Fic: Haven. RPS. Chris/Jensen. NC-17. Chapter 11/11, Epilogue

[felisblanco]

Continued from here.

Epilogue



“I look stupid,” Jensen says and grimaces, pulling at his tie. “This is stupid.”

“You look beautiful as always, darlin’. Now, stop frettin’,” Chris says and reaches up to fix the tie, again. He swears the kid is still growing; if he keeps it up Chris is gonna have to get a stepping stool to kiss that pretty mouth. “It’s just for a few hours, then you can strut around naked for all I care.”

Jensen snorts. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says, cheeks flushing red.

Chris grins and slaps his ass. “You know I would.”

“I could be naked under the gown,” Jensen suggests with a smirk.

Chris stutters thinking about it. Jensen up on that stage, wearing the gown and the stupid helicopter pad and nothing underneath. “Nuhuh. One breeze and you’d be flashin’ all your classmates and their mothers,” he says, pulling Jensen in for a hard kiss. “Ain’t no one supposed to see that but me.”

Jensen grins. “So possessive.”

“You bet I am.” Chris kisses him again, more heated this time. “Mine, boy.”

Jensen shivers in his arms and Chris kisses him harder, deeper, and then they’re making out, with heavy breaths and wandering hands and just for a moment Chris contemplates saying to hell with it all - the graduation, the surprise party after, all their friends waiting - and dragging Jensen back to bed.

“Seriously?” he hears Matt say behind him and freezes, before reluctantly pulling away. “Guys, we have to leave. Now!”

“We’re comin’,” he says since Jensen is still trying to catch his breath. “We were just…”

“I could see what you were ‘just’,” Matt scoffs. “I’ll forgive the kid but you’re closing in on thirty, old man. Keep your libido in check.”

“I’m twenty-eight!” Chris growls just as Jensen snaps, “Stop calling me kid!”

Matt rolls his eyes and leaves, yelling at them to hurry up. Chris gives Jensen an embarrassed grin. “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s right. We gotta go.”

Jensen huffs. “When the hell’s he gonna stop calling me kid?” he grumbles. “I’m nineteen!” He looks so indignant Chris can’t help chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re ancient.” He smiles. “C’mon, before he sends Lorna up after us. You know she hates takin’ the stairs in those heels.”

Jensen instantly straightens his tie and brushes off his clothes. “I’m ready.”

Chris grins as he locks the door and follows him down the stairs. Who would have thought from their first encounter that Lorna would become Jensen’s lost mother figure? Or that Jensen would inspire her to take the stage and become one of Haven’s regulars? Chris is just grateful they both found something they needed in the other.

As he watches her, in all her glory, tearfully standing up to hug a smiling Jensen tight as he returns from the stage, the cap already threatening to fall off that pretty head, Chris can’t help feeling proud of them both. For their bravery, for how far they’ve come, how much they’ve overcome. As he flips his hair back he hears the rainbow beads adorning his braids rattle, celebrating his community as well as his Native American heritage. It’s small but it’s something. And the pride it gives him overrides his apprehension any day.

Jensen throws himself into Chris’s arms as soon as Lorna lets him go. “I’m done!” he says, smiling so wide Chris swears he outshines the sun. “No more high school!”

“I knew you’d do it, darlin’,” Chris says and kisses him, ignoring whoever might be watching. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s just high school,” Jensen says, blushing. “Anyone can graduate high school.”

“Stop it,” Chris admonishes. “Allow yourself to be proud. To be happy you did somethin’ for yourself. Alright?”

Jensen nods, his smile turning bright again. “Alright.”

He allows Matt to hug him as well, the old discomfort more or less gone. Mostly after Matt and Steve hooked up, fixing two of Jensen’s problems in one go, so to speak. Chris still feels a bit weird seeing his two best friends together. It’s not jealousy or anything like that, it’s just… different. And if it doesn’t work out things are bound to become awkward for a long time. But he’s not going to worry about that now. Not with Jensen’s smile brightening up the overcast sky, his eyes shining big and beautiful. God, Chris loves him.

“Can we go now?” Jensen says as soon as Matt reluctantly lets him go, eyes lingering maybe a little too long because he might be in a relationship, but he’s still Matt.

“You don’t wanna say goodbye to your friends?”

Jensen looks over to where his fellow graduates are being hugged and congratulated by their families. Jared, his best friend through these last two years of being the weird older gay kid in class, is being hugged to death by his sister, his proud parents beaming.

Jensen bites his lip and looks down. “No. I just wanna go home.”

Chris puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Alright, darlin’.”

They’re halfway to the truck when they hear someone call Jensen’s name and turn around, only for Jensen to be grabbed by Jared and swept up in a hug.

“Can’t believe you were planning to run off without a word, you asshole,” he says, wrapping his arm around Jensen’s neck and stealing the cap so he can knuckle his head.

“Let me go, you gigantor,” Jensen laughs, the melancholy evaporated, just like that.

Chris watches them joke and fake fight, making sure there is a smile on his face as he pushes down the sting of jealousy that he can’t help feeling every time he sees them together. This is the kind of person Jensen should be with. A happy smiling kid his own age, give or take a few years. Not a grumpy bastard with anger issues, ten years his senior. It just makes sense. Even if Jensen has patiently explained to him that 1) Jared is straight, 2) Jared has a girlfriend and 3) Jensen loves him, ‘You stupid idiot!’

“You doing anything now?” Jensen asks Jared, bringing Chris out of his moping. He panics, thinking of course the kids want to go celebrate, together, not with someone old and cranky like him, when Jensen adds, “There’s a ‘surprise’ party back at the bar. You wanna come?”

Chris splutters. “What? Who told you? Matt? I’m gonna kill that little shit.”

Jensen snorts. “Baby, you’re about as sneaky as a bull in a china shop. I’ve known for like a week you were planning something. But if you want, I can pretend to be surprised,” he says, looking a little guilty.

“I just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you,” Chris grumbles. “And there’s like a lot of people, waitin’ to surprise you. You just ruined their fun.”

“I promise, I will act really shocked. I might even scream and faint,” Jensen says and kisses him softly.

Chris harrumphs. “Yeah, ‘cause that won’t look suspicious at all,” he mutters, but he feels a little better. He wasn’t lying, he expects there will be a full house, and not just because he promised Jensen would take the stage. “You’re welcome to join us, kid,” he tells Jared. “Bring the girlfriend. There won’t be any alcohol though, you have to make that kinda party somewhere else.”

“I know the drill, Mr. Kane,” Jared says, grinning when Jensen rolls his eyes at the name. Chris is pretty sure Jared does it just to tease him about their age difference. Punk. “Let me just go tell my folks. We’re going out to dinner tonight but I’m free until then. And I’d love to ‘surprise’ Jensen.”

