Fic: Bow Your Head (For All the Loveliness). RPS. Jensen/Jared. NC-17. 5th part of the BDSM verse.
Title: Bow Your Head (For All the Loveliness)
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2513 words
Summary:
It’s been good. More than good. But it isn’t until now that Jared realizes he might have dropped the ball on this, whatever this is.
Sure, he does aftercare. He cleans up and makes sure there are no visible marks. Kisses Jensen and tells him he did good. Holds him tight when that’s what he needs and lightly when he’s too sore to stand the pressure. But this… he hasn’t been giving Jensen this.
Warnings: BDSM. Pretty mild for once but it mentions heavier stuff so... pretty much the same warnings apply as for the rest of this verse.
Author's note: Beta'd by the lovely candygramme but all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Title from the song Bow Your Head by Anna Ternheim, my go-to muse for fic titles, ideas and general feel good. This work is also available on AO3.
Jared runs his fingers through his hair, blinking as he tries to focus on the script, on Sam and Dean’s adventure in some weird office AU, created by Zachariah to fuck with them. The words are starting to run together, going fuzzy before his eyes. God, he’s just so tired. It’s supposed to be the last scene for the day, but that’s no guarantee they’re even close to going home. Sometimes there’s last minute addons, sometimes that one scene just runs on and on, in endless retakes and fuck-ups. Sometimes they’re called back to fix something that went wrong earlier in the day. Just thinking about how many hours they might actually have left makes him want to close his eyes and pass out for what remains of their too short break.
Just then there’s a knock on the door and he looks up to find Jensen standing in the doorway. He looks just as exhausted, there are bruises starting to form under his eyes that make-up is sure to tut over when they get called back on set. He’s wearing Dean Smith’s shirt and tie, looking a little rumpled after a day’s worth of wear, but still so damn good that if Jared wasn’t close to passing out he’d love to wrap that tie around his fist and fuck Jensen’s face, arms trapped behind his back, tangled in the sleeves of the preppy striped shirt.
“Can I...?” Jensen starts but his voice trails off and he looks away, fingers scratching nervously at his wrist where the bracelet should be but isn’t because apparently Dean Smith doesn’t have Dean Winchester’s leather fetish. Jared almost had a talk with wardrobe about it, would have if Jensen hadn’t asked him not to. “Too obvious,” he’d murmured, face pink, and Jared had let it go. Now, five days later, seeing the angry scratches on Jensen’s skin he wishes he hadn’t.
Jared barely keeps from sighing. God, he loves Jensen, so damn much, it’s just… he’s so goddamn tired. “Hey, man. Whatever you need,” he says instead, smiling, even if he’s honestly not sure he can get it up right now.
Jensen nods in thanks, biting his lip. He steps in and closes and locks the door behind him, before walking over and sinking down to his knees by Jared’s side. Then he bows his head and leans against Jared’s leg.
Jared blinks. Maybe it’s the exhaustion talking but… what is happening? He opens his mouth to ask what Jensen wants, but something in the quiet tension riding Jensen’s shoulder makes him hesitate. Slowly he reaches out and rests his hand on Jensen’s head. The air feels unnaturally still. He takes a quiet breath and runs his fingers gently through Jensen’s hair. Once. Twice. And then it’s like his fingers cut through some invisible string as Jensen’s shoulders slump in relief, and he leans even more heavily into Jared’s leg.
Oh. Well, alright.
They sit there, Jared carding his fingers through Jensen’s hair, occasionally rubbing Jensen’s neck with just his fingertips as he continues to go over his lines. Jensen’s head stays bowed, his breathing growing slower and deeper as the minutes tick by.
When the knock comes, calling them to set, Jensen rouses. He lifts his head, eyes slightly out-of-focus as he blinks awake. It hits Jared how much he loves this man. This big tough macho man, holding all that strength and power, kneeling at his feet, like that’s where he belongs. Like it’s his sanctuary.
“God, I love you,” Jared says, and Jensen glances up at him, surprised. Then he looks away again, blushing slightly. Rubs the back of his neck and mumbles something that sounds like “I know,” but not with nearly enough conviction.
For a moment Jared contemplates telling Jensen off, wants to make him repeat it, on his knees, tie tightened in strangulation, until maybe it finally sinks in. But they’re needed on set, and, even if it wouldn’t be the first time they’re late, it’s been a long week, and everyone is tired. It wouldn’t be fair to the crew to drag the night on further than is needed, even if for once they’re filming mostly inside and not in Vancouver’s ever-present rainy weather.
