Redemption Interlude - Turning Saints Into the Sea
Timothy David Olyphant was born in Atlanta, Georgia on an unseasonably cold day in May. He was his parents’ first and only child, a fact his mother had made abundantly clear to her husband on hearing she was pregnant. He’d better hope it was a son because she was only going to misshape her beauty queen body once in an attempt to give him an heir. Two days after he was born, Timothy was laid in the arms of his mother for the ride home where he was promptly transferred to the arms of a nanny.
His father was a god in the banking world, so much so, that the titans of Wall Street paid homage to him, his business prowess and financial cunning earning him a lofty place on the Fortune 500 list. His mother was a goddess among the charitable women of Atlanta, able to intimidate event planners with her thunderous micromanaging anger and stroke away small portions of Timothy’s inheritance with a lightning fast pen. The elite of the Georgia elite worshipped them, everyone seeking a touch of their divine grace.
Timothy grew, flourishing under the love and attention of governesses, over-indulgent women who turned blind eyes to his childish offenses in the hopes of compensating for the lack of affection he received from his parents. He was schooled by the finest tutors and the most prestigious institutions, learning only the things that interested him, confident that his surname was enough to keep his instructors from failing him in the subjects that didn’t. Life lessons, those that follow a person into adulthood and shape the type of person they will become, he learned, like most children, at his parents’ knees, watching and emulating them in the hopes of one day becoming just like them.
His compassion was molded watching his father ink away the livelihoods of ten thousand blue collar workers in exchange for a 1% increase in quarterly gains, smiling at his son later during dinner with a quip about bringing home the bacon as their cook placed a platter of prime rib on the table in front of him. Fairness came from his mother, listening to her offer a sought-after band twice the customary fee to cancel a commitment to play at a fundraising concert for inner-city programs in order to provide entertainment for an important private party she was throwing for the mayor’s wife’s birthday. His honor, as he peeked through the cracked study door, his father threatening to destroy the life of a woman if she ever again brought around the ‘bastard’ child, bundled in a blue fleece blanket, she clutched fearfully to her chest. His forgiveness, a week later from the darkened upstairs landing as his mother passionately kissed the new intern at his father’s office while his father watched darkly from the open front door, suitcase from his recent business trip on the floor next to him.
His greatest lesson didn’t come from his parents’ knees but from their hands, visually aided by the purpling bruises that his mother’s make-up couldn’t hide and his father’s dress shirts couldn’t cover. There wasn’t a fine line that separated love and hate. No. They were bedfellows, a pair, and you couldn’t have one without the other. To love someone, you also had to hate them to a certain extent, and the basis of any relationship was dependent on the ratio of the two. That lesson he learned well.
It wasn’t until Timothy was in high school that he realized the influence his surname truly held. More than bullying teachers into better than passing marks, it gave him notoriety without any effort on his part and a group of sycophantic allies, all eager to be cast in the glow of his popularity. Power and money were potent tools and with them you could rebuild the world to your liking. A new gym got him a spot on any sports team he wished and a new science laboratory earned him top marks. Half the student body wanted to fuck him and the other half wanted to fucking be him. He was king and it was good to be king.
Though the academics of those hallowed halls were of no use to Timothy, he did garner some valuable knowledge while there: the right way to touch a person to make them sigh in pleasure and the minimal force needed to make them cry out in pain. He made his way through the cheerleaders - their pleated skirts fanning out over his lap as he guided them harshly up and down, one hand fisting long hair and the other gripping bruises into soft flesh. He’d slept his way through half of the varsity squad before he realized the messy blowjob from the quarterback did more for him than any of the rah-rahs could ever dream. It was heady having such an alpha male on his knees, the power of making him submit, and it got him off harder and faster. It was a drug and Timothy was an instant addict. He still fucked the pom-pom girls, he just fucked their jock boyfriends, too.
Four years and a diploma he didn’t deserve later, Timothy left secondary education and Atlanta ready to conquer the collegiate world and Savannah. He invaded the seaside town in a flurry of entitlement and old money, only to learn that the traditions Atlanta was built on were rebuffed by the eclectic people of his new city. Savannah may have been steeped in history, the bricks beneath his feet cobbled in centuries past and worn with the accumulated traffic of the intervening years, but the younger population was open-minded and liberal, thanks in large part to the art and design school nestled in its historic bosom. His name was no longer worth its weight in gold, but, fortunately for Timothy, his money was still backed by it.
He soon gathered a following, a group of near-men easily influenced by the sight and smell of green inked linen, and sought about making a place for himself, preferably a high one. Those that didn’t love him instantly were soon persuaded to that way of thinking, money and a thin veneer of charisma winning over the most ardent of dissenters. All except one person.
*****
Timothy met Jensen Ackles at an inter-fraternity basketball game during homecoming week, the honor of their rivaling houses the only thing resting on the outcome of the game. Timothy was there with Jake Abel, a freshman pledge eager to please his older fraternity brothers and willing to do anything to accomplish it. He was exactly Timothy’s type: young, strong, athletic and oh-so-pretty on his knees. They were sitting in the bleachers watching the game, cheering their players and taunting their opponents in equal measure. There wasn’t a referee, the game barely civilized with more fouls occurring than baskets. Jake was completely focused on the court and Timothy, who abhorred the sport, occupied his mind with making plans for what he wanted to do to Jake that night.
Jake’s soft ‘wow’ brought his attention back to the game. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the players and many had resorted to stripping off their shirts in a vain attempt to keep cool. He followed his companion’s heated gaze only to realize that Jake wasn’t so much watching the game anymore as he was one particular player on the other team. Timothy had to admit the man was gorgeous; it would be a blatant lie to say he wasn’t - ash blonde hair, muscular physique, full lips that sent Timothy’s mind reeling at the possibilities. When the game ended, Timothy’s fraternity losing dismally to the other house for the fifth year in a row, he didn’t object when Jake insisted they go congratulate the winners. As he suspected, Jake made a beeline for the handsome man.
“Hey, great game, man. You were awesome,” Jake gushed as they approached the man near his team’s bench.
“Thanks,” the guy smiled, leaning down to gather his water bottle from under the bench.
“I’m Jake,” Jake thrust his hand out.
“Jensen,” the guy shook the proffered hand, smile widening.
Apparently remembering Timothy’s presence, Jake quickly dropped Jensen’s hand. “This is my…this is Timothy.”
“Timothy Olyphant,” Timothy shook hands with Jensen, raising an eyebrow at Jake’s stuttered introduction.
“Jensen Ackles.” In one glance Jensen assessed and dismissed him, turning to rifle through his open gym bag. Pulling a towel out, he turned back and gave Timothy a more careful once over, frowning. “Olyphant?”
Timothy smiled. This was more the reaction he was used to getting. “You may have heard of me. My dad just donated the money for the new commissary.”
“Oh,” Jensen muttered, less than impressed. “Well, I guess on behalf of the hungry student body, I thank your father for his ability to sign a check.” He ran a towel back and forth over his sweat drenched hair, biceps rippling with the movement and Timothy heard Jake swallow a quiet moan.
“Hey Jen,” a dark haired, broad shouldered man called, running up to the trio and draping his arm over Jensen’s shoulder. “Bunch of us are chipping in for a keg. You in?”
“Yeah,” Jensen pulled his wallet from the side pocket of his bag and thumbed through the few bills inside.
“You know,” Timothy smiled, seeing his opportunity to get into Jensen’s good graces, “I could cover that for you. A congratulations of sorts on winning the game.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Jensen pulled a five dollar bill out and closed his billfold, “my dad has never paid for my beer so I wouldn’t feel right having yours do it either.”
Timothy’s smile fell and he felt the flush of anger flood his cheeks. Never in his life had any offer been denied. People usually fell over - either on their back or their knees - with gratitude when Timothy pulled out his wallet.
