We'll dance all night... (Jensen/Jared, AU, 5900 words, nc-17)
So, this is the tale of deaf!serial-killer!attendant!Jensen and insane!underage!Jared in a mental hospital, as conceived by lazy_daze and balefully. It goes without saying that I will not have done justice to the wonderful and deranged notes the two of them came up with, but I am very grateful to them for letting me play. Please be warned that this is not a very nice or happy fic. Also, just in case Jensen's mum is reading this, this is 100% fictional, none of it happened and I'm not suggesting that anything even remotely like it did.
Title from Reverend Glasseye's 'Midnight Cabaret'. Huge thanks to greenspine, mickeym and J. ♥
I'm not going to be offended if people decide not to read this, so, y'know, if it doesn't sound like your kind of thing, please do move on and don't worry about it. :)
We'll dance all night 'til the house falls down
(Jensen/Jared, AU, 5900 words, nc-17, underage, watersports, insanity, violence, knife and bloodplay, and some other stuff)
When Jared dreams, he dreams of Jensen's six little dead girls. He dreams of them lying side by side in the dry yellow cornstalks of the fields where Jensen brought them to kill them: tiny, candy-sweet blondes, who all look like the baby sister that caught fever and died when Jensen was only eight.
In Jared's dreams, Jensen is already wearing his white shirt and white pants when he stabs the cop in the neck with a pen. His attendant's uniform is atomically blinding in the glare of sunshine as he climbs from the car, closes the door behind himself, and begins to walk down the hot, deserted highway.
They're only dreams. None of it happened. Not like that.
The fourth little girl was a redhead; Jensen only chose her because of her Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt. And, of course, Jensen wasn't wearing his attendant's uniform when he murdered the cop; that happened years before he came to work at the hospital.
:::
Jared sprawls backwards, propped up on his elbows on the hospital bed, Jensen on his knees between the ungainly spread of Jared's legs. Jared's room is pale blue and shadow, quiet except for the rasp of Jared's breathing. His cock is fat and hard, incongruously big on his coltish frame. It looks wrong on such a skinny kid. It looks obscene, glistening and ready, and Jensen's face - Jensen's mouth - is only inches away from it.
But Jensen is only interested in the curl of flesh he's carving out of Jared's belly. The blade he's using is small and he works it deeper with delicate twists of his wrist, like he's sharpening a pencil. His movements stay steady, even as the dribble of blood rolling down Jared's skin grows faster, thicker.
Jared's shivering, trembling. His knees are wobbling. It's a small knife Jensen's carving him up with - a tiny slice of a blade - but it cuts so deeply, so precisely. The metal should be cold, but the deeper inside of him it gets, the more it burns. Jared feels the pit of his arousal growing hot and out of control. The muscles in his belly are jumping, even as he tries to hold himself still for Jensen. There's sweat in his collarbone, sticky and cool on his lower back. He grunts breathily and rolls his head back to stare at the blank blue ceiling. But he can't bear not to watch.
There's blood in the crease of his thigh and dark in the hair at the base of his dick. It tickles his skin. There's blood on Jensen's hand - on the pad of his thumb and on his knuckle - but he just grips the knife tighter and makes his cuts a little more firmly.
Carefully, he gathers a single droplet of Jared's blood on the point of the knife. The blood is bright and violently red. Jensen brings the blade to his mouth and tastes the blood, just a flicker of tongue at first and then, more greedily, giving in to the want, licking over the metal until it glistens with spit.
Jared's cock strains and bobs, heavy with want, as Jensen leans in, and its head brushes Jensen's cheek, precome painting a stripe over the smooth, shaved line of Jensen's cheekbone. Jared's hips snap forward, desperate, and Jensen glances up at him with a fond, indulgent smile.
He puts his mouth on Jared's belly and his tongue is hot and slippery, even through the blood. Jared feels it stab into his flesh. It's a sloppy kiss, but it makes Jared writhe and beg. And then Jensen sucks and worries the open wound with the hungry drag of his mouth, and tears blur Jared's vision.
When Jared comes, it's as Jensen's printing the plump, scarlet butterfly-bow of his lips down the length of Jared's inner thigh.
:::
It takes a while for Jared to get it.
It's six weeks since he last saw The Crawling Man. Three months since they took him from his 9th Grade class, swaddled him in a straitjacket and tied him to a hospital bed while his parents looked on: Jared's mother sobbing into her fist and his father looking lost, quietly out of his mind. It's one year since Jared saw the dog trying to chew its way out of the back of Josh Templeton's head. A year and a half since he saw The Crawling Man for the first time.
But he's still high on that alien energy that makes him laugh and smile and want to hug strangers. Nothing they give him kills that buzz. He thinks maybe he's as close to Normal as he'll ever be, even if he's still miles outside the city limits.
One day, he drops his paintbrush and Jensen, passing by, picks it up and hands it to him, smiling shyly up at him for just a second.
"Thanks," Jared says.
Jensen walks away without a word.
"I said thank you, earlier, for picking up my paintbrush," Jared says, as Jensen takes his empty plate from him after lunch.
Jensen scrapes Jared's leftovers onto another dirty plate and then stacks them. He carefully lays the blunt knives side by side and leaves the forks splayed apart.
Jared waits.
Jensen mops up a few drops of Jared's spilt orange juice. Only then does he look up, catch Jared's eye and flush. He smiles that same, shy smile as before.
"You can't hear me," Jared says.
Jensen frowns awkwardly. He raises his hand towards his ear and shrugs. The sound he makes - quiet and quickly cut off - is a soft grunt. It sounds apologetic. Jared nods and Jensen smiles again.
The room goes quiet, the people float away like ashes on the breeze, and Jensen mouths something at Jared. It's impossible for Jared to understand what it is Jensen's saying to him; Jensen's never heard the words aloud, and he forms them weirdly, like all that matters is the shapes made by the fluttering movement of his lips. It's all that matters to Jared, anyway. It's a secret language that belongs on the walls of pyramids and temples and in the dust of alien planets, and Jensen is sharing it with Jared.
In a slow, deliberate move, Jensen leans across him, right into Jared's space, and collects Jared's spoon. His body is strong and solid against Jared's, and, delighted and bemused, Jared realizes he's getting hard. It's an unformed, filthy little want and Jared lets it warm him through.
For a second, Jensen smells strangely, unexpectedly of burnt sugar.
:::
Jensen walks down the highway and sheds his skin, over and over again, leaving it behind like white fallen leaves that smoke and are scorched black by the sun.
Each layer of skin that's lost reveals Jensen underneath. He's speaking words that Jared can't hear. In the strange, fluid logic of his dreams, Jared knows Jensen is telling him a secret. Jensen puts his hand low down on his belly, just above his hip, and tells Jared a secret.
And Jared leans in close, straining to catch the words, but before he can, Jensen's six little dead girls rush in, and they catch Jensen's hands in theirs, gaze up at him adoringly, and they pull him onwards, down the road.
And Jared is left behind.
:::
Jensen's asshole is sticky and messy with come, all tight and pink and swollen. Jensen's face is planted in the pillow, slowly suffocating as Jared drives him deeper into the bed, holds him down in that ridiculous pose - ass up, knees drawn up under his belly, and his back one long sloping curve down to his neck.