So instead he stands up, offering Jensen a hand, pulling him to his feet. Jensen sways for a moment, then he shakes his head and sighs before tilting his face up for a soft kiss. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I just…. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Jen. Anything, you know that.”
Jensen nods, like he always does, and still he can’t ask, he can’t tell Jared what he needs, and sometimes it makes Jared so damn frustrated he wants to shake him until he just fucking talks! But other times, most times, it just makes him sad. Because Jensen should be able to feel open with him, should know he can ask for anything without hesitation. God, if there’s something Jared should spank him for it’s that, right there. Maybe he will. Later.
Jared is making lasagna for dinner, singing off-key along to a song on the radio he’s only half familiar with, so it’s mostly humming with a few choice lyrics dropped in when he remembers them. It’s been a good day, mostly. The weather was unseasonably nice for Vancouver, they’d gone for a long walk with the dogs, had some pretty good coffee and bagels for lunch, their knees pressed together under the table, then walked back home and had lazy afternoon sex.
Jensen has been pretty quiet all day though, but every time Jared asks if there’s anything he needs, Jensen just shakes his head even if there’s obviously something, and again Jared wishes he would just…
He takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile when he hears Jensen coming down the stairs. Jensen hovers awkwardly, rubbing his palms on his jeans. They leave the denim a slight shade darker. Jared pretends not to notice. This time he’s not going to do Jensen’s job for him. Let him ask.
Jensen swallows, takes a deep breath, then walks over and sinks to his knees by Jared’s side. Before Jared makes the blunder of turning towards him, or even worse, unzipping his jeans, Jensen leans against his leg and bows his head. Oh.
Jared doesn’t really have a free hand, he needs both to chop the onions, but he reaches down and pets Jensen on the head, just long enough to acknowledge him and what they’re doing. He doesn’t say anything, because he’s not sure what to say. ‘There, there,’ would sound stupid, it’s not like Jensen is crying or in any kind of distress. ‘Good boy,’ gives Jared a bit of a thrill, but he’s not sure if Jensen would appreciate it. So he just continues cooking, wiping his hand and reaching down every now and then to stroke Jensen’s hair.
He finishes readying the lasagna and gently nudges Jensen with his knee so he can open the oven without risking burning him. Like last time, Jensen looks slightly dazed when he raises his head. He starts to rise, but Jared puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. Just need to get to the oven.”
Jensen starts shuffling aside on his knees but then he stops and quickly stands up. His face is pink, and he won’t meet Jared’s eyes. “I’m just gonna…” he says, and then he practically flees into the living room.
When Jared goes to join him, Jensen is sitting on the couch, seemingly relaxed if it wasn’t for the blank stare, aimed at the tv. There’s some nature show on, looks like a documentary about whales. The sound isn’t even on. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Jared says, sitting down close enough to touch.
Jensen nods. He still won’t look up. Jared puts his arm around his shoulders and Jensen shifts a little, like he half wants to run away, half wants to lean in. Jared lets it be for now. He reaches for the remote, turns on the sound and lets David Attenborough’s soothing voice wash over them until the timer goes off.
After dinner Jared channel surfs while Jensen cleans up the kitchen. He settles finally on some Bruce Willis movie they’ve both seen a dozen times but it’s got guns and explosions and not a single deep thought, which is all they need. Jared waits for Jensen to slip to the floor when he joins him, but he just sits down again, ankle balancing on his knee, seeming relaxed if not for his shoulders sliding just a little too close to his ears. Not even when Jared lays an arm over the back of the couch, inviting him in, does he do much more than shuffle a little closer with a half-smile before going back to watching the movie.
Jared wakes up, and the movie is over, replaced by something even more brainless, starring Jean-Claude van Damme from the looks of it. Jensen is kneeling on the floor, head in Jared’s lap. Jared breathes out, lifts his hand and lays it gently on Jensen’s head. Jensen stays still, eyes closed. “There you are,” Jared says, voice thick with sleep. Jensen sighs and shuffles closer. They sit like that, Jared stroking Jensen’s hair, Jensen breathing softly and then more deeply as he falls asleep.
After that it keeps happening. One day Jensen will be sucking him off, hands cuffed behind his back, Jared squeezing his throat. The next Jensen will stay kneeling by Jared’s feet as he reads a book, head in Jared’s lap, eyes closed, breathing slow and relaxed as Jared strokes his hair. And still, every time, Jensen looks a little wary, even embarrassed, right before he sinks to his knees. Like this is something he feels he shouldn’t be asking for because…
Well.