“Here you go, man,” Jensen handed the money to the confused newcomer, “let me know if you need more.”
“Will do,” the dark haired man saluted with the money, “Let me give this to Neal then I’ll be ready to go.”
“Thanks, Chris,” Jensen tucked his wallet away. “Well, looks like my ride is about ready. It was nice to meet you, Jake. I really hope to see you soon.” He winked and lifted his bag to his shoulder, sliding his thumb under the strap. Nodding to Timothy, “Olyphant.”
“Ackles,” Timothy nodded back with a tight jaw and watched the man walk away. Taking a harsh breath, he forced a smile on his face and turned back to Jake at his side. Sliding an arm around the blonde’s waist, he leaned over and purred in the younger man’s ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
Jake’s eyes were still trained on Jensen’s ass as he crossed the court to meet up with his friends. Pulling them away seemed to take real effort, but Jake finally managed to force his attention on his date. “Oh, yeah. Um. Hey, I forgot. I have a huge test in Chemistry tomorrow and McMillan is already riding my ass about that exploding test tube.” His eyes flicked back to Jensen, laughing and joking with a group of men near the parking lot, before coming back to Timothy. “Raincheck?”
Timothy clenched his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking under the strain, and twisted his mouth into a tight smile. “Sure. Can’t have you failing out of school, now can we?”
Timothy tried several times over the next few weeks to cash in that raincheck. He’d set his eyes on Jake and was determined to get what he wanted out of the young man. Kid was on the gymnastics team and Timothy had never had a gymnast. His imaginings alone were enough to make his head spin - all that flexibility and strength under his hands and at his command. Each time, Jake had an excuse to beg off - practice, study groups, tests. To the casual admirer it would appear that Jake was trying to juggle his commitment to the gymnastics team and maintain a decent GPA, but Timothy had seen him stumbling back to the frat house - drunk, debauched and smelling of sex and musk - too many times to believe that. Jake was seeing someone, someone who wasn’t Timothy. It was another disconcerting first for him - he’d never, not once, failed to get what he wanted. He became even more determined to get Jake in his bed.
It was two weeks later at a Halloween Party on campus that Timothy found out who that someone else was. He’d been trolling through the crowd, searching out Jake so he could show him the error of his ways, when he found the young blonde in an upstairs room. Jake was beneath a man on the bed, their cop and robber costumes on the floor next to the nightstand, bent in half with his feet flat against the wall behind his head in an impressive display of limberness. It was straight out of one of Timothy’s fantasies except in those he was the one pounding into that lithe body, making Jake cry out so prettily. This was who Jake had chosen over him - Jensen Ackles. He’d lost to some hick kid from out west - he’d checked Jensen out after their first meeting - and that didn’t sit well with him. Green eyes, shining in the light from the hallway, glanced his way and a cocky smile spread across Jensen’s face. He gave a particularly hard thrust and Jake screamed Jensen’s name, body convulsing as he erupted over his toned stomach. Timothy backed out of the room, closing the door and walking down the hallway. It was there that it all began. The first and greatest rivalry of Timothy’s life. The next week Jake was forced out of the fraternity, though none of the brothers were sure why, and the week after that he came under investigation for plagiarism, allegations he vehemently denied right up until the day he was expelled.
*****
Years passed and the animosity grew. They competed over anything and everything. Some of them Timothy won, most he didn’t. An imaginary Mason-Dixon Line separated the campus into two factions - those who adored Jensen and those that followed Timothy. As much as people were captivated by Timothy’s money, more were enthralled by Jensen’s charm. Jensen was the golden boy - good grades, affable and well-liked based on his own merits. Timothy wondered briefly once, in a flash of uncharacteristic self-awareness, if Jensen didn’t have the right idea. Wasn’t it was better to be liked for the person you were rather than the balance of your checking account? Shouldn’t loyalty be earned rather than bought? When he asked his father about it, the answer came lightning fast in the way of a backhand to the face. Lying on the floor, licking blood from the split in his lip, Timothy was reminded that it was always better to be feared than loved. Love may make fools rush in where angels were wary to tread, but fear would make them shove their loved ones in first to test the ground.
Timothy’s hatred for Jensen and Jensen’s indifference to it wasn’t a secret, strangers to the two men seemed to know of the enmity, but never once did Timothy actually envy Jensen or anything he had. Jensen had and would always be just some poor fucker from a cow town in Colorado and Timothy contented himself with the thought that while Jensen may have had it all in college, Timothy had it all in life. That is until the night he saw his old arch-nemesis in The Pirate’s House with possibly the most enticing person Timothy had ever met. Jensen’s dinner companion was long and lean, muscles rippling under his shirt with each movement. The conversation between the two seemed serious, each talking in turn while the other listened with rapt attention. The gorgeous man wiped his hands on his jeans self-consciously and laughed, Timothy feeling a smile pulling his lips at the sound. It was obvious to anyone who’d studied Jensen the way Timothy had over the years that he was completely taken with his date, eyes shining and face flushed with the rush of new love. The man with Jensen was vibrant, full of life and Timothy’s body thrummed with the need to tame the frenetic energy that seemed to vibrate from him. He wanted to bridle that spirit, break it to his will. He had to have the young man. Taking him from Jensen? Well, that would just be a bonus.
His mouth twitched into a smug smirk as he navigated the tables separating him from the happy couple. “Ackles?” He called as he approached the table, cheering inwardly at Jensen’s muted groan.
Jensen set his fork down and wiped his mouth on his napkin, giving him a tight smile and reluctantly extending his hand. “Olyphant. Good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Timothy shook Jensen’s proffered hand, his eyes focusing on Jared, “Who’s your stunning dinner companion?”
He could almost hear Jensen’s teeth grind against each other and he fought to keep his expression neutral. Jensen had never reacted this way before, his face possessive. Was it possible that this man actually meant something to him?
“Timothy,” Jensen looked like he would rather swallow glass than make this introduction, “this is Jared Padalecki. He’s a student at SCAD.” Jensen’s hand covered Jared’s resting on the table and Timothy’s eyes narrowed at the radiant smile Jared beamed at the touch. Looked like Jensen wasn’t the only one that was taken. “Jared, this is Timothy Olyphant. We went to Mercer together.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jared set his fork down and held out his free hand to Timothy, his other remaining solidly in Jensen’s.
“Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you,” Timothy answered, thickening his Georgia drawl, layering it in the honeyed sweet charm that most people found irresistible. He held onto Jared’s warm, smooth hand, relishing in the strength he could feel there. Jared tugged gently in a subtle hint for Timothy to release him and Timothy kept the younger man’s hand in his grasp a moment longer before letting go with a slight squeeze. He saw Jared flick an uncertain gaze at Jensen.
“Olyphant,” Jensen cleared his throat and Timothy tore his gaze from Jared’s oddly colored eyes, “if you don’t mind, we’d like to finish our dinner. You and I can catch up another time, okay?”
“Of course. It was very nice to meet you, Jared,” he smiled his most charming smile at Jared then nodded to Jensen. “Ackles.”
“Olyphant.”
He walked back to his table, the business associates he was entertaining shooting him curious glances. He smiled apologetically at them and picked up his menu, eyes constantly darting back to where the couple was now talking intimately. Jared Padalecki.
Timothy looked down at the stack of papers nudging his arm, the men gathered at the table waiting with their hands folded on top of their menus. They’d been his father’s financial advisors and Timothy had inherited them along with the company when his parents were killed the previous year in a car crash. He accepted the pen his lawyer held out to him and thumbed through the stack to the page in the back requiring his signature. He didn’t need to read the paragraphs and clauses detailed in 12 point font, he knew what they said. He’d spent the last six months working on this takeover - biding his time, watching the quarterly earnings and projections, waiting for the right moment and when it presented itself he’d pounced with a single-minded determination. The current owner had rallied against him, a desperate attempt to keep him out, but had to eventually admit defeat. With a flourish of ink on paper, Timothy sealed the deal. He glanced back over to the private table near the back and smirked as he let the pages fall back in place. He always got what he wanted and this would be no different.