Sometimes, if Jared fucks him hard enough, he can fuck speech out of Jensen. Jensen hates to speak, hates the rough approximation of his words. Jared likes to fuck him, good and hard and deep, until Jensen makes those startled little cries, pained and hungry, and if Jared listens very carefully, there are words in there. There's a message just for him.
Tonight, Jensen can barely breathe, he sucks in air, grunts breathlessly, sobs, while Jared fucks him viciously with his tongue, sucking out his come so he can fill him up with it all over again. His come is greasy and slippery in his mouth, and he can taste Jensen's come too, from when Jared jacked him off and then pushed it all up inside him to slick his own way in.
They have to make do without lube, and when Jared fucks Jensen, it takes a while for him to be able to fit inside. Jared'll finger him and lick him, and he'll try pushing his dick in, but Jensen will still be too tight, and Jared will have to pull out and go down on him again, stretching him open so he can get inside him. He likes the fight Jensen's body puts up, even as Jensen spreads his legs and whines and smiles. Sometimes, Jared fucks him like that anyway, he'll fuck him while he's still virgin-tight and closed, because the buzz gets under his skin and makes him do it, even if it makes Jared cry because it hurts so much, and it makes Jensen spasm and arch and claw at him.
But he's fucked Jensen once already tonight so Jensen's nice and slippery for him. He knows it won't always be like this. Jensen's only a little older than him, he thinks, but he doesn't get hard as often or as easily as Jared does. Jared can sit in the rec room and watch the TV in its cage and he doesn't even have to touch himself and he can get hard. He likes to sit in his red plastic chair, with his dick sticking up under his pants, and watch how the attendants won't meet his eye when he smiles at them, except for Jensen, of course - it's just that Jensen's too clever to let the others see.
He prods and pokes at Jensen's asshole, fingertips stretching open the puffy skin, until more come dribbles out. Jared chases it with his tongue, down the soft skin behind Jensen's balls. He rubs his nose against the heavy weight of Jensen's balls, breathing in the dark scent of him, before going back to the wrinkled little hole, that's all wet and hot and rich with the taste of sweat and come. A moan shivers along the line of Jensen's spine as Jared puts his mouth on him again, kissing and licking him open, tongue squirming inside of him.
Jensen shudders, hips bucking away from Jared, but Jared won't let him go. He settles his sweat-slippery grip on the cheeks of Jensen's ass again, peeling them apart, framing his hole with his thumbs, and even his thumbs look too big to fit inside Jensen, let alone the thick hardness of his cock. Jensen shuffles awkwardly, spreading his knees wider apart for Jared, and Jared pushes closer eagerly, buries his face in the firm curves and soft, damp skin of Jensen's ass.
He stabs his tongue deep inside of Jensen, slurping messily at every trace of come, until his saliva is dribbling down Jensen's perineum, gathering in his balls. His thumbs wriggle closer, until he can fit them in alongside his tongue, holding Jensen wide open for him. Jensen groans and rolls back, hips riding Jared's face and his flushed, pink cock leaking on the bedsheet.
Jared tonguefucks him until his mouth is hot and buzzing, and his cock is begging to be put back inside Jensen. His leans over the unnatural curve of Jensen's back, clumsily pushes his tongue into Jensen's mouth, forcing his lips apart, and makes him taste their come. He's too messy: Jensen laps it up hungrily, but sloppy strings of Jared's spit and their come leak over his cheek and his chin and his neck. Jared smiles and wipes his hand through it, smearing it over Jensen's skin, while Jensen's mouth stays open for more.
"Last night, I dreamt that you killed me," Jared says. "I was riding your cock and you cut my heart out, right out of my chest, and I bled all over us both. And you just kept on fucking me." He smiles, puts his sticky, dirty mouth to Jensen's ear, and whispers, "And when I woke up, I'd come all over myself, Jensen."
Jensen nuzzles his sweaty cheek against Jared's mouth.
:::
The sickness comes out of nowhere and almost kills Jared. It's a bleached, white sickness, full of tremblings and shiverings and shadows on the wall. It tugs the food out of Jared's belly, fills his skull with stones, paints him wet with sweat and steals away his bones.
He cries for his mom and dad.
And then Death comes into the room. Death steps neatly over The Crawling Man, who's inching his way to Jared's bed, and silently sets the room in order.
"What are you doing here?" Jared croaks. "You're not here for me, are you?"
Death folds up Jared's bathrobe and places it on the chair. Straightens the corner of the sheet on Jared's bed.
"Please!" Jared shrieks, tears burning his cheeks, snot thick in his nose and throat. "I don't want to die! Don't let me die! I don't want to die! Not like this! I don't want to die please please please…"
Death doesn't answer, doesn't listen. And when he leaves, Jensen closes the door behind himself without a sound.
:::
For weeks after the sickness Jared feels weak, trapped in thin hysteria. The doctors change his diet, double the number of pills he takes, weigh him and take his blood and peer down his throat. They put Jared in a wheelchair because his legs won't hold him steady.
And they say, "Would you like to go out today? One of the attendants could take you into the garden, if you'd like?"
Jared smiles, showing wet, white teeth, and he nods, and laughs a little whistling laugh as they wrap him up warmly.
"There we go, honey," says Sally. "Some fresh air and you'll be dancing."
Sally is a middle-aged lady with red hair and small eyes. She has big breasts that sag so low they form one bigger bump with her belly. She's got Jared to the ramp at the back of the hospital when Jensen appears. He smiles and takes Sally's hands from the wheelchair, replaces them with his own. Then he smiles again and starts to wheel Jared down the ramp.
"Well, uh…I'm not sure…" Sally says. She looks around, uncertainly, for a doctor.
Jensen never explains himself. He's polite and helpful, and he does whatever the hell he pleases, in that polite and helpful way of his which makes protest or complaint impossible. People think that Jensen is a little slow because he's deaf and no one wants to be the jerk that picks a fight with the poor guy.
So Sally lets them go and Jensen takes Jared down into the gardens. The sun shines overhead and the air is biting and cold. They keep to the paths and the other attendants with patients smile as they pass. Jared lets one of his hands hang over the side of the chair, skimming the heads of dew-damp flowers. They go deep into the gardens and stop by the pond. The pond is tiny but it's roped off all the same, because crazy people live at the hospital and the fish don't want to play with them.
The fish are pretty and orange-gold, like pieces of colored glass under the water.
Jensen leans over him, adjusts his blankets, palms the shape of Jared's dick, and lets his lips brush Jared's jaw as he draws back.
"You know what I'm gonna do?" Jared says. Jensen doesn't answer, of course - Jensen doesn't even know Jared's talking - but Jared politely leaves a space for Jensen to speak before he continues. "I'm gonna slice your ears off, one after the other, and I'm gonna eat them. And that way, I'll know. Because the words, the noises, they have to go somewhere. Don't they? Like, you know when you put a seashell to your ear, you hear the sea?"
Jensen doesn't know.
"If I eat your ears, I'll hear them screaming, won't I? And I'll hear me, telling you how much I love you. I'll hear me. I'll know that I've really said it, because sometimes I don't know if I've said it or if it's just in my head, and you can't tell me."
The surface of the pond ripples. Jensen's little dead girls drool on their chubby fingers and giggle as they watch the fish. They peer over the water, pointing at their wobbling reflections. Jared looks at them, Jensen's little dead girls with their sweetness and curls and round openness, and he laughs, fumbles for Jensen's hand. Jensen looks away from the pond, smiles at Jared, and offers him his hand, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
Seven little dead girls and Jared can't stop laughing.
