PWP: The Christmas Present
A/N: So hum... I wanted to write a fluffy, feel-good fic for Xmas, but as it turns out, I can't even write a PWP without H/C appearing out of nowhere. Damn brain. Anyway, Enjoy, guys!
Title: The Christmas Present
Pairing: J2
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: NC-17 for well, PWP
Summary: Ever since Jensen's accident, his physical limitations are making everything difficult, even jerking off. His friend Tim thinks it's a good idea to ask for a sexual therapist at the rehabilitation center. It's a Christmas Gift, he explains to a very doubtful Jensen. Arrives Jared Padalecki. Jensen being his first client, he's very nervous. Chronic pain being in the way, can he take care of Jensen the way sexual therapists are supposed to?
Beta: The wonderful candygramme
Disclaimer: None if this is true. I make no profits out of it. This story is my intellectual property.
- - - -
The Christmas Present
“Come on, man, it’s Christmas.”
It’s Christmas. That’s Tim’s excuse.
Jensen snorts and turns his chair away from his crazy friend so that he can face the window. He knows Tim means well, and knows where this stupid idea comes from.
The thing is, Jensen needs to take painkillers on a regular basis. And sometimes, it’s not enough to get rid of the pain, so he’ll smoke a joint. Jensen wasn’t a fan of drugs before the accident, but his doctor is the one who suggested that he add marijuana to his opiate and muscle relaxant cocktail. Jensen’s legs are covered in scars -the left one looks like a twisted tree branch. His thigh is the worst because half of the muscle is missing, like some monster had taken a bite out of it. Jensen doesn’t really care about the appearance of his legs, though. According to the chief physical therapist at the center, if he works hard enough, he’ll even be able to walk again. No, what’s eating Jensen from the inside is the pain. He’s never really free of the pain, even with all the chemicals he puts in his body. He’s had a consultation with a neurologist who specialized in nerve chronic pain, and he’s been told that when the nerves are touched, it’s difficult to manage the pain. Nerve damage is resistant to most painkillers. There is hope, though. Six months after the accident, Jensen is still healing. It takes a long time for nerve damage to heal, but it’s possible it will get better. Eventually.
Which is a poor consolation. Hence trying all sort of methods to manage the pain better, from electric shock to hypnosis -yes, Jensen isn’t ashamed to say he’s tried it. Anyone in his position would do anything to get some relief. Marijuana is the only alternative method showing some result. Jensen tries not to abuse -he doesn’t exactly like the feeling that comes with it, like time is passing way too slow, and he’s a spectator of his own life. Long story short, last week, after an especially tough day, he’d smoked more than he was used to, and that had translated in a freaking crying fit. Tim had been there to hear Jensen complain about how hard everything was, and how tired he was to try to be positive and in good spirits, when all he wanted to do was to curl in his bed and sleep. Jensen even spoke about his inexistent sex life, for God’s sake, complaining about the difficulty of jerking off, because even if his arms are perfectly fine, each strain on his body gets to his legs, the tiniest movement of his hips can trigger those awful, electric-shock-like pain explosions along the scar on his left leg. It’s pathetic, thinking how he’d been crying like a baby, with snot coming out of his nose, wondering what he’d done to deserve this kind of life, where the simplest intimate pleasure was now out of reach.
Yeah. Most of the time, Jensen tries really hard not to think about what he’s lost and focus on what he still has. Most of the time, Jensen can keep the most depressing thoughts at bay and be grateful that he’s still alive, despite the doctor’s prognosis.
Most of the time.
“Jense?”
“I was high, Tim. I didn’t really meant all I said,” Jensen explains, looking at the snowflakes dancing in the wind outside.
“Oh come on. Jense, look at me,” Tim asks, his voice too soft.
Jensen turns his wheelchair back to face his friend. He tries to readjust himself in his seat and a small jerk of his hips triggers a burning explosion of pain in his right knee. He tries not to wince.
“I’m… It’s a nice thought, Tim. Well, it’s a crazy idea,” Jensen adds, smiling. “But I appreciate it.”
“So say yes and hug me,” Tim suggest, smiling too.
“I don’t need a hooker.”
Even the words hurts. Makes Jensen thinks of James, and how empty his bed is now.
“It’s not a hooker, it’s a rehabilitation worker. They are professionals, hired by the hospital and following a work ethic contract that’s twenty page long. I know, I read it all.”
“It’s stupid,” Jensen groans. He’s tired. He had physical therapy in the morning and it drained him. He needs a couple of pills, and a nap.
Tim grabs the wheelchair’s armrest and bend over Jensen, his grey curls falling on Jensen’s short hair, his forehead, covering his right eye. Jensen huffs and wipes the strands away, careful not to lift his eyes, because then, he’d have to look at Tim, and he doesn’t feel like looking at Tim.
“It’s not stupid. It’s sexuality. Some people out there, Jensen, they can’t even use their own hands. It’s a work in progress, but it already exists in other countries. Some people aren’t even capable of masturbating, how is that fair? An accident or a sickness doesn’t only take away most of what you appreciated in life, it leaves you incapable of satisfying any sexual need. I mean, some are lucky, they have a wife -or husband, but others, they’re trapped in their own body and that’s all there is to it.”
“Wow, did you take a master class or something?”
Tim burst out laughing and sits on the floor, folding his long legs. It’s something he likes to do, say he’s tired of looking down at Jensen like he’s his freaking dom. Tim always finds a way to make Jensen laughs, which isn’t easy these days.
“Listen man, you deserve this. I admire you. You always try to see the positive side of things, you keep going even if sometimes it’s hell. I know, fuck, I’m here, with you. Sometimes when the pain gets bad I feel like cursing the fucking universe, or hitting something. I hate seeing you suffer. But you, you try so hard to deal with it. You even comfort your family when they’re worried about you. Still, I know how hard it is, I’ve heard you scream in your sleep. I see it on your face when the pain gets too bad for you to pretend everything is good and well. You should be able to find sexual relief without having to deal with the pain. That’s fucking unfair. Just… let someone take care of you. You’re lucky, most insurances companies don’t cover sexual therapists-“
“Really?” Jensen asks, the beginning of a smile quirking his lips up. He can’t help it. Tim is a theater actor and it sometimes seems like he forgets he’s not standing on a scene. He gets into those emotional monologues that make Jensen laugh each and every time. The more dramatic he’s being, the more fun Jensen has.
“Oh, shut up,” Tim replies, but he’s smiling too. “As I was saying, with insurance companies refusing to cover the expense, not a lot of people can afford it, which is a damn shame. You’re wealthy enough to pay for it, and you don’t even have too. Like I’ve said. Christmas present.”
“This is, by far, the weirdest thing I’ve ever been offered.”
“Well, you can say thanks,” Tim claps his hand together while speaking, like the conversation is over and everything is settled. “As for me, I need to find something to do tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s when your weird Christmas present is scheduled to come. Ah! Come. Get it?”
Tim winks at Jensen and stands up, unfolding his long body in an elegant manner.
“Man, I can’t just… have some guy here to….” Jensen can feel it in his own voice. Rendition.
“I’m going to do some laundry in the basement,” Tim announces. “Want to get the sheets off your bed for me?”
He’s having fun with it, Jensen thinks, and it should be annoying, but it’s not. Jensen maneuvers his wheelchair slowly, turning it toward the hallway.
“Right,” he says. “Yes, wash my sheets before the sexual therapist get here.”
“That’s the spirit, my boy,” Tim exclaims, and his Shakespearian voice resonates in the living room.
Jensen doesn’t think he would have accept this whole… sexual therapy idea if it had come from anyone else, but Tim always manages to get his way, and there isn’t a day that passes where Jensen isn’t thankful for having him as a friend and roommate.
Getting the sheets off his bed is tough. Jensen knows he should have taken his pills sometime like an hour ago. When he’s done, he’s sweating bullets and shaking, the only thought in his mind being the pills waiting for him in the kitchen. He doesn’t think the sexual therapist will be able to do… whatever it is they do, not when moving is sufficient to awaken the pain. But let’s be honest, the few times Jensen had actually succeeded in jerking off have been way more frustrating than satisfying, so really, why not try it?