He makes a fake shocked face and Chris sighs. Danneel is gonna kill him. She put so much work into this, threatening to tear people limb from limb if they so much as hinted to Jensen what was going on.

As they’re waiting in the truck, while Jared runs back to let his parents know, Jensen reaches across the seat and takes Chris’s hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just wanted to invite him. Is that okay?”

Chris smiles at him. “’Course it is, sweetheart. Never was good at keepin’ secrets anyway.” He suspects Lorna would disagree but there’s an exception to everything. “Just try and act surprised, will ya? Danneel was practically vibratin’ with excitement when I left her to put up the decorations.”

“I promise. And it’s better this way. Not too fond of being jumped at,” Jensen reminds him.

“I know that! We weren’t gonna…!” He scowls when Jensen grins at him. “There’s just balloons and stuff. And people yellin’ ‘Surprise!’,” he grudgingly admits. “Not like out of the dark or anythin’!”

Jensen’s smile turns soft. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Chris’s heart stutters, the way it always does when Jensen says those words. He can feel his face heat up. “I know, baby. I love you, too. My beautiful boy.”

They’re still kissing when Jared wrenches up the door and hops in with a whoop. “Party time!”

Chris pulls away from a grinning Jensen with a sigh. Damn kids.

The surprise part of the party goes off without a hitch. Jensen acts perfectly shocked, Jared’s a bit over the top with dramatic flailing, but no one seems to notice, being too busy cheering and whistling. This same crowd that was lusting over Jensen two and a half years ago… Well, they still lust but they’re also overly protective, have been ever since they realized why Jensen had been pulled off the night stage and only does Sober Sundays now. Technically he’s old enough now that they could probably get away with it but Chris thinks it better to be safe than sorry and wait until he’s twenty-one. Especially since Jensen prefers the mellow, sober vibe of Sundays to the - let’s face it - drunk and horny crowd he had to deal with when he was still playing nights.

Still makes Chris blush in shame when he thinks about it. When he thinks about the things he did to that boy long before he should have. The way he thought about him for even longer. Dirty old man, there’s no denying it. That’s something he’ll have to live with, no matter that Jensen keeps telling him he’s being ridiculous, that if anything he’s the one to blame for having lied and besides, who the fuck cares? Sixteen or nineteen or ninety, he’s not gonna change his mind. “Just means we got extra time together, and I don’t care what you say, I ain’t never gonna regret that!”

Chris sighs and has to admit he can’t regret it either. Any of it. Sometimes he lies awake, remembering that first year. Remembers finding Jensen bloody and beaten on his doorstep. Imagines all the horrible things that could have happened to him. If they had beaten him harder. Abused him even worse. If they had killed him. If Jensen had never managed to make his way to the bar but died somewhere, broken and alone. Without Chris ever even knowing. Without him maybe even caring, except to wonder every now and then what happened to that kid with the angelic face and beautiful voice. And he feels so grateful, feeling Jensen warm and soft and safe, asleep beside him, that he wants to cry. Sometimes he even does.

It hasn’t been an easy road. They’ve both got issues that will take years to work through. Jensen still doesn’t like going anywhere alone. Chris still has episodes - both anger and depression - that leave him drained for days. Jensen doesn’t like being touched by anyone but Chris. Chris drinks too much. They both have triggers they have to stay clear of.

Jensen finally worked up the nerve to try and fuck Chris again. It wasn’t good, in fact it was probably the worst consensual sex Chris has ever had, with Jensen shaking and apologizing for every little thing he did and finally stopping when he went too limp to continue. It took him over a month to try again and almost six months before they became any good at it. He still freezes every time they try it the other way. Chris has told Jensen again and again that he doesn’t care, he’s happy being a bottom for the rest of his life, but Jensen still seems to think of it as a failure on his part. That he’s not giving as well as he’s getting. That they’re not equal. Chris doesn’t know how to explain that being fucked by Jensen is as close to heaven as Chris can get.

“What you brooding over now?” a voice whispers behind his ear and his face breaks automatically into a smile.

“Ain’t broodin’, just thinkin’,” he shoots back, reaching behind him to grab Jensen by the neck and pull him around for a kiss. “How you enjoyin’ your party, sweetheart?”

“I’m enjoying it plenty,” Jensen says, settling on Chris’s lap before licking into his mouth, deep enough that he can taste the chocolate cake Jensen was eating earlier. “Although apparently you’ve been promising these folks I’ll be the performer at my own party.”

“Ah well,” Chris says, smirking. “Had to get them here somehow.”

“Fucker,” Jensen growls and punches his arm. “Just for that you’re gonna have to do at least three songs with me. And endure Jared doing Sweet Home Alabama.”

Chris shudders. “Jesus. Again? You gotta tell that boy he can’t hold a tune for all the cows in the county.”

“Oh, he knows. He just loves seeing you suffer,” Jensen says with a grin.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Well, let’s get it over with then,” he says and stands up, wrapping his arm around Jensen’s waist.

“So, what were you thinking about?” Jensen asks as they’re making their way up on stage. (The steps were an easy installment, turns out. The ramp is stowed away and ready for use when needed.) “You looked pissed.”

“I always look pissed,” Chris says. “Ain’t that what you keep tellin’ me?” He grins when Jensen just rolls his eyes. “Was just thinkin’ about how luck and fair fortune brought you to my bar. And how easily I could have lost you.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “This is supposed to be a celebration. Don’t you go all gloomy on me.”

Chris shakes his head. “Tellin’ you, I ain’t gloomy. Was just thinkin’. About how happy you make me and how lucky I am. And grateful for every single day I’ve had you in my life.”

Jensen’s brow furrows. “You saying that ‘cause you’re dying or something? ‘Cause it sounds like you’re dying or something.”

“I ain’t dyin’! Or anythin’!” Chris huffs. “Can’t an old man be sentimental without you thinkin’ I’m at death’s door? I’m just happy, you moron. And I love you.”

Jensen’s face splits into a smile. “I know. I’m just riling you up. You’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”

“I am not cute!” Chris growls but he can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You are. And I love you, too,” Jensen says and kisses him.

Sweet chocolate cake and coffee and just Jensen, his mouth, so sweet tasting Chris thinks he could live on nothing but that taste for the rest of his life. He pulls Jensen down and kisses him back, long and deep and licking every taste of chocolate cake out of his mouth until there’s nothing left but that sweet, familiar taste. And then he kisses him again, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of him, pressed up against him, chest, hips, warm hands slipping into his hair. He forgets everything, where they are, the crowd cheering, the heat of the spotlight showering them in a golden glow. He wants to lay Jensen down, right there, on the stage, and strip him naked of the shirt that’s already rumpled, the tie that hangs askew.