:::
He hasn’t even bothered undressing Jensen. He's tied him down, the buckles on the straps biting into Jensen's forearms and ankles, and Jensen's still in his pretty, white uniform. There's already a tiny, sticky patch at the front of Jensen's pants, where the fabric's dark and wet with the head of his cock pressing against it.
Jared's stripped himself naked for this. He doesn't like how thin and lanky he is compared to Jensen; he feels like a little kid compared to Jensen. But Jensen's the one strapped to the bed.
Jared walks up the bed on his knees until he's sitting on Jensen's legs, his bare ass rubbing against the starched, clean lines of Jensen's pants. Jensen is staring at the ceiling, but his lips are wet and parted, and he's all tight and tense between Jared's thighs.
Carefully, Jared works open the button at Jensen's collar, tugs the shirt open just a little, so he can see the dip between Jensen's collarbone. He watches Jensen's face, serene and elsewhere, as he strokes a fingertip along the clavicle, into the dip, then wriggling down under the shirt to touch the firm warmth of his breastbone.
Times like this, Jared thinks he might be the monster. He's a gangly, naked creature, and he's crawling all over Jensen, giggling helplessly.
His bladder is full and heavy, and Jared rocks back onto his knees, tugs down the waistband of his sweats and curls his fingers about his dick. Jensen's shaking the moment the hot stream of Jared's piss hits him. His eyes roll back in his head, like having Jared soak him is some kind of religious ecstasy. Jared sighs and settles into the warm relief of emptying his bladder over Jensen.
The white of Jensen's shirt and pants turns dark gold, clings to Jensen's skin, revealing the tiny peaks of his nipples and the flatness of his belly. Jared lets it come, hits the bulge of Jensen's erection, fills the dip of Jensen's collarbone where his fingers smoothed the skin, then up higher, tilting his hips just so, just right, to let his piss arc over Jensen's face, to sluice the swell of his lips and splash the fluttering of his eyelashes.
Jensen writhes against the restraints as Jared pisses on him. He groans as the flow slows to a few, stuttering trickles. The last drops hit Jensen's heaving chest, and then Jared sits on him, panting, watching it dribble down Jensen's face and throat, watching the soaked fabric of Jensen's shirt bundle into tiny creases with each sucked in breath.
When Jared presses himself flat to Jensen, Jensen is scorching hot. They lie together on the sodden bed. Jared lays his cheek on Jensen's chest and listens to his heartbeat. Jensen listens to something nobody else can hear.
:::
Jared's mom is crying. She presses wet kisses to Jared's temple and clutches at his hand with bony fingers. Jared lets her whisper babybabybaby, oh my baby into his hair, while he watches Jensen make his bed. The sheet quivers in the air when Jensen shakes it, ripples like it's trying to pull free from Jensen's grip, then falls.
"He's sick, baby," Jared's mom tells him, whispering it wetly to him.
"No," Jared says. "I'm sick. He's not. He's… beautiful."
Jensen smoothes the sheet flat, his palms sliding over the material. Jared bets it'll feel cool and clean against his skin, and he squirms against his mom, eager to lay himself down. She holds on tight and Jensen moves to fold the corners under.
Jared wants Jensen to lie down on the bed too and make it messy with Jared.
"No, baby," Jared's mom says. Her tears are hot and sloppy, like sweat on Jared's skin. "He's sick."
Jensen turns to fetch fresh, fat pillows, and Jared can see the growing black stain on Jensen's shirt, low down on his belly, just above his hip. It's old blood and pus, sticky and stinking. Jensen moves as if he is not aware of it but even as Jared watches, the stain spreads. Jensen's skin, where it's visible, takes on a sickly yellow taint, before it darkens, bruised-purple to necrotic-black.
"He's sick," Jared's mom says. "He won't make old bones."
:::
Things come in to the hospital from outside and things leave the hospital to go to the outside. Letters come to Jared from his family, and one day, when he's well, he'll be allowed to read them. Doctors and attendants leave the hospital, through the big doors at the front that Jared's not allowed to go near, and then they might come back or they might not. Jensen always comes back. He doesn't bring anything for Jared from outside, apart from the smell of his hands and the taste of his mouth.
Only Jared and the other crazy people come to the hospital and don't leave. They get stuck in its sterile security and it's easy to believe that there isn't really anything outside of the hospital. The letters don't exist until they come to the hospital, and when people step through the doors, they step into white space and disappear.
Jared remembers the world outside the hospital. He remembers what his bedroom at home looks like and he remembers the kids he was at high school with, and he remembers the Math teacher who talked to him in that soothing, trembling voice while another teacher furtively shepherded the crying kids out of class and sirens sang in the distance.
He remembers it now but he's been forgetting a little more of it every day since he met Jensen.
So the day the cop comes is very exciting for Jared. The medical director comes to talk to the cop, and Jensen holds the door open for them both as they pass. Jared trails along behind them as long as he can but the medical director sees him, smiles at him and gestures for an attendant to come help Jared back to where he's doing his painting.
Distractedly, Jared paints a lot of pink onto his picture, and watches for the cop to come back. Jensen has gone over the other side of the room, and is letting a crazy person read a story at him, smiling and nodding as if he can hear it. Sally and one of the other attendants are standing close by, talking together in low, concerned voices. They shake their heads and look sad.
The cop is in with the medical director for a long time, and then the senior nurse goes in as well, and when she comes out, Sally and the other attendant go into a cluster with her. And then they all shake their heads and look sad again.
Jared grins at his painting, has to muffle his laughter in his sleeve so they won't hear him. He wriggles excitedly from foot to foot and paints messy pink hearts all over his picture.
When the cop comes out, he and the medical director shake hands, looking grave. Jared puts his paintbrush down and pads over to them. The cop sees Jared first, notes him with a polite kind of wariness. Jared's just a tall, skinny kid with pretty eyes, and the cop smiles hesitantly.
"Why are you here?" Jared says. "You're not sick, are you?"
"No," says the cop. "No, I'm not… uh…" He glances at the medical director, who is smiling indulgently at Jared. The cop seems encouraged by this, and he smiles a little more broadly at Jared. His voice becomes thick and strong. "No, a little girl's lost and I came to ask Dr Harvey here if anyone had seen her."
"Oh," says Jared. "That's real bad. I bet her mom and dad are missing her, aren't they? I hope you find her soon."
He pads in closer, arms outstretched, and folds the cop into a hug. He rests his face on the cop's shoulder and closes his eyes. The cop tenses at first, then pats him uncertainly on the back, exchanging a look with the medical director over Jared's head. He thinks this is funny and freaky probably. He'll go back to the station and he'll tell his friends about the weird, crazy kid who hugged him and they'll laugh and they won't know that Jensen's seven little dead girls are giggling the loudest.
Jared grins, rubs his face into the cop's shoulder, and gently starts to hump his thigh, dragging his hardening dick against the cop's leg.
"Jesus!" the cop shouts and he shoves Jared away from him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Jared laughs at him.
The cop looks disgusted and the medical director hurries forward to apologize. Attendants rush over to pull Jared away. Jared sinks against them, and gives himself up to laughing until his ribs ache.
:::
The first time it happens, it's after Jared's fallen and skinned his knee.