This is your life now, Jensen thinks. Sexual therapy it is then.
::: :::
Jensen Ackles. Jensen Ackles, Jared reads and re-read the name on the file. Okay, alright, he can do this.
The taxi is stuck in traffic, which gives Jared some more time to revise the assignment. And to try not to throw up from stress. There has to be a first time. Being a sexual therapist isn’t only a title -and also, the perfect job for his friend to mock him, endlessly. It’s actually practicing sexual therapy. And according to Tahmoh, his boss, Jared is ready.
Name: Jensen Ackles
Age: 26
Medical condition: The patient was hit by a car as he was standing on the sidewalk. The damage has been significant, ranging from a head concussion, broken ribs and two fractures of his right arm -all of which are considered healed by now. The patient has suffered multiple fractures to both legs, when at least one wheel of the car implicated in the accident rolled over them. The patient has been through four surgeries and is still having physical therapy three times a week. Learning to walk is the current goal. The principal problem he now faces is the nerve damage, especially to his left leg, which causes the patient to suffer from constant pain, resistant to most painkillers, even in high dosage. Seven months after the accident, the pain has been classified as chronic, and the patient is now followed at the Stewart Clinic for Pain Management by Dr. Collins. The patient is currently using a wheelchair.
Specific problematics for sexual therapy: The patient’s pain can make it difficult to get him relaxed enough to feel sexual arousal. As it’s well known, the opiates he’s taking can also be an obstacle for achieving an erection and ejaculation.
Recommendations: This is the first appointment with the patient. The sexual therapist should follow his lead and work on providing sexual pleasure while taking into account the patient’s comfort.
Jared has seen Jensen Ackles at the rehabilitation center before, but never interacted with him. There was gossip about him when he’d first arrived, Jared remembers. He’d been a model and had just landed a role in a independent movie when the accident happened. Jared has no trouble believing the model part. Even from a distance, Ackles’ handsomeness is striking. Those eyes, and that smile, and…
This is not about someone you’re attracted to or not, Jared, was one of Tahmoh’s first pieces of advice when he’d been hired. This is about the care you provide to that person. No matter whether it be sexual intercourse or one hour of occupational therapy, the goal is the same. It’s helping the patients we care for.
The thing is, Jared has never even imagined he’d be a sexual therapist. He’s still in school, studying to be a physical therapist, and he’d found a part time job at the center as an orderly last year. It helps to pay school and it’s in his field of studies. The perfect job, right? He was shocked when Tahmoh Penniket had called him into his office and offered him the job. Why him? Had been Jared’s first question, like: is “potential hooker” written on his forehead, something like that? No, but Jared made no secret of his sexual orientation, and Tahmoh had had trouble with gay clients. He’d been already short of men, and the few of them on his books were heterosexual, not exactly enthusiastic at the thought of having male clients. “Of course, it’s not really about sex -well, not on the therapist’s part, anyway, but apparently, there is still this feeling of awkwardness. According to them anyway. Come on, Jared. You’re young, you need money, and I can tell you you’ll make more in one appointment than in three shifts as an orderly. Plus, I’ve seen you around. You’re good with people. Very empathic. You’re a good person. Trust me, I wouldn’t have asked only because you’re gay if I didn’t like your work from the start.”
Why had Jared agreed? Well, he doesn’t have the luxury to refuse money, to be honest. But he’s also been curious. He’d ask for time before giving his answer and had spent the new couple of days reading about sexual therapy and how appreciated it is. For some people, being deprived of the simple act of getting themselves off, especially for men, is extremely frustrating. It can do some good, not only on the sexual level, but psychologically as well. Jared had decided to try after that, and he’d spend a week with Tahmoh learning the basis.
And now, after waiting for his first client with a mix of anticipation and cold, paralyzing fear, there he is, approaching Jensen Ackles’ apartment with his bag next to him, a duffel showing the name of the rehabilitation center, but filled with very different stuff than exercise items, medicated massage cream and the progression chart.
There are condoms, lube, a couple of toys, massaging oil of a different kind, and even a fluffy bathrobe. And Jared feels like he’s been thrown in another dimension somewhere along the way.
The taxi stops. It’s time. Jared’s heart beat picks up its pace.
::: :::
The person opening the door is a tall guy -almost as tall as Jared, but way more imposing. Not that he’s buff, or has wide shoulders. It’s just what he’s giving off: with the beard and the grey curls, the way he’s standing, he looks like he’d be more at his place in a castle, some last generation of a noble family. His handshake is firm, his smile sincere.
“Hi I’m Tim Omundson, Jensen’s roommate.”
“Jared Padalecki.”
He can feel the other man giving him a once over without any shame. His smile becomes playful. “I gotta say, Jared… You are definitely Jensen’s kind of guy.”
“And you are supposed to leave,” comes a low voice behind him.
It’s Jensen, rolling his chair slowly in the hallway. Jared swallows so loudly he’s sure the others must have heard him.
Despite the fact that he’s too thin, wearing a t-shirt that falls flat on his delicate shoulders, his face angular because of the absence of fat, Jensen really is quite a sight. Of course he would be a model. He has wonderful green eyes and long curly lashes, a full mouth with red lips, a straight nose, with the bridge scattered with freckles. His short, light brown hair is combed to the side, not a single strand out of place. He’s a couple of feet away from Jared but he smells so good Jared can’t wait to get closer. Now, thinking that he’ll get to see him naked, to touch him, and provide him with pleasure, Jared is even more nervous. Because he’s aroused.
“Right, I’m going now. Have fun, kids,” Tim says, patting Jared on the shoulder. He grabs his coat from the hanger and is out in a matter of seconds.
Jared takes off his own, then slides out of his boots, all the while feeling Jensen Ackles’ eyes on him. He’s blushing, and being bent forward doesn’t help. When he stands up straight again, a head rush makes the room shift for a second or two, and Jared has to hold on to the wall. He doesn’t even want to think about how unprofessional he must look right now.
“Are you… are you even legal?” Jensen asks.
He’s blushing too, and considering Jared with a surprised expression.
“I’m twenty-two,” Jared declares, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “Jared.”
“Jensen, as you probably already know. Listen, Jared…”
Jensen lowers his head like he’s suddenly fascinated by his hands crossed on his lap. “This wasn’t my idea and… I don’t know what… I… I’m not completely comfortable right now.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” Jared says in a reassuring voice.
He’s learned how to deal with his clients. Time to put it to good use. Besides, Jensen does look uneasy, and there is something else in his eyes too… sadness. It twists Jared’s guts, and he remember what the file says. Chronic pain. Life is such a bitch sometimes.
“We can start by going to your room?” He suggests softly.
Jensen nods but doesn’t move. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Okay huh… follow me.”
Jared does. Jensen’s room is the first door to the left. It’s been adapted: the bed is raised on locked wheels and there are two ramps fixed to the walls. Jensen still has to maneuver his chair carefully not to hit anything. A couple of marks on the drawer set tells Jared he hasn’t always been successful.
The room smells good and clean, like it’s just been tidied. Of course it’s been tidied. Jared drops his bag on the bed and looks around. The walls are blue-grey, without any ornaments or pictures. There is a TV and a bunch of dvd’s on a shelf nearby. Outside of that, the room seems pretty impersonal.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Jensen asks in an insecure voice.
“Can I sit?” Jared asks pointing at the bed.
“Yeah. Yeah of course, go on.”
Jared does. When a client doesn’t make the first step and state out loud what he wants, you have to give him time and ease him into it.
“So, Jensen. I’m not here to stress you or force you into anything.”
“Yeah I… I know that,” Jensen murmurs, looking away. “I’m… It’s been… Okay, you know what? I’m going to ask you a couple of direct questions, if you don’t mind,” he adds, trying to sound more confident.
“Go ahead.”