Jensen finally pulls away with a breathless laugh and says, “Later, I promise,” bringing Chris back to himself. His face flushes red. His lips tingle from the prickle of Jensen’s soft stubble. His heart is beating fast in his chest. His dick is so damn hard he doesn’t dare turn around.

“Here,” Jensen says and hands him his guitar, grinning knowingly.

Chris flushes even hotter. “Thanks, darlin’,” he says and throws the strap over his neck, placing the guitar strategically in front of his crotch. “When we get home,” he promises in a low voice and smiles when Jensen grins and ducks his head, cheeks glowing. He might have to take him aside for a quick blowjob during their break, that’s how sweet he looks.

Chris kisses him again, quick, before turning to the crowd that is cheering and wolf whistling. “Oh, shut up,” he says, the grin stuck on his face. “Y’all here for the peep show or to hear some goddamn music?”

“Both!” someone yells and the crowd erupts in laughter.

He shakes his head. “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s giv’em a show they won’t ever forget.”

“I’m not taking off my pants,” Jensen says and the crowd laughs and hoots.

“Not that kinda show! And you!” Chris says, pointing his finger accusingly at the crowd. “Keep your dicks in your pants or I’m draggin’ my boy off stage and you won’t see him again ‘til next Sunday! That goes for you ladies as well.”

“Booh!” someone yells but is shushed soon enough. They know Chris is not one to make empty threats. Only had to shut the bar one night to get that point across.

“Alright!” He throws Jensen a grin. “Take it away, baby. It’s your show.”

“It’s our show,” Jensen says with a smile. And then he grabs the mic and starts singing.

Jensen sags as soon as the backdoor closes behind them. God, he’s beat! And it’s not even ten o’clock! He’s been dragged up on stage, again and again, to sing with Jared and Lorna and even Steve, who patronizingly called him kiddo and patted his head, just to be an asshole, before hopping off stage to go make out with Matt in the middle of the dance floor. Jensen’s voice is hoarse and his throat hurts and if he never has to sing again it will be too soon. Until Sunday that is. He lets Chris pull him up the stairs and into the apartment, cajoling him into the bedroom to strip off the wretched tie - “Never wearing that again!” - along with the rest of his rumpled clothes, and then push him to the bathroom to wash off the sweat and smell of too many bodies cramped into a too small space. The music is still ringing in his ears, he’s smiled and laughed so much his cheeks hurt and his knees are still a bit wobbly from when Chris pulled him into the backroom to give him one of the top five blowjobs of his life.

He’s never been happier.

School was okay, better than he expected and most of that can be attributed to Jared - big and athletic and, more importantly, popular - taking him under his wing on his first day, but he’s so glad it’s over. He knows the whole him being in high school has been making Chris feel like a pervert, as if it really matters. But now he’s finally graduated and he’s going to community college in the fall. That should ease Chris up some. Hopefully.

He thinks back on watching Jared with his family and feels a bang in his chest that his mom couldn’t be there today, not without raising his dad’s suspicions. She’d burst into tears when he finally called her - day after he turned eighteen to be sure they couldn’t drag him back. He still feels guilty about all the grief he cost her. Not just by not letting her know he was okay, but for leaving her to deal with the aftermath when he ran off, which he knows was brutal, mostly because she keeps telling him not to think about it and how none of it is his fault. They always were good at denial. His dad has apparently decided Jensen never existed. He doesn’t know what his brother thinks, and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want to ever have to think of him again, but apparently that is not a good coping mechanism, according to his therapist. Whatever. He’s still sparing the fucking bastard as little thought as he can.

“C’mon, darlin’,” Chris says, turning off the tab and handing him a towel. He’s already dried off so Jensen must have zoned out for longer than he thought. “Tired?”

“Yeah. But not too tired,” Jensen says, grinning when Chris ears go pink.

“No?” Chris says, running one calloused hand down the small of Jensen’s damp back. “Didn’t get enough earlier?”

“I’m nineteen, man,” Jensen reminds him, his eyes fluttering closed when Chris’s hand cups his ass. “I can never get enough.”

“Don’t I know it,” Chris murmurs, kissing his shoulder. “You wear an old man out.”

“Not that old,” Jensen says, leaning back against Chris’s chest. “You gotta stop saying that. Jared asked me the other day if you were forty or something.” He grins when he hears Chris sputter. “I told him we just have a daddy kink.”

“What? Jesus!” Chris turns him frantically around, scowling when he sees Jensen’s grin. “Oh, you little shit.”

“You should see your face,” Jensen laughs. “But seriously, babe, you are not old. And this,” he says, cupping Chris’s face and kissing him softly, “is not dirty, or perverted, or whatever it is you keep worrying about. I love you.”

Chris sighs. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Just can’t help it. I saw the way folks looked at us, back there when I kissed you at your graduation.”

“They looked at us because we’re two guys, not because they think you’re a fucking pedo,” Jensen says exasperated. “They looked at Lorna, too, and she doesn’t give a fuck.”

They both know that’s not true. She gives a lot of fucks but ever since she came out and started her transitioning there’s been an air about her, of defiance and pride and determination. And, above all, happiness, at finally being able to be herself.

Chris squirms. “Well, she ain’t the one datin’ a high school kid,” he mutters.

“Neither are you,” Jensen reminds him. “Not anymore.”

He pushes Chris through the bathroom door, using his newfound strength and superior height to manhandle Chris into the bedroom. He’s still not as strong as Chris and he’ll probably never be able to take him in a fight, but ever since Jensen joined the school’s basketball team, mostly because Jared made him, he’s been packing on some muscle. No more skinny arms and flat chest, even his thighs are more muscular. It makes him feel safer, he can’t deny that. Like maybe this time, if someone tried something, he would be able to fight back. Chris has taught him some moves, which helps as well. He still keeps to safe areas as much as he can. He might be bigger and braver but he’s not stupid.

Chris lands on the bed, looking up at him with awe. Jensen will never get tired of that. Not just how much Chris loves him but how he sees him, as someone real, as a person and not just an idol, a vision to jerk off to, to own. To break. Chris looks at Jensen and sees beauty because he is Jensen and Chris loves him.

“What you want, darlin’?” Chris says, raising himself up on his elbows. He is a sight to behold, all muscles and tanned skin, compact strength in every inch. “It’s your day, whatever you want, you can have it.”

Jensen swallows. “I want you to fuck me.”

Chris stills. “Darlin’…”

“I’ve been practicing,” Jensen says quickly. “With my fingers. It’s okay. And I trust you to, to make it even better.”

For a moment Chris seems speechless, his eyes glazing over as if he’s picturing it, Jensen on the bed, in the shower, slipping his own fingers into himself. Then he blinks and sits up, reaching out for him. “C’mere.”