Jensen leads him to a treatment room and makes him sit on the table while he fetches ointment and bandages. Then Jensen drops onto his knee in front of him and raises an eyebrow. Hands trembling, Jared pulls up the leg of his shorts. Jensen leans closer to examine the red-and-white graze, and the muscles in Jared's thigh jump.
There are fat globules of blood sitting on the broken skin, and as Jensen studies them, the look in his eyes goes muzzy and high, and his breath shortens to soft little pants.
Jared swallows hard and he watches and waits. His belly is tight with anticipation and want, even though he has no idea what Jensen is going to do to him, not that first time.
Jensen touches him gently, hand cupping the back of Jared's knee, turning his leg this way and that, until one drop of blood grows heavy enough to roll down Jared's shin. And instantly Jensen's pretty little hungry mouth is on Jared, tongue and lips and hot breath sucking away greedily at the blood. Jared whines, hips snapping off the table. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. Push Jensen away or grab his face and make him take more, make him drink it all?
With his other hand, Jensen reaches up, finds the shape of Jared's dick - already thickening between his legs - and massages and rubs until Jared can barely stay on the table. It's too much all at once and Jared arches and shudders, and he comes in seconds, all sticky heat under Jensen's fingers and rushing down Jared's thighs.
Jensen just goes on working him through it, supporting Jared as he sags backwards onto the table, all the while lapping and sucking at Jared's knee, long after the stinging pain of the graze is gone, driven into crazy tingling.
Jared lies there and feels the aftershock roll hot and soft through his body. He becomes aware again, slowly, of the sheer sensation of Jensen's mouth on him. For boys of his age there's not a single patch of skin that isn't an erogenous zone, but he never figured his knee for one. It is when it's got Jensen moaning and desperate. From where he lies, Jared watches the bobbing of Jensen's head and imagines how Jensen's mouth would feel on the rest of him and how soon he can have it there.
"Someone's coming," Jared says, experimentally, to the top of Jensen's head. "There's someone coming. They'll see. What are you gonna do when they see what you're doing to me?"
Jensen adjusts his grip on Jared's knee, fingers digging possessively into the vulnerable dip of skin and muscle behind, and his lips close over the graze, mouth suckling hard to bring more blood to the surface.
"You're gonna have to kill 'em, aren't you?" Jared says. "How you gonna do it? Y'know, I bet there's an ax in the groundskeeper's shed. Yeah, you could take 'em out like squealing pigs with that ax, couldn't you? One after another, boom boom boom. Wanna watch you do that. Wanna see the blood on your nice white shirt."
Articulated, the words are shocking and wonderful. The idea is free and won't go back into its box.
He's not sure if it's the visual, or the fact that Jensen's mauling one big bruise on his knee, but Jared's getting hard again. It's awesome. It's hot and insistent and it's in his belly and right behind his eyes and everywhere that Jensen's touching him.
"They'd run and they'd scream but you'd get 'em. You'd bury that pretty little ax in their skulls, and you'd have to tug it out real hard so you could use it on the next one. You wouldn't hear how it sounds when you cut 'em open, but I would. Sound like when my daddy used to chop wood, only wetter. And it'd be splinters of bone flyin' through the air and blood on the floor, and you'd just carve 'em all up."
His own hand creeps down to the tacky, filthy mess of the front of his shorts. Jensen's jacking himself through his feeding frenzy, wrist jerking where his hand is shoved down his pants, so Jared palms himself lazily, winding himself up again.
"Then you'd come back to me. And you'd make me lick their blood and brains off your skin, and I would, I would. And the ones that weren't already dead, they'd have to watch us fuck. We'd fuck each other right there in their blood and guts, and it'd be the last thing they ever fucking saw."
No one ever sees them together.
:::
This is what Jared does for fun. This is his religion.
Each slide of his cock into Jensen's ass makes a soft squelch, because he's sliding through his own come and saliva, pushing it further up inside Jensen, stuffing him full of it. Jensen's shivering, arms wrapped so tight around the pillow his muscles are corded, thighs quivering with strain where he's got one knee hooked over Jared's shoulder, and the other leg thrown wide and welcoming. Jared holds his hip down, draws back until he can see almost the whole slick-red length of his dick, only the fat cockhead stretching Jensen's sore little hole wide, before he sinks back in and watches Jensen's ass take him in.
Jensen grunts as Jared's balls brush his over-sensitive skin and he clings tighter to the pillow. His own cock is heavy and straining against the taut flatness of his belly, puddling precome on his skin for Jared to whirl his fingertip around in.
Jared's still bleeding from earlier, from where Jensen sliced him open and nibbled up and down the line of the cut, tiny tearing tugs of his teeth that made Jared come. The sheet beneath them is filthy with blood and come and sweat. Tomorrow, Jared will paint a picture of it and show it to the other attendants who won't understand what it is or how beautiful it is.
Tonight, Jared will fuck Jensen until he's all used and tender and boneless.
When Jensen shifts at Jared's next slow push, the sheets stick to him, tacky and wet. Jared shuffles closer, pushing up snug inside the hotwet grasp of Jensen's ass. He catches Jensen's leg before it can slip from his shoulder, and bends him a little in half so he squirm in deeper. It makes Jensen grunt again and his cock jumps, a glistening strand of precome leaking onto his belly. His thighs twitch, like an instinctive attempt to push Jared out and away, but Jared just settles in closer, painting his blood through the sweat and spunk on Jensen's belly.
"You know what I was thinking the other day?" says Jared. He rocks his hips backwards and forwards, fucking Jensen slow and sloppy, the sick noise of his come being shoved up inside Jensen punctuating each thrust. "I was thinking, if you stuck a knife in my chest when I was fucking you, like, if you did it right now, you know what I'd do?"
Jensen's face is hidden by the pillow. The long, vulnerable stretch of his bared neck distracts Jared for a second, before he remembers what he was saying.
"I'd go right on fucking you. I'd wanna die with my dick in you." He dabs some fresh blood onto Jensen's skin and imagines what it would be like to cover Jensen in it, when he's all desperate and high like this. "I think I could come from having you stick one of your knives in me. Yeah. Yeah, I'd be fucking you just like this, and you could just slide it right in between my ribs, and we could fuck each other like that. Right to the end."
Jensen's leg slips again on Jared's shoulder and Jared drags it roughly back into place. He grits his teeth and stabs in deep, making Jensen cry out and dig his heel into the bed to keep Jared from slamming him right up the bed. Jared's balls slap Jensen's ass over and over and his fingers bite into the sharp bone and dense muscle of Jensen's hipbone.
Pace slowing for just a moment, Jared touches the smooth, unblemished skin just above Jensen's hip, low down on his belly. He glances up at Jensen, forcibly pries the pillow from Jensen's grip so he can see Jensen's face. Jensen is flushed and shining. His lips are swollen, red, needing to be kissed. The roots of his hair are dark with sweat. His head lolls back like his neck's broken but his gaze is on Jared.
Jared darts forward, shifts down so he can bury his face in Jensen's neck. And he sobs and he laughs, and Jensen pets his hair and gently strokes his shuddering shoulders.
Jared turns his face to put his mouth to Jensen's perfect, useless ear. "Death can't fuck with something like us. Can't fucking touch us." Blindly, he reaches down and finds that little patch of Jensen's skin, knows exactly where it is even though there's not a mark on it and it's as smooth as the rest. "I'll kill you myself before can you die from that," Jared whispers to him.