“Are you gay?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Something changes in Jensen’s posture, like he’s liberated of a weight he’d carried on his frail shoulders. “Okay. And huh… Why? Why did you decide to become a sex therapist?”
“I didn’t really decide. I’m a physical therapy student. I work at the St-Jude center as an orderly.”
“Okay so… This isn’t like… your career plan?”
“I don’t think so, but I know this service is something important and there is a lot of need.”
“Right.” Jensen scratches the back of his head and licks his upper lip. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this, Jared. I can barely stand on my legs, and moving them is difficult. It hurts a lot. I’ve just taken some meds, but I still need to be careful.”
“Why don’t we start by find you a comfortable position? Would you like to lie down?”
Jensen frowns. “I don’t… Lying flat on my back is out of the question… There’s a strain and… Well, I could sit on the bed, with a couple of pillows behind my back and huh… my leg stretched in front of me. When I let them relax and bend a little at the knee the pain is manageable.”
“Works for me. Do you need help undressing?”
Jensen’s head snaps up, sowing a deep blush crawling up until it reaches the tip of his ears. “I… Maybe just the pants to start? It’s… damn, I’m so fucking embarrassed.”
“It’s okay. We can do it once you’re settled.”
Jensen nods without a sound. He gets the comforter down, and he tells Jared he doesn’t need help, for the next step. He gets his chair parallel to the bed, helping himself with the bar fixed near the bed head to stand up. His legs are shaking badly. He’s sweating, like he’s been holding the position for a while, and a grunt escapes his throat when he manages to turn and sit on the bed. He’s also panting, and the color of his cheeks, Jared guesses, is more due to exhaustion.
It won’t be easy, if he’s in that much pain already. Jared wonder if they’ll get anywhere. He hopes he’ll find a way to at least give Jensen a decent hand job. The guy looks like he needs it.
“You… Can you grab my legs?” Jensen asks. “The best way is to get your hands under both my heels and follow my lead. If I tell you to stop, stop, but please don’t let go.
That part is easier. Jared has enough experience and training to do what Jensen asks him without putting any kind of pressure on the legs. He feels them, tensing and shaking. He grabs the two pillows near the bed and helps Jensen in a semi-sitting position. Once he’s settled, the man lets out a shaky sigh and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He tries to smile at Jared, but it’s more of a grimace.
“Thanks.”
Jared tries to focus on what he has to do, and not the pity he feels toward his client. He decides to get things going and steps out of his jeans. Then, he sits next to Jensen on the bed, being careful not to disturb his position by creasing the mattress. When he looks at him, Jensen’s mouth is open and he licks his lips. Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, he lowers his head quickly.
“It’s okay, you can look,” Jared coaxes him. Leading the sexual encounter is part of his job, although he’s far from feeling the confidence he tries to show.
“You…” Jensen huffs a nervous laugh, staring at Jared under his long lashes. “Could you take your shirt off too?”
Jared nods and strips from his buttoned, long-sleeved shirt. Jensen doesn’t turn away. Instead, he stretches a shaky hand. “Can I… touch?”
“Yes, you can.”
Jensen drags his fingers along Jared’s firm stomach. Jared immediately feels a warm sensation blooming deep in his belly. He doesn’t know what excites him the most: Jensen’s feather-light touches, or his expression, a mix of desire and hesitation.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” Jensen murmurs. “I was… I had someone in my life. He left four months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jared turns on his side and grabs Jensen’s chin in his hand, delicately. “Can I kiss you?”
Jensen shivers and nod. His lips are slightly opened and wet with saliva, reading to be kissed. Jared presses his against them, tasting coffee and mint, surprised when Jensen’s tongue makes its way inside and licks around. It’s slow but intense. Jared is getting excited. As the kiss progress, his cock starts to fill. When they break away, catching their breath. Jared feels the need to see if Jensen is getting into it to. The swell of his erection is perfectly visible under the loose fabric of his sweatpants. Suddenly, it’s not about sexual therapy anymore. It’s just about Jared’s attraction to Jensen and the acute need to make him feel good.
“Want me to take off your pants?” He whispers.
Jensen nods. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Jared who stands up and walks to the bottom of the bed, and Jared does his best to keep the eye contact.
“You have to tell me, if I hurt you,” he warns, kneeling on the edge of the mattress.
“Wait!” Jensen says in a panicked voice just as Jared stretches his arms to grab the waistband of his pants.
“It hurts?”
“No it…” Jensen covers his face with one hand and let it slides slowly. “It… my legs. My legs are ugly. Lots of scars, and the left one is crooked, the thigh is the worst. Some of it is missing. I… I don’t…”
Jensen’s breath is picking up, and his eyes are once more those of a cornered animal. Jared shushes him, as softly as he can.
“Listen to me. I don’t care about your legs. I want to touch you, I want to see your arousal, the rest isn’t important.”
“Plus, you’re paid for this,” Jensen adds, snorting nervously.
Jared doesn’t protest. If the fact that Jensen is receiving a service Jared is providing make him less uncomfortable, well let it be that way.
Despite Jared’s delicateness, Jensen moans in pain a couple of time. His left leg jerks violently when Jared slides the leg of the pants down. God. It’s not important, Jared was honest, but he can’t help the profound sadness that washes over him as he uncover two thin legs, both crisscrossed by scars of different size and color. It must hurt like hell, and to think that Jensen gets physical therapy three times a week. He must suffer so much during those sessions. Jared can’t imagine him walking again, not on those two twisted members.
He has taken the opportunity to get Jensen’s boxers down with the pants. When it’s done, and Jensen relaxes his legs again, they part naturally, the knees falling on the sides. Jared lifts himself up on his knees and gets settled in the V created, wanting to take his time discovering Jensen’s body.
He’s not disappointed. Most of his skin is so different from that which covers the legs, creamy and soft looking, with tiny freckles scattered here and there. Jensen’s cock is half hard, thick and uncut, of a perfect size to fit in Jared’s hand. The color of the tip, a pale shade of pink, makes Jared’s mouth water. He runs his fingers through the trimmed curls of hair surrounding it, hearing Jensen hiss. He knows, from instinct, that the noise isn’t one of pain. Jensen’s balls are high, looking full already. Jared has trouble thinking straight. He would like to push Jensen’s thighs up and have a look at Jensen’s tiny hole, he’s persuaded it’s as pretty as the rest of him.
Jared slowly lifts Jensen’s t-shirt so he can press little kisses following his happy trail. Jensen’s stomach is flat but soft. Jared would like to lick it all over, dip his tongue in the navel and then kiss it some more.
He doesn’t do it, though. He needs to ask Jensen what he wants from him. Until now, it appears that he has control over his pain, but Jared isn’t a mind reader, doesn’t know how much Jensen can endure, and if some movement of his hip and stomach might bother his legs.
I don’t want to hurt him, Jared thinks, and he knows he’s making it personal, something Tahmoh has warned him against.
“Jensen,” he says, lifting his head.
Jensen’s eyes are opened to slits, and his chest rises and falls quickly. Both of his arms are immobile, close to his body, his hands closed in fist on the sheets.
“It feels so good,” Jensen sighs. “It’s… God, I didn’t realized how much I needed this.”
“Tell me what you want,” Jared asks, then he adds, despite of himself. “God, you’re beautiful like this. Makes me want to take care of you, make you come. Let me take care of you.”
“I… I don’t know what I can do,” Jensen murmurs in a low, raw voice. “I don’t think I can go all the way and have you… hum… fuck me.”
“I don’t mind bottoming if that’s what you need.”
“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that, I’m so freaking aroused I think I could come only from you talking dirty to me.”
Jared’s dick jumps at the image it triggers in his brain. Yes, anything and everything you need, baby, he thinks.
He should stop. He should focus. Jensen is a patient.
Jared can’t help it. The man is getting to him in a way he’s never known before. He’s twenty two, and not exactly a blushing virgin. He’s only been once in a serious relationship but he’s had more than his share of sexual encounters. Nothing can compare to what is happening to him right now.