Hot, fast, and painful has been the name of the game these last few months. They fuck hard and rough, with hardly any lube and next to no prep, Jensen’s flogged ass hot against Jared’s thighs, his cries strangled by the gag in his mouth. Between takes in their trailers, Jared shoves his dick so far down Jensen’s throat his eyes bulge out and still they don’t stop until Jensen either taps out or just plain faints. Most times it’s the latter.
They go out with Jensen’s collar hidden beneath a flimsy scarf, cuffs rattling under his sleeves, tucked into his socks, plug seated deep. Jensen flushed and beautiful, nervous but so happy it makes Jared’s heart clench, and his dick throb in his pants. He leans in, smiling, and whispers, “Mine,” and the shivers that run through Jensen makes him want to rip the scarf away and show the whole world what he is. What they are. They hardly make it through the door back home before Jared’s got the wrist cuffs locked behind Jensen’s back, tugging the collar tighter as he pulls out the plug and fucks Jensen right there, up against the hallway wall. He swears he can still see the imprint from the wallpaper on Jensen’s cheek hours later.
It’s been good. More than good. But it isn’t until now that Jared realizes he might have dropped the ball on this, whatever this is.
Sure, he does aftercare. He cleans up and makes sure there are no visible marks. Kisses Jensen and tells him he did good. Holds him tight when that’s what he needs and lightly when he’s too sore to stand the pressure. But this… he hasn’t been giving Jensen this.
As long as it took Jensen to ask for pain, it’s taken him even longer to ask for this. Which Jared just doesn’t understand. This is easy. This is calm, and soft and gentle and requires no effort at all from him. It never should have been even a question that it was on offer. But maybe Jensen felt he had to earn it, that he couldn’t actually be a ‘good boy’ without proving first that he is. And that’s not right. That’s not right at all.
The next night when they come home Jared puts a hand on Jensen’s arm in the hallway, as he’s about to head in, and tells him, “Stay.”
Jensen instantly freezes. Jared chucks off his shoes and jacket before reaching for the collar lying curled up in the bowl by the door. Jensen’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything, just stands still while Jared fastens it around his neck, tight but not as strangling as usual. “Come on, baby,” Jared says, grabbing his hand and leading him into the living room. He sits down on the couch, giving Jensen a smile when he hovers, unsure. “On the floor.”
Jensen breathes out and sinks down on his knees in front of him but Jared shakes his head, nudging him to the side. “Not now. Just sit.”
Jensen shuffles to the side, sinking down on his heels, body tense, waiting for his next command. Jared reaches out and lays his hand on Jensen’s head. “Relax,” he says and starts stroking Jensen’s hair. It takes a few minutes, but then Jensen leans against Jared’s leg, head bowing to rest on his knee. “Good boy,” Jared says, and he swears Jensen shivers. “Good boy,” he repeats, petting Jensen’s head with slow heavy strokes. “Good boy.”
Jensen breathes out, the tendons in his neck going slack, his shoulders slumping, and his feet slipping to the side so he’s sitting more firmly on the floor, head in Jared’s lap. Jared tips his head back, closes his eyes and keeps on stroking Jensen’s hair. “Good boy,” he says quietly. “Good boy. Good boy.”
He wakes up sometime during the night with a crick in his neck, and Jensen fast asleep, head still in his lap. He looks so peaceful; Jared is loathed to wake him, but there’s another working day tomorrow, and the floors can’t be doing him any more favors than the couch did Jared’s neck. He shakes Jensen gently awake, nudging him aside so he can stand up and haul him to his feet. “Bed,” he answers Jensen’s murmured question. “Come on, baby.”
They strip in silence, Jensen only half-awake, then alternate brushing their teeth and using the toilet. Jared slips under the covers, brain already shutting down when he realizes Jensen is still standing by the side of the bed, looking uncertain.
This time Jared does sigh. “Whatever you need, man,” he reminds Jensen, raising himself up on his elbows. “Tell me.”
Jensen breathes out. Then he crawls under the covers before scuffling halfway down to the foot of the bed and lies down, curled up on his side, head on Jared’s stomach. Jared smiles softly. He strokes Jensen’s hair, slow heavy strokes, fingers running through the short strands. “You never have to ask for this,” he says quietly. “Okay? No hesitation, ever. Alright?”
Jensen breath stutters. He nods then presses his head down on Jared’s stomach, eyes falling shut as his body relaxes.