And Jensen just turns his face to his and kisses him.
:::
Jared is twenty-five, four and a half weeks freshly released from the hospital, when he finds the first green-eyed boy with freckles to take out into the fields.
~end
Title from Reverend Glasseye's 'Midnight Cabaret'. Huge thanks to greenspine, mickeym and J. ♥
I'm not going to be offended if people decide not to read this, so, y'know, if it doesn't sound like your kind of thing, please do move on and don't worry about it. :)
We'll dance all night 'til the house falls down
(Jensen/Jared, AU, 5900 words, nc-17, underage, watersports, insanity, violence, knife and bloodplay, and some other stuff)
When Jared dreams, he dreams of Jensen's six little dead girls. He dreams of them lying side by side in the dry yellow cornstalks of the fields where Jensen brought them to kill them: tiny, candy-sweet blondes, who all look like the baby sister that caught fever and died when Jensen was only eight.
In Jared's dreams, Jensen is already wearing his white shirt and white pants when he stabs the cop in the neck with a pen. His attendant's uniform is atomically blinding in the glare of sunshine as he climbs from the car, closes the door behind himself, and begins to walk down the hot, deserted highway.
They're only dreams. None of it happened. Not like that.
The fourth little girl was a redhead; Jensen only chose her because of her Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt. And, of course, Jensen wasn't wearing his attendant's uniform when he murdered the cop; that happened years before he came to work at the hospital.
:::
Jared sprawls backwards, propped up on his elbows on the hospital bed, Jensen on his knees between the ungainly spread of Jared's legs. Jared's room is pale blue and shadow, quiet except for the rasp of Jared's breathing. His cock is fat and hard, incongruously big on his coltish frame. It looks wrong on such a skinny kid. It looks obscene, glistening and ready, and Jensen's face - Jensen's mouth - is only inches away from it.
But Jensen is only interested in the curl of flesh he's carving out of Jared's belly. The blade he's using is small and he works it deeper with delicate twists of his wrist, like he's sharpening a pencil. His movements stay steady, even as the dribble of blood rolling down Jared's skin grows faster, thicker.
Jared's shivering, trembling. His knees are wobbling. It's a small knife Jensen's carving him up with - a tiny slice of a blade - but it cuts so deeply, so precisely. The metal should be cold, but the deeper inside of him it gets, the more it burns. Jared feels the pit of his arousal growing hot and out of control. The muscles in his belly are jumping, even as he tries to hold himself still for Jensen. There's sweat in his collarbone, sticky and cool on his lower back. He grunts breathily and rolls his head back to stare at the blank blue ceiling. But he can't bear not to watch.
There's blood in the crease of his thigh and dark in the hair at the base of his dick. It tickles his skin. There's blood on Jensen's hand - on the pad of his thumb and on his knuckle - but he just grips the knife tighter and makes his cuts a little more firmly.
Carefully, he gathers a single droplet of Jared's blood on the point of the knife. The blood is bright and violently red. Jensen brings the blade to his mouth and tastes the blood, just a flicker of tongue at first and then, more greedily, giving in to the want, licking over the metal until it glistens with spit.
Jared's cock strains and bobs, heavy with want, as Jensen leans in, and its head brushes Jensen's cheek, precome painting a stripe over the smooth, shaved line of Jensen's cheekbone. Jared's hips snap forward, desperate, and Jensen glances up at him with a fond, indulgent smile.
He puts his mouth on Jared's belly and his tongue is hot and slippery, even through the blood. Jared feels it stab into his flesh. It's a sloppy kiss, but it makes Jared writhe and beg. And then Jensen sucks and worries the open wound with the hungry drag of his mouth, and tears blur Jared's vision.
When Jared comes, it's as Jensen's printing the plump, scarlet butterfly-bow of his lips down the length of Jared's inner thigh.
:::
It takes a while for Jared to get it.
It's six weeks since he last saw The Crawling Man. Three months since they took him from his 9th Grade class, swaddled him in a straitjacket and tied him to a hospital bed while his parents looked on: Jared's mother sobbing into her fist and his father looking lost, quietly out of his mind. It's one year since Jared saw the dog trying to chew its way out of the back of Josh Templeton's head. A year and a half since he saw The Crawling Man for the first time.
But he's still high on that alien energy that makes him laugh and smile and want to hug strangers. Nothing they give him kills that buzz. He thinks maybe he's as close to Normal as he'll ever be, even if he's still miles outside the city limits.
One day, he drops his paintbrush and Jensen, passing by, picks it up and hands it to him, smiling shyly up at him for just a second.
"Thanks," Jared says.
Jensen walks away without a word.
"I said thank you, earlier, for picking up my paintbrush," Jared says, as Jensen takes his empty plate from him after lunch.
Jensen scrapes Jared's leftovers onto another dirty plate and then stacks them. He carefully lays the blunt knives side by side and leaves the forks splayed apart.
Jared waits.
Jensen mops up a few drops of Jared's spilt orange juice. Only then does he look up, catch Jared's eye and flush. He smiles that same, shy smile as before.
"You can't hear me," Jared says.
Jensen frowns awkwardly. He raises his hand towards his ear and shrugs. The sound he makes - quiet and quickly cut off - is a soft grunt. It sounds apologetic. Jared nods and Jensen smiles again.
The room goes quiet, the people float away like ashes on the breeze, and Jensen mouths something at Jared. It's impossible for Jared to understand what it is Jensen's saying to him; Jensen's never heard the words aloud, and he forms them weirdly, like all that matters is the shapes made by the fluttering movement of his lips. It's all that matters to Jared, anyway. It's a secret language that belongs on the walls of pyramids and temples and in the dust of alien planets, and Jensen is sharing it with Jared.
In a slow, deliberate move, Jensen leans across him, right into Jared's space, and collects Jared's spoon. His body is strong and solid against Jared's, and, delighted and bemused, Jared realizes he's getting hard. It's an unformed, filthy little want and Jared lets it warm him through.
For a second, Jensen smells strangely, unexpectedly of burnt sugar.
:::
Jensen walks down the highway and sheds his skin, over and over again, leaving it behind like white fallen leaves that smoke and are scorched black by the sun.
Each layer of skin that's lost reveals Jensen underneath. He's speaking words that Jared can't hear. In the strange, fluid logic of his dreams, Jared knows Jensen is telling him a secret. Jensen puts his hand low down on his belly, just above his hip, and tells Jared a secret.
And Jared leans in close, straining to catch the words, but before he can, Jensen's six little dead girls rush in, and they catch Jensen's hands in theirs, gaze up at him adoringly, and they pull him onwards, down the road.
And Jared is left behind.
:::
Jensen's asshole is sticky and messy with come, all tight and pink and swollen. Jensen's face is planted in the pillow, slowly suffocating as Jared drives him deeper into the bed, holds him down in that ridiculous pose - ass up, knees drawn up under his belly, and his back one long sloping curve down to his neck.
Sometimes, if Jared fucks him hard enough, he can fuck speech out of Jensen. Jensen hates to speak, hates the rough approximation of his words. Jared likes to fuck him, good and hard and deep, until Jensen makes those startled little cries, pained and hungry, and if Jared listens very carefully, there are words in there. There's a message just for him.