“I… When I jerk off,” Jensen goes on in the same whispering voice. “When I jerk off, if I move my arm too quickly, it makes my body tense, and then my legs hurt. I… There is a feeling of release, but it’s always toned down by pain. So. I don’t know. I don’t what the fuck I’m doing right now.”
Jensen covers his face again, with both hands this time. Jared doesn’t want him to get stuck with his fear and insecurities. He stretches an arm to grab his bag and rummage through it until he finds the lube. He drops a large dollop in his palm and wraps his hand around Jensen’s cock. Jensen groans in surprise. A thick drop of precome bubbles at the slit of his well-defined cockhead, now a deeper shade of pink. Jared drags his hand up and down a couple of time, in a firm grip, and feels the thick shaft hardening more. He hears Jensen’s fingernails scratching at the sheets and keep his movement going, using his other hand to caress Jensen’s balls, loving the weight of them, the soft skin beginning to ripple. Only then does Jared allow himself to look up at Jensen and hell, he’s not disappointed.
Jensen’s eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering against the pale skin. His mouth is open, forming a slack “oh”, and he breathes hard through his nose, nostrils flaring.
“Does that feel good?” Jared asks.
“Huh… yeah, fuck… don’t stop, please.”
Jared has no intention of stopping. The only disappointing thing in this encounter is the certitude he has that Jensen won’t last long. He’s been alone for four months and having trouble jerking himself off. He’s probably already on edge. Jared could stop and make it last, but it would be selfish on his part. For now, Jensen is visibly enjoying himself; if he’s tensed and agitated for too long, thought, he might worsen his pain, until it gets the better of him.
Jared ignores his cock, heavy and hot between his legs, and keeps on going. Jensen’s hands are now on his own chest. He’s lifted his shirt up trapped below his armpits and he’s playing with his nipples, pinching and teasing them. A red flush is rising from his chest to his neck, and his face, which is contorted in a grimace of pleasure.
Jared looks at him and wishes to keep the memory of this moment, every detail, as realistic as possible. He’s so concentrated he doesn’t understand what Jensen is saying at first. The man’s voice is wrecked, words cut off by dry sobs of pleasure. He repeats. “Please, show me, wanna see you touching yourself… ah! God… please, Jared…”
Jared lets go of Jensen’s balls and lift himself up on his knees, lowering his boxers just below his sack and grabbing his dick, angry red and dripping. He doesn’t even think about the lube, just licks his palm and takes himself in hand, pressing and twisting around the head, just as he likes -most of the time, he only use the good old up and down motion when he knows he’s seconds away from coming.
It feels so damn good. Jared looks down where his dick and Jensen’s are practically touching. The position is awkward as hell, and it’s hard to keep two different rhythm, but there is no way Jared is moving from his spot. He’s too close. It’s too good. Jensen is moaning, loud, shameless, uttering nonsense about how beautiful Jared is, how he would like to have his big cock inside him.
Jared looks up, mesmerize by the sudden absence of reserve of Jensen. The man has lifted himself on his elbows so that he can look at Jared’s hands working the both of them.
“So hot… so… fucking… Wanna see you lose it, Jared, want you to come all over my belly. Come on, know you’re close. Come the fuck on, come for me, babe…”
Jared doesn’t know what does it, Jensen’s dirty talk or his flushed face, his bitten lips, his messed up hair, the smell of him, after shave and sweat and something else, salty, bitter, that’s intimate and unique. What triggers his orgasm isn’t important, but the violent pleasure of it, running over Jared and crushing him. He groans, can’t stop groaning, shaking as he paints Jensen’s stomach with creamy, warm sperm. It’s almost too much to keep his position and not forget about Jensen, but he manages, as white spots still explode before his eyes and the last remnants of his orgasm makes him tremble all over.
Jensen lets himself falling back on the pillow, his head turning from left to right as he pants a series of high pitched “ohs” while he runs his fingers through the mess of his stomach. His free hand is busy pinching both of his nipple in alternatively, his cockhead is now purplish and letting out long, sticky strings of precome. Jared accelerate the rhythm and the pressure, making him cry.
“Get me… ah! Get me there, Jared… Need to… Can’t… Fuck, get me there, need to come,” he pleads in a raw, exhausted voice.
Jared doesn’t even think. He bends over Jensen, using his free arm to support himself as to avoid putting any pressure on the other man’s body. Crushing his lips on Jensen’s, he slides his tongue inside the hot mouth, licking and twirling around, groaning in his throat at how good it still feels, despite having come not even a minute ago. Jensen’s response to the kiss is immediate. He bites at Jared’s lips, tiny burst of pain under his teeth, still moaning. Jared feels his tongue fighting his own and he has to have it. Has to have it all. He traps Jensen’s tongue between his lips and starts sucking, adding a twist to the quick movement of his hand on his steal hard cock.
“Ah!” Jensen cries, turning his head away to catch some air.
He’s coming, his body arching, his legs jerking. Jared looks down just in time to see one last spray of sperm getting expelled before sliding down Jared’s hand. Jensen is shaken by so many aftershocks Jared stops counting them.
It takes almost a minute before Jensen get coherent again. He’s still panting and sweating, but his eyes, when he looks at Jared, have this drunk expression of one hell of an afterglow. Tears are sliding down his cheeks, though, and Jared panics, lifting himself up. Jensen hurts. Despite coming down from a strong orgasm, he hurts. Jared shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like he has a healing cock.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles incoherently.
“For what?” Jensen croaks. He wipes his eyes and seems surprised to find his hand wet. “Oh. I’m crying.”
“Where did I hurt you? Shit, forgive the silly question. Your legs, they hurt a lot?”
“They do hurt, but you have nothing to do with it,” Jensen says, so calm it’s frustrating. “I’m not crying because of the pain.”
“No?” Jared needs to be sure.
“It was good,” Jensen murmurs, stretching an arm so that he can caress Jared’s cheeks with his fingers. “Too good. This…” he points at the tears still falling from is eyes. “This is because I’m relieved. This is because I thought I was gonna faint. That’s how good it was.”
::: :::
Jensen is drifting off. The pain is there, of course: Jensen has been stretching and tensing his muscles, and then when his orgasm hit, he couldn’t control the violent shivers wracking his body. It’s strange, though, because right now, it’s easy to push the pain away in a place in his mind where it doesn’t really matter. It happens sometimes after he’s been smoking pot, but it’s so much better this time.
Jared is cleaning his stomach with a warm washcloth. It’s soothing. Jensen sighs and opens his eyes. He’s in a playful mode, like he suddenly remembered that sometimes, life can be good.
“Is cuddling part of the assignment?” He asks, repressing a yawn.
Jared smiles at him and looks at his phone. “Well, there are forty-five minutes left to the appointment, and I’m here to make you feel good so, why not?”
Jensen explains to Jared how to help him settle on his side with a pillow between his legs. There is some straining in his right leg, the one bearing the weight of the other, but it’s manageable, even more so when Jared slides under the cover and wraps his giant, warm body around him.
Jensen had missed this, so much. Loneliness isn’t something he’s used to. He has trouble dealing with it since James left. Of course, there is Tim, who sacrificed a lot to move in with Jensen, and there isn’t a day he doesn’t thank him for everything he does for him. But this, having a warm body close to him, someone who kissed and caressed him, not caring about the disaster that is his legs… This is incomparable. Feeling loved for a moment, even if the other guy is paid for it well… It’s been fantastic. Jared is one of a kind, Jensen knows. He has known the minute he saw him, blown away by the light in his eyes and the dimples of his sincere smile.
“I want you to come back,” he declares, caressing Jared’s hand that’s resting on his stomach.
“I will if you want me too,” Jared murmurs in his ear.
There is a few seconds of silence, then Jared adds: “This was my first assignment,”
It pleases Jensen to hear that, fills him with pride for reasons he can’t quite understand. He thinks he’d like to be Jared’s only assignment. It’s a ridiculous thought, but Jensen keeps it inside him like a precious secret.
