J2 | I Can Be Your Right of Way | NC-17
Title: I Can Be Your Right of Way (So We Can Get Outta Here)
Words: 5200
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/increased age difference (Jared is very early 20s; Jensen at least a decade older); dangerous driving; hitchhiking and potential fear of that danger; hair pulling; road head; unprotected sex; allusions to prostitution; bottom!Jared
Summary: Jared's stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a backpack and two feet that keep him walking down an empty highway. Until a stranger pulls up and offers him a ride.
Notes: This picture happened yesterday, and so I wrote this fic. Huge thanks to Twitter for enabling encouraging me, and to rozearkana for the beta! Title from Foo Fighter's "Gimme Stitches"
on AO3
Now that it’s midnight, everything seems darker. Jared blinks against the thick air of this lonely night, with his car at least three miles back and two tires torn off the rims. Machinery beneath the hood dropped and he’d skidded into the other lane before swerving over to the shoulder and wrecking the passenger-side wheels. Before that, it hadn’t been too bad of a trip, really.
He marches forward and rocks crunch beneath his feet, the ground rising slightly into the next big curve of the twirling highway he couldn’t manage to finish by car. For the third time since he abandoned his no-good, piece-of-shit car, Jared checks his still-dead cell like it'll magically come to life, then his pockets for money. He digs into the backpack over his right shoulder and pushes fingers in and out of each shirt, pair of shorts, the ziplock bag of toiletries, and into every crevice of the canvas bag in hopes he can grab hold of a bill or coin.
Nothing.
Not that it matters much. There’s nothing in sight but the dark, sandy landscape. Not even an exit sign or mile marker clues him onto where he’s going. Just up, apparently, and Jared sighs. He practically stomps his feet as the incline of the road lifts him up and away from his car. It all echoes around him, off the tall rocks that surround him on both sides and narrow into another sharp right angle. Once Jared makes it around the corner, he huffs another loud breath when the elevation makes his calves and thighs tingle with exertion. Which is fucking insane; he’s a young guy, healthy, active on a few intramural leagues back at Washington State. He can handle a bit of climbing, but maybe not after driving for twelve hours without stopping, outside pissing on the side of the road to avoid crowded rest stops and loud children cooped up in minivans for too long.
He pushes sweaty hair off his forehead and keeps on marching. As the dry, dense air is hell the breathe, he pretends this is nothing more than exercise. Pretends he’s not stuck in the middle of nowhere, trying to get home from college. Pretends his parents didn’t warn him against doing such a thing with his ’89 Oldsmobile good for little more than traipsing around campus.
Washington to Texas? By car? Your car? You obviously failed geography. What're you learnin' up there? his dad had pestered.
Just as he gets to the next landing, a flat patch of road going off into nowhere with no lights to guide it, he hears the roar of an engine behind him. Forty-some minutes and he’s been out here with no sounds beyond his own.
It’s thrilling as it is terrifying, this sudden rush of movement chasing after him. The canal he just traversed glows with headlamps sweeping left to right until a vehicle appears at the mouth of the cavern. Headlights glare and blind him, and he stumbles off into the brush on the shoulder as dust kicks up around him. Tires grind to a halt and a noisy engine, one worse off than his had been, grumbles a fine mess of clunky gears just ten feet away.
Jared strikes a hand through the air to clear dust and grime away, and slowly rises from his short crouch to see the dark shape of a truck stopped on the road. The engine settles into a shaky cough as the cloud of dirt settles back down to the ground. Now Jared can see it’s red, maybe candy apple. Some old classic thing with a low flatbed and high, rounded cab.
Inside that red bubble sits a man held back by dark shadows. Jared can only make out the creaminess of a bench seat, legs spread beneath the oversized steering wheel, and the tall stretch of man taking up the driver’s side seat.
Holding his breath, Jared stands tall to hide any nerves, clutches his backpack over his shoulder, and does his very best to not relive many-a-scene of Dateline's greatest mysteries, which he’d watched just two days ago with that pretty, spunky redhead who works the front desk of his dormitory and always shows off her banging rack.
He’d used the episode about disappearing college kids as an excuse to tuck her slim body at his side … now his mind is using it against him and creating a whirlwind of bad decisions leading to worse situations.
Another bad decision is not continuing on and instead just standing still to listen to the rough noise of the driver clearing his throat and rickety shake of the engine threatening to cut out. The man adjusts the brim of his hat and smacks his lips together before looking right at Jared. Still, the slant of the hat blocks his eyes and Jared only gets the shadowy line of the man’s nose and full lips.
“Where ya headin’?” he calls out, voice deep like the murky ocean.
Jared remains silent, unsure of the threat in that truck.
“Do you speak English?” After another stretch of quiet, the man asks, not unkindly, “Are you mute?”
He knows this isn’t safe, knows he should keep walking. His brain is a fine-tuned instrument of both book and street smarts, and he’s certain he should keep moving if he has any hope of staying on track.
“You need a ride or what, boy?”
The roughness to that last word scrapes deep inside his belly, and it’s a little more than pleasant warmth filling Jared’s blood now. “My car broke down,” he manages from the depth of his nervous mouth.
“Yeah? Fuck-off of a place for that to happen.” There’s a low, meaty chuckle echoing out from the cab and rattling Jared’s insides. “Where you going?”
“For the short-term or …”
“For the whatever-term. I got a free seat here inside Bess.” He thumps his palm on the open space next to him. Jared’s eyes adjust the longer he stares, and he can see the shape of the man’s muscular arm and the tone of his legs kept within tight khaki shorts, sculpted calves bending down toward the foot well. It isn’t helping his decision, not at all.
Jared looks in either direction and weighs his options. Keep walking and get murdered by a coyote, or rest for a little while on white leather and take his chances with a gruff stranger. He doesn’t remember the decision, but his ass meeting the soft, well-treated bench seat grants him reprieve from walking for another hour or two in the middle of the night. The quick breeze spilling in through the open windows, picking up as the truck does, settles his overheated worries to appreciating the quick save from the dark, dry night.
“Thank you so much,” Jared says once the truck’s hauling at full speed.
“Don’t mention it.”
He thinks about repaying the favor, pats his pockets uselessly, and worries about how they’ll be even at the end of this leg of the trip. “May be a bad time to tell you … but I don’t have any money.”
The man glances over, and even in the darkness his wide eyes shine beneath the lid of his hat. And now Jared can tell the man is older, far older than him. Some hands-on worker type. One who probably don't give out things for free, but makes ya earn it because ten cents are still a dime. "For what?” He asks, surprising Jared out of his first impression.