Tonight, Jensen can barely breathe, he sucks in air, grunts breathlessly, sobs, while Jared fucks him viciously with his tongue, sucking out his come so he can fill him up with it all over again. His come is greasy and slippery in his mouth, and he can taste Jensen's come too, from when Jared jacked him off and then pushed it all up inside him to slick his own way in.
They have to make do without lube, and when Jared fucks Jensen, it takes a while for him to be able to fit inside. Jared'll finger him and lick him, and he'll try pushing his dick in, but Jensen will still be too tight, and Jared will have to pull out and go down on him again, stretching him open so he can get inside him. He likes the fight Jensen's body puts up, even as Jensen spreads his legs and whines and smiles. Sometimes, Jared fucks him like that anyway, he'll fuck him while he's still virgin-tight and closed, because the buzz gets under his skin and makes him do it, even if it makes Jared cry because it hurts so much, and it makes Jensen spasm and arch and claw at him.
But he's fucked Jensen once already tonight so Jensen's nice and slippery for him. He knows it won't always be like this. Jensen's only a little older than him, he thinks, but he doesn't get hard as often or as easily as Jared does. Jared can sit in the rec room and watch the TV in its cage and he doesn't even have to touch himself and he can get hard. He likes to sit in his red plastic chair, with his dick sticking up under his pants, and watch how the attendants won't meet his eye when he smiles at them, except for Jensen, of course - it's just that Jensen's too clever to let the others see.
He prods and pokes at Jensen's asshole, fingertips stretching open the puffy skin, until more come dribbles out. Jared chases it with his tongue, down the soft skin behind Jensen's balls. He rubs his nose against the heavy weight of Jensen's balls, breathing in the dark scent of him, before going back to the wrinkled little hole, that's all wet and hot and rich with the taste of sweat and come. A moan shivers along the line of Jensen's spine as Jared puts his mouth on him again, kissing and licking him open, tongue squirming inside of him.
Jensen shudders, hips bucking away from Jared, but Jared won't let him go. He settles his sweat-slippery grip on the cheeks of Jensen's ass again, peeling them apart, framing his hole with his thumbs, and even his thumbs look too big to fit inside Jensen, let alone the thick hardness of his cock. Jensen shuffles awkwardly, spreading his knees wider apart for Jared, and Jared pushes closer eagerly, buries his face in the firm curves and soft, damp skin of Jensen's ass.
He stabs his tongue deep inside of Jensen, slurping messily at every trace of come, until his saliva is dribbling down Jensen's perineum, gathering in his balls. His thumbs wriggle closer, until he can fit them in alongside his tongue, holding Jensen wide open for him. Jensen groans and rolls back, hips riding Jared's face and his flushed, pink cock leaking on the bedsheet.
Jared tonguefucks him until his mouth is hot and buzzing, and his cock is begging to be put back inside Jensen. His leans over the unnatural curve of Jensen's back, clumsily pushes his tongue into Jensen's mouth, forcing his lips apart, and makes him taste their come. He's too messy: Jensen laps it up hungrily, but sloppy strings of Jared's spit and their come leak over his cheek and his chin and his neck. Jared smiles and wipes his hand through it, smearing it over Jensen's skin, while Jensen's mouth stays open for more.
"Last night, I dreamt that you killed me," Jared says. "I was riding your cock and you cut my heart out, right out of my chest, and I bled all over us both. And you just kept on fucking me." He smiles, puts his sticky, dirty mouth to Jensen's ear, and whispers, "And when I woke up, I'd come all over myself, Jensen."
Jensen nuzzles his sweaty cheek against Jared's mouth.
:::
The sickness comes out of nowhere and almost kills Jared. It's a bleached, white sickness, full of tremblings and shiverings and shadows on the wall. It tugs the food out of Jared's belly, fills his skull with stones, paints him wet with sweat and steals away his bones.
He cries for his mom and dad.
And then Death comes into the room. Death steps neatly over The Crawling Man, who's inching his way to Jared's bed, and silently sets the room in order.
"What are you doing here?" Jared croaks. "You're not here for me, are you?"
Death folds up Jared's bathrobe and places it on the chair. Straightens the corner of the sheet on Jared's bed.
"Please!" Jared shrieks, tears burning his cheeks, snot thick in his nose and throat. "I don't want to die! Don't let me die! I don't want to die! Not like this! I don't want to die please please please…"
Death doesn't answer, doesn't listen. And when he leaves, Jensen closes the door behind himself without a sound.
:::
For weeks after the sickness Jared feels weak, trapped in thin hysteria. The doctors change his diet, double the number of pills he takes, weigh him and take his blood and peer down his throat. They put Jared in a wheelchair because his legs won't hold him steady.
And they say, "Would you like to go out today? One of the attendants could take you into the garden, if you'd like?"
Jared smiles, showing wet, white teeth, and he nods, and laughs a little whistling laugh as they wrap him up warmly.
"There we go, honey," says Sally. "Some fresh air and you'll be dancing."
Sally is a middle-aged lady with red hair and small eyes. She has big breasts that sag so low they form one bigger bump with her belly. She's got Jared to the ramp at the back of the hospital when Jensen appears. He smiles and takes Sally's hands from the wheelchair, replaces them with his own. Then he smiles again and starts to wheel Jared down the ramp.
"Well, uh…I'm not sure…" Sally says. She looks around, uncertainly, for a doctor.
Jensen never explains himself. He's polite and helpful, and he does whatever the hell he pleases, in that polite and helpful way of his which makes protest or complaint impossible. People think that Jensen is a little slow because he's deaf and no one wants to be the jerk that picks a fight with the poor guy.
So Sally lets them go and Jensen takes Jared down into the gardens. The sun shines overhead and the air is biting and cold. They keep to the paths and the other attendants with patients smile as they pass. Jared lets one of his hands hang over the side of the chair, skimming the heads of dew-damp flowers. They go deep into the gardens and stop by the pond. The pond is tiny but it's roped off all the same, because crazy people live at the hospital and the fish don't want to play with them.
The fish are pretty and orange-gold, like pieces of colored glass under the water.
Jensen leans over him, adjusts his blankets, palms the shape of Jared's dick, and lets his lips brush Jared's jaw as he draws back.
"You know what I'm gonna do?" Jared says. Jensen doesn't answer, of course - Jensen doesn't even know Jared's talking - but Jared politely leaves a space for Jensen to speak before he continues. "I'm gonna slice your ears off, one after the other, and I'm gonna eat them. And that way, I'll know. Because the words, the noises, they have to go somewhere. Don't they? Like, you know when you put a seashell to your ear, you hear the sea?"
Jensen doesn't know.
"If I eat your ears, I'll hear them screaming, won't I? And I'll hear me, telling you how much I love you. I'll hear me. I'll know that I've really said it, because sometimes I don't know if I've said it or if it's just in my head, and you can't tell me."
The surface of the pond ripples. Jensen's little dead girls drool on their chubby fingers and giggle as they watch the fish. They peer over the water, pointing at their wobbling reflections. Jared looks at them, Jensen's little dead girls with their sweetness and curls and round openness, and he laughs, fumbles for Jensen's hand. Jensen looks away from the pond, smiles at Jared, and offers him his hand, patting his shoulder reassuringly.
Seven little dead girls and Jared can't stop laughing.