*****
It only took a handful of phone calls for him to learn where Jared worked. He became a frequent patron of The Plank, mind churning and mouth-watering at the sight of Jared in his uniform. He attended every one of Jared’s art shows and purchased a few items that Jared donated to the local animal shelter for their charity auctions. Never intrusive, he insinuated himself in the peripheral of Jared’s life - much to Jensen’s chagrin - always visible on the outskirts, a constant shadow in the background. He tired quickly listening to their admirers mooning over their perfect love, girls becoming inebriated on their romance, swooning with each touch and kiss they witnessed. Timothy had to hold back his sneer every time he saw Jensen’s hands or lips on Jared. He never fooled himself into believing that Jensen was ignorant of his presence in their lives, but knew that Jensen didn’t want to draw attention to him. Jensen had never been the confrontational type, letting his actions speak for themselves and he was happy to let their relationship do the talking now as well. Timothy was patient; though, waiting for the stalwart Jensen to falter in his guard so he could secret away his prize.
When news of Jensen’s job offer in Chicago and Jared’s decision to stay reached his ears, Timothy knew his moment had arrived. Ever the opportunist, Timothy took advantage of Jared’s newfound vulnerability and Jensen’s absence to finally take what he wanted. He approached him at the bar one night, Jared alone nursing his second beer and looking at the half-empty bottle like he wanted to drown in the depths. Timothy tried to cajole him out of his morose mood, but it was soon evident that Jared was in mourning over his lost love. He could see and feel his window closing, doubts creeping in that he might never get to have this exquisite creature the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. He couldn’t let this chance pass him by - Jared was exposed, defenses down and susceptible - and after eighteen months of waiting he refused to miss his opening when there was no guarantee he’d get another.
In the end it was almost too easy, a swift twist of the wrist when passing Jared a fresh beer, a little powder dissolving among the bubbles in the amber liquid. If college had taught him anything, it was the value of alcohol and pharmaceuticals. Jared in bed was everything Timothy had thought he would be and so much more. He yielded so easily to Timothy’s dominance, begged, pleaded and whimpered so beautifully. Jared’s body was agile and moved with a natural grace that blew Timothy’s mind. Jared was strong, in mind and spirit, and Timothy had gotten off harder than ever before having all that power at his mercy, at bringing this giant of a man to submission.
The next morning Jared woke in Timothy’s arms, eyes wide and bright with confusion that dimmed to shame when Timothy offered a simply believable explanation for Jared lapse in memory. He was disappointed when Jared unsteadily gathered his things, excuses about classes and commitments falling quietly from his lips interspersed with half-hearted apologies for leaving so abruptly. Timothy lay back unconcerned as the front door snicked shut, the smell of the previous night’s activities wafting up from the disheveled sheets. He cupped his burgeoning arousal, memories of Jared’s pliant and willing body making it blood-heavy with need, and began to formulate a plan. He’d gotten a sampling from the sheer smorgasbord that was Jared’s body and he knew that one bite would never be enough. He couldn’t let this be the one-time thing he’d planned on, he had to have more. He needed to come up with something that would make Jared his permanently.
Jared agreed to meet him a few times for lunch or coffee over the coming weeks, always maintaining a friendly distance. They exchanged casual touches, but the contact never progressed further than those small platonic gestures. Timothy could clearly read on Jared’s face and in his every move that Jared regretted their night together and didn’t intend for it to happen again. Refusing to be discouraged, Timothy used this time wisely to learn things about Jared that would help him to convince Jared otherwise.
A month later, after a week of cancelled lunches due to illness, Timothy was surprised to open his door to find a pale and wane Jared, looking young and nervous. Jared was pregnant, pregnant and petrified. Timothy had never once considered having children, the paternal desire non-existent in his mind, but he saw this for the gift that it was. Jared would be forever bound to him, their child creating an unbreakable link between the two men, his claim cemented in DNA and blood.
Jared resisted when Timothy insisted that he move in so that Timothy could better care for the man, only agreeing once Timothy conceded to give Jared his own room. Timothy quickly became the envy of his friends and colleagues - Jared was an eye-catching piece of arm candy - but he knew that Jared’s friends and family were wary, concerned about Jared and the situation. Timothy felt their judgment in each look and heard it in every conversation, knowing that he was being constantly compared to Jensen, but they couldn’t deny him his place in Jared’s life, try as they might.
Months passed and Timothy provided Jared with the best care that money could buy. He tempered his resentment over Jared’s continued refusals of his more amorous advances, consoling himself with the possibility that Jared was ashamed of his bloated and distorted body. If Timothy was honest with himself, the ever expanding bump had dampened some of his desire and it was more the mere fact that Jared wasn’t taking what was on offer that made him pursue it so much.
Timothy began to ration Jared’s meals, masking his disgust at the overly prominent bulge by stating concern over Jared’s weight gain compared to others at similar stages in their pregnancy. Jared’s once enviable body had become contorted and misshapen. Gone was his lithe, slim form, replaced by this huge pot-belly, his Adonis supplanted by Buddha. His mother had taught him that beauty might be only skin deep, but since that was what the world judged on, it was all that mattered. He showed Jared pictures of his mother, some of the precious few she’d allowed while pregnant, taken at an Easter celebration only a month before Timothy was born. Her small bump made it seem more like she’d swallowed a soccer ball than was carrying a child. Jared flushed in embarrassment, hand sweeping over his growing waist, bigger now than the woman’s depicted in the picture. He remained quiet about the smaller portions even when his stomach voiced its complaint loudly.
At twenty weeks, it was discovered that not only was Jared having a boy, he was having two. Jared timidly handed over the three-dimensional images - baby A proudly displaying his gender while the shyer baby B sucked his thumb. Timothy smirked at the pictures, looking past the miniature people displayed in the sepia tones and seeing his claim on Jared doubly forged. He allayed Jared’s worries and picked up the phone to order an additional crib for the nursery.
Faced with this new information, Timothy conceded to an increase in Jared’s daily caloric intake now that he was eating for three instead of two, but quickly cut it back again if Jared’s weekly weight gain exceeded what was expected. Jared was huge and Timothy played on the insecurities the size had created in the man. Timothy had seen other people struggling with post-baby weight, husbands accepting portly as an unfortunate after effect of pregnancy, and he was determined to have Jared back to his pre-pregnancy size once the children were born. Jared would thank him later.
It was in late September that things went horribly wrong. They were arguing again, the number and intensity of their disagreements increasing over the last few weeks and culminating in the most heated to date, when liquid started trickling down the inside of Jared’s thigh, staining the white carpet of the Nursery. Timothy stared dumbstruck as Jared doubled over, clutching his stomach and cried out in pain. Finally, he grabbed his phone in shaky hands and called an ambulance.
The Labor and Delivery department was a flurry of activity when they arrived, nurses and Jared’s obstetrician voicing concerns about premature delivery and fetal lung development. According to the doctor, Jared’s water had broken and he was in premature labor, something they’d been worried about. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy on Jared, he’d almost lost the babies twice as his body rejected the foreign presence. The doctor talked calmly with them, advising them of the possibility that at thirty-five weeks, the twins’ lungs would not be developed fully, that they might have to be on a ventilator. Jared was wheeled into the delivery room, staring at Timothy with eyes wide in terror as fear for the twins’ well-being took hold.
Hours of labor culminated when a strong cry rent the air, followed a short while later by another equally strong wail. Timothy had a moment of relief, until he saw Jared’s pale face and a nurse pushed him toward the door. He stood outside the door, staring at the No Admittance sign in numb disbelief. All the times before, Jared had never been in danger, only the twins, and Timothy always considered them a reasonable sacrifice as long as Jared was safe, was his. Now, Jared was the one sick or dying and Timothy felt the beginnings of real fear. Jared couldn’t leave him to take care of their sons. Timothy needed him.