“Good,” Jared says. “Good boy.”
fin
Author: felisblanco
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2513 words
Summary:
It’s been good. More than good. But it isn’t until now that Jared realizes he might have dropped the ball on this, whatever this is.
Sure, he does aftercare. He cleans up and makes sure there are no visible marks. Kisses Jensen and tells him he did good. Holds him tight when that’s what he needs and lightly when he’s too sore to stand the pressure. But this… he hasn’t been giving Jensen this.
Warnings: BDSM. Pretty mild for once but it mentions heavier stuff so... pretty much the same warnings apply as for the rest of this verse.
Author's note: Beta'd by the lovely candygramme but all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Title from the song Bow Your Head by Anna Ternheim, my go-to muse for fic titles, ideas and general feel good. This work is also available on AO3.
Jared runs his fingers through his hair, blinking as he tries to focus on the script, on Sam and Dean’s adventure in some weird office AU, created by Zachariah to fuck with them. The words are starting to run together, going fuzzy before his eyes. God, he’s just so tired. It’s supposed to be the last scene for the day, but that’s no guarantee they’re even close to going home. Sometimes there’s last minute addons, sometimes that one scene just runs on and on, in endless retakes and fuck-ups. Sometimes they’re called back to fix something that went wrong earlier in the day. Just thinking about how many hours they might actually have left makes him want to close his eyes and pass out for what remains of their too short break.
Just then there’s a knock on the door and he looks up to find Jensen standing in the doorway. He looks just as exhausted, there are bruises starting to form under his eyes that make-up is sure to tut over when they get called back on set. He’s wearing Dean Smith’s shirt and tie, looking a little rumpled after a day’s worth of wear, but still so damn good that if Jared wasn’t close to passing out he’d love to wrap that tie around his fist and fuck Jensen’s face, arms trapped behind his back, tangled in the sleeves of the preppy striped shirt.
“Can I...?” Jensen starts but his voice trails off and he looks away, fingers scratching nervously at his wrist where the bracelet should be but isn’t because apparently Dean Smith doesn’t have Dean Winchester’s leather fetish. Jared almost had a talk with wardrobe about it, would have if Jensen hadn’t asked him not to. “Too obvious,” he’d murmured, face pink, and Jared had let it go. Now, five days later, seeing the angry scratches on Jensen’s skin he wishes he hadn’t.
Jared barely keeps from sighing. God, he loves Jensen, so damn much, it’s just… he’s so goddamn tired. “Hey, man. Whatever you need,” he says instead, smiling, even if he’s honestly not sure he can get it up right now.
Jensen nods in thanks, biting his lip. He steps in and closes and locks the door behind him, before walking over and sinking down to his knees by Jared’s side. Then he bows his head and leans against Jared’s leg.
Jared blinks. Maybe it’s the exhaustion talking but… what is happening? He opens his mouth to ask what Jensen wants, but something in the quiet tension riding Jensen’s shoulder makes him hesitate. Slowly he reaches out and rests his hand on Jensen’s head. The air feels unnaturally still. He takes a quiet breath and runs his fingers gently through Jensen’s hair. Once. Twice. And then it’s like his fingers cut through some invisible string as Jensen’s shoulders slump in relief, and he leans even more heavily into Jared’s leg.
Oh. Well, alright.
They sit there, Jared carding his fingers through Jensen’s hair, occasionally rubbing Jensen’s neck with just his fingertips as he continues to go over his lines. Jensen’s head stays bowed, his breathing growing slower and deeper as the minutes tick by.
When the knock comes, calling them to set, Jensen rouses. He lifts his head, eyes slightly out-of-focus as he blinks awake. It hits Jared how much he loves this man. This big tough macho man, holding all that strength and power, kneeling at his feet, like that’s where he belongs. Like it’s his sanctuary.
“God, I love you,” Jared says, and Jensen glances up at him, surprised. Then he looks away again, blushing slightly. Rubs the back of his neck and mumbles something that sounds like “I know,” but not with nearly enough conviction.
For a moment Jared contemplates telling Jensen off, wants to make him repeat it, on his knees, tie tightened in strangulation, until maybe it finally sinks in. But they’re needed on set, and, even if it wouldn’t be the first time they’re late, it’s been a long week, and everyone is tired. It wouldn’t be fair to the crew to drag the night on further than is needed, even if for once they’re filming mostly inside and not in Vancouver’s ever-present rainy weather.