The end
- - - -
Title: The Christmas Present
Pairing: J2
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: NC-17 for well, PWP
Summary: Ever since Jensen's accident, his physical limitations are making everything difficult, even jerking off. His friend Tim thinks it's a good idea to ask for a sexual therapist at the rehabilitation center. It's a Christmas Gift, he explains to a very doubtful Jensen. Arrives Jared Padalecki. Jensen being his first client, he's very nervous. Chronic pain being in the way, can he take care of Jensen the way sexual therapists are supposed to?
Beta: The wonderful candygramme
Disclaimer: None if this is true. I make no profits out of it. This story is my intellectual property.
- - - -
The Christmas Present
“Come on, man, it’s Christmas.”
It’s Christmas. That’s Tim’s excuse.
Jensen snorts and turns his chair away from his crazy friend so that he can face the window. He knows Tim means well, and knows where this stupid idea comes from.
The thing is, Jensen needs to take painkillers on a regular basis. And sometimes, it’s not enough to get rid of the pain, so he’ll smoke a joint. Jensen wasn’t a fan of drugs before the accident, but his doctor is the one who suggested that he add marijuana to his opiate and muscle relaxant cocktail. Jensen’s legs are covered in scars -the left one looks like a twisted tree branch. His thigh is the worst because half of the muscle is missing, like some monster had taken a bite out of it. Jensen doesn’t really care about the appearance of his legs, though. According to the chief physical therapist at the center, if he works hard enough, he’ll even be able to walk again. No, what’s eating Jensen from the inside is the pain. He’s never really free of the pain, even with all the chemicals he puts in his body. He’s had a consultation with a neurologist who specialized in nerve chronic pain, and he’s been told that when the nerves are touched, it’s difficult to manage the pain. Nerve damage is resistant to most painkillers. There is hope, though. Six months after the accident, Jensen is still healing. It takes a long time for nerve damage to heal, but it’s possible it will get better. Eventually.
Which is a poor consolation. Hence trying all sort of methods to manage the pain better, from electric shock to hypnosis -yes, Jensen isn’t ashamed to say he’s tried it. Anyone in his position would do anything to get some relief. Marijuana is the only alternative method showing some result. Jensen tries not to abuse -he doesn’t exactly like the feeling that comes with it, like time is passing way too slow, and he’s a spectator of his own life. Long story short, last week, after an especially tough day, he’d smoked more than he was used to, and that had translated in a freaking crying fit. Tim had been there to hear Jensen complain about how hard everything was, and how tired he was to try to be positive and in good spirits, when all he wanted to do was to curl in his bed and sleep. Jensen even spoke about his inexistent sex life, for God’s sake, complaining about the difficulty of jerking off, because even if his arms are perfectly fine, each strain on his body gets to his legs, the tiniest movement of his hips can trigger those awful, electric-shock-like pain explosions along the scar on his left leg. It’s pathetic, thinking how he’d been crying like a baby, with snot coming out of his nose, wondering what he’d done to deserve this kind of life, where the simplest intimate pleasure was now out of reach.
Yeah. Most of the time, Jensen tries really hard not to think about what he’s lost and focus on what he still has. Most of the time, Jensen can keep the most depressing thoughts at bay and be grateful that he’s still alive, despite the doctor’s prognosis.
Most of the time.
“Jense?”
“I was high, Tim. I didn’t really meant all I said,” Jensen explains, looking at the snowflakes dancing in the wind outside.
“Oh come on. Jense, look at me,” Tim asks, his voice too soft.
Jensen turns his wheelchair back to face his friend. He tries to readjust himself in his seat and a small jerk of his hips triggers a burning explosion of pain in his right knee. He tries not to wince.
“I’m… It’s a nice thought, Tim. Well, it’s a crazy idea,” Jensen adds, smiling. “But I appreciate it.”
“So say yes and hug me,” Tim suggest, smiling too.
“I don’t need a hooker.”
Even the words hurts. Makes Jensen thinks of James, and how empty his bed is now.
“It’s not a hooker, it’s a rehabilitation worker. They are professionals, hired by the hospital and following a work ethic contract that’s twenty page long. I know, I read it all.”
“It’s stupid,” Jensen groans. He’s tired. He had physical therapy in the morning and it drained him. He needs a couple of pills, and a nap.
Tim grabs the wheelchair’s armrest and bend over Jensen, his grey curls falling on Jensen’s short hair, his forehead, covering his right eye. Jensen huffs and wipes the strands away, careful not to lift his eyes, because then, he’d have to look at Tim, and he doesn’t feel like looking at Tim.
“It’s not stupid. It’s sexuality. Some people out there, Jensen, they can’t even use their own hands. It’s a work in progress, but it already exists in other countries. Some people aren’t even capable of masturbating, how is that fair? An accident or a sickness doesn’t only take away most of what you appreciated in life, it leaves you incapable of satisfying any sexual need. I mean, some are lucky, they have a wife -or husband, but others, they’re trapped in their own body and that’s all there is to it.”
“Wow, did you take a master class or something?”
Tim burst out laughing and sits on the floor, folding his long legs. It’s something he likes to do, say he’s tired of looking down at Jensen like he’s his freaking dom. Tim always finds a way to make Jensen laughs, which isn’t easy these days.
“Listen man, you deserve this. I admire you. You always try to see the positive side of things, you keep going even if sometimes it’s hell. I know, fuck, I’m here, with you. Sometimes when the pain gets bad I feel like cursing the fucking universe, or hitting something. I hate seeing you suffer. But you, you try so hard to deal with it. You even comfort your family when they’re worried about you. Still, I know how hard it is, I’ve heard you scream in your sleep. I see it on your face when the pain gets too bad for you to pretend everything is good and well. You should be able to find sexual relief without having to deal with the pain. That’s fucking unfair. Just… let someone take care of you. You’re lucky, most insurances companies don’t cover sexual therapists-“
“Really?” Jensen asks, the beginning of a smile quirking his lips up. He can’t help it. Tim is a theater actor and it sometimes seems like he forgets he’s not standing on a scene. He gets into those emotional monologues that make Jensen laugh each and every time. The more dramatic he’s being, the more fun Jensen has.
“Oh, shut up,” Tim replies, but he’s smiling too. “As I was saying, with insurance companies refusing to cover the expense, not a lot of people can afford it, which is a damn shame. You’re wealthy enough to pay for it, and you don’t even have too. Like I’ve said. Christmas present.”
“This is, by far, the weirdest thing I’ve ever been offered.”
“Well, you can say thanks,” Tim claps his hand together while speaking, like the conversation is over and everything is settled. “As for me, I need to find something to do tomorrow afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s when your weird Christmas present is scheduled to come. Ah! Come. Get it?”
Tim winks at Jensen and stands up, unfolding his long body in an elegant manner.
“Man, I can’t just… have some guy here to….” Jensen can feel it in his own voice. Rendition.
“I’m going to do some laundry in the basement,” Tim announces. “Want to get the sheets off your bed for me?”
He’s having fun with it, Jensen thinks, and it should be annoying, but it’s not. Jensen maneuvers his wheelchair slowly, turning it toward the hallway.
“Right,” he says. “Yes, wash my sheets before the sexual therapist get here.”
“That’s the spirit, my boy,” Tim exclaims, and his Shakespearian voice resonates in the living room.
Jensen doesn’t think he would have accept this whole… sexual therapy idea if it had come from anyone else, but Tim always manages to get his way, and there isn’t a day that passes where Jensen isn’t thankful for having him as a friend and roommate.
Getting the sheets off his bed is tough. Jensen knows he should have taken his pills sometime like an hour ago. When he’s done, he’s sweating bullets and shaking, the only thought in his mind being the pills waiting for him in the kitchen. He doesn’t think the sexual therapist will be able to do… whatever it is they do, not when moving is sufficient to awaken the pain. But let’s be honest, the few times Jensen had actually succeeded in jerking off have been way more frustrating than satisfying, so really, why not try it?