“As payment, or help, since you’re doing this and all.”
There’s a long trail of the man’s tongue over his bottom lip, and Jared unconsciously watches every millimeter. "Yeah? You think so?”
“Seems only fitting, after you stopping for a lonely college kid on the side of the road.”
The man shrugs, dark brow flitting up and down just as quickly. “It happens to all of us. I’d be a bigger bastard if I didn’t stop, right?”
Jared snorts to himself. “The kindness of strangers, huh?”
There’s a long pause between them, the guy glancing over with narrowed eyes and parted lips, his tongue peeking out between clenched teeth. Long eyelashes flutter down to his cheeks as he turns back towards the windshield and clears his throat. “Something like that.”
Panic quickly strikes Jared, nearly cutting him in half with anxiety warring against a practical nature that wants to believe this is all okay. That he will be okay, everything is safe and normal.
In seconds, Jared hatches an escape plan to whip the passenger door open then tuck and roll against the pavement. That is, if the driver doesn’t pass a few of his tests. Just a simple run of questions should reveal if the man’s just quiet and reserved, or silently plotting Jared’s neck getting slit.
“So what’s your name?” Jared asks lightly, putting on a simple smile.
The man’s fingers stretch out over the top of the steering wheel then clench down around it. Those thick fingers grab Jared’s attention, more so than the response. “Jensen. Ackles. You?”
“Jared … Padalecki,” he replies with the same smooth pause that Jensen had taken. First and last names are good to keep track of, especially as Jensen keeps aiming hooded looks his way. “What’re you doing out here this late?”
“Headin’ for an early morning pick-up. Feed for my horses. What about you, Jared?”
The roll of his name off Jensen’s pert lips makes Jared uncomfortable in his jeans, denim suddenly scratching against the skin of his thighs. Jared sits up straight, does his best to ignore his body’s instant satisfaction at Jensen’s warm tone.
“Was heading home, but got stuck a few miles past where you found me.”
Jensen’s lips curl into a smirk. “So you’re looking for a payphone in the mountains?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Just seemed smart to get to walking somewhere other than where I was stuck.”
Jensen’s nod prompts Jared to do so as well and they both go silent for a stretch of land. Nearly ten minutes later, they pass a highway sign, directing traffic to the right for the next rest area. Jared sits up, then curses under his breath and bites his lower lip. “Probably ain’t open this late,” he mumbles. Then he’s startled by Jensen’s slow laugh. “What?”
It seems as though Jensen has to muster up the nerve for his question, but once he gets it out, it’s bold as the summer sun. “You always sell up in the mountains?”
“Sell what?” Then it hits him, and Jared squawks out, “What do you make me out for?”
Jensen chuckles again, still deep and muddy in his chest. “Man, if the shoe fits …”
Self-righteous anger rises up and Jared shifts closer to the door to put space between them. “The shoe don’t fit.”
“You think your stranded angel act is so solid I don't see through it?”
“There ain’t a fucking shoe around here, and I ain’t a hooker. My shitty Oldsmobile broke down, overheated, transmission dropped out … it’s fucking done.”
Now Jensen's voice goes easy, a slow hand patting thin air just inches from Jared’s knee. “I didn’t say that. Calm down now, kid.”
“I am calm,” he insists, even when his knee jerks up and down, as if daring himself to let Jensen’s hand settle down on it.
“I was just sayin’, if you was one … a salesman … it’s a shitty place to try.”
“Why’d you think I was one?”
The highway finally widens from one lone lane out to two in each direction and streetlamps rise from the shoulders to steer them southeast. The quick flashes of light grant view of Jensen’s smile. “Good-looking boy like you? With the tight shirt and tight ass? What else would you be doing?”
It’s brave, and inviting, and startling, all at once. Especially when the road narrows back down to one straight lane and the streetlamps are in the rear view mirror. It all puts Jared back into silence as he stares out the passenger-side window.
“It’s meant as a compliment, bud.” Jensen adds a light scoff to the quick tap of his hand over Jared’s knee, but then they’re sharing a shocked little breath when Jared goes to brush Jensen’s hand away and ends up covering it instead. He locks the heat of Jensen’s palm against his jeans, seeping through denim and into his skin. The ridges of Jensen’s knuckles are more pronounced when he stretches his fingers out then flattens them away from Jared’s knee. “You sure you ain’t in sales?”
Jared’s low Yeah, echoes in the cab and rattles around in his head for a while. He lets his hand up, watches as Jensen withdraws his own, and sucks in a wet breath. Holding it in tight, he stares down at his hands turned over on his knees, wondering why in the hell he did that.
“You ever try it back in your fancy-pants college?”
“What?”
“Back at school, everyone does it, right? Fumbles around until they find a slot they fit in?”
He blinks away the confusion of what just happened and repeats Jensen’s questions again. Now flashes of hard muscle and rough mouths come to the forefront. “Yeah,” he breathes out, losing control of his lungs that clench tight along with his quickening heart.
“You did, huh?” Jensen sounds amused, satisfied, and looks it when he shifts in his seat. His left leg hitches up higher against the door while his right slides him lower in the seat. Jared can’t avoid the press of the seatbelt’s buckle resting right over Jensen’s crotch, doing little to hide the pleasant bulge there.
“I did, too. That’s how I realized I like a li’l variety in my diet. Why settle for the same menu every day when you can sample the buffet?”
Jared’s mouth waters, but surely it’s from the heat he trudged through for nearly an hour, or the whipping wind coming in through the windows. His eyes are also quite taken with the motion of Jensen’s hips jutting forward as he adjusts the spread of his legs once again.
“See something you like now, kid?”
He immediately looks up and catches Jensen’s dead-on gaze. Dark, wide, imploring eyes reach deep into Jared and he suddenly has no real qualms about anything as he feels himself floating into something new, something hazy yet inviting.
Jensen spreads his hand over his right thigh, following the slope of it as if inviting Jared to be right there. “Ain’t gotta be anything bad about it. You could consider it payment.”
“Payment for what?” Jared mumbles, eyes tracking back up to Jensen’s.
“For the ride and all …”
Jared’s breath catches, refuses to spill out, and his question is choked out from his tight throat. “What about the kindness of strangers?”
“You tell me … how kind are you?”
Jared glances out into the night passing them and is suddenly thankful it’s taken up its cruel darkness again. There’s a small slip of earth that opens up between bushes and willowy trees lining the highway, and Jared keeps his sights to it even as they pass. He wonders if they should’ve stopped there, if another one will find them.