So instead he stands up, offering Jensen a hand, pulling him to his feet. Jensen sways for a moment, then he shakes his head and sighs before tilting his face up for a soft kiss. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I just…. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Jen. Anything, you know that.”
Jensen nods, like he always does, and still he can’t ask, he can’t tell Jared what he needs, and sometimes it makes Jared so damn frustrated he wants to shake him until he just fucking talks! But other times, most times, it just makes him sad. Because Jensen should be able to feel open with him, should know he can ask for anything without hesitation. God, if there’s something Jared should spank him for it’s that, right there. Maybe he will. Later.
Jared is making lasagna for dinner, singing off-key along to a song on the radio he’s only half familiar with, so it’s mostly humming with a few choice lyrics dropped in when he remembers them. It’s been a good day, mostly. The weather was unseasonably nice for Vancouver, they’d gone for a long walk with the dogs, had some pretty good coffee and bagels for lunch, their knees pressed together under the table, then walked back home and had lazy afternoon sex.
Jensen has been pretty quiet all day though, but every time Jared asks if there’s anything he needs, Jensen just shakes his head even if there’s obviously something, and again Jared wishes he would just…
He takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile when he hears Jensen coming down the stairs. Jensen hovers awkwardly, rubbing his palms on his jeans. They leave the denim a slight shade darker. Jared pretends not to notice. This time he’s not going to do Jensen’s job for him. Let him ask.
Jensen swallows, takes a deep breath, then walks over and sinks to his knees by Jared’s side. Before Jared makes the blunder of turning towards him, or even worse, unzipping his jeans, Jensen leans against his leg and bows his head. Oh.
Jared doesn’t really have a free hand, he needs both to chop the onions, but he reaches down and pets Jensen on the head, just long enough to acknowledge him and what they’re doing. He doesn’t say anything, because he’s not sure what to say. ‘There, there,’ would sound stupid, it’s not like Jensen is crying or in any kind of distress. ‘Good boy,’ gives Jared a bit of a thrill, but he’s not sure if Jensen would appreciate it. So he just continues cooking, wiping his hand and reaching down every now and then to stroke Jensen’s hair.
He finishes readying the lasagna and gently nudges Jensen with his knee so he can open the oven without risking burning him. Like last time, Jensen looks slightly dazed when he raises his head. He starts to rise, but Jared puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. Just need to get to the oven.”
Jensen starts shuffling aside on his knees but then he stops and quickly stands up. His face is pink, and he won’t meet Jared’s eyes. “I’m just gonna…” he says, and then he practically flees into the living room.
When Jared goes to join him, Jensen is sitting on the couch, seemingly relaxed if it wasn’t for the blank stare, aimed at the tv. There’s some nature show on, looks like a documentary about whales. The sound isn’t even on. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” Jared says, sitting down close enough to touch.
Jensen nods. He still won’t look up. Jared puts his arm around his shoulders and Jensen shifts a little, like he half wants to run away, half wants to lean in. Jared lets it be for now. He reaches for the remote, turns on the sound and lets David Attenborough’s soothing voice wash over them until the timer goes off.
After dinner Jared channel surfs while Jensen cleans up the kitchen. He settles finally on some Bruce Willis movie they’ve both seen a dozen times but it’s got guns and explosions and not a single deep thought, which is all they need. Jared waits for Jensen to slip to the floor when he joins him, but he just sits down again, ankle balancing on his knee, seeming relaxed if not for his shoulders sliding just a little too close to his ears. Not even when Jared lays an arm over the back of the couch, inviting him in, does he do much more than shuffle a little closer with a half-smile before going back to watching the movie.
Jared wakes up, and the movie is over, replaced by something even more brainless, starring Jean-Claude van Damme from the looks of it. Jensen is kneeling on the floor, head in Jared’s lap. Jared breathes out, lifts his hand and lays it gently on Jensen’s head. Jensen stays still, eyes closed. “There you are,” Jared says, voice thick with sleep. Jensen sighs and shuffles closer. They sit like that, Jared stroking Jensen’s hair, Jensen breathing softly and then more deeply as he falls asleep.
After that it keeps happening. One day Jensen will be sucking him off, hands cuffed behind his back, Jared squeezing his throat. The next Jensen will stay kneeling by Jared’s feet as he reads a book, head in Jared’s lap, eyes closed, breathing slow and relaxed as Jared strokes his hair. And still, every time, Jensen looks a little wary, even embarrassed, right before he sinks to his knees. Like this is something he feels he shouldn’t be asking for because…
Well.