This is your life now, Jensen thinks. Sexual therapy it is then.
::: :::
Jensen Ackles. Jensen Ackles, Jared reads and re-read the name on the file. Okay, alright, he can do this.
The taxi is stuck in traffic, which gives Jared some more time to revise the assignment. And to try not to throw up from stress. There has to be a first time. Being a sexual therapist isn’t only a title -and also, the perfect job for his friend to mock him, endlessly. It’s actually practicing sexual therapy. And according to Tahmoh, his boss, Jared is ready.
Name: Jensen Ackles
Age: 26
Medical condition: The patient was hit by a car as he was standing on the sidewalk. The damage has been significant, ranging from a head concussion, broken ribs and two fractures of his right arm -all of which are considered healed by now. The patient has suffered multiple fractures to both legs, when at least one wheel of the car implicated in the accident rolled over them. The patient has been through four surgeries and is still having physical therapy three times a week. Learning to walk is the current goal. The principal problem he now faces is the nerve damage, especially to his left leg, which causes the patient to suffer from constant pain, resistant to most painkillers, even in high dosage. Seven months after the accident, the pain has been classified as chronic, and the patient is now followed at the Stewart Clinic for Pain Management by Dr. Collins. The patient is currently using a wheelchair.
Specific problematics for sexual therapy: The patient’s pain can make it difficult to get him relaxed enough to feel sexual arousal. As it’s well known, the opiates he’s taking can also be an obstacle for achieving an erection and ejaculation.
Recommendations: This is the first appointment with the patient. The sexual therapist should follow his lead and work on providing sexual pleasure while taking into account the patient’s comfort.
Jared has seen Jensen Ackles at the rehabilitation center before, but never interacted with him. There was gossip about him when he’d first arrived, Jared remembers. He’d been a model and had just landed a role in a independent movie when the accident happened. Jared has no trouble believing the model part. Even from a distance, Ackles’ handsomeness is striking. Those eyes, and that smile, and…
This is not about someone you’re attracted to or not, Jared, was one of Tahmoh’s first pieces of advice when he’d been hired. This is about the care you provide to that person. No matter whether it be sexual intercourse or one hour of occupational therapy, the goal is the same. It’s helping the patients we care for.
The thing is, Jared has never even imagined he’d be a sexual therapist. He’s still in school, studying to be a physical therapist, and he’d found a part time job at the center as an orderly last year. It helps to pay school and it’s in his field of studies. The perfect job, right? He was shocked when Tahmoh Penniket had called him into his office and offered him the job. Why him? Had been Jared’s first question, like: is “potential hooker” written on his forehead, something like that? No, but Jared made no secret of his sexual orientation, and Tahmoh had had trouble with gay clients. He’d been already short of men, and the few of them on his books were heterosexual, not exactly enthusiastic at the thought of having male clients. “Of course, it’s not really about sex -well, not on the therapist’s part, anyway, but apparently, there is still this feeling of awkwardness. According to them anyway. Come on, Jared. You’re young, you need money, and I can tell you you’ll make more in one appointment than in three shifts as an orderly. Plus, I’ve seen you around. You’re good with people. Very empathic. You’re a good person. Trust me, I wouldn’t have asked only because you’re gay if I didn’t like your work from the start.”
Why had Jared agreed? Well, he doesn’t have the luxury to refuse money, to be honest. But he’s also been curious. He’d ask for time before giving his answer and had spent the new couple of days reading about sexual therapy and how appreciated it is. For some people, being deprived of the simple act of getting themselves off, especially for men, is extremely frustrating. It can do some good, not only on the sexual level, but psychologically as well. Jared had decided to try after that, and he’d spend a week with Tahmoh learning the basis.
And now, after waiting for his first client with a mix of anticipation and cold, paralyzing fear, there he is, approaching Jensen Ackles’ apartment with his bag next to him, a duffel showing the name of the rehabilitation center, but filled with very different stuff than exercise items, medicated massage cream and the progression chart.
There are condoms, lube, a couple of toys, massaging oil of a different kind, and even a fluffy bathrobe. And Jared feels like he’s been thrown in another dimension somewhere along the way.
The taxi stops. It’s time. Jared’s heart beat picks up its pace.
::: :::
The person opening the door is a tall guy -almost as tall as Jared, but way more imposing. Not that he’s buff, or has wide shoulders. It’s just what he’s giving off: with the beard and the grey curls, the way he’s standing, he looks like he’d be more at his place in a castle, some last generation of a noble family. His handshake is firm, his smile sincere.
“Hi I’m Tim Omundson, Jensen’s roommate.”
“Jared Padalecki.”
He can feel the other man giving him a once over without any shame. His smile becomes playful. “I gotta say, Jared… You are definitely Jensen’s kind of guy.”
“And you are supposed to leave,” comes a low voice behind him.
It’s Jensen, rolling his chair slowly in the hallway. Jared swallows so loudly he’s sure the others must have heard him.
Despite the fact that he’s too thin, wearing a t-shirt that falls flat on his delicate shoulders, his face angular because of the absence of fat, Jensen really is quite a sight. Of course he would be a model. He has wonderful green eyes and long curly lashes, a full mouth with red lips, a straight nose, with the bridge scattered with freckles. His short, light brown hair is combed to the side, not a single strand out of place. He’s a couple of feet away from Jared but he smells so good Jared can’t wait to get closer. Now, thinking that he’ll get to see him naked, to touch him, and provide him with pleasure, Jared is even more nervous. Because he’s aroused.
“Right, I’m going now. Have fun, kids,” Tim says, patting Jared on the shoulder. He grabs his coat from the hanger and is out in a matter of seconds.
Jared takes off his own, then slides out of his boots, all the while feeling Jensen Ackles’ eyes on him. He’s blushing, and being bent forward doesn’t help. When he stands up straight again, a head rush makes the room shift for a second or two, and Jared has to hold on to the wall. He doesn’t even want to think about how unprofessional he must look right now.
“Are you… are you even legal?” Jensen asks.
He’s blushing too, and considering Jared with a surprised expression.
“I’m twenty-two,” Jared declares, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “Jared.”
“Jensen, as you probably already know. Listen, Jared…”
Jensen lowers his head like he’s suddenly fascinated by his hands crossed on his lap. “This wasn’t my idea and… I don’t know what… I… I’m not completely comfortable right now.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” Jared says in a reassuring voice.
He’s learned how to deal with his clients. Time to put it to good use. Besides, Jensen does look uneasy, and there is something else in his eyes too… sadness. It twists Jared’s guts, and he remember what the file says. Chronic pain. Life is such a bitch sometimes.
“We can start by going to your room?” He suggests softly.
Jensen nods but doesn’t move. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Okay huh… follow me.”
Jared does. Jensen’s room is the first door to the left. It’s been adapted: the bed is raised on locked wheels and there are two ramps fixed to the walls. Jensen still has to maneuver his chair carefully not to hit anything. A couple of marks on the drawer set tells Jared he hasn’t always been successful.
The room smells good and clean, like it’s just been tidied. Of course it’s been tidied. Jared drops his bag on the bed and looks around. The walls are blue-grey, without any ornaments or pictures. There is a TV and a bunch of dvd’s on a shelf nearby. Outside of that, the room seems pretty impersonal.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Jensen asks in an insecure voice.
“Can I sit?” Jared asks pointing at the bed.
“Yeah. Yeah of course, go on.”
Jared does. When a client doesn’t make the first step and state out loud what he wants, you have to give him time and ease him into it.
“So, Jensen. I’m not here to stress you or force you into anything.”
“Yeah I… I know that,” Jensen murmurs, looking away. “I’m… It’s been… Okay, you know what? I’m going to ask you a couple of direct questions, if you don’t mind,” he adds, trying to sound more confident.
“Go ahead.”
“Are you gay?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Something changes in Jensen’s posture, like he’s liberated of a weight he’d carried on his frail shoulders. “Okay. And huh… Why? Why did you decide to become a sex therapist?”