His eyes are trained far ahead to spot another break in the shoulder, too focused to fully recognize how dark his voice gets until it’s too late. “You fittin’ to pull over?”
Jensen’s sigh is heavy and wet, especially when his hand slides in closer to the thick bulge in his shorts. Thumb and forefinger stretching along the length of it and pressing in. “Think we might lose a li’l time, no?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jared whispers, not wanting to admit it himself. Admit that this is heading right where it is, or that he’s looking forward to it. The latter is evident when he shifts towards the driver’s seat and feels the rough tug of his jeans against his dick, filling fast with excitement and fever-hot blood.
“Look at that,” Jensen murmurs with his eyes locked onto Jared’s hard-on. He lifts his head and the edge of his hat to smile at Jared, clear and warm. “Knew you’d be a big trooper.”
Jared releases a quick, nervous laugh. Especially as he can now see more of Jensen’s face and the smooth slope of his cheek and jaw lines, the tense pull of his furrowed brows. Boldly making himself dive forward, he covers Jensen’s hand with his own, massages the warm skin of his knuckles, and tucks their fingers in tighter to Jensen’s shorts.
The broken gasp that follows eggs Jared on, and he shuffles closer to lick around the shell of Jensen’s ear. He’s paid in full with Jensen’s hand breaking away and palming Jared’s dick, using the grip to tug Jared closer, hip to hip.
Jared trails his lips down Jensen’s neck, licks and bits at the taut skin, nibbles at the rumbling artery bunching in his neck. Jensen gasps again and Jared pays extra attention here as his hand slides along the zipper, tucking denim in tight beneath Jensen’s dick. He rubs down lower to reach Jensen’s balls, maybe even his ass if it’s possible in the strict confines of these fitted shorts.
Jensen ducks his head down and grabs hold of Jared’s mouth with insistent lips. It’s a hungry, foggy duel, with Jared using his other hand to grab the back of Jensen’s head. He slips his fingers through soft layers of growing hair, tips the hat off his head, and pulls back a few inches to see the mess of Jensen’s raw lips and wild eyes and mussed-up hair.
Frozen in time, Jared watches as Jensen blinks at him, licks and bites his lower lip, and continues to squeeze at Jared’s pants, like he’s trying to peel the fabric away from his body. He’s drifting away from reality and into some universe where giving roadhead to a complete-albeit beautiful-stranger is status quo. Like he won’t be ashamed when he walks away from the pick-up with sticky boxers behind manhandled jeans, and Jensen goes on to pick up the next stranded rat he can find.
The sudden jerk of the car reminds Jared they’re in a moving vehicle, and their gaze is broken while Jensen rights the truck back into their lane.
Ultimate jeopardy is overcome by sexual need when Jensen lets out another dark, greedy laugh. “Looks like there’s not enough road for us.”
Out the windshield is nothing but dirt flying through headlights and unending asphalt. Jared thinks there’s plenty of road to get them where they need to be, and he takes it into his own control by getting to work on Jensen’s fly. He flicks open five buttons that are tight as hell and making Jared dizzy with the thoughts of how Jensen manages to pack himself into these pants.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Jensen mumbles as he lifts his ass off the seat, encouraging Jared to bring them down off his hips along with his briefs. He runs his hand over Jared’s cheek and curls fingers around Jared’s hair. “Fuck, yeah, go for it, Jared.”
The weight of Jensen’s hand grows as Jared bends down, stretches his feet further into the foot well on his side of the car. He licks over the pearly drop of precome at the tip of Jensen’s cock then closes his lips over it and suckles at the white-hot, swollen skin.
Grunting loudly, arching up off the seat, Jensen tightens his hands in Jared’s hair then flexes the fingers out with a mumbled apology. Jared looks up to Jensen and is met with a heated look that begs for more, just as Jared does because something flared deep down to his toes and Jared liked it.
No, he fucking loved it.
“Do it again,” Jared begs.
Jensen combs through hair and lightly pumps his hips, like he just can't not. “Do what?”
Jared bites his lower lip and drops his eyelids to near closed. “Both.” Jensen tugs at his hair and Jared chokes out, “Shit, that,” before bringing his mouth back to Jensen’s dick. He nuzzles the tip and runs his lips down the side of it, finally making Jensen fully moan by dropping down on his cock with his tongue pressed tightly against the vein underneath.
“Fucking … Jared, open your mouth, open it,” he pleads, and Jared listens. With his mouth and jaws pulled wide, Jensen lifts his hips up and tugs Jared’s hair to force him down. He goes for it a few more times and the truck stutters when his foot smacks the gas unevenly.
Jared sets his arm over Jensen’s hips like a vice and surrenders freedom to the hand forcing his head down. He keeps his mouth open, teeth clear, and sucks over Jensen’s dick. He slobbers all over it, too, saliva spilling out the sides of Jared’s lips, all down Jensen’s fat, red, needy dick, and down into the wiry coils of pubic hair.
It’s loud and lewd, and something Jared hasn’t done for a few years, but he clearly remembers late practices with the swim team and going down on the butterfly’s second position. He does it again here and chokes every few thrusts, but takes the rest with pleasure. And that pleasure grows to stark heights when Jensen releases vibrato whimpers, sharps sounds that are then eaten up by the wind whipping faster as the truck charges beyond safe speeds.
Jared pushes himself as close to the base as possible, gurgling around Jensen’s cock and turning his head this way and that, slicking his tongue along the shaft. He’d keep going for hours, if he could, except Jensen tosses him off and cuts to the right. The big wheels of the truck jerk the cab around as Jensen steers them over low bushes and then slams the brake pedal and cuts the engine.
In a whirl, Jensen spins to Jared, yanks his hips down so he can loom over Jared, and messes with the button and zipper of Jared’s pants while shoving his tongue deep into Jared’s mouth. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, to grip and tear at his shirt so the seams squeal against the tension, and Jensen wrenches the denim down to Jared’s knees and off one leg entirely.
It’s even quicker work to grab a small tube of lube from the glove box, which screams of rust in its hinges and jumps a few times before settling.
"You always keep that there?"
Jensen smirks. "Ya never know what kinda trouble you'll find out here." He gets to his knees as he pushes Jared’s open. He slicks up his fingers while staring at Jared, licking and biting his lips with impatience. “I didn’t know you’d be this good when I picked you up. Just saw your tight, little ass bouncing as you hiked up the hill.”
“You were planning this the whole time?” Jared asks, unsure if he’s scared or eager for an affirmative.