Jensen takes his hand and lets himself be pulled down on the bed, into Chris’s arms. They lie silent for a moment, both of them breathing deeply. Jensen’s heart is hammering but he can hear Chris’s heartbeat just as fast and loud under his ear where it lies pressed against Chris’s chest, Chris’s arm tight around him, and somehow that makes him feel a little less… young.

“How many fingers?” Chris finally asks. His voice sounds strangled.

“Three. Okay, two and a half,” Jensen admits when Chris draws in a sharp breath. “And…I can’t reach very far in. But I’ve still done it! Because, because I want this. I want you to do it.”

“It won’t be the same, your fingers and my dick,” Chris says, but it’s not a no.

Jensen huffs. “I know! I’m not stupid. But… It doesn’t hurt. If I do it slow and use lots of lube and… I know it’s not the same. I know your dick is bigger and it’ll go further in but…”

“Not talkin’ about that.” Chris turns his head and kisses Jensen’s temple, lips lingering. “It won’t be the same ‘cause one is you touchin’ yourself and the other… The other is someone doin’ it to you.”

Jensen swallows. “I know that, too. But it’s you. And I trust you. And now I know what it feels like when, when it doesn’t hurt. It feels…” He swallows again. “It feels okay. And I know it’ll be even better when it’s you.”

“Jesus, kid,” Chris breathes, arm tightening around Jensen’s shoulders. “Two and a half fingers?” he asks.

“More like two,” Jensen admits, blushing fiercely when he thinks about how he’d been trying to worm that extra finger in when he heard the door open and he pulled out his fingers so fast he’d gasped out loud and Chris had come in, thinking he was having a nightmare and Jensen faked being asleep so Chris wouldn’t see his fingers were slick with lube. It had been so embarrassing, he hadn’t dared try again for days. “But my fingers are longer than yours.”

“Slimmer though,” Chris says but he doesn’t sound like he’s comparing, more calculating. “How long since last time?”

“This morning,” Jensen says and by now his face is so hot Chris must feel it.

“Jesus,” Chris inhales, so sharply his chest jolts Jensen’s head. “You still wet or you wash it out?”

“Still wet inside, I think.” Jensen shifts a little. “Feels like it anyway.”

“Jesus,” Chris repeats one more time. Then breathes in deep before letting it out in a whoosh. “Okay. Okay. Here’s how this is gonna happen. You listenin’?”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s throat is suddenly dry, and he clears it. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

“On your back so we can see each other. I want you to see it’s me, and I need to be able to see your face, see how you’re doin’. And darlin’, don’t hold back. Promise me. Don’t care how awkward you feel about it, I need to see how you’re feelin’. You understand? It hurts, you show me. It feels good, you show me. You wanna stop, tell me. If you can’t speak, if you freeze up or anythin’, I need to be able to see that, too. And nothin’, nothin’ else matters. Alright?”

Jensen swallows. “Okay.”

“Don’t be thinkin’ about if it’s good for me or if you’re lettin’ me down in any way, no matter what happens. This is about you, love. This is just for you. So, if any of it ain’t workin’ for you, I need to know. If I’m goin’ too fast or too hard, I need to know. Or too slow, whatever. And at any time, if you wanna stop, promise me, promise me, you’ll let me know somehow. Use your safeword, or if you can’t talk, slap the bed three times, or if you can’t do that, if you freeze… I’ll be watchin’ your face the whole time. I promise. And if you think I ain’t readin’ you right, you can scream and kick and bite and punch me, whatever you need to get me off you. I won’t be mad, whatever you do. I won’t be disappointed, I won’t be sad.” Chris’s breath shakes. “I love you so much, my darlin’ boy. Don’t ever let me hurt you. I couldn’t stand it.”

“You won’t,” Jensen says. His chest feels painfully tight. “How much have you been thinking about this?”

“Every damn day since the first time I kissed you,” Chris says, quietly like it’s a shameful secret. “Every damn day.”

“Sorry you had to wait so long,” Jensen says, face flushing hot.

Chris shakes his head fervently. “No. It ain’t like that. No. I just love you so damn much, sweet darlin’. And the thought of hurtin’ you… It gives me nightmares. I never wanna hurt you. I never wanna… I won’t be that man.”

“You’re not. You’re not that man. You could never be that man.” Jensen scrambles up on his elbow, looking down into Chris’s glittery eyes, knowing his own are brimming over. “That’s why I want this. I want you. I trust you. So, please, trust me. I won’t let you hurt me. I promise.”

Chris searches his eyes. Then he pulls Jensen down and kisses him. It’s sweet and soft, with Chris’s strong hand cupping the back of Jensen’s head, the other flat on his back, between his shoulder blades, fingers spread. He bites Jensen’s lower lip, pulling on it until it slips free with a snap, before kissing him again, tongue sweeping in, pressing against Jensen’s own tongue, soft and warm. Jensen whimpers, the fire that had dwindled somewhat during their talk rearing its head again, burning in the pit of his stomach, in the blood in his veins. His kisses turn desperate, hands pulling at Chris’s hair, hard dick pressing down into Chris’s hip, slip sliding on the precome pulsating out in sync with his shallow thrusts.

A flex of muscles and suddenly he’s the one on his back with Chris pressing him down, kisses turning more heated, but somehow carefully controlled. As if Chris is afraid to let go, as if he’s afraid of scaring him even is Jensen is so obviously turned on, so frantic, he feels sixteen again, like he’ll simply die if he doesn’t get Chris’s hands on him, his mouth, right now! He hears himself whining, the sound slipping out of his throat before he can think of holding back, and feels Chris’s breath in his ear, shuddering, whispering, “Yes, yes. Lemme hear you, love. Lemme hear you.” As if he doesn’t already know that Jensen is pathetically loud when he forgets himself, when he allows himself to feel everything without the gag of fear or embarrassment holding him back.

“Need you,” Jensen whines. “Please, please, please!”

“Want me to suck you first, baby?” Chris murmurs, kissing his jaw, his throat. “Want to come in my mouth? Make you all relaxed and easy ‘fore I slip my tongue in your ass. Gonna lick you so good, you’ll be all soft and slick for my fingers. Promise. Promise, baby, I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna be so good to you. Promise. Promise, my sweet, sweet, beautiful boy.”

He raises himself up on his knees, looking down at Jensen with such love in his eyes, Jensen’s heart stutters.

“My beautiful boy,” Chris repeats, running his hands reverently down Jensen’s arms, to his hips, down his thighs and over his knees until he reaches his shins, strong fingers closing around his ankles, waiting until Jensen gives him a jerked nod before pushing his knees up, his feet apart. “Easy, easy,” he says when Jensen’s thighs start to tremble, which is when he realizes he’s as tense as a bow string, his heart beating frantically in his chest and his diaphragm so tight it’s pushing his lungs up into his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Breathe, sweetheart, breathe. We ain’t doin’ nothin’ yet. You wanna stop?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Not scared,” he whispers, breathing in deep. “Just… tense.”