Five hours later, he stood beside Jared’s bed in Recovery as Jared was introduced to his sons for the first time. Jared had started hemorrhaging once the second baby was born and it had taken two hours for them to get him stabilized. Jared reached for them, the nurses, using pillows to bolster Jared’s weak body, placed one healthily pink baby boy in each arm. Jared blinked tears away as he gazed down at the sleeping cherubs. The baby on the left, the older of the two, wrinkled his face and blearily blinked up at his daddy. Timothy expected the gasp that left Jared, had exhaled a similar rush of air when the boys had first opened their eyes to him. The nurses had been astounded and awed at the bright, emerald green of the twins’ eyes, commenting that most babies’ weren’t usually so clear right after birth. He could see Jared’s mind turning, suspicions multiplying when the baby on the right opened equally vivid green eyes. Timothy knew because he had had those same suspicions when the squalling newborns were handed to him the first time. He waited until the twins were swaddled snugly in their bassinets in the hospital Nursery - Jared naming the older twin Benjamin Alexander and the younger Theodore Joshua without consulting him - and Jared was asleep in his room to make his way to the nurse’s station.
“Excuse me,” he smiled at the middle-aged woman behind the counter, “how would I go about getting a paternity test?”
Two weeks later, Timothy sat at his desk reading over the print-out results. He gathered several papers together and moved to the fireplace, tossing the topmost sheet in the dancing flames. The other two were locked in the wall safe, securely tucked away until they were needed.
*****
Having been an only child, Timothy didn’t have much experience with kids so he really wasn’t prepared for the changes his life would undergo once the babies were home. They were loud, all times of the day and night, and escaping to his study did little to drown out the incessant crying. His normally spotless house had been invaded by an army of bottles and binkies and diapers. Most disturbing of all was the misconception that once Jared was no longer pregnant, he would be willing to trade their casual touches for something more sexual. Jared had walked out of the hospital fifteen pounds lighter than he’d been pre-pregnancy, the baby weight melting off of him, and Timothy couldn’t wait for Jared’s six week clearance so he could once again experience the masterpiece that was Jared’s body. The reality of the situation was that Jared spent most of his time caring for two colicky babies, so he had little energy left over for much more than sleeping. The squalling, selfish brats monopolized Jared’s time, leaving little to none left for Timothy. He resented the twins, hated their puking, shitting, crying little guts.
Timothy could see Jared pulling away, creating distance in their fledgling relationship. He knew that Jared was concerned that Timothy wasn’t more active in his children’s care and that those green eyes left Jared with unanswered questions. It left Timothy cold and it seeped into every aspect of their home life. The firm control he had on his temper since he’d started this thing with Jared started to slip, affording Jared glimpses of his anger.
When Christmas rolled around and Jared said he wanted to go to visit his parents in Key West during the holiday, Timothy was grateful that a big merger prevented him from going. He thought the time away would be good for Jared and he could definitely do with a few nights of peace and quiet and possibly some of the human touch he’d been denied for so long. What Jared didn’t know, couldn’t hurt anyone.
He answered the phone the night before Jared and the kids were due home, expecting his daily call from Jared, to be greeted by a friendly voice confirming an appointment for movers the day after tomorrow. The phone suffered the brunt of his anger that night and Jared bore it the next. After the kids were thankfully down for the night, the echo of their cries still ringing in his ears, he dragged Jared into the study by his hair. Throwing the young man on the floor he retrieved the papers locked in the safe and tossed them down in front of Jared. Proof in black and white that the twins were Timothy’s and he reveled in the crestfallen look in Jared’s eyes. Jared had held out hope that the twins weren’t Timothy’s, was going to leave him believing it. That night he reminded Jared and himself who had the power in their household. After he’d slaked his anger, he dragged the whimpering man to the couch and satiated his pent-up lust. When he was done, he stood over Jared and threatened to take their sons if Jared ever thought of leaving him again before going upstairs to bed. Jared’s things ended up being moved the next day…into Timothy’s room.
Timothy realized that night that it was his claim on the twins and not Jared that gave him power. With the merest threat of separation, Timothy had complete control over the other man. He isolated him, forbidding him to see his meddling family and interfering friends, the ones that gave Jared the idea to leave him. The only concession he made was allowing Jared to see that idiot, Chad, knowing the guy posed no threat. Temper unleashed, Timothy found it difficult to keep it in check and watching Jared, big and strong, cower in fear was headier than he could ever imagine. He bought gifts in way of apology, a sliding scale based on the severity of the beating, and tenderly doted on him, feeding him in bed and pampering him after each episode, the kindness confusing the younger man more than the cruelty.
When Benjamin and Theodore’s hair starting coming in, ash blonde and fair, Timothy stared into their verdant eyes and was suddenly seized by the need to impregnate Jared. After that first night he took Jared forcibly, he’d considered it his right to have Jared whenever and wherever he wanted and the young man had learned it was easier to allow it to happen, but having a baby at least deserved a conversation. He broached the subject with Jared several times, but Jared always said that the doctor had advised him not to have more children after the complications of his last pregnancy. Disbelieving Timothy, would not be deterred. He called in favors and was able to get a several month supply of Jared’s birth control pills, some that did not contain any of the medication needed to prevent pregnancy. A year of no results, Timothy visited his doctor to have a few tests run. The day he got the results, he fucked his new assistant, Matt Cohen, against the wall of his office then went home and threw Jared through a mirror for not picking up the dry cleaning. As Jared sobbed on the ground, he threw his shirt at Jared, telling him to clean up the mess he’d made. He smirked when Jared’s eyes widened as Matt’s cologne drifted up to him from the tailored shirt.
Their lives moved on, the sex becoming increasingly rougher and the abuse increasingly more brutal. Jared tried to fight in the beginning, but Timothy quickly taught him that it was useless. The gifts stopped as Timothy started enjoying the ways he broke Jared. He learned exactly which palms to grease to keep the police away and made sure that Jared knew they wouldn’t help him. He didn’t try to hide his affair with Matt, reveling in the humiliation and pain on Jared’s face. Timothy controlled every aspect of Jared’s life - work and home. He micromanaged Jared’s meals and money, putting the man on a strict allowance for both. His life was good, he had the perfect boyfriend and the perfect lover - both the envy of all his friends. That was until he came home to an empty house and Jared’s car missing. He’d flown into a rage, most of the house suffering his ire.
He considered letting Jared go, his arm candy appeal lessening over the years, but Timothy had always been possessive and the thought of giving up something that belonged to him was unacceptable. He was going to get Jared back and he was going to make him pay. Injury was added to insult when Pileggi informed him that Jared had found comfort in the arms of his old rival, providing glossy 5x8 proof. It didn’t take much for Pileggi to find the skeletons in Ackles’ closet and for Timothy to broker a deal.
He kept his distance at first, waiting for the right moment. Patience was a virtue and in this respect he was goddamn righteous. He spied on them, an ever-vigilant shadow that dogged their unknowing steps. He clenched his jaw seeing Jensen with Jared, the joint aching under the pressure as he witnessed each kiss and touch, and he gritted his teeth, wearing layers of enamel away, every time the twins regarded Jensen with a look of adoration or love. Through the jealousy, he did have to admit that Jared looked good. He’d filled out his frame again, adding lean weight and muscle mass that made his body more reminiscent of its god-like glory days before he’d lost his figure carrying the Satan spawn. He remembered what it felt like to have that power under his hands, under his control, and he laughed at himself for ever thinking he could let Jared go. There was no longer any question in his mind. He had to get Jared…and make Jensen answer for daring to take him.
Timothy watched as Jensen’s black muscle car pulled out of Jared’s driveway, taillights fuzzy in the early morning fog. The good Deputy Sheriff was off to a conference in Denver for the week, not yet knowing the shitstorm he was driving into. Timothy started his car and pulled back onto the road, smirking. Soon. His patience was about to pay off because good things always come to those who wait.