:::
He hasn’t even bothered undressing Jensen. He's tied him down, the buckles on the straps biting into Jensen's forearms and ankles, and Jensen's still in his pretty, white uniform. There's already a tiny, sticky patch at the front of Jensen's pants, where the fabric's dark and wet with the head of his cock pressing against it.
Jared's stripped himself naked for this. He doesn't like how thin and lanky he is compared to Jensen; he feels like a little kid compared to Jensen. But Jensen's the one strapped to the bed.
Jared walks up the bed on his knees until he's sitting on Jensen's legs, his bare ass rubbing against the starched, clean lines of Jensen's pants. Jensen is staring at the ceiling, but his lips are wet and parted, and he's all tight and tense between Jared's thighs.
Carefully, Jared works open the button at Jensen's collar, tugs the shirt open just a little, so he can see the dip between Jensen's collarbone. He watches Jensen's face, serene and elsewhere, as he strokes a fingertip along the clavicle, into the dip, then wriggling down under the shirt to touch the firm warmth of his breastbone.
Times like this, Jared thinks he might be the monster. He's a gangly, naked creature, and he's crawling all over Jensen, giggling helplessly.
His bladder is full and heavy, and Jared rocks back onto his knees, tugs down the waistband of his sweats and curls his fingers about his dick. Jensen's shaking the moment the hot stream of Jared's piss hits him. His eyes roll back in his head, like having Jared soak him is some kind of religious ecstasy. Jared sighs and settles into the warm relief of emptying his bladder over Jensen.
The white of Jensen's shirt and pants turns dark gold, clings to Jensen's skin, revealing the tiny peaks of his nipples and the flatness of his belly. Jared lets it come, hits the bulge of Jensen's erection, fills the dip of Jensen's collarbone where his fingers smoothed the skin, then up higher, tilting his hips just so, just right, to let his piss arc over Jensen's face, to sluice the swell of his lips and splash the fluttering of his eyelashes.
Jensen writhes against the restraints as Jared pisses on him. He groans as the flow slows to a few, stuttering trickles. The last drops hit Jensen's heaving chest, and then Jared sits on him, panting, watching it dribble down Jensen's face and throat, watching the soaked fabric of Jensen's shirt bundle into tiny creases with each sucked in breath.
When Jared presses himself flat to Jensen, Jensen is scorching hot. They lie together on the sodden bed. Jared lays his cheek on Jensen's chest and listens to his heartbeat. Jensen listens to something nobody else can hear.
:::
Jared's mom is crying. She presses wet kisses to Jared's temple and clutches at his hand with bony fingers. Jared lets her whisper babybabybaby, oh my baby into his hair, while he watches Jensen make his bed. The sheet quivers in the air when Jensen shakes it, ripples like it's trying to pull free from Jensen's grip, then falls.
"He's sick, baby," Jared's mom tells him, whispering it wetly to him.
"No," Jared says. "I'm sick. He's not. He's… beautiful."
Jensen smoothes the sheet flat, his palms sliding over the material. Jared bets it'll feel cool and clean against his skin, and he squirms against his mom, eager to lay himself down. She holds on tight and Jensen moves to fold the corners under.
Jared wants Jensen to lie down on the bed too and make it messy with Jared.
"No, baby," Jared's mom says. Her tears are hot and sloppy, like sweat on Jared's skin. "He's sick."
Jensen turns to fetch fresh, fat pillows, and Jared can see the growing black stain on Jensen's shirt, low down on his belly, just above his hip. It's old blood and pus, sticky and stinking. Jensen moves as if he is not aware of it but even as Jared watches, the stain spreads. Jensen's skin, where it's visible, takes on a sickly yellow taint, before it darkens, bruised-purple to necrotic-black.
"He's sick," Jared's mom says. "He won't make old bones."
:::
Things come in to the hospital from outside and things leave the hospital to go to the outside. Letters come to Jared from his family, and one day, when he's well, he'll be allowed to read them. Doctors and attendants leave the hospital, through the big doors at the front that Jared's not allowed to go near, and then they might come back or they might not. Jensen always comes back. He doesn't bring anything for Jared from outside, apart from the smell of his hands and the taste of his mouth.
Only Jared and the other crazy people come to the hospital and don't leave. They get stuck in its sterile security and it's easy to believe that there isn't really anything outside of the hospital. The letters don't exist until they come to the hospital, and when people step through the doors, they step into white space and disappear.
Jared remembers the world outside the hospital. He remembers what his bedroom at home looks like and he remembers the kids he was at high school with, and he remembers the Math teacher who talked to him in that soothing, trembling voice while another teacher furtively shepherded the crying kids out of class and sirens sang in the distance.
He remembers it now but he's been forgetting a little more of it every day since he met Jensen.
So the day the cop comes is very exciting for Jared. The medical director comes to talk to the cop, and Jensen holds the door open for them both as they pass. Jared trails along behind them as long as he can but the medical director sees him, smiles at him and gestures for an attendant to come help Jared back to where he's doing his painting.
Distractedly, Jared paints a lot of pink onto his picture, and watches for the cop to come back. Jensen has gone over the other side of the room, and is letting a crazy person read a story at him, smiling and nodding as if he can hear it. Sally and one of the other attendants are standing close by, talking together in low, concerned voices. They shake their heads and look sad.
The cop is in with the medical director for a long time, and then the senior nurse goes in as well, and when she comes out, Sally and the other attendant go into a cluster with her. And then they all shake their heads and look sad again.
Jared grins at his painting, has to muffle his laughter in his sleeve so they won't hear him. He wriggles excitedly from foot to foot and paints messy pink hearts all over his picture.
When the cop comes out, he and the medical director shake hands, looking grave. Jared puts his paintbrush down and pads over to them. The cop sees Jared first, notes him with a polite kind of wariness. Jared's just a tall, skinny kid with pretty eyes, and the cop smiles hesitantly.
"Why are you here?" Jared says. "You're not sick, are you?"
"No," says the cop. "No, I'm not… uh…" He glances at the medical director, who is smiling indulgently at Jared. The cop seems encouraged by this, and he smiles a little more broadly at Jared. His voice becomes thick and strong. "No, a little girl's lost and I came to ask Dr Harvey here if anyone had seen her."
"Oh," says Jared. "That's real bad. I bet her mom and dad are missing her, aren't they? I hope you find her soon."
He pads in closer, arms outstretched, and folds the cop into a hug. He rests his face on the cop's shoulder and closes his eyes. The cop tenses at first, then pats him uncertainly on the back, exchanging a look with the medical director over Jared's head. He thinks this is funny and freaky probably. He'll go back to the station and he'll tell his friends about the weird, crazy kid who hugged him and they'll laugh and they won't know that Jensen's seven little dead girls are giggling the loudest.
Jared grins, rubs his face into the cop's shoulder, and gently starts to hump his thigh, dragging his hardening dick against the cop's leg.
"Jesus!" the cop shouts and he shoves Jared away from him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Jared laughs at him.
The cop looks disgusted and the medical director hurries forward to apologize. Attendants rush over to pull Jared away. Jared sinks against them, and gives himself up to laughing until his ribs ache.
:::
The first time it happens, it's after Jared's fallen and skinned his knee.
Jensen leads him to a treatment room and makes him sit on the table while he fetches ointment and bandages. Then Jensen drops onto his knee in front of him and raises an eyebrow. Hands trembling, Jared pulls up the leg of his shorts. Jensen leans closer to examine the red-and-white graze, and the muscles in Jared's thigh jump.