“I can feel that,” Chris says, stroking his calves soothingly. “How ‘bout I make you come first? Might help.”

Jensen swallows. “I wanna come with you, with you in me.”

Chris briefly closes his eyes, breathing in a shuddered breath, before smiling down at him. “Might not happen like that. Might even go soft while I fuck you. Nothin’ wrong with that. Just means it’s overwhelmin’. Happens to me all the time.”

Jensen bites his lips. He’d noticed but he’d sort of assumed it was just because he was bad at making Chris feel good. “Then yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“No. You promised,” Chris says sternly.

Jensen laughs a little. Says, “Yessir,” and laughs again when Chris huffs. Stops laughing abruptly when Chris wraps his fingers around his dick, stroking it just the way he knows Jensen likes it.

“Like this? Or my mouth?”

“Your mouth,” Jensen says, already out of breath even if he’s only lying there, knees up, hands twitching as he doesn’t know where to put them yet. Not until Chris shuffles back on the bed and then ducks his head, hair cascading down as he slips Jensen into his warm, warm mouth. Then Jensen runs his fingers into Chris’s hair, pulling it back from his face so he can see him, pulling on it until Chris groans and closes his eyes in ecstasy. Something Jensen figured out quickly, you don’t grow out your hair like that unless you like it being pulled at.

(Makes him sometimes wonder about Steve, about how Chris was with Steve, how Steve was with Chris. Did they take turns, pulling each other’s hair while they sucked each other off? Did Steve wrap Chris’s hair around his fist as he fucked him from behind? Did Chris do that to Steve? Does Chris ever think about Steve when Jensen pulls on his hair, think how Steve did it differently? Better? Does he think about fucking Steve when Jensen is lying shaking and sweating, heart racing and puke in his throat because Chris touched him in some way that neither of them knew would make him freak out? Does he wonder if he made a mistake, exchanging an experienced lover for a damaged one? Does he?)

Chris takes him in deeper, throat fluttering around the tip of Jensen’s dick as he swallows, swallows, swallows, nimble fingers rolling Jensen’s spit-slick balls in the palm of his hand, his other hand warm and strong on Jensen’s hip, thumb stroking the curve of the bone, fingertips digging in, to make him know he’s there, he’s not going anywhere.

After all this time, Jensen still has to actively quell the intrusive thoughts that threaten to attack whenever Chris gets down on his knees for him. He knows they’re lies, that he is in no way forcing Chris to do anything, that in fact this is one of Chris’s favorite activities, but he still has to throw those damn thoughts into the deepest part of his mind and slam the door shut, every time. Ignoring the muffled sound of them banging and shaking the cage as he lets himself get lost in the amazing skills of Chris’s tongue and lips. Oh God, yes, Jesus, yes, just like that! Don’t stop! Don’t… Please, please, please…

It happens so quick, Jensen gasps as he comes, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping Chris’s head without meaning to, everything just too much, too good, too… He sobs, collapsing boneless on the bed, chest heaving, head swimming in a state of euphoria.

“Darlin’,” he hears as Chris’s fingers gently circle his wrist, tugging, and Jensen slowly uncramps his grip on Chris’s hair, feeling Chris wince as a strand of hair gets caught in Jensen’s ring, another in one of his bracelets. He’s been finding his style these last couple of years, which includes accessorizing. And the occasional eyeliner.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, hitching his breath when Chris just kisses the soft skin on the inside of his thigh before moving up to kiss his mouth, tasting of come, a little bitter, a little salty, warm and soft and wet.

“Feel better?” Chris asks, voice hoarse from Jensen’s dick bruising his throat and it always makes Jensen feel hot in his stomach, guilt and shame fighting pride, fighting possessiveness. ‘I did that, I gave him that voice. My dick, big and hard in his throat.’ It’s something he sometimes thinks about when he can’t sleep and the doors to the cage crack open. What it means that he is so proud of it, that he likes hearing Chris cough and gag when he goes too deep, just as much as it makes his cheeks burn with shame. If maybe he’s no better than all the men, the boys, his brother, who did it to him. If he’s a monster. If they made him a monster. If that means someday he will do something worse. Something irreversible. If Chris would let him, because he loves him too much. Much too much.

He never, ever shares those thoughts with Chris.

Jensen nods, looking at Chris with what he hopes is a cocky smile and not fear because he’s not afraid, he’s not. He’s just… tense. Still. Less, but still.

“Remember,” Chris says, face serious but so fond. Always so fond. “No holdin’ back. Let me see. Every damn thing. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Jensen says, even if he doesn’t really know how. How to show, how to not hide. Even now, almost three years in, he still doesn’t know what Chris sees when he looks at him. If he still sees the terrified boy he used to be or if he sees someone who wants this, who wants all of it.

Chris kisses him again, a light soft kiss, then leans over, opening the bedside drawer. Jensen closes his eyes. Breathes. Feels the bed dip as Chris moves down again, between his knees.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Chris says softly. “Not touchin’ you ‘til you can see what I’m doin’.”

Jensen opens his eyes. Chris is sitting back on his heels. He’s smiling, his eyes so soft and fond, Jensen’s heart skips in his chest.

“Alright?” Chris says and Jensen nods. Chris’s warm hands palm his ankles then run up to his knees, stopping for a moment before continuing down the insides of his thighs, gently pushing them further apart. Jensen breathes in. Chris’s hands are smaller than his but they are strong, calloused. So warm. They slide under Jensen’s ass, cupping his cheeks, Chris’s eyes never leaving Jensen’s face.

“Hand me that pillow, darlin’,” he says and when Jensen does Chris lifts him, one handed, the other sliding the pillow under his hips. Jensen breathes out. He licks his lips. His fingers curl into the sheet.

“Sshh,” Chris soothes. “Ain’t nothin’ happenin’ yet.” He scoots down, takes one of Jensen’s hands and places it on top of his head. “I can’t see you while I’m down there so if you want me to stop, you gotta tell me. Or pull my hair real hard if you can’t speak. Alright, sweetheart? Promise me.”

“I promise,” Jensen repeats and swallows. Calm down. We’ve done this before. You love it.

He does love it. First touch of Chris’s tongue has him mewling, fingers tightening in Chris’s hair ‘til he realizes Chris has stopped and is pulling away. Then he loosens his hold instantly, saying, “I’m okay, I’m okay. Sorry, just… Feels so good.”

Chris huffs a laugh. “Alright, darlin’. I figured. Just had to be sure.”

And then he dives back in, his tongue, lips, even teeth, relentless, sucking, probing, nibbling, licking Jensen open as his thighs shake and his stomach goes up and down like a bellow. When Chris finally pulls away Jensen is sobbing and his dick is rock hard, as if he hasn’t gotten off in days and not twice within the last couple of hours.