"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea..." Mr. Brightside by the Killers
His father was a god in the banking world, so much so, that the titans of Wall Street paid homage to him, his business prowess and financial cunning earning him a lofty place on the Fortune 500 list. His mother was a goddess among the charitable women of Atlanta, able to intimidate event planners with her thunderous micromanaging anger and stroke away small portions of Timothy’s inheritance with a lightning fast pen. The elite of the Georgia elite worshipped them, everyone seeking a touch of their divine grace.
Timothy grew, flourishing under the love and attention of governesses, over-indulgent women who turned blind eyes to his childish offenses in the hopes of compensating for the lack of affection he received from his parents. He was schooled by the finest tutors and the most prestigious institutions, learning only the things that interested him, confident that his surname was enough to keep his instructors from failing him in the subjects that didn’t. Life lessons, those that follow a person into adulthood and shape the type of person they will become, he learned, like most children, at his parents’ knees, watching and emulating them in the hopes of one day becoming just like them.
His compassion was molded watching his father ink away the livelihoods of ten thousand blue collar workers in exchange for a 1% increase in quarterly gains, smiling at his son later during dinner with a quip about bringing home the bacon as their cook placed a platter of prime rib on the table in front of him. Fairness came from his mother, listening to her offer a sought-after band twice the customary fee to cancel a commitment to play at a fundraising concert for inner-city programs in order to provide entertainment for an important private party she was throwing for the mayor’s wife’s birthday. His honor, as he peeked through the cracked study door, his father threatening to destroy the life of a woman if she ever again brought around the ‘bastard’ child, bundled in a blue fleece blanket, she clutched fearfully to her chest. His forgiveness, a week later from the darkened upstairs landing as his mother passionately kissed the new intern at his father’s office while his father watched darkly from the open front door, suitcase from his recent business trip on the floor next to him.
His greatest lesson didn’t come from his parents’ knees but from their hands, visually aided by the purpling bruises that his mother’s make-up couldn’t hide and his father’s dress shirts couldn’t cover. There wasn’t a fine line that separated love and hate. No. They were bedfellows, a pair, and you couldn’t have one without the other. To love someone, you also had to hate them to a certain extent, and the basis of any relationship was dependent on the ratio of the two. That lesson he learned well.
It wasn’t until Timothy was in high school that he realized the influence his surname truly held. More than bullying teachers into better than passing marks, it gave him notoriety without any effort on his part and a group of sycophantic allies, all eager to be cast in the glow of his popularity. Power and money were potent tools and with them you could rebuild the world to your liking. A new gym got him a spot on any sports team he wished and a new science laboratory earned him top marks. Half the student body wanted to fuck him and the other half wanted to fucking be him. He was king and it was good to be king.
Though the academics of those hallowed halls were of no use to Timothy, he did garner some valuable knowledge while there: the right way to touch a person to make them sigh in pleasure and the minimal force needed to make them cry out in pain. He made his way through the cheerleaders - their pleated skirts fanning out over his lap as he guided them harshly up and down, one hand fisting long hair and the other gripping bruises into soft flesh. He’d slept his way through half of the varsity squad before he realized the messy blowjob from the quarterback did more for him than any of the rah-rahs could ever dream. It was heady having such an alpha male on his knees, the power of making him submit, and it got him off harder and faster. It was a drug and Timothy was an instant addict. He still fucked the pom-pom girls, he just fucked their jock boyfriends, too.
Four years and a diploma he didn’t deserve later, Timothy left secondary education and Atlanta ready to conquer the collegiate world and Savannah. He invaded the seaside town in a flurry of entitlement and old money, only to learn that the traditions Atlanta was built on were rebuffed by the eclectic people of his new city. Savannah may have been steeped in history, the bricks beneath his feet cobbled in centuries past and worn with the accumulated traffic of the intervening years, but the younger population was open-minded and liberal, thanks in large part to the art and design school nestled in its historic bosom. His name was no longer worth its weight in gold, but, fortunately for Timothy, his money was still backed by it.
He soon gathered a following, a group of near-men easily influenced by the sight and smell of green inked linen, and sought about making a place for himself, preferably a high one. Those that didn’t love him instantly were soon persuaded to that way of thinking, money and a thin veneer of charisma winning over the most ardent of dissenters. All except one person.
*****
Timothy met Jensen Ackles at an inter-fraternity basketball game during homecoming week, the honor of their rivaling houses the only thing resting on the outcome of the game. Timothy was there with Jake Abel, a freshman pledge eager to please his older fraternity brothers and willing to do anything to accomplish it. He was exactly Timothy’s type: young, strong, athletic and oh-so-pretty on his knees. They were sitting in the bleachers watching the game, cheering their players and taunting their opponents in equal measure. There wasn’t a referee, the game barely civilized with more fouls occurring than baskets. Jake was completely focused on the court and Timothy, who abhorred the sport, occupied his mind with making plans for what he wanted to do to Jake that night.
Jake’s soft ‘wow’ brought his attention back to the game. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the players and many had resorted to stripping off their shirts in a vain attempt to keep cool. He followed his companion’s heated gaze only to realize that Jake wasn’t so much watching the game anymore as he was one particular player on the other team. Timothy had to admit the man was gorgeous; it would be a blatant lie to say he wasn’t - ash blonde hair, muscular physique, full lips that sent Timothy’s mind reeling at the possibilities. When the game ended, Timothy’s fraternity losing dismally to the other house for the fifth year in a row, he didn’t object when Jake insisted they go congratulate the winners. As he suspected, Jake made a beeline for the handsome man.
“Hey, great game, man. You were awesome,” Jake gushed as they approached the man near his team’s bench.
“Thanks,” the guy smiled, leaning down to gather his water bottle from under the bench.
“I’m Jake,” Jake thrust his hand out.
“Jensen,” the guy shook the proffered hand, smile widening.
Apparently remembering Timothy’s presence, Jake quickly dropped Jensen’s hand. “This is my…this is Timothy.”
“Timothy Olyphant,” Timothy shook hands with Jensen, raising an eyebrow at Jake’s stuttered introduction.
“Jensen Ackles.” In one glance Jensen assessed and dismissed him, turning to rifle through his open gym bag. Pulling a towel out, he turned back and gave Timothy a more careful once over, frowning. “Olyphant?”
Timothy smiled. This was more the reaction he was used to getting. “You may have heard of me. My dad just donated the money for the new commissary.”
“Oh,” Jensen muttered, less than impressed. “Well, I guess on behalf of the hungry student body, I thank your father for his ability to sign a check.” He ran a towel back and forth over his sweat drenched hair, biceps rippling with the movement and Timothy heard Jake swallow a quiet moan.
“Hey Jen,” a dark haired, broad shouldered man called, running up to the trio and draping his arm over Jensen’s shoulder. “Bunch of us are chipping in for a keg. You in?”
“Yeah,” Jensen pulled his wallet from the side pocket of his bag and thumbed through the few bills inside.
“You know,” Timothy smiled, seeing his opportunity to get into Jensen’s good graces, “I could cover that for you. A congratulations of sorts on winning the game.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” Jensen pulled a five dollar bill out and closed his billfold, “my dad has never paid for my beer so I wouldn’t feel right having yours do it either.”
Timothy’s smile fell and he felt the flush of anger flood his cheeks. Never in his life had any offer been denied. People usually fell over - either on their back or their knees - with gratitude when Timothy pulled out his wallet.
“Here you go, man,” Jensen handed the money to the confused newcomer, “let me know if you need more.”
“Will do,” the dark haired man saluted with the money, “Let me give this to Neal then I’ll be ready to go.”