“Fuck yeah, I was,” he murmurs as he runs his fingertip along the curl of Jared’s asshole, slowly dipping in.
Jared pushes his hands against the inside of the door for leverage and chews at the corner of his lip, hard. It stings like blood breaks through, but it doesn’t. Not yet. Not until Jensen drops down and licks at the edges of Jared’s mouth, teeth pressing unkindly against the raw skin and two fingers shoving in to the base of Jensen’s hand.
He howls and keens, pushes back at Jensen, at the ruthless hand now fingering in a hurry. The air is punched out of his lungs when Jensen lunges in deep, and he gasps with every filthy thing that drops out of Jensen’s mouth.
“Gonna fuck your hole, gonna make it so pink and red, then do it again in a few hours.”
“Yeah?” Jared pants, “really?”
“I would gladly fuck you all day, Jared, and every night, too.”
He slams his eyes shut and clamps his hole tight around Jensen’s fingers. There isn’t much for finesse at this point; they’re both far past it, tumbling down the road to indecency. “Then fucking do it already.”
Jensen gladly, almost proudly, smiles before coating his dick and pushing it up to Jared’s hole. As he pushes in, not so much slow, but not too fast either, he lowers himself to set his hands on the ledge at the passenger window. He rocks forward, testing, then takes a full pull back. Up and in, Jensen shoves his body into Jared’s, and Jared moans with every move.
Jared spreads his legs as wide as the front seat will let him, hitches his legs up damn near to the ceiling, and takes the quick yet thorough pounding Jensen gives him. And Jared gives back even better, fucking up into each thrust Jensen forces down. Sweat quickly builds between Jared’s skin and leather, and it drops down from Jensen’s forehead onto Jared’s shirt like the beginnings of a rain shower that will never clean them of this dirt.
He reaches up for Jensen’s face with short fingernails grazing the late shadow of Jensen’s scruff. It’s tender and rough all at once. More so when Jensen leans into the touch then turns his head to kiss Jared’s fingers, to lick between and around them and to the webbing near his palm. Jared shoves his index and middle fingers into Jensen’s mouth and pushes down on his tongue, as if holding onto that as Jensen’s rhythm speeds up. There’s the hard jolt of Jensen’s hips and balls smacking Jared’s ass, and Jared shouts out with pleasure and pain mixing.
“How’s that feel, Jared?”
“Don’t stop,” he huffs as he closes his fist over the base of his own cock. He presses tight to stave off his orgasm, but there’s no hope to stop a speeding train in less than a mile.
Jensen fucks faster, harder, sets his hand at Jared’s throat. It doesn’t quite close around it, but the threat, or the promise, of it makes Jared’s skin burn to 100 degrees. “How’s it feel, Jared?” Jensen asks again, greedier and louder than before. “C’mon, Jared, tell me!”
“It’s good,” he wheezes at the slight pressure around his neck, “It’s great, you’re fucking … don’t stop, don’t you ever fucking stop.”
“Don’t ever wanna,” Jensen replies with a gritty rumble that slips beneath Jared’s skin. It intensifies when Jensen drops closer, changing the angle so his dick hits Jared’s prostate, and he bites along Jared’s collarbone. “Don’t wanna leave your ass. I’d drive you anywhere, so long as you give up your pretty, pink hole for me.”
Jared can’t hold back now while envisioning a hundred other places across the country Jensen would fuck him, a dozen landscapes beyond these open windows to listen to their greatest carnal pleasures coming to life. He slips his fist up and down his cock, easing the way with the slick of his precome, fucking down on Jensen’s dick and back up into his own hand. His fist moves impossibly fast over his dick as he whines and half-way tries to fight it. Tries to make this last longer than it already has. Tries to keep Jensen pleased with the strange moment they’ve found themselves in. But it's futile. The second he touched Jensen, he was ready to come for him.
He shoots up high on his chest, dampening both of their shirts, and soon enough it’s Jensen pulling out and fucking his hand to let his come join Jared’s.
With high, heavy breathing, Jared lets out a few surprised sighs as he measures the whole mess of this night. He huffs when Jensen drops his hands down to the bench, making their lower halves press tightly no matter how wet and sticky they are.
“Almost thought you were gonna come inside me,” Jared says with a tiny laugh.
Jensen smirks and narrows his eyes in contemplation. “Didn’t wanna mess you up too much.” He reaches low and rubs at the raw, slick flesh of Jared’s hole.
Jared shoves himself back against the door with a whine. “No, man. I thought you were kidding about going again.”
“Well, maybe not right away ...”
“Yeah, maybe,” he says with a quick, tempting smile.
Jensen’s lips turn up in a reflected smile, and he moves back to get his pants in order. “Yeah, definitely maybe.”
The engine roars to life and the wind howls outside as Jensen gets them back on pavement. Jared feels awkward, yet somehow complacent with the whole order of things. He just got fucked good by one of the better looking people he's ever met, and he no longer feels indebted to a stranger extending a helping hand.
Though he does feel guilty hours later, when the truck stutters to a stop and Jared jerks forward after falling asleep for some time. The sun's growing wide at the horizon in front of them. It spills around a gas station with nothing else in sight.
Jared yawns and slaps his cheeks to wake up. He looks over to Jensen and flashes back to the pit stop they took who knows how long ago. "I fell asleep," he dumbly acknowledges. "Didn't mean to do that."
"No worries." Jensen smiles and rubs the back of his knuckles over Jared's unruly hair. "You sleep real pretty."
It sounds more dirty than sweet, but Jared smirks anyway. "Thanks for the ride." He nearly winks, but he knows Jensen gets it, because he watches Jared's ass as Jared gets out of the truck and won't lift his eyes until Jared taps on the top of the door to see him off.
Instead, Jensen's hand appears in the open window with bundle of twenties. "Here ... For your ride."
Jared stares at the folded bills, adjusts the strap of his backpack, and wills himself to ignore the money.
"Fixing a trans ain't gonna be cheap, kid. And you'll need a tow to your car and back."
Jared leans back into the window with a boldness that abandoned him on the highway when the Olds first kicked the bucket. He wraps his hand around the money and Jensen's fingers. "How about you stop off here on your way back from picking up that feed. I'll hitch another ride back to my car."
Jensen licks his teeth and sucks in a breath before stuffing the money into Jared's palm. "You can bet your sweet ass on that deal."
The engine growls as Jensen tears off down the road, faster than they’d been traveling the whole time. Jared smirks and adjusts himself before heading over to the gas station and pocketing the thick stack of bills. He’s not about to pretend it wasn’t well-earned, or that he’s not looking forward to the return trip.