“Sshh, sshh,” Chris soothes. “I’mma give you what you need, baby.”

Jensen hardly hears the snick of the tube being flicked open over the whoosh-whoosh in his ears. From the heightened volume of Chris’s voice he has to call his name a few times before he does as he’s told and opens his eyes.

“There you are, sweetheart. Good boy.” Chris’s face is flushed, his mouth red and his chin slick with spit, his smile as sweet and tender as if they’re doing nothing more than exchanging kisses. “I’mma touch you, very lightly. It’ll be a little cold but it’ll warm up in no time. Just touchin’, not goin’ in yet. I promise. Alright?”

Jensen nods. He feels lightheaded, like the room should be spinning. He holds his breath in anticipation but he still jerks when he feels the cold touch of Chris’s finger. For a moment the room goes partly dark but then he blinks and realizes it’s just that his eyes rolled briefly back in his head, for a second or so, before his brain remembered where he is. He does not want to block this out, he does not want to disappear to wherever he used to go when it all became too much. He wants this. He wants to remember this.

“Just me,” Chris is saying, one hand rubbing Jensen’s belly, the other still, so still, touching him very, very lightly. Like a feather. “Just me, sweetheart. Want me to stop?”

Jensen shakes his head. “I’m good,” he says but it comes out dry and strangled. He clears his throat, swallows. “I’m good. I promise.”

Chris watches him a moment longer, then he nods. “Alright. I’m gonna move now. No goin’ in yet. Just touchin’.” He starts stroking in light circles, eyes never leaving Jensen’s face. “Good? You’re so soft and warm, sweetheart. All wet and open for me. Feel it?”

Jensen nods.

“Bit more pressure now. Still not goin’ in.” His finger starts rubbing and Jensen sucks in his breath. “Still good?”

Jensen nods again. It is. Not as good as Chris’s tongue but somehow… more.

“Good. Now, this is just one finger. One finger. I’m gonna slip it in. Okay? You ready?”

Jensen nods, his body tensing. Chris rubs his hand over Jensen’s belly. “Relax your thighs, darlin’. And now your ass. Unclench. Just let it go. Like that. No, breathe slowly. Good. You’re doin’ so good, baby. Breathe. Look at me. Show me how it feels.” And then his finger slips inside Jensen’s body, further, further. All the way in.

He’s not sure what he expected, apart from pain. All the other times, that’s all he felt. Just sharp, excruciating pain that turned the world white behind his eyes. This is not that. This doesn’t hurt at all. It’s just… weird. Like Chris’s tongue in his ass, except more. Deeper. Hard bone instead of soft muscle. Jensen breathes out. He slowly unclenches again when he realizes he’s gone tight around Chris’s finger, which is staying very still. Chris is watching him, searching his face. Jensen licks his lips.

“It’s weird,” he says. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been screaming but he’s just dry. His throat and tongue and mouth and lips, crackling dry, and he realizes he’s been panting with his mouth open, drying all the saliva in his mouth. He closes his mouth, lets it water before swallowing. “I’m okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Just… weird. Like I need to, you know.” He blushes.

Chris smiles. “I know. When I move up to two fingers it can help to push back, like you’re tryin’ to poop. You won’t, I promise,” he says when Jensen’s eyes widen in alarm. “Your body knows the difference.”

“But what if, what if I do?” he asks, mortified.

“Then I clean you up and we keep goin’,” Chris says calmly. “Ain’t nothin’ I ain’t seen before. I promise.” He rubs Jensen’s stomach. “You okay with me movin’ a bit? I’ll go slow.”

Jensen nods. The pressure has been going from weird to uncomfortable but when Chris pulls out his finger, almost all the way, he feels blessed relief for just a second before it slides back in. Jensen sucks in his breath. Okay, still weird but this time it’s good weird. Almost too good weird. Like he can’t stand it and wants more, both at the same time. He curls his fingers in the sheet to keep himself still. Relaxes his thighs as his mouth falls open, his exhale turning into a moan, almost a whine, when Chris pulls out and pushes in one more time.

“Yeah. That good? That alright, sweetheart?”

All he can do is nod.

“Good. God, you’re beautiful. Look at you. My beautiful boy. My sweet, beautiful boy.”

He’s sweating, his scalp feels like it’s on fire with heat. His thighs are trembling again, if they ever stopped. He doesn’t even realize he’s pushing back until he hears Chris murmur his appreciation, telling him, “Like that. Yeah, like that.” His finger must have gone even deeper because suddenly it’s like he’s being shocked with electricity and he yelps, arching off the bed, far enough that his ass lifts off the pillow.

“There,” Chris says and he sounds so happy, so proud. “There it is.”

He prods him again and again, until Jensen is sobbing, crying, “I can’t… I need… Please!”

“Sshh,” Chris soothes. He stops and Jensen whines, feeling desperate for something, something... “Easy. I’m gonna pull out. Just for a moment,” he reassures Jensen when he sobs in protest, “and then I’m goin’ in with two. That okay?”

“Please! Yes!”

He gasps when Chris pulls out and he still haven’t gotten his breath back when Chris slowly pushes back in. It’s just one more finger, no more than Jensen’s done himself, but it feels so different. So, so different. Chris’s fingers are thicker, and it’s Chris. It’s Chris, pushing inside him. The added stretch makes Jensen tense up - this time it has to hurt! - but Chris stops immediately and waits, watching him. Waits, waits, until Jensen manages to breathe in and then breathe out, forcing himself to relax.

“Want me to pull out?” Chris asks quietly.

“No. It doesn’t hurt,” Jensen says, and he can’t hide the wonder he feels at that. “It’s just... a lot.”

Chris nods. “I’ll go slow. Inch by inch. It feels wet to me but if you want more lube, tell me.”

Jensen swallows. “Maybe, maybe a bit more.” It is wet but the slide isn’t as easy with Chris’s calloused fingers soaking away some of the moisture. He sighs in relief when Chris pulls out his fingers, using the time to breathe himself calm as Chris slicks them up even more.

“Now, this time, push back,” Chris reminds him. “It’ll help you open up. Just like that. Good boy.”

Jensen gulps in air. God, it’s so much! Why does it feel like so much more? And if it feels like this now, how is he ever going to fit Chris’s dick in there?

“It feels like a lot now but once I start movin’, it’ll get a lot easier,” Chris says, kissing his inner thigh. “I promise. Can I move? I’ll go very slow.”

“Okay. Okay. Just… slow.”

“So slow,” Chris promises and then he slips his fingers almost all the way out before sliding them back in, so slow it makes Jensen sob. His eyes want to fall shut but he forces them to stay open, meeting Chris’s gaze, allowing him to see everything. The darkening of his pupils, the flush to his cheeks, the press of his teeth into his lower lip when Chris pulls out, the gasp as Chris pushes back inside.

