go, leave the room and just jack himself off in his own room. But instead, he mumbles, “Hey, c’mere,” as his hand slips from Jared’s neck and gropes his side. He tugs at Jared’s belt loop to shift him closer and the edges of his fingers tiptoe across denim until he can cup Jared, feel how hard he is right here, how much Jensen has gotten to him.
The sound of air increases tenfold as Jared thrusts his hand back in and Jensen pushes his other hand to the back of Jared’s head, keeping him close. Jensen’s thumb releases Jared’s button and there’s another sharp inhale. The crackling of the zipper stalls Jared just long enough, as if he’s waiting for Jensen to stop there. But instead, Jensen slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, sliding down to spread over the slick of his head. Jared hisses at the impact and his hand stalls again, eyes watching Jensen’s hand slide down further into his pants, holding more of him, wide palm to fat cock, warmth everywhere. After a few moments, Jared finally moves, shifting back and spreading his legs just as Jensen is, allowing more access. Jensen pulls the elastic down, coaxing him out and then lightly holds him, so slowly stroking up and back down. Up and down. Jared hisses again and his hand squeezes against Jensen, fingers spreading open and over him.
Jensen’s beyond turned on, can’t believe the way Jared’s sounding against him, how distracted he is right here, and the power is intoxicating. He wants to make Jared squirm, run him fast through this. But instead, his hand never goes tight, it just fondles and runs the length of Jared’s shaft at a maddeningly slow and gently hold. Jared’s eating it all up, rutting into his hand and barely able to do anything in Jensen’s pants aside from grasp and release at random moments. Jensen feels a burn in his belly and it runs down into his groin, back into his dick, all caused by how he’s making Jared react. Fire wanting to get itself out and he wants Jared to do it, so he hitches up into the hold as he continues to push down on Jared’s cock, using the precome to slip-slide easily.
He finally catches up; Jared dips fingers within Jensen’s boxers, pulling him out and inhaling at the sight of how thick and pink he is, how the veins are solid up and down with how hard he is. Jared holds it, and as Jensen continues stroking him, building the flames inside his own body, he pumps, harder and faster than Jensen is but they both take it and aren’t surprised. Jensen’s careful movements, gentle and patient to Jared’s impulses, his drive to get to the end.
They’re watching each other. Jensen keeps his eyes trained on the slow flow of his own hand reaching the head and squeezing, then running down the base. Jared sucks in air at the same quick pace of his hand, driving Jensen’s brain to his dick. And their minds burn with this moment, etching it into memory as heat and passion and release. Because suddenly, they’re both jacking their hips into the other’s hands, increasing the pressure, increasing speed and friction. They’re both grunting and they’re both pushing foreheads against each other for support, like they need to touch up top and down below, a mixture of care and heady sex between them.
Jensen keeps hitching up, starts murmuring, “C’mon, J. Yeah, c’mon.” Jared’s hand stutters, the words, the softness and breath of Jensen’s voice going right along with the grace of his fingers stroking him, and he’s moaning. Jared’s hand squeezes harder, moves faster, waits for Jensen to cry from the pain of the friction. But instead, he’s humming high and just pumping right into Jared’s fist before he finally breaks, needles all over his skin, come all over Jared’s hand.
Seeing it, the white shine over his fingers, Jensen frantically fucking his hand through the orgasm, rockets Jared right over and he stutters out moans as his mouth fractures open and he shoots across Jensen’s hand and his own pants.
They huff air together and lean back into the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, hands still on each other for a few more moments until they release, Jared settling the messy hand on his stomach, almost relishing the fact that he’s got parts of Jensen soaking his shirt. Jensen rubs his hands over his thighs and they stay there while he stares at the empty screen on the wall.
Jensen chances a glance over, watches Jared’s profile, the pop of his Adam’s apple thick in his throat as he swallows. “Hey,” he says quietly, so many questions heavy on that one word.
Jared’s eyes slip closed and his fingers dig into his shirt, pressing hard into his stomach. There’s a tiny smile, one Jensen knows he’s trying to hide. “I’m good.”
He wants to say so much right here. But instead, Jensen says, “Yeah,” his Me, too implied.
Next | Breaking Good: No one around them suspects that they’d jacked each other off the night before. And for a bit of the night, they practically forget, too. Until they get home and Jensen watches Jared lean into the light of the open refrigerator, one arm up and holding it wide. It’s the most casual stance and the least likely thing to set him off, but Jensen feels Jared’s hand on him from the night before, and he immediately needs relief from that pressure.