“I didn’t really decide. I’m a physical therapy student. I work at the St-Jude center as an orderly.”
“Okay so… This isn’t like… your career plan?”
“I don’t think so, but I know this service is something important and there is a lot of need.”
“Right.” Jensen scratches the back of his head and licks his upper lip. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this, Jared. I can barely stand on my legs, and moving them is difficult. It hurts a lot. I’ve just taken some meds, but I still need to be careful.”
“Why don’t we start by find you a comfortable position? Would you like to lie down?”
Jensen frowns. “I don’t… Lying flat on my back is out of the question… There’s a strain and… Well, I could sit on the bed, with a couple of pillows behind my back and huh… my leg stretched in front of me. When I let them relax and bend a little at the knee the pain is manageable.”
“Works for me. Do you need help undressing?”
Jensen’s head snaps up, sowing a deep blush crawling up until it reaches the tip of his ears. “I… Maybe just the pants to start? It’s… damn, I’m so fucking embarrassed.”
“It’s okay. We can do it once you’re settled.”
Jensen nods without a sound. He gets the comforter down, and he tells Jared he doesn’t need help, for the next step. He gets his chair parallel to the bed, helping himself with the bar fixed near the bed head to stand up. His legs are shaking badly. He’s sweating, like he’s been holding the position for a while, and a grunt escapes his throat when he manages to turn and sit on the bed. He’s also panting, and the color of his cheeks, Jared guesses, is more due to exhaustion.
It won’t be easy, if he’s in that much pain already. Jared wonder if they’ll get anywhere. He hopes he’ll find a way to at least give Jensen a decent hand job. The guy looks like he needs it.
“You… Can you grab my legs?” Jensen asks. “The best way is to get your hands under both my heels and follow my lead. If I tell you to stop, stop, but please don’t let go.
That part is easier. Jared has enough experience and training to do what Jensen asks him without putting any kind of pressure on the legs. He feels them, tensing and shaking. He grabs the two pillows near the bed and helps Jensen in a semi-sitting position. Once he’s settled, the man lets out a shaky sigh and wipes the sweat from his forehead. He tries to smile at Jared, but it’s more of a grimace.
“Thanks.”
Jared tries to focus on what he has to do, and not the pity he feels toward his client. He decides to get things going and steps out of his jeans. Then, he sits next to Jensen on the bed, being careful not to disturb his position by creasing the mattress. When he looks at him, Jensen’s mouth is open and he licks his lips. Looking like a deer caught in the headlights, he lowers his head quickly.
“It’s okay, you can look,” Jared coaxes him. Leading the sexual encounter is part of his job, although he’s far from feeling the confidence he tries to show.
“You…” Jensen huffs a nervous laugh, staring at Jared under his long lashes. “Could you take your shirt off too?”
Jared nods and strips from his buttoned, long-sleeved shirt. Jensen doesn’t turn away. Instead, he stretches a shaky hand. “Can I… touch?”
“Yes, you can.”
Jensen drags his fingers along Jared’s firm stomach. Jared immediately feels a warm sensation blooming deep in his belly. He doesn’t know what excites him the most: Jensen’s feather-light touches, or his expression, a mix of desire and hesitation.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” Jensen murmurs. “I was… I had someone in my life. He left four months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jared turns on his side and grabs Jensen’s chin in his hand, delicately. “Can I kiss you?”
Jensen shivers and nod. His lips are slightly opened and wet with saliva, reading to be kissed. Jared presses his against them, tasting coffee and mint, surprised when Jensen’s tongue makes its way inside and licks around. It’s slow but intense. Jared is getting excited. As the kiss progress, his cock starts to fill. When they break away, catching their breath. Jared feels the need to see if Jensen is getting into it to. The swell of his erection is perfectly visible under the loose fabric of his sweatpants. Suddenly, it’s not about sexual therapy anymore. It’s just about Jared’s attraction to Jensen and the acute need to make him feel good.
“Want me to take off your pants?” He whispers.
Jensen nods. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Jared who stands up and walks to the bottom of the bed, and Jared does his best to keep the eye contact.
“You have to tell me, if I hurt you,” he warns, kneeling on the edge of the mattress.
“Wait!” Jensen says in a panicked voice just as Jared stretches his arms to grab the waistband of his pants.
“It hurts?”
“No it…” Jensen covers his face with one hand and let it slides slowly. “It… my legs. My legs are ugly. Lots of scars, and the left one is crooked, the thigh is the worst. Some of it is missing. I… I don’t…”
Jensen’s breath is picking up, and his eyes are once more those of a cornered animal. Jared shushes him, as softly as he can.
“Listen to me. I don’t care about your legs. I want to touch you, I want to see your arousal, the rest isn’t important.”
“Plus, you’re paid for this,” Jensen adds, snorting nervously.
Jared doesn’t protest. If the fact that Jensen is receiving a service Jared is providing make him less uncomfortable, well let it be that way.
Despite Jared’s delicateness, Jensen moans in pain a couple of time. His left leg jerks violently when Jared slides the leg of the pants down. God. It’s not important, Jared was honest, but he can’t help the profound sadness that washes over him as he uncover two thin legs, both crisscrossed by scars of different size and color. It must hurt like hell, and to think that Jensen gets physical therapy three times a week. He must suffer so much during those sessions. Jared can’t imagine him walking again, not on those two twisted members.
He has taken the opportunity to get Jensen’s boxers down with the pants. When it’s done, and Jensen relaxes his legs again, they part naturally, the knees falling on the sides. Jared lifts himself up on his knees and gets settled in the V created, wanting to take his time discovering Jensen’s body.
He’s not disappointed. Most of his skin is so different from that which covers the legs, creamy and soft looking, with tiny freckles scattered here and there. Jensen’s cock is half hard, thick and uncut, of a perfect size to fit in Jared’s hand. The color of the tip, a pale shade of pink, makes Jared’s mouth water. He runs his fingers through the trimmed curls of hair surrounding it, hearing Jensen hiss. He knows, from instinct, that the noise isn’t one of pain. Jensen’s balls are high, looking full already. Jared has trouble thinking straight. He would like to push Jensen’s thighs up and have a look at Jensen’s tiny hole, he’s persuaded it’s as pretty as the rest of him.
Jared slowly lifts Jensen’s t-shirt so he can press little kisses following his happy trail. Jensen’s stomach is flat but soft. Jared would like to lick it all over, dip his tongue in the navel and then kiss it some more.
He doesn’t do it, though. He needs to ask Jensen what he wants from him. Until now, it appears that he has control over his pain, but Jared isn’t a mind reader, doesn’t know how much Jensen can endure, and if some movement of his hip and stomach might bother his legs.
I don’t want to hurt him, Jared thinks, and he knows he’s making it personal, something Tahmoh has warned him against.
“Jensen,” he says, lifting his head.
Jensen’s eyes are opened to slits, and his chest rises and falls quickly. Both of his arms are immobile, close to his body, his hands closed in fist on the sheets.
“It feels so good,” Jensen sighs. “It’s… God, I didn’t realized how much I needed this.”
“Tell me what you want,” Jared asks, then he adds, despite of himself. “God, you’re beautiful like this. Makes me want to take care of you, make you come. Let me take care of you.”
“I… I don’t know what I can do,” Jensen murmurs in a low, raw voice. “I don’t think I can go all the way and have you… hum… fuck me.”
“I don’t mind bottoming if that’s what you need.”
“Fuck, don’t say stuff like that, I’m so freaking aroused I think I could come only from you talking dirty to me.”
Jared’s dick jumps at the image it triggers in his brain. Yes, anything and everything you need, baby, he thinks.
He should stop. He should focus. Jensen is a patient.
Jared can’t help it. The man is getting to him in a way he’s never known before. He’s twenty two, and not exactly a blushing virgin. He’s only been once in a serious relationship but he’s had more than his share of sexual encounters. Nothing can compare to what is happening to him right now.