Words: 5200
Rating/Warnings: NC-17/increased age difference (Jared is very early 20s; Jensen at least a decade older); dangerous driving; hitchhiking and potential fear of that danger; hair pulling; road head; unprotected sex; allusions to prostitution; bottom!Jared
Summary: Jared's stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a backpack and two feet that keep him walking down an empty highway. Until a stranger pulls up and offers him a ride.
Notes: This picture happened yesterday, and so I wrote this fic. Huge thanks to Twitter for enabling encouraging me, and to rozearkana for the beta! Title from Foo Fighter's "Gimme Stitches"
on AO3
Now that it’s midnight, everything seems darker. Jared blinks against the thick air of this lonely night, with his car at least three miles back and two tires torn off the rims. Machinery beneath the hood dropped and he’d skidded into the other lane before swerving over to the shoulder and wrecking the passenger-side wheels. Before that, it hadn’t been too bad of a trip, really.
He marches forward and rocks crunch beneath his feet, the ground rising slightly into the next big curve of the twirling highway he couldn’t manage to finish by car. For the third time since he abandoned his no-good, piece-of-shit car, Jared checks his still-dead cell like it'll magically come to life, then his pockets for money. He digs into the backpack over his right shoulder and pushes fingers in and out of each shirt, pair of shorts, the ziplock bag of toiletries, and into every crevice of the canvas bag in hopes he can grab hold of a bill or coin.
Nothing.
Not that it matters much. There’s nothing in sight but the dark, sandy landscape. Not even an exit sign or mile marker clues him onto where he’s going. Just up, apparently, and Jared sighs. He practically stomps his feet as the incline of the road lifts him up and away from his car. It all echoes around him, off the tall rocks that surround him on both sides and narrow into another sharp right angle. Once Jared makes it around the corner, he huffs another loud breath when the elevation makes his calves and thighs tingle with exertion. Which is fucking insane; he’s a young guy, healthy, active on a few intramural leagues back at Washington State. He can handle a bit of climbing, but maybe not after driving for twelve hours without stopping, outside pissing on the side of the road to avoid crowded rest stops and loud children cooped up in minivans for too long.
He pushes sweaty hair off his forehead and keeps on marching. As the dry, dense air is hell the breathe, he pretends this is nothing more than exercise. Pretends he’s not stuck in the middle of nowhere, trying to get home from college. Pretends his parents didn’t warn him against doing such a thing with his ’89 Oldsmobile good for little more than traipsing around campus.
Washington to Texas? By car? Your car? You obviously failed geography. What're you learnin' up there? his dad had pestered.
Just as he gets to the next landing, a flat patch of road going off into nowhere with no lights to guide it, he hears the roar of an engine behind him. Forty-some minutes and he’s been out here with no sounds beyond his own.
It’s thrilling as it is terrifying, this sudden rush of movement chasing after him. The canal he just traversed glows with headlamps sweeping left to right until a vehicle appears at the mouth of the cavern. Headlights glare and blind him, and he stumbles off into the brush on the shoulder as dust kicks up around him. Tires grind to a halt and a noisy engine, one worse off than his had been, grumbles a fine mess of clunky gears just ten feet away.
Jared strikes a hand through the air to clear dust and grime away, and slowly rises from his short crouch to see the dark shape of a truck stopped on the road. The engine settles into a shaky cough as the cloud of dirt settles back down to the ground. Now Jared can see it’s red, maybe candy apple. Some old classic thing with a low flatbed and high, rounded cab.
Inside that red bubble sits a man held back by dark shadows. Jared can only make out the creaminess of a bench seat, legs spread beneath the oversized steering wheel, and the tall stretch of man taking up the driver’s side seat.
Holding his breath, Jared stands tall to hide any nerves, clutches his backpack over his shoulder, and does his very best to not relive many-a-scene of Dateline's greatest mysteries, which he’d watched just two days ago with that pretty, spunky redhead who works the front desk of his dormitory and always shows off her banging rack.
He’d used the episode about disappearing college kids as an excuse to tuck her slim body at his side … now his mind is using it against him and creating a whirlwind of bad decisions leading to worse situations.
Another bad decision is not continuing on and instead just standing still to listen to the rough noise of the driver clearing his throat and rickety shake of the engine threatening to cut out. The man adjusts the brim of his hat and smacks his lips together before looking right at Jared. Still, the slant of the hat blocks his eyes and Jared only gets the shadowy line of the man’s nose and full lips.
“Where ya headin’?” he calls out, voice deep like the murky ocean.
Jared remains silent, unsure of the threat in that truck.
“Do you speak English?” After another stretch of quiet, the man asks, not unkindly, “Are you mute?”
He knows this isn’t safe, knows he should keep walking. His brain is a fine-tuned instrument of both book and street smarts, and he’s certain he should keep moving if he has any hope of staying on track.
“You need a ride or what, boy?”
The roughness to that last word scrapes deep inside his belly, and it’s a little more than pleasant warmth filling Jared’s blood now. “My car broke down,” he manages from the depth of his nervous mouth.
“Yeah? Fuck-off of a place for that to happen.” There’s a low, meaty chuckle echoing out from the cab and rattling Jared’s insides. “Where you going?”
“For the short-term or …”
“For the whatever-term. I got a free seat here inside Bess.” He thumps his palm on the open space next to him. Jared’s eyes adjust the longer he stares, and he can see the shape of the man’s muscular arm and the tone of his legs kept within tight khaki shorts, sculpted calves bending down toward the foot well. It isn’t helping his decision, not at all.
Jared looks in either direction and weighs his options. Keep walking and get murdered by a coyote, or rest for a little while on white leather and take his chances with a gruff stranger. He doesn’t remember the decision, but his ass meeting the soft, well-treated bench seat grants him reprieve from walking for another hour or two in the middle of the night. The quick breeze spilling in through the open windows, picking up as the truck does, settles his overheated worries to appreciating the quick save from the dark, dry night.
“Thank you so much,” Jared says once the truck’s hauling at full speed.
“Don’t mention it.”
He thinks about repaying the favor, pats his pockets uselessly, and worries about how they’ll be even at the end of this leg of the trip. “May be a bad time to tell you … but I don’t have any money.”
The man glances over, and even in the darkness his wide eyes shine beneath the lid of his hat. And now Jared can tell the man is older, far older than him. Some hands-on worker type. One who probably don't give out things for free, but makes ya earn it because ten cents are still a dime. "For what?” He asks, surprising Jared out of his first impression.