“Thanks, Chris,” Jensen tucked his wallet away. “Well, looks like my ride is about ready. It was nice to meet you, Jake. I really hope to see you soon.” He winked and lifted his bag to his shoulder, sliding his thumb under the strap. Nodding to Timothy, “Olyphant.”
“Ackles,” Timothy nodded back with a tight jaw and watched the man walk away. Taking a harsh breath, he forced a smile on his face and turned back to Jake at his side. Sliding an arm around the blonde’s waist, he leaned over and purred in the younger man’s ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
Jake’s eyes were still trained on Jensen’s ass as he crossed the court to meet up with his friends. Pulling them away seemed to take real effort, but Jake finally managed to force his attention on his date. “Oh, yeah. Um. Hey, I forgot. I have a huge test in Chemistry tomorrow and McMillan is already riding my ass about that exploding test tube.” His eyes flicked back to Jensen, laughing and joking with a group of men near the parking lot, before coming back to Timothy. “Raincheck?”
Timothy clenched his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking under the strain, and twisted his mouth into a tight smile. “Sure. Can’t have you failing out of school, now can we?”
Timothy tried several times over the next few weeks to cash in that raincheck. He’d set his eyes on Jake and was determined to get what he wanted out of the young man. Kid was on the gymnastics team and Timothy had never had a gymnast. His imaginings alone were enough to make his head spin - all that flexibility and strength under his hands and at his command. Each time, Jake had an excuse to beg off - practice, study groups, tests. To the casual admirer it would appear that Jake was trying to juggle his commitment to the gymnastics team and maintain a decent GPA, but Timothy had seen him stumbling back to the frat house - drunk, debauched and smelling of sex and musk - too many times to believe that. Jake was seeing someone, someone who wasn’t Timothy. It was another disconcerting first for him - he’d never, not once, failed to get what he wanted. He became even more determined to get Jake in his bed.
It was two weeks later at a Halloween Party on campus that Timothy found out who that someone else was. He’d been trolling through the crowd, searching out Jake so he could show him the error of his ways, when he found the young blonde in an upstairs room. Jake was beneath a man on the bed, their cop and robber costumes on the floor next to the nightstand, bent in half with his feet flat against the wall behind his head in an impressive display of limberness. It was straight out of one of Timothy’s fantasies except in those he was the one pounding into that lithe body, making Jake cry out so prettily. This was who Jake had chosen over him - Jensen Ackles. He’d lost to some hick kid from out west - he’d checked Jensen out after their first meeting - and that didn’t sit well with him. Green eyes, shining in the light from the hallway, glanced his way and a cocky smile spread across Jensen’s face. He gave a particularly hard thrust and Jake screamed Jensen’s name, body convulsing as he erupted over his toned stomach. Timothy backed out of the room, closing the door and walking down the hallway. It was there that it all began. The first and greatest rivalry of Timothy’s life. The next week Jake was forced out of the fraternity, though none of the brothers were sure why, and the week after that he came under investigation for plagiarism, allegations he vehemently denied right up until the day he was expelled.
*****
Years passed and the animosity grew. They competed over anything and everything. Some of them Timothy won, most he didn’t. An imaginary Mason-Dixon Line separated the campus into two factions - those who adored Jensen and those that followed Timothy. As much as people were captivated by Timothy’s money, more were enthralled by Jensen’s charm. Jensen was the golden boy - good grades, affable and well-liked based on his own merits. Timothy wondered briefly once, in a flash of uncharacteristic self-awareness, if Jensen didn’t have the right idea. Wasn’t it was better to be liked for the person you were rather than the balance of your checking account? Shouldn’t loyalty be earned rather than bought? When he asked his father about it, the answer came lightning fast in the way of a backhand to the face. Lying on the floor, licking blood from the split in his lip, Timothy was reminded that it was always better to be feared than loved. Love may make fools rush in where angels were wary to tread, but fear would make them shove their loved ones in first to test the ground.
Timothy’s hatred for Jensen and Jensen’s indifference to it wasn’t a secret, strangers to the two men seemed to know of the enmity, but never once did Timothy actually envy Jensen or anything he had. Jensen had and would always be just some poor fucker from a cow town in Colorado and Timothy contented himself with the thought that while Jensen may have had it all in college, Timothy had it all in life. That is until the night he saw his old arch-nemesis in The Pirate’s House with possibly the most enticing person Timothy had ever met. Jensen’s dinner companion was long and lean, muscles rippling under his shirt with each movement. The conversation between the two seemed serious, each talking in turn while the other listened with rapt attention. The gorgeous man wiped his hands on his jeans self-consciously and laughed, Timothy feeling a smile pulling his lips at the sound. It was obvious to anyone who’d studied Jensen the way Timothy had over the years that he was completely taken with his date, eyes shining and face flushed with the rush of new love. The man with Jensen was vibrant, full of life and Timothy’s body thrummed with the need to tame the frenetic energy that seemed to vibrate from him. He wanted to bridle that spirit, break it to his will. He had to have the young man. Taking him from Jensen? Well, that would just be a bonus.
His mouth twitched into a smug smirk as he navigated the tables separating him from the happy couple. “Ackles?” He called as he approached the table, cheering inwardly at Jensen’s muted groan.
Jensen set his fork down and wiped his mouth on his napkin, giving him a tight smile and reluctantly extending his hand. “Olyphant. Good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Timothy shook Jensen’s proffered hand, his eyes focusing on Jared, “Who’s your stunning dinner companion?”
He could almost hear Jensen’s teeth grind against each other and he fought to keep his expression neutral. Jensen had never reacted this way before, his face possessive. Was it possible that this man actually meant something to him?
“Timothy,” Jensen looked like he would rather swallow glass than make this introduction, “this is Jared Padalecki. He’s a student at SCAD.” Jensen’s hand covered Jared’s resting on the table and Timothy’s eyes narrowed at the radiant smile Jared beamed at the touch. Looked like Jensen wasn’t the only one that was taken. “Jared, this is Timothy Olyphant. We went to Mercer together.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jared set his fork down and held out his free hand to Timothy, his other remaining solidly in Jensen’s.
“Pleasure’s all mine, I assure you,” Timothy answered, thickening his Georgia drawl, layering it in the honeyed sweet charm that most people found irresistible. He held onto Jared’s warm, smooth hand, relishing in the strength he could feel there. Jared tugged gently in a subtle hint for Timothy to release him and Timothy kept the younger man’s hand in his grasp a moment longer before letting go with a slight squeeze. He saw Jared flick an uncertain gaze at Jensen.
“Olyphant,” Jensen cleared his throat and Timothy tore his gaze from Jared’s oddly colored eyes, “if you don’t mind, we’d like to finish our dinner. You and I can catch up another time, okay?”
“Of course. It was very nice to meet you, Jared,” he smiled his most charming smile at Jared then nodded to Jensen. “Ackles.”
“Olyphant.”
He walked back to his table, the business associates he was entertaining shooting him curious glances. He smiled apologetically at them and picked up his menu, eyes constantly darting back to where the couple was now talking intimately. Jared Padalecki.
Timothy looked down at the stack of papers nudging his arm, the men gathered at the table waiting with their hands folded on top of their menus. They’d been his father’s financial advisors and Timothy had inherited them along with the company when his parents were killed the previous year in a car crash. He accepted the pen his lawyer held out to him and thumbed through the stack to the page in the back requiring his signature. He didn’t need to read the paragraphs and clauses detailed in 12 point font, he knew what they said. He’d spent the last six months working on this takeover - biding his time, watching the quarterly earnings and projections, waiting for the right moment and when it presented itself he’d pounced with a single-minded determination. The current owner had rallied against him, a desperate attempt to keep him out, but had to eventually admit defeat. With a flourish of ink on paper, Timothy sealed the deal. He glanced back over to the private table near the back and smirked as he let the pages fall back in place. He always got what he wanted and this would be no different.