“I… When I jerk off,” Jensen goes on in the same whispering voice. “When I jerk off, if I move my arm too quickly, it makes my body tense, and then my legs hurt. I… There is a feeling of release, but it’s always toned down by pain. So. I don’t know. I don’t what the fuck I’m doing right now.”
Jensen covers his face again, with both hands this time. Jared doesn’t want him to get stuck with his fear and insecurities. He stretches an arm to grab his bag and rummage through it until he finds the lube. He drops a large dollop in his palm and wraps his hand around Jensen’s cock. Jensen groans in surprise. A thick drop of precome bubbles at the slit of his well-defined cockhead, now a deeper shade of pink. Jared drags his hand up and down a couple of time, in a firm grip, and feels the thick shaft hardening more. He hears Jensen’s fingernails scratching at the sheets and keep his movement going, using his other hand to caress Jensen’s balls, loving the weight of them, the soft skin beginning to ripple. Only then does Jared allow himself to look up at Jensen and hell, he’s not disappointed.
Jensen’s eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering against the pale skin. His mouth is open, forming a slack “oh”, and he breathes hard through his nose, nostrils flaring.
“Does that feel good?” Jared asks.
“Huh… yeah, fuck… don’t stop, please.”
Jared has no intention of stopping. The only disappointing thing in this encounter is the certitude he has that Jensen won’t last long. He’s been alone for four months and having trouble jerking himself off. He’s probably already on edge. Jared could stop and make it last, but it would be selfish on his part. For now, Jensen is visibly enjoying himself; if he’s tensed and agitated for too long, thought, he might worsen his pain, until it gets the better of him.
Jared ignores his cock, heavy and hot between his legs, and keeps on going. Jensen’s hands are now on his own chest. He’s lifted his shirt up trapped below his armpits and he’s playing with his nipples, pinching and teasing them. A red flush is rising from his chest to his neck, and his face, which is contorted in a grimace of pleasure.
Jared looks at him and wishes to keep the memory of this moment, every detail, as realistic as possible. He’s so concentrated he doesn’t understand what Jensen is saying at first. The man’s voice is wrecked, words cut off by dry sobs of pleasure. He repeats. “Please, show me, wanna see you touching yourself… ah! God… please, Jared…”
Jared lets go of Jensen’s balls and lift himself up on his knees, lowering his boxers just below his sack and grabbing his dick, angry red and dripping. He doesn’t even think about the lube, just licks his palm and takes himself in hand, pressing and twisting around the head, just as he likes -most of the time, he only use the good old up and down motion when he knows he’s seconds away from coming.
It feels so damn good. Jared looks down where his dick and Jensen’s are practically touching. The position is awkward as hell, and it’s hard to keep two different rhythm, but there is no way Jared is moving from his spot. He’s too close. It’s too good. Jensen is moaning, loud, shameless, uttering nonsense about how beautiful Jared is, how he would like to have his big cock inside him.
Jared looks up, mesmerize by the sudden absence of reserve of Jensen. The man has lifted himself on his elbows so that he can look at Jared’s hands working the both of them.
“So hot… so… fucking… Wanna see you lose it, Jared, want you to come all over my belly. Come on, know you’re close. Come the fuck on, come for me, babe…”
Jared doesn’t know what does it, Jensen’s dirty talk or his flushed face, his bitten lips, his messed up hair, the smell of him, after shave and sweat and something else, salty, bitter, that’s intimate and unique. What triggers his orgasm isn’t important, but the violent pleasure of it, running over Jared and crushing him. He groans, can’t stop groaning, shaking as he paints Jensen’s stomach with creamy, warm sperm. It’s almost too much to keep his position and not forget about Jensen, but he manages, as white spots still explode before his eyes and the last remnants of his orgasm makes him tremble all over.
Jensen lets himself falling back on the pillow, his head turning from left to right as he pants a series of high pitched “ohs” while he runs his fingers through the mess of his stomach. His free hand is busy pinching both of his nipple in alternatively, his cockhead is now purplish and letting out long, sticky strings of precome. Jared accelerate the rhythm and the pressure, making him cry.
“Get me… ah! Get me there, Jared… Need to… Can’t… Fuck, get me there, need to come,” he pleads in a raw, exhausted voice.
Jared doesn’t even think. He bends over Jensen, using his free arm to support himself as to avoid putting any pressure on the other man’s body. Crushing his lips on Jensen’s, he slides his tongue inside the hot mouth, licking and twirling around, groaning in his throat at how good it still feels, despite having come not even a minute ago. Jensen’s response to the kiss is immediate. He bites at Jared’s lips, tiny burst of pain under his teeth, still moaning. Jared feels his tongue fighting his own and he has to have it. Has to have it all. He traps Jensen’s tongue between his lips and starts sucking, adding a twist to the quick movement of his hand on his steal hard cock.
“Ah!” Jensen cries, turning his head away to catch some air.
He’s coming, his body arching, his legs jerking. Jared looks down just in time to see one last spray of sperm getting expelled before sliding down Jared’s hand. Jensen is shaken by so many aftershocks Jared stops counting them.
It takes almost a minute before Jensen get coherent again. He’s still panting and sweating, but his eyes, when he looks at Jared, have this drunk expression of one hell of an afterglow. Tears are sliding down his cheeks, though, and Jared panics, lifting himself up. Jensen hurts. Despite coming down from a strong orgasm, he hurts. Jared shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like he has a healing cock.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbles incoherently.
“For what?” Jensen croaks. He wipes his eyes and seems surprised to find his hand wet. “Oh. I’m crying.”
“Where did I hurt you? Shit, forgive the silly question. Your legs, they hurt a lot?”
“They do hurt, but you have nothing to do with it,” Jensen says, so calm it’s frustrating. “I’m not crying because of the pain.”
“No?” Jared needs to be sure.
“It was good,” Jensen murmurs, stretching an arm so that he can caress Jared’s cheeks with his fingers. “Too good. This…” he points at the tears still falling from is eyes. “This is because I’m relieved. This is because I thought I was gonna faint. That’s how good it was.”
::: :::
Jensen is drifting off. The pain is there, of course: Jensen has been stretching and tensing his muscles, and then when his orgasm hit, he couldn’t control the violent shivers wracking his body. It’s strange, though, because right now, it’s easy to push the pain away in a place in his mind where it doesn’t really matter. It happens sometimes after he’s been smoking pot, but it’s so much better this time.
Jared is cleaning his stomach with a warm washcloth. It’s soothing. Jensen sighs and opens his eyes. He’s in a playful mode, like he suddenly remembered that sometimes, life can be good.
“Is cuddling part of the assignment?” He asks, repressing a yawn.
Jared smiles at him and looks at his phone. “Well, there are forty-five minutes left to the appointment, and I’m here to make you feel good so, why not?”
Jensen explains to Jared how to help him settle on his side with a pillow between his legs. There is some straining in his right leg, the one bearing the weight of the other, but it’s manageable, even more so when Jared slides under the cover and wraps his giant, warm body around him.
Jensen had missed this, so much. Loneliness isn’t something he’s used to. He has trouble dealing with it since James left. Of course, there is Tim, who sacrificed a lot to move in with Jensen, and there isn’t a day he doesn’t thank him for everything he does for him. But this, having a warm body close to him, someone who kissed and caressed him, not caring about the disaster that is his legs… This is incomparable. Feeling loved for a moment, even if the other guy is paid for it well… It’s been fantastic. Jared is one of a kind, Jensen knows. He has known the minute he saw him, blown away by the light in his eyes and the dimples of his sincere smile.
“I want you to come back,” he declares, caressing Jared’s hand that’s resting on his stomach.
“I will if you want me too,” Jared murmurs in his ear.
There is a few seconds of silence, then Jared adds: “This was my first assignment,”
It pleases Jensen to hear that, fills him with pride for reasons he can’t quite understand. He thinks he’d like to be Jared’s only assignment. It’s a ridiculous thought, but Jensen keeps it inside him like a precious secret.
The end
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