“As payment, or help, since you’re doing this and all.”
There’s a long trail of the man’s tongue over his bottom lip, and Jared unconsciously watches every millimeter. "Yeah? You think so?”
“Seems only fitting, after you stopping for a lonely college kid on the side of the road.”
The man shrugs, dark brow flitting up and down just as quickly. “It happens to all of us. I’d be a bigger bastard if I didn’t stop, right?”
Jared snorts to himself. “The kindness of strangers, huh?”
There’s a long pause between them, the guy glancing over with narrowed eyes and parted lips, his tongue peeking out between clenched teeth. Long eyelashes flutter down to his cheeks as he turns back towards the windshield and clears his throat. “Something like that.”
Panic quickly strikes Jared, nearly cutting him in half with anxiety warring against a practical nature that wants to believe this is all okay. That he will be okay, everything is safe and normal.
In seconds, Jared hatches an escape plan to whip the passenger door open then tuck and roll against the pavement. That is, if the driver doesn’t pass a few of his tests. Just a simple run of questions should reveal if the man’s just quiet and reserved, or silently plotting Jared’s neck getting slit.
“So what’s your name?” Jared asks lightly, putting on a simple smile.
The man’s fingers stretch out over the top of the steering wheel then clench down around it. Those thick fingers grab Jared’s attention, more so than the response. “Jensen. Ackles. You?”
“Jared … Padalecki,” he replies with the same smooth pause that Jensen had taken. First and last names are good to keep track of, especially as Jensen keeps aiming hooded looks his way. “What’re you doing out here this late?”
“Headin’ for an early morning pick-up. Feed for my horses. What about you, Jared?”
The roll of his name off Jensen’s pert lips makes Jared uncomfortable in his jeans, denim suddenly scratching against the skin of his thighs. Jared sits up straight, does his best to ignore his body’s instant satisfaction at Jensen’s warm tone.
“Was heading home, but got stuck a few miles past where you found me.”
Jensen’s lips curl into a smirk. “So you’re looking for a payphone in the mountains?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Just seemed smart to get to walking somewhere other than where I was stuck.”
Jensen’s nod prompts Jared to do so as well and they both go silent for a stretch of land. Nearly ten minutes later, they pass a highway sign, directing traffic to the right for the next rest area. Jared sits up, then curses under his breath and bites his lower lip. “Probably ain’t open this late,” he mumbles. Then he’s startled by Jensen’s slow laugh. “What?”
It seems as though Jensen has to muster up the nerve for his question, but once he gets it out, it’s bold as the summer sun. “You always sell up in the mountains?”
“Sell what?” Then it hits him, and Jared squawks out, “What do you make me out for?”
Jensen chuckles again, still deep and muddy in his chest. “Man, if the shoe fits …”
Self-righteous anger rises up and Jared shifts closer to the door to put space between them. “The shoe don’t fit.”
“You think your stranded angel act is so solid I don't see through it?”
“There ain’t a fucking shoe around here, and I ain’t a hooker. My shitty Oldsmobile broke down, overheated, transmission dropped out … it’s fucking done.”
Now Jensen's voice goes easy, a slow hand patting thin air just inches from Jared’s knee. “I didn’t say that. Calm down now, kid.”
“I am calm,” he insists, even when his knee jerks up and down, as if daring himself to let Jensen’s hand settle down on it.
“I was just sayin’, if you was one … a salesman … it’s a shitty place to try.”
“Why’d you think I was one?”
The highway finally widens from one lone lane out to two in each direction and streetlamps rise from the shoulders to steer them southeast. The quick flashes of light grant view of Jensen’s smile. “Good-looking boy like you? With the tight shirt and tight ass? What else would you be doing?”
It’s brave, and inviting, and startling, all at once. Especially when the road narrows back down to one straight lane and the streetlamps are in the rear view mirror. It all puts Jared back into silence as he stares out the passenger-side window.
“It’s meant as a compliment, bud.” Jensen adds a light scoff to the quick tap of his hand over Jared’s knee, but then they’re sharing a shocked little breath when Jared goes to brush Jensen’s hand away and ends up covering it instead. He locks the heat of Jensen’s palm against his jeans, seeping through denim and into his skin. The ridges of Jensen’s knuckles are more pronounced when he stretches his fingers out then flattens them away from Jared’s knee. “You sure you ain’t in sales?”
Jared’s low Yeah, echoes in the cab and rattles around in his head for a while. He lets his hand up, watches as Jensen withdraws his own, and sucks in a wet breath. Holding it in tight, he stares down at his hands turned over on his knees, wondering why in the hell he did that.
“You ever try it back in your fancy-pants college?”
“What?”
“Back at school, everyone does it, right? Fumbles around until they find a slot they fit in?”
He blinks away the confusion of what just happened and repeats Jensen’s questions again. Now flashes of hard muscle and rough mouths come to the forefront. “Yeah,” he breathes out, losing control of his lungs that clench tight along with his quickening heart.
“You did, huh?” Jensen sounds amused, satisfied, and looks it when he shifts in his seat. His left leg hitches up higher against the door while his right slides him lower in the seat. Jared can’t avoid the press of the seatbelt’s buckle resting right over Jensen’s crotch, doing little to hide the pleasant bulge there.
“I did, too. That’s how I realized I like a li’l variety in my diet. Why settle for the same menu every day when you can sample the buffet?”
Jared’s mouth waters, but surely it’s from the heat he trudged through for nearly an hour, or the whipping wind coming in through the windows. His eyes are also quite taken with the motion of Jensen’s hips jutting forward as he adjusts the spread of his legs once again.
“See something you like now, kid?”
He immediately looks up and catches Jensen’s dead-on gaze. Dark, wide, imploring eyes reach deep into Jared and he suddenly has no real qualms about anything as he feels himself floating into something new, something hazy yet inviting.
Jensen spreads his hand over his right thigh, following the slope of it as if inviting Jared to be right there. “Ain’t gotta be anything bad about it. You could consider it payment.”
“Payment for what?” Jared mumbles, eyes tracking back up to Jensen’s.
“For the ride and all …”
Jared’s breath catches, refuses to spill out, and his question is choked out from his tight throat. “What about the kindness of strangers?”
“You tell me … how kind are you?”
Jared glances out into the night passing them and is suddenly thankful it’s taken up its cruel darkness again. There’s a small slip of earth that opens up between bushes and willowy trees lining the highway, and Jared keeps his sights to it even as they pass. He wonders if they should’ve stopped there, if another one will find them.