Hot, fast, and painful has been the name of the game these last few months. They fuck hard and rough, with hardly any lube and next to no prep, Jensen’s flogged ass hot against Jared’s thighs, his cries strangled by the gag in his mouth. Between takes in their trailers, Jared shoves his dick so far down Jensen’s throat his eyes bulge out and still they don’t stop until Jensen either taps out or just plain faints. Most times it’s the latter.
They go out with Jensen’s collar hidden beneath a flimsy scarf, cuffs rattling under his sleeves, tucked into his socks, plug seated deep. Jensen flushed and beautiful, nervous but so happy it makes Jared’s heart clench, and his dick throb in his pants. He leans in, smiling, and whispers, “Mine,” and the shivers that run through Jensen makes him want to rip the scarf away and show the whole world what he is. What they are. They hardly make it through the door back home before Jared’s got the wrist cuffs locked behind Jensen’s back, tugging the collar tighter as he pulls out the plug and fucks Jensen right there, up against the hallway wall. He swears he can still see the imprint from the wallpaper on Jensen’s cheek hours later.
It’s been good. More than good. But it isn’t until now that Jared realizes he might have dropped the ball on this, whatever this is.
Sure, he does aftercare. He cleans up and makes sure there are no visible marks. Kisses Jensen and tells him he did good. Holds him tight when that’s what he needs and lightly when he’s too sore to stand the pressure. But this… he hasn’t been giving Jensen this.
As long as it took Jensen to ask for pain, it’s taken him even longer to ask for this. Which Jared just doesn’t understand. This is easy. This is calm, and soft and gentle and requires no effort at all from him. It never should have been even a question that it was on offer. But maybe Jensen felt he had to earn it, that he couldn’t actually be a ‘good boy’ without proving first that he is. And that’s not right. That’s not right at all.
The next night when they come home Jared puts a hand on Jensen’s arm in the hallway, as he’s about to head in, and tells him, “Stay.”
Jensen instantly freezes. Jared chucks off his shoes and jacket before reaching for the collar lying curled up in the bowl by the door. Jensen’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything, just stands still while Jared fastens it around his neck, tight but not as strangling as usual. “Come on, baby,” Jared says, grabbing his hand and leading him into the living room. He sits down on the couch, giving Jensen a smile when he hovers, unsure. “On the floor.”
Jensen breathes out and sinks down on his knees in front of him but Jared shakes his head, nudging him to the side. “Not now. Just sit.”
Jensen shuffles to the side, sinking down on his heels, body tense, waiting for his next command. Jared reaches out and lays his hand on Jensen’s head. “Relax,” he says and starts stroking Jensen’s hair. It takes a few minutes, but then Jensen leans against Jared’s leg, head bowing to rest on his knee. “Good boy,” Jared says, and he swears Jensen shivers. “Good boy,” he repeats, petting Jensen’s head with slow heavy strokes. “Good boy.”
Jensen breathes out, the tendons in his neck going slack, his shoulders slumping, and his feet slipping to the side so he’s sitting more firmly on the floor, head in Jared’s lap. Jared tips his head back, closes his eyes and keeps on stroking Jensen’s hair. “Good boy,” he says quietly. “Good boy. Good boy.”
He wakes up sometime during the night with a crick in his neck, and Jensen fast asleep, head still in his lap. He looks so peaceful; Jared is loathed to wake him, but there’s another working day tomorrow, and the floors can’t be doing him any more favors than the couch did Jared’s neck. He shakes Jensen gently awake, nudging him aside so he can stand up and haul him to his feet. “Bed,” he answers Jensen’s murmured question. “Come on, baby.”
They strip in silence, Jensen only half-awake, then alternate brushing their teeth and using the toilet. Jared slips under the covers, brain already shutting down when he realizes Jensen is still standing by the side of the bed, looking uncertain.
This time Jared does sigh. “Whatever you need, man,” he reminds Jensen, raising himself up on his elbows. “Tell me.”
Jensen breathes out. Then he crawls under the covers before scuffling halfway down to the foot of the bed and lies down, curled up on his side, head on Jared’s stomach. Jared smiles softly. He strokes Jensen’s hair, slow heavy strokes, fingers running through the short strands. “You never have to ask for this,” he says quietly. “Okay? No hesitation, ever. Alright?”
Jensen breath stutters. He nods then presses his head down on Jared’s stomach, eyes falling shut as his body relaxes.
“Good,” Jared says. “Good boy.”
fin