*****
It only took a handful of phone calls for him to learn where Jared worked. He became a frequent patron of The Plank, mind churning and mouth-watering at the sight of Jared in his uniform. He attended every one of Jared’s art shows and purchased a few items that Jared donated to the local animal shelter for their charity auctions. Never intrusive, he insinuated himself in the peripheral of Jared’s life - much to Jensen’s chagrin - always visible on the outskirts, a constant shadow in the background. He tired quickly listening to their admirers mooning over their perfect love, girls becoming inebriated on their romance, swooning with each touch and kiss they witnessed. Timothy had to hold back his sneer every time he saw Jensen’s hands or lips on Jared. He never fooled himself into believing that Jensen was ignorant of his presence in their lives, but knew that Jensen didn’t want to draw attention to him. Jensen had never been the confrontational type, letting his actions speak for themselves and he was happy to let their relationship do the talking now as well. Timothy was patient; though, waiting for the stalwart Jensen to falter in his guard so he could secret away his prize.
When news of Jensen’s job offer in Chicago and Jared’s decision to stay reached his ears, Timothy knew his moment had arrived. Ever the opportunist, Timothy took advantage of Jared’s newfound vulnerability and Jensen’s absence to finally take what he wanted. He approached him at the bar one night, Jared alone nursing his second beer and looking at the half-empty bottle like he wanted to drown in the depths. Timothy tried to cajole him out of his morose mood, but it was soon evident that Jared was in mourning over his lost love. He could see and feel his window closing, doubts creeping in that he might never get to have this exquisite creature the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. He couldn’t let this chance pass him by - Jared was exposed, defenses down and susceptible - and after eighteen months of waiting he refused to miss his opening when there was no guarantee he’d get another.
In the end it was almost too easy, a swift twist of the wrist when passing Jared a fresh beer, a little powder dissolving among the bubbles in the amber liquid. If college had taught him anything, it was the value of alcohol and pharmaceuticals. Jared in bed was everything Timothy had thought he would be and so much more. He yielded so easily to Timothy’s dominance, begged, pleaded and whimpered so beautifully. Jared’s body was agile and moved with a natural grace that blew Timothy’s mind. Jared was strong, in mind and spirit, and Timothy had gotten off harder than ever before having all that power at his mercy, at bringing this giant of a man to submission.
The next morning Jared woke in Timothy’s arms, eyes wide and bright with confusion that dimmed to shame when Timothy offered a simply believable explanation for Jared lapse in memory. He was disappointed when Jared unsteadily gathered his things, excuses about classes and commitments falling quietly from his lips interspersed with half-hearted apologies for leaving so abruptly. Timothy lay back unconcerned as the front door snicked shut, the smell of the previous night’s activities wafting up from the disheveled sheets. He cupped his burgeoning arousal, memories of Jared’s pliant and willing body making it blood-heavy with need, and began to formulate a plan. He’d gotten a sampling from the sheer smorgasbord that was Jared’s body and he knew that one bite would never be enough. He couldn’t let this be the one-time thing he’d planned on, he had to have more. He needed to come up with something that would make Jared his permanently.
Jared agreed to meet him a few times for lunch or coffee over the coming weeks, always maintaining a friendly distance. They exchanged casual touches, but the contact never progressed further than those small platonic gestures. Timothy could clearly read on Jared’s face and in his every move that Jared regretted their night together and didn’t intend for it to happen again. Refusing to be discouraged, Timothy used this time wisely to learn things about Jared that would help him to convince Jared otherwise.
A month later, after a week of cancelled lunches due to illness, Timothy was surprised to open his door to find a pale and wane Jared, looking young and nervous. Jared was pregnant, pregnant and petrified. Timothy had never once considered having children, the paternal desire non-existent in his mind, but he saw this for the gift that it was. Jared would be forever bound to him, their child creating an unbreakable link between the two men, his claim cemented in DNA and blood.
Jared resisted when Timothy insisted that he move in so that Timothy could better care for the man, only agreeing once Timothy conceded to give Jared his own room. Timothy quickly became the envy of his friends and colleagues - Jared was an eye-catching piece of arm candy - but he knew that Jared’s friends and family were wary, concerned about Jared and the situation. Timothy felt their judgment in each look and heard it in every conversation, knowing that he was being constantly compared to Jensen, but they couldn’t deny him his place in Jared’s life, try as they might.
Months passed and Timothy provided Jared with the best care that money could buy. He tempered his resentment over Jared’s continued refusals of his more amorous advances, consoling himself with the possibility that Jared was ashamed of his bloated and distorted body. If Timothy was honest with himself, the ever expanding bump had dampened some of his desire and it was more the mere fact that Jared wasn’t taking what was on offer that made him pursue it so much.
Timothy began to ration Jared’s meals, masking his disgust at the overly prominent bulge by stating concern over Jared’s weight gain compared to others at similar stages in their pregnancy. Jared’s once enviable body had become contorted and misshapen. Gone was his lithe, slim form, replaced by this huge pot-belly, his Adonis supplanted by Buddha. His mother had taught him that beauty might be only skin deep, but since that was what the world judged on, it was all that mattered. He showed Jared pictures of his mother, some of the precious few she’d allowed while pregnant, taken at an Easter celebration only a month before Timothy was born. Her small bump made it seem more like she’d swallowed a soccer ball than was carrying a child. Jared flushed in embarrassment, hand sweeping over his growing waist, bigger now than the woman’s depicted in the picture. He remained quiet about the smaller portions even when his stomach voiced its complaint loudly.
At twenty weeks, it was discovered that not only was Jared having a boy, he was having two. Jared timidly handed over the three-dimensional images - baby A proudly displaying his gender while the shyer baby B sucked his thumb. Timothy smirked at the pictures, looking past the miniature people displayed in the sepia tones and seeing his claim on Jared doubly forged. He allayed Jared’s worries and picked up the phone to order an additional crib for the nursery.
Faced with this new information, Timothy conceded to an increase in Jared’s daily caloric intake now that he was eating for three instead of two, but quickly cut it back again if Jared’s weekly weight gain exceeded what was expected. Jared was huge and Timothy played on the insecurities the size had created in the man. Timothy had seen other people struggling with post-baby weight, husbands accepting portly as an unfortunate after effect of pregnancy, and he was determined to have Jared back to his pre-pregnancy size once the children were born. Jared would thank him later.
It was in late September that things went horribly wrong. They were arguing again, the number and intensity of their disagreements increasing over the last few weeks and culminating in the most heated to date, when liquid started trickling down the inside of Jared’s thigh, staining the white carpet of the Nursery. Timothy stared dumbstruck as Jared doubled over, clutching his stomach and cried out in pain. Finally, he grabbed his phone in shaky hands and called an ambulance.
The Labor and Delivery department was a flurry of activity when they arrived, nurses and Jared’s obstetrician voicing concerns about premature delivery and fetal lung development. According to the doctor, Jared’s water had broken and he was in premature labor, something they’d been worried about. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy on Jared, he’d almost lost the babies twice as his body rejected the foreign presence. The doctor talked calmly with them, advising them of the possibility that at thirty-five weeks, the twins’ lungs would not be developed fully, that they might have to be on a ventilator. Jared was wheeled into the delivery room, staring at Timothy with eyes wide in terror as fear for the twins’ well-being took hold.
Hours of labor culminated when a strong cry rent the air, followed a short while later by another equally strong wail. Timothy had a moment of relief, until he saw Jared’s pale face and a nurse pushed him toward the door. He stood outside the door, staring at the No Admittance sign in numb disbelief. All the times before, Jared had never been in danger, only the twins, and Timothy always considered them a reasonable sacrifice as long as Jared was safe, was his. Now, Jared was the one sick or dying and Timothy felt the beginnings of real fear. Jared couldn’t leave him to take care of their sons. Timothy needed him.