His eyes are trained far ahead to spot another break in the shoulder, too focused to fully recognize how dark his voice gets until it’s too late. “You fittin’ to pull over?”
Jensen’s sigh is heavy and wet, especially when his hand slides in closer to the thick bulge in his shorts. Thumb and forefinger stretching along the length of it and pressing in. “Think we might lose a li’l time, no?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jared whispers, not wanting to admit it himself. Admit that this is heading right where it is, or that he’s looking forward to it. The latter is evident when he shifts towards the driver’s seat and feels the rough tug of his jeans against his dick, filling fast with excitement and fever-hot blood.
“Look at that,” Jensen murmurs with his eyes locked onto Jared’s hard-on. He lifts his head and the edge of his hat to smile at Jared, clear and warm. “Knew you’d be a big trooper.”
Jared releases a quick, nervous laugh. Especially as he can now see more of Jensen’s face and the smooth slope of his cheek and jaw lines, the tense pull of his furrowed brows. Boldly making himself dive forward, he covers Jensen’s hand with his own, massages the warm skin of his knuckles, and tucks their fingers in tighter to Jensen’s shorts.
The broken gasp that follows eggs Jared on, and he shuffles closer to lick around the shell of Jensen’s ear. He’s paid in full with Jensen’s hand breaking away and palming Jared’s dick, using the grip to tug Jared closer, hip to hip.
Jared trails his lips down Jensen’s neck, licks and bits at the taut skin, nibbles at the rumbling artery bunching in his neck. Jensen gasps again and Jared pays extra attention here as his hand slides along the zipper, tucking denim in tight beneath Jensen’s dick. He rubs down lower to reach Jensen’s balls, maybe even his ass if it’s possible in the strict confines of these fitted shorts.
Jensen ducks his head down and grabs hold of Jared’s mouth with insistent lips. It’s a hungry, foggy duel, with Jared using his other hand to grab the back of Jensen’s head. He slips his fingers through soft layers of growing hair, tips the hat off his head, and pulls back a few inches to see the mess of Jensen’s raw lips and wild eyes and mussed-up hair.
Frozen in time, Jared watches as Jensen blinks at him, licks and bites his lower lip, and continues to squeeze at Jared’s pants, like he’s trying to peel the fabric away from his body. He’s drifting away from reality and into some universe where giving roadhead to a complete-albeit beautiful-stranger is status quo. Like he won’t be ashamed when he walks away from the pick-up with sticky boxers behind manhandled jeans, and Jensen goes on to pick up the next stranded rat he can find.
The sudden jerk of the car reminds Jared they’re in a moving vehicle, and their gaze is broken while Jensen rights the truck back into their lane.
Ultimate jeopardy is overcome by sexual need when Jensen lets out another dark, greedy laugh. “Looks like there’s not enough road for us.”
Out the windshield is nothing but dirt flying through headlights and unending asphalt. Jared thinks there’s plenty of road to get them where they need to be, and he takes it into his own control by getting to work on Jensen’s fly. He flicks open five buttons that are tight as hell and making Jared dizzy with the thoughts of how Jensen manages to pack himself into these pants.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Jensen mumbles as he lifts his ass off the seat, encouraging Jared to bring them down off his hips along with his briefs. He runs his hand over Jared’s cheek and curls fingers around Jared’s hair. “Fuck, yeah, go for it, Jared.”
The weight of Jensen’s hand grows as Jared bends down, stretches his feet further into the foot well on his side of the car. He licks over the pearly drop of precome at the tip of Jensen’s cock then closes his lips over it and suckles at the white-hot, swollen skin.
Grunting loudly, arching up off the seat, Jensen tightens his hands in Jared’s hair then flexes the fingers out with a mumbled apology. Jared looks up to Jensen and is met with a heated look that begs for more, just as Jared does because something flared deep down to his toes and Jared liked it.
No, he fucking loved it.
“Do it again,” Jared begs.
Jensen combs through hair and lightly pumps his hips, like he just can't not. “Do what?”
Jared bites his lower lip and drops his eyelids to near closed. “Both.” Jensen tugs at his hair and Jared chokes out, “Shit, that,” before bringing his mouth back to Jensen’s dick. He nuzzles the tip and runs his lips down the side of it, finally making Jensen fully moan by dropping down on his cock with his tongue pressed tightly against the vein underneath.
“Fucking … Jared, open your mouth, open it,” he pleads, and Jared listens. With his mouth and jaws pulled wide, Jensen lifts his hips up and tugs Jared’s hair to force him down. He goes for it a few more times and the truck stutters when his foot smacks the gas unevenly.
Jared sets his arm over Jensen’s hips like a vice and surrenders freedom to the hand forcing his head down. He keeps his mouth open, teeth clear, and sucks over Jensen’s dick. He slobbers all over it, too, saliva spilling out the sides of Jared’s lips, all down Jensen’s fat, red, needy dick, and down into the wiry coils of pubic hair.
It’s loud and lewd, and something Jared hasn’t done for a few years, but he clearly remembers late practices with the swim team and going down on the butterfly’s second position. He does it again here and chokes every few thrusts, but takes the rest with pleasure. And that pleasure grows to stark heights when Jensen releases vibrato whimpers, sharps sounds that are then eaten up by the wind whipping faster as the truck charges beyond safe speeds.
Jared pushes himself as close to the base as possible, gurgling around Jensen’s cock and turning his head this way and that, slicking his tongue along the shaft. He’d keep going for hours, if he could, except Jensen tosses him off and cuts to the right. The big wheels of the truck jerk the cab around as Jensen steers them over low bushes and then slams the brake pedal and cuts the engine.
In a whirl, Jensen spins to Jared, yanks his hips down so he can loom over Jared, and messes with the button and zipper of Jared’s pants while shoving his tongue deep into Jared’s mouth. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, to grip and tear at his shirt so the seams squeal against the tension, and Jensen wrenches the denim down to Jared’s knees and off one leg entirely.
It’s even quicker work to grab a small tube of lube from the glove box, which screams of rust in its hinges and jumps a few times before settling.
"You always keep that there?"
Jensen smirks. "Ya never know what kinda trouble you'll find out here." He gets to his knees as he pushes Jared’s open. He slicks up his fingers while staring at Jared, licking and biting his lips with impatience. “I didn’t know you’d be this good when I picked you up. Just saw your tight, little ass bouncing as you hiked up the hill.”
“You were planning this the whole time?” Jared asks, unsure if he’s scared or eager for an affirmative.
“Fuck yeah, I was,” he murmurs as he runs his fingertip along the curl of Jared’s asshole, slowly dipping in.