There are fat globules of blood sitting on the broken skin, and as Jensen studies them, the look in his eyes goes muzzy and high, and his breath shortens to soft little pants.
Jared swallows hard and he watches and waits. His belly is tight with anticipation and want, even though he has no idea what Jensen is going to do to him, not that first time.
Jensen touches him gently, hand cupping the back of Jared's knee, turning his leg this way and that, until one drop of blood grows heavy enough to roll down Jared's shin. And instantly Jensen's pretty little hungry mouth is on Jared, tongue and lips and hot breath sucking away greedily at the blood. Jared whines, hips snapping off the table. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. Push Jensen away or grab his face and make him take more, make him drink it all?
With his other hand, Jensen reaches up, finds the shape of Jared's dick - already thickening between his legs - and massages and rubs until Jared can barely stay on the table. It's too much all at once and Jared arches and shudders, and he comes in seconds, all sticky heat under Jensen's fingers and rushing down Jared's thighs.
Jensen just goes on working him through it, supporting Jared as he sags backwards onto the table, all the while lapping and sucking at Jared's knee, long after the stinging pain of the graze is gone, driven into crazy tingling.
Jared lies there and feels the aftershock roll hot and soft through his body. He becomes aware again, slowly, of the sheer sensation of Jensen's mouth on him. For boys of his age there's not a single patch of skin that isn't an erogenous zone, but he never figured his knee for one. It is when it's got Jensen moaning and desperate. From where he lies, Jared watches the bobbing of Jensen's head and imagines how Jensen's mouth would feel on the rest of him and how soon he can have it there.
"Someone's coming," Jared says, experimentally, to the top of Jensen's head. "There's someone coming. They'll see. What are you gonna do when they see what you're doing to me?"
Jensen adjusts his grip on Jared's knee, fingers digging possessively into the vulnerable dip of skin and muscle behind, and his lips close over the graze, mouth suckling hard to bring more blood to the surface.
"You're gonna have to kill 'em, aren't you?" Jared says. "How you gonna do it? Y'know, I bet there's an ax in the groundskeeper's shed. Yeah, you could take 'em out like squealing pigs with that ax, couldn't you? One after another, boom boom boom. Wanna watch you do that. Wanna see the blood on your nice white shirt."
Articulated, the words are shocking and wonderful. The idea is free and won't go back into its box.
He's not sure if it's the visual, or the fact that Jensen's mauling one big bruise on his knee, but Jared's getting hard again. It's awesome. It's hot and insistent and it's in his belly and right behind his eyes and everywhere that Jensen's touching him.
"They'd run and they'd scream but you'd get 'em. You'd bury that pretty little ax in their skulls, and you'd have to tug it out real hard so you could use it on the next one. You wouldn't hear how it sounds when you cut 'em open, but I would. Sound like when my daddy used to chop wood, only wetter. And it'd be splinters of bone flyin' through the air and blood on the floor, and you'd just carve 'em all up."
His own hand creeps down to the tacky, filthy mess of the front of his shorts. Jensen's jacking himself through his feeding frenzy, wrist jerking where his hand is shoved down his pants, so Jared palms himself lazily, winding himself up again.
"Then you'd come back to me. And you'd make me lick their blood and brains off your skin, and I would, I would. And the ones that weren't already dead, they'd have to watch us fuck. We'd fuck each other right there in their blood and guts, and it'd be the last thing they ever fucking saw."
No one ever sees them together.
:::
This is what Jared does for fun. This is his religion.
Each slide of his cock into Jensen's ass makes a soft squelch, because he's sliding through his own come and saliva, pushing it further up inside Jensen, stuffing him full of it. Jensen's shivering, arms wrapped so tight around the pillow his muscles are corded, thighs quivering with strain where he's got one knee hooked over Jared's shoulder, and the other leg thrown wide and welcoming. Jared holds his hip down, draws back until he can see almost the whole slick-red length of his dick, only the fat cockhead stretching Jensen's sore little hole wide, before he sinks back in and watches Jensen's ass take him in.
Jensen grunts as Jared's balls brush his over-sensitive skin and he clings tighter to the pillow. His own cock is heavy and straining against the taut flatness of his belly, puddling precome on his skin for Jared to whirl his fingertip around in.
Jared's still bleeding from earlier, from where Jensen sliced him open and nibbled up and down the line of the cut, tiny tearing tugs of his teeth that made Jared come. The sheet beneath them is filthy with blood and come and sweat. Tomorrow, Jared will paint a picture of it and show it to the other attendants who won't understand what it is or how beautiful it is.
Tonight, Jared will fuck Jensen until he's all used and tender and boneless.
When Jensen shifts at Jared's next slow push, the sheets stick to him, tacky and wet. Jared shuffles closer, pushing up snug inside the hotwet grasp of Jensen's ass. He catches Jensen's leg before it can slip from his shoulder, and bends him a little in half so he squirm in deeper. It makes Jensen grunt again and his cock jumps, a glistening strand of precome leaking onto his belly. His thighs twitch, like an instinctive attempt to push Jared out and away, but Jared just settles in closer, painting his blood through the sweat and spunk on Jensen's belly.
"You know what I was thinking the other day?" says Jared. He rocks his hips backwards and forwards, fucking Jensen slow and sloppy, the sick noise of his come being shoved up inside Jensen punctuating each thrust. "I was thinking, if you stuck a knife in my chest when I was fucking you, like, if you did it right now, you know what I'd do?"
Jensen's face is hidden by the pillow. The long, vulnerable stretch of his bared neck distracts Jared for a second, before he remembers what he was saying.
"I'd go right on fucking you. I'd wanna die with my dick in you." He dabs some fresh blood onto Jensen's skin and imagines what it would be like to cover Jensen in it, when he's all desperate and high like this. "I think I could come from having you stick one of your knives in me. Yeah. Yeah, I'd be fucking you just like this, and you could just slide it right in between my ribs, and we could fuck each other like that. Right to the end."
Jensen's leg slips again on Jared's shoulder and Jared drags it roughly back into place. He grits his teeth and stabs in deep, making Jensen cry out and dig his heel into the bed to keep Jared from slamming him right up the bed. Jared's balls slap Jensen's ass over and over and his fingers bite into the sharp bone and dense muscle of Jensen's hipbone.
Pace slowing for just a moment, Jared touches the smooth, unblemished skin just above Jensen's hip, low down on his belly. He glances up at Jensen, forcibly pries the pillow from Jensen's grip so he can see Jensen's face. Jensen is flushed and shining. His lips are swollen, red, needing to be kissed. The roots of his hair are dark with sweat. His head lolls back like his neck's broken but his gaze is on Jared.
Jared darts forward, shifts down so he can bury his face in Jensen's neck. And he sobs and he laughs, and Jensen pets his hair and gently strokes his shuddering shoulders.
Jared turns his face to put his mouth to Jensen's perfect, useless ear. "Death can't fuck with something like us. Can't fucking touch us." Blindly, he reaches down and finds that little patch of Jensen's skin, knows exactly where it is even though there's not a mark on it and it's as smooth as the rest. "I'll kill you myself before can you die from that," Jared whispers to him.
And Jensen just turns his face to his and kisses him.
:::
Jared is twenty-five, four and a half weeks freshly released from the hospital, when he finds the first green-eyed boy with freckles to take out into the fields.
~end