Five hours later, he stood beside Jared’s bed in Recovery as Jared was introduced to his sons for the first time. Jared had started hemorrhaging once the second baby was born and it had taken two hours for them to get him stabilized. Jared reached for them, the nurses, using pillows to bolster Jared’s weak body, placed one healthily pink baby boy in each arm. Jared blinked tears away as he gazed down at the sleeping cherubs. The baby on the left, the older of the two, wrinkled his face and blearily blinked up at his daddy. Timothy expected the gasp that left Jared, had exhaled a similar rush of air when the boys had first opened their eyes to him. The nurses had been astounded and awed at the bright, emerald green of the twins’ eyes, commenting that most babies’ weren’t usually so clear right after birth. He could see Jared’s mind turning, suspicions multiplying when the baby on the right opened equally vivid green eyes. Timothy knew because he had had those same suspicions when the squalling newborns were handed to him the first time. He waited until the twins were swaddled snugly in their bassinets in the hospital Nursery - Jared naming the older twin Benjamin Alexander and the younger Theodore Joshua without consulting him - and Jared was asleep in his room to make his way to the nurse’s station.
“Excuse me,” he smiled at the middle-aged woman behind the counter, “how would I go about getting a paternity test?”
Two weeks later, Timothy sat at his desk reading over the print-out results. He gathered several papers together and moved to the fireplace, tossing the topmost sheet in the dancing flames. The other two were locked in the wall safe, securely tucked away until they were needed.
*****
Having been an only child, Timothy didn’t have much experience with kids so he really wasn’t prepared for the changes his life would undergo once the babies were home. They were loud, all times of the day and night, and escaping to his study did little to drown out the incessant crying. His normally spotless house had been invaded by an army of bottles and binkies and diapers. Most disturbing of all was the misconception that once Jared was no longer pregnant, he would be willing to trade their casual touches for something more sexual. Jared had walked out of the hospital fifteen pounds lighter than he’d been pre-pregnancy, the baby weight melting off of him, and Timothy couldn’t wait for Jared’s six week clearance so he could once again experience the masterpiece that was Jared’s body. The reality of the situation was that Jared spent most of his time caring for two colicky babies, so he had little energy left over for much more than sleeping. The squalling, selfish brats monopolized Jared’s time, leaving little to none left for Timothy. He resented the twins, hated their puking, shitting, crying little guts.
Timothy could see Jared pulling away, creating distance in their fledgling relationship. He knew that Jared was concerned that Timothy wasn’t more active in his children’s care and that those green eyes left Jared with unanswered questions. It left Timothy cold and it seeped into every aspect of their home life. The firm control he had on his temper since he’d started this thing with Jared started to slip, affording Jared glimpses of his anger.
When Christmas rolled around and Jared said he wanted to go to visit his parents in Key West during the holiday, Timothy was grateful that a big merger prevented him from going. He thought the time away would be good for Jared and he could definitely do with a few nights of peace and quiet and possibly some of the human touch he’d been denied for so long. What Jared didn’t know, couldn’t hurt anyone.
He answered the phone the night before Jared and the kids were due home, expecting his daily call from Jared, to be greeted by a friendly voice confirming an appointment for movers the day after tomorrow. The phone suffered the brunt of his anger that night and Jared bore it the next. After the kids were thankfully down for the night, the echo of their cries still ringing in his ears, he dragged Jared into the study by his hair. Throwing the young man on the floor he retrieved the papers locked in the safe and tossed them down in front of Jared. Proof in black and white that the twins were Timothy’s and he reveled in the crestfallen look in Jared’s eyes. Jared had held out hope that the twins weren’t Timothy’s, was going to leave him believing it. That night he reminded Jared and himself who had the power in their household. After he’d slaked his anger, he dragged the whimpering man to the couch and satiated his pent-up lust. When he was done, he stood over Jared and threatened to take their sons if Jared ever thought of leaving him again before going upstairs to bed. Jared’s things ended up being moved the next day…into Timothy’s room.
Timothy realized that night that it was his claim on the twins and not Jared that gave him power. With the merest threat of separation, Timothy had complete control over the other man. He isolated him, forbidding him to see his meddling family and interfering friends, the ones that gave Jared the idea to leave him. The only concession he made was allowing Jared to see that idiot, Chad, knowing the guy posed no threat. Temper unleashed, Timothy found it difficult to keep it in check and watching Jared, big and strong, cower in fear was headier than he could ever imagine. He bought gifts in way of apology, a sliding scale based on the severity of the beating, and tenderly doted on him, feeding him in bed and pampering him after each episode, the kindness confusing the younger man more than the cruelty.
When Benjamin and Theodore’s hair starting coming in, ash blonde and fair, Timothy stared into their verdant eyes and was suddenly seized by the need to impregnate Jared. After that first night he took Jared forcibly, he’d considered it his right to have Jared whenever and wherever he wanted and the young man had learned it was easier to allow it to happen, but having a baby at least deserved a conversation. He broached the subject with Jared several times, but Jared always said that the doctor had advised him not to have more children after the complications of his last pregnancy. Disbelieving Timothy, would not be deterred. He called in favors and was able to get a several month supply of Jared’s birth control pills, some that did not contain any of the medication needed to prevent pregnancy. A year of no results, Timothy visited his doctor to have a few tests run. The day he got the results, he fucked his new assistant, Matt Cohen, against the wall of his office then went home and threw Jared through a mirror for not picking up the dry cleaning. As Jared sobbed on the ground, he threw his shirt at Jared, telling him to clean up the mess he’d made. He smirked when Jared’s eyes widened as Matt’s cologne drifted up to him from the tailored shirt.
Their lives moved on, the sex becoming increasingly rougher and the abuse increasingly more brutal. Jared tried to fight in the beginning, but Timothy quickly taught him that it was useless. The gifts stopped as Timothy started enjoying the ways he broke Jared. He learned exactly which palms to grease to keep the police away and made sure that Jared knew they wouldn’t help him. He didn’t try to hide his affair with Matt, reveling in the humiliation and pain on Jared’s face. Timothy controlled every aspect of Jared’s life - work and home. He micromanaged Jared’s meals and money, putting the man on a strict allowance for both. His life was good, he had the perfect boyfriend and the perfect lover - both the envy of all his friends. That was until he came home to an empty house and Jared’s car missing. He’d flown into a rage, most of the house suffering his ire.
He considered letting Jared go, his arm candy appeal lessening over the years, but Timothy had always been possessive and the thought of giving up something that belonged to him was unacceptable. He was going to get Jared back and he was going to make him pay. Injury was added to insult when Pileggi informed him that Jared had found comfort in the arms of his old rival, providing glossy 5x8 proof. It didn’t take much for Pileggi to find the skeletons in Ackles’ closet and for Timothy to broker a deal.
He kept his distance at first, waiting for the right moment. Patience was a virtue and in this respect he was goddamn righteous. He spied on them, an ever-vigilant shadow that dogged their unknowing steps. He clenched his jaw seeing Jensen with Jared, the joint aching under the pressure as he witnessed each kiss and touch, and he gritted his teeth, wearing layers of enamel away, every time the twins regarded Jensen with a look of adoration or love. Through the jealousy, he did have to admit that Jared looked good. He’d filled out his frame again, adding lean weight and muscle mass that made his body more reminiscent of its god-like glory days before he’d lost his figure carrying the Satan spawn. He remembered what it felt like to have that power under his hands, under his control, and he laughed at himself for ever thinking he could let Jared go. There was no longer any question in his mind. He had to get Jared…and make Jensen answer for daring to take him.
Timothy watched as Jensen’s black muscle car pulled out of Jared’s driveway, taillights fuzzy in the early morning fog. The good Deputy Sheriff was off to a conference in Denver for the week, not yet knowing the shitstorm he was driving into. Timothy started his car and pulled back onto the road, smirking. Soon. His patience was about to pay off because good things always come to those who wait.
"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea..." Mr. Brightside by the Killers