Jared pushes his hands against the inside of the door for leverage and chews at the corner of his lip, hard. It stings like blood breaks through, but it doesn’t. Not yet. Not until Jensen drops down and licks at the edges of Jared’s mouth, teeth pressing unkindly against the raw skin and two fingers shoving in to the base of Jensen’s hand.
He howls and keens, pushes back at Jensen, at the ruthless hand now fingering in a hurry. The air is punched out of his lungs when Jensen lunges in deep, and he gasps with every filthy thing that drops out of Jensen’s mouth.
“Gonna fuck your hole, gonna make it so pink and red, then do it again in a few hours.”
“Yeah?” Jared pants, “really?”
“I would gladly fuck you all day, Jared, and every night, too.”
He slams his eyes shut and clamps his hole tight around Jensen’s fingers. There isn’t much for finesse at this point; they’re both far past it, tumbling down the road to indecency. “Then fucking do it already.”
Jensen gladly, almost proudly, smiles before coating his dick and pushing it up to Jared’s hole. As he pushes in, not so much slow, but not too fast either, he lowers himself to set his hands on the ledge at the passenger window. He rocks forward, testing, then takes a full pull back. Up and in, Jensen shoves his body into Jared’s, and Jared moans with every move.
Jared spreads his legs as wide as the front seat will let him, hitches his legs up damn near to the ceiling, and takes the quick yet thorough pounding Jensen gives him. And Jared gives back even better, fucking up into each thrust Jensen forces down. Sweat quickly builds between Jared’s skin and leather, and it drops down from Jensen’s forehead onto Jared’s shirt like the beginnings of a rain shower that will never clean them of this dirt.
He reaches up for Jensen’s face with short fingernails grazing the late shadow of Jensen’s scruff. It’s tender and rough all at once. More so when Jensen leans into the touch then turns his head to kiss Jared’s fingers, to lick between and around them and to the webbing near his palm. Jared shoves his index and middle fingers into Jensen’s mouth and pushes down on his tongue, as if holding onto that as Jensen’s rhythm speeds up. There’s the hard jolt of Jensen’s hips and balls smacking Jared’s ass, and Jared shouts out with pleasure and pain mixing.
“How’s that feel, Jared?”
“Don’t stop,” he huffs as he closes his fist over the base of his own cock. He presses tight to stave off his orgasm, but there’s no hope to stop a speeding train in less than a mile.
Jensen fucks faster, harder, sets his hand at Jared’s throat. It doesn’t quite close around it, but the threat, or the promise, of it makes Jared’s skin burn to 100 degrees. “How’s it feel, Jared?” Jensen asks again, greedier and louder than before. “C’mon, Jared, tell me!”
“It’s good,” he wheezes at the slight pressure around his neck, “It’s great, you’re fucking … don’t stop, don’t you ever fucking stop.”
“Don’t ever wanna,” Jensen replies with a gritty rumble that slips beneath Jared’s skin. It intensifies when Jensen drops closer, changing the angle so his dick hits Jared’s prostate, and he bites along Jared’s collarbone. “Don’t wanna leave your ass. I’d drive you anywhere, so long as you give up your pretty, pink hole for me.”
Jared can’t hold back now while envisioning a hundred other places across the country Jensen would fuck him, a dozen landscapes beyond these open windows to listen to their greatest carnal pleasures coming to life. He slips his fist up and down his cock, easing the way with the slick of his precome, fucking down on Jensen’s dick and back up into his own hand. His fist moves impossibly fast over his dick as he whines and half-way tries to fight it. Tries to make this last longer than it already has. Tries to keep Jensen pleased with the strange moment they’ve found themselves in. But it's futile. The second he touched Jensen, he was ready to come for him.
He shoots up high on his chest, dampening both of their shirts, and soon enough it’s Jensen pulling out and fucking his hand to let his come join Jared’s.
With high, heavy breathing, Jared lets out a few surprised sighs as he measures the whole mess of this night. He huffs when Jensen drops his hands down to the bench, making their lower halves press tightly no matter how wet and sticky they are.
“Almost thought you were gonna come inside me,” Jared says with a tiny laugh.
Jensen smirks and narrows his eyes in contemplation. “Didn’t wanna mess you up too much.” He reaches low and rubs at the raw, slick flesh of Jared’s hole.
Jared shoves himself back against the door with a whine. “No, man. I thought you were kidding about going again.”
“Well, maybe not right away ...”
“Yeah, maybe,” he says with a quick, tempting smile.
Jensen’s lips turn up in a reflected smile, and he moves back to get his pants in order. “Yeah, definitely maybe.”
The engine roars to life and the wind howls outside as Jensen gets them back on pavement. Jared feels awkward, yet somehow complacent with the whole order of things. He just got fucked good by one of the better looking people he's ever met, and he no longer feels indebted to a stranger extending a helping hand.
Though he does feel guilty hours later, when the truck stutters to a stop and Jared jerks forward after falling asleep for some time. The sun's growing wide at the horizon in front of them. It spills around a gas station with nothing else in sight.
Jared yawns and slaps his cheeks to wake up. He looks over to Jensen and flashes back to the pit stop they took who knows how long ago. "I fell asleep," he dumbly acknowledges. "Didn't mean to do that."
"No worries." Jensen smiles and rubs the back of his knuckles over Jared's unruly hair. "You sleep real pretty."
It sounds more dirty than sweet, but Jared smirks anyway. "Thanks for the ride." He nearly winks, but he knows Jensen gets it, because he watches Jared's ass as Jared gets out of the truck and won't lift his eyes until Jared taps on the top of the door to see him off.
Instead, Jensen's hand appears in the open window with bundle of twenties. "Here ... For your ride."
Jared stares at the folded bills, adjusts the strap of his backpack, and wills himself to ignore the money.
"Fixing a trans ain't gonna be cheap, kid. And you'll need a tow to your car and back."
Jared leans back into the window with a boldness that abandoned him on the highway when the Olds first kicked the bucket. He wraps his hand around the money and Jensen's fingers. "How about you stop off here on your way back from picking up that feed. I'll hitch another ride back to my car."
Jensen licks his teeth and sucks in a breath before stuffing the money into Jared's palm. "You can bet your sweet ass on that deal."
The engine growls as Jensen tears off down the road, faster than they’d been traveling the whole time. Jared smirks and adjusts himself before heading over to the gas station and pocketing the thick stack of bills. He’s not about to pretend it wasn’t well-earned, or that he’s not looking forward to the return trip.