“More,” he finally whimpers. “Need… Chris, please.”

Chris pulls out and this time when he pushes back inside it’s faster and hits right at that same spot, the one Jensen is sure is going to kill him. Chris sets up a new rhythm, faster, deeper, keeping his eyes on Jensen’s face the whole time. When Jensen once again starts to sob, Chris asks him, “Should I stop?” and smiles when Jensen shakes his head, whining, “It’s so good. Chris, it’s so good. I can’t… I need… You’re killing me!”

“Sshh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Chris’s hand moves down from Jensen’s stomach and then he’s wrapping his fingers around Jensen’s dick. “You need to come, baby?”

Jensen shakes his head. Not yet, not yet. It’s just… so much.

“Think you can take another one?” Chris asks and Jensen thinks no, he can’t. Surely, he can’t? It’s so much already. How is he supposed to take more?

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” he sobs. “It’s so much!”

“Does it hurt?” Chris says but he doesn’t stop, like he knows that’s not it. Like he knows exactly what Jensen means and of course he does. He’s done this many, many times. Jensen has done this, and more, to him, and he had no idea! He had no idea it felt like this. Like his body is exploding, one molecule at a time.

Jensen shakes his head. It’s good, or at least he thinks it’s good. It’s too intense for him to really tell if he’s feeling pleasure or something else. All he knows is that it’s not pain. Not the way he remembers. The only way he knew it could feel. He never knew or even imagined it could feel like this.

“We can just do this,” Chris is saying, his voice low and soothing. His movements have slowed down again, stroking his insides like a kitten. “Ain’t gotta do anythin’ more. Not now, not ever.”

Jensen shakes his head again. “I want,” he sobs. “I can do it. I promise. I wanna do it. Please!”

“Okay. Alright.” Chris lets go off his dick and pats his stomach. “My dick is thick so I’m gonna slip in one more finger first. If it’s too much, tell me. Promise.”

“I promise,” Jensen hiccups. His eyes feel wet but he’s not crying. Not like that. It’s just all so overwhelming. When he feels the blunt pressure of Chris’s fingers, and God, the difference is again screeching - he holds his breath and pushes down against the intrusion. Oh Jesus! “Wait, wait!”

Chris stops. He waits. Jensen breathes and breathes and breathes, but it doesn’t help. His breaths become more and more shallow, until it doesn’t feel like they’re reaching his lungs. He shakes his head, small jerking motions that feel like defeat.

“Okay, alright. It’s alright, sweetheart.” Chris pulls slowly until his fingers come out with a wet pop.

Jensen closes his eyes, unable to hold back the sob of relief. “I’m sorry.”

“No. This ain’t about me. Remember? You wanna stop?”

Jensen shakes his head. “It was just so much.”

“Did it hurt?” Chris says softly. “You can tell me.”

Jensen hesitates, then nods. “Not much but a little. Like… stinging.” He swallows. “I started to panic. I didn’t mean to.”

“You did good,” Chris says, kissing the inside of his thigh. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. We’ll just take a break. Just a few minutes, and then you can decide if you wanna keep on goin’. Alright?”

Jensen nods. He bites his lip. “I feel stupid.”

Chris sighs. “No.” He moves up to lie beside Jensen, kissing him sweetly. “Ain’t nothin’ stupid about bein’ cautious. You’re doin’ so good, love. So damn brave. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Jensen says. He just needs a few seconds to breathe. “Does it always feel so much?”

Chris looks thoughtful. “I think maybe you just get used to it. Like, it’s always intense but when you know what to expect it don’t shock you as much. And the first time is always…” He goes quiet, his fingers running through Jensen’s hair. “First times are hard. No matter how they happen. But with first times like ours…” He shakes his head. “That ain’t sex though. That was violence. Like the difference between a kiss and a punch in the mouth. The punch is gonna make your mouth feel sore for a long time. Can make a kiss painful, no matter how sweet it is.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says quietly. “I think I’m still scared. I want it, but I’m still scared. Even if I don’t want to be.”

“That’s alright. It’s alright to be scared. It’s alright to be careful and go slow. It’s alright to stop and step back. And it’s alright to decide this ain’t for you. Some guys never bottom. It just ain’t their thing.”

Jensen shakes his head. “I think it is my thing. I want it so damn much. And I’m not that scared. Not anymore. It’s just… It’s hard to let go of it. The fear.” He swallows. “It always hurt so much.”

“I know.” Chris strokes his hair. “I remember my first time after… you know. First time I went for it, ‘cause I wanted it. I was fuckin’ terrified. Almost ran off.”

“What happened?”

“Steve gave me weed.”

Jensen tenses. “He got you high so he could fuck you?”

Chris chuckles. “Nah. We just smoked, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was so damn horny, he sucked me off. And then he fucked me. I was too relaxed by then to even think of being scared.”

“Jesus. You two…” Jensen shakes his head.

“I know. Bad choices and all. But it helped.”

“Then I’m happy for you,” Jensen says, mostly meaning it. He doesn’t like to think about anyone else fucking Chris, especially not Steve. “Maybe it would help me,” he wonders out loud.

Chris raises himself up on his elbow, looking down at him with a frown. “I ain’t gettin’ you high so I can fuck you. We’re doin’ this right or not at all.”

“You’re such a hypocrite,” Jensen says but he can’t help grinning. “I’ve already come twice, don’t think I can get more relaxed.”

“And you’re doin’ great, darlin’. I ain’t worried.”

He kisses Jensen softly, then deeper, licking his way into Jensen’s mouth, his tongue warm and wet, making Jensen groan with want. His dick is semi hard, growing harder by the second. His ass feels weirdly empty. Needy. Jensen wrenches his mouth away, gulping in air. “I wanna try again!”

Chris pants in his ear. “Okay,” he says, and then he’s moving down the bed, between Jensen’s legs, pushing up his knees that had slipped down. “Two fingers,” he warns as he slicks up, and this time Jensen is ready for the cold. He breathes through the intrusion, pants through the fingers thrusting, turning, scissoring him open. When Chris pulls out Jensen forces himself to stay relaxed, stay calm, no matter how fast his heart beats.

“Three fingers,” Chris says softly, almost whispering, watching Jensen intently as he presses slowly, slowly inside. Again there’s a sharp sting and Jensen flinches, eyes screwing shut, but when Chris starts to pull out Jensen grabs his shoulder, holding him still.

“Just… give me a moment,” he groans, eyes still shut. Breathing, breathing, breathing until the sting subsides into more of a burn. It’s uncomfortable but not that bad. “Slowly,” he says. “Go on.”

Chris kisses his knee. Then he pushes in deeper.

Oh God! Jensen sucks in his breath. Fuck. It burns. It burns but it’s not like the bad pain, it doesn’t hurt, not really. It just feels almost unbearably hot and so, so much. Chris’s fingers feel so thick, so hard and unyielding. Just when Jensen thinks he can’t take anymore, Chris stops. Then he pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in.

It doesn’t just feel bigger, wider, with three fingers, there are also different pressure points. Each fingertip prodding his walls, sliding in easier with each thrust. Deeper. And then suddenly… there! Oh Jesus! Jensen cries out. His vision goes white. He loses time, possibly space. He’s just a mass of electricity, of sparks firing from the deep of his insides to the tips of his fingers, his toes, the roots of his hair. When Chris pulls all the way out, Jensen sobs, begging him, “No, please! Don’t! Don’t go!”

“Sshh, sshh,” Chris says, voice shaking. “I’m gonna fuck you now. Alright? You alright, love?”

“Yes! Please!” he cries and then suddenly there’s this thick, blunt pressure. Different, smoother, better. Pushing in, deeper, deeper and he feels like he’s going to rip open until the pressure eases with a twinge and he sobs, realizing it’s just the head of Chris’s dick that’s pushed past his rim.

“You okay? Darlin’, are you okay?” Chris says, sounding frantic, panicked. “I’m hurtin’ you. Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll-“

“No!” Jensen yells. “Don’t you dare stop!”

“You look like you’re hurtin’,” Chris says, his voice shaking.

“I’m not,” Jensen chokes out. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s good. It’s good. I promise, I promise! It’s just so damn fucking big!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” Chris says, sounding genuinely contrite and Jensen can’t help it, he starts giggling, because who other than Chris would apologize for his dick being big?

“It’s okay,” he hiccups. “I just need to…” And he breathes in, breathes out and slowly relaxes. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You can… Just slow!”

“I promise. I promise,” Chris says. His face is red, his eyes are watering, his jaw is so tense he looks like he might break a molar. He holds his breath as he slowly pushes deeper.

Jensen gulps in air and then he can’t seem to let it out, not with Chris pushing deeper and deeper, so thick and long and big, big, big! Oh God! Oh God! Chris stops, balls sticking wet and heavy to Jensen’s ass. Jensen exhales with a whoosh but the pressure doesn’t relent. It’s there, there, there.

And just like that, it hits him. Chris is inside him. Chris’s dick is inside him, as deep as it will go. Chris is fucking him! Where no one has been since, since…

“Tell me you love me,” he chokes out. “Chris, tell me, tell me…”

“I love you,” Chris says, so much emotion in his voice it sounds like he’s choking on it. “I love you so much, my beautiful boy. I love you more than anythin’ and I will never, ever hurt you. I promise, I promise. I promise on the depth of my soul, the blood in my heart. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jensen wraps his arms around Chris’s neck, burying his face in his hair. “Tell me while you fuck me. Tell me you love me.”

He feels Chris shudder violently, his breath harsh and loud in Jensen’s ear. Then he slowly pulls out until just the head remains slotted inside. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you.” Pushing back in. “I love you so much.” Out. In. “I love you so much you make me stupid. I love your beautiful face. I love your beautiful voice. I love you, my sweet boy. My sweet, sweet, beautiful boy.”

Jensen sobs, holding on for dear life as Chris fucks him, deeper and deeper, until it feels like he’s slipping under his skin, into his body. “I love you, too,” he tries to say but it comes out as a whimper, his brain to overwhelmed for words. He wraps his legs around Chris’s hips, trying to pull him deeper, bucks on the bed to get him to move faster, and Chris finally seems to get the message because he speeds up, his words of adoration turned into a string of babbling, groaning, gasping for air.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Jensen gasps and then he is, the buildup so fast it feels like an explosion in his whole body, turning his vision white. He’s faintly aware of Chris gasping, his hips stuttering, and he thinks he hears him sobbing but by then he’s too far gone to register much of anything.

He comes back to himself wrapped up in Chris’s arms, both chests still heaving, their bodies so slick with sweat, the bed must be soaked with it. His ass throbs. It’s so different from the sharp pain that used to linger for days, even weeks, but it’s still not exactly good. Mostly it’s strange. He wonders if he will ever get used to it. He’s still not sure he wants to do it again. It was good but it was also so very, very much.

“You okay, love?” Chris says, his voice soft and quiet. A bit worried. Maybe even guilty.

“Yeah.” It comes out strangled and he clears his throat. He wonders if he shouted. He can’t remember. “I’m more than okay.”

“Yeah?” Hopeful now.

“Yeah.” Jensen props himself up on his elbow, wincing when it makes his ass twinge. Guess he’ll be moving slowly for the next couple of days. “That was amazing.”

“You sure?” Chris reaches up and runs his fingers behind Jensen’s ear, where he used to tug his hair back before he cut it shorter. “You’re not hurtin’?”

“No,” Jensen lies. It’s only a little hurt, nothing he can’t handle. “I’m good. I feel good.” He ducks his head. “A little weird. But good.”

“Weird is to be expected,” Chris says, smiling softly. “Just wait ‘til you stand up and my come starts drippin’ out of your ass.”

Jensen grimaces. “Jeez. You’re so romantic.”

Chris laughs. He looks so beautiful, Jensen leans over and kisses him. The small happy sound Chris makes every time Jensen kisses him when he doesn’t expect it, is one of Jensen’s most favorite sounds in the world. Like even now, after all this time, Chris still doesn’t quite believe how lucky he is to get this. Jensen doesn’t know how to make him understand that Jensen is the lucky one. The one who had nothing and now has everything he could ever dream of.

The kiss turns softer, slower, as the day - and night - catches up with them. They’re gross, slick with lube and spattered with come, the bed is drenched with sweat. They need to shower. They need to brush their teeth. They really should change the sheets. They should.

Jensen reluctantly lets go off Chris’s mouth but instead of getting up he shuffles closer, burying his face in Chris’s damp curls, breathing in the scent of him. “Thank you,” he murmurs against the steady beating of Chris’s pulse. “For making it good.”

He feels Chris hold his breath. His arm tightens around Jensen’s waist. Then he breathes out and kisses the back of his head. “Anytime, darlin’.” His voice sounds rough. “I mean it. Or never again, if that’s what you’d rather. You know I’m good with what we have.”

“I know.” He lies listening to Chris’s heartbeat. “I’mma need to think about it,” he whispers finally. “Is that alright?”

“You know it is,” Chris mumbles. He sounds half-asleep already. “The rest of our lives if that’s what you need.”

Jensen smiles and burrows closer. He’ll drag Chris out of bed in a little bit, clean them up and maybe just move over to the other room for the night, change these sheets tomorrow morning. He’s just going to lie here a little while longer. Just a few more minutes…

A week later he asks Chris to fuck him again. He was right. It does get easier when you know what to expect. And better. Each and every time.

Fin

Author's notes.