our parts are slightly used | part three

[kelleigh]

“Come on, you can do this.”

It’s just Jared and the mirror. Ben left for a physical therapy session, so Jared has their hospital room to himself for the first time since he landed stateside. About time, too-Jared’s family needed to get back to the real world and he was getting tired of telling them he was okay. Of smiling and agreeing that the scars would add to his character.

Jared laughs with the jokes, but they’re bullshit. He can’t even bring himself to look.

But that ends right now.

Jared meets his own bloodshot gaze in the mirror. He’s gotten good at ignoring his condition, looking away before his eyes can touch on his thigh. When Ben’s in the room, Jared pretends the bandages aren’t there. Ben’s a decent roommate; he and Jared give each other the mutual courtesy of not asking.

“Just look down,” he whispers, his reflection speaking the words with pale, chapped lips. The nurses had removed the majority of his bandages so Jared knows there’s something to see.

He closes his eyes, shuddering as the heat of the explosion washes over him for the one-thousandth time since the convoy was ambushed. Trauma wiped the specifics from memory, but Jared can’t get rid of the sounds, the vibrations, the burn.

Jared curses himself. “Son of a bitch. Just get it over with.” He knows it’s going to be bad. As much as he tried to ignore the looks, he’d seen his mom’s face morph into pity, his dad’s stoic brand of sympathy.

If he can’t manage this, he’s never getting out of this room. And Jared wants so badly to be back in the world, back on the other side of the world with his unit, the only men who understand what he’s going through. He owes them his presence.

He looks down and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

In Afghanistan, a roadside bomb had changed his life in moments. Here at the Veterans Hospital in Dallas, it only takes a heartbeat to shatter what remains of his future. Each whorl of discolored, puckered skin spells the end of a dream. A stable career when the Army was finished with him; a steady boyfriend after Jared had a chance to reacquaint himself with his sexuality. A full life; a hale body.

All of that disintegrates the second he sees the extent of his injuries: a Technicolor picture of the pain and agony he’s suffered for the last month. It’s disgusting. Jared is disgusting. Every square inch of imperfect skin covering his left thigh speaks of failure. Rage builds in his stomach-he wants to destroy the broken soldier staring back at him.

But putting his fist through the mirror won’t help. It’ll only carve him up again.

He limps back to bed, body sagging between his crutches. By the time Ben returns with a mouthful of expletives for the entire physical therapy process, Jared’s under the covers reading a book, slipping easily into his laidback persona.

Pretense is all he has left.



"You can't tell a guy what to cook on his own grill! That's one of the tenets of man-code."

Jared rolls his eyes. "I had no idea you'd be offended if I brought ribs."

"Deeply offended," Jensen says in mock outrage, leaning forward over the security desk, wishing he could dip forward and kiss Jared right there in the lobby. "My grill, my rules."

"Don’t I get a say?" Jared drops his voice.

"Depends on what else you're bringing to the party."

Jared's laugh booms across the open space, turning a few heads. Rich, the other security guard on duty, doesn't look up from his monitor, engrossed in the elevator feeds.

"You still want me to talk to Blake, right?" Jared asks once they calm down, twirling his near-empty coffee cup. "I already asked Mark and Jamie, and they're coming."

"I heard the first date went well." Jensen thinks back to the day after Cindy and Blake's blind date-arranged mostly by Jensen-and to the way Cindy had beamed all the way through her recap. "What'd you hear from Blake? I mean, I like Cindy, but she's a little high maintenance."

"I think he likes her. Besides, Blake was an EOD specialist." Jensen raises his eyebrow and Jared explains, "It means he was trained to diffuse and dispose of bombs or IEDs in high-stress conditions. I'm pretty sure the guy can handle someone you think is high maintenance."

Jared's got a point, but... "Wait. I think? Are you saying I don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Just that your opinion might be a little skewed," Jared says, smiling.

"'Cause I'm high maintenance?"

"Because you're a suit. My suit," he adds, slightly possessive.

Jensen grins, hearing no real insult in Jared's jests. The nickname has the horrifying side effect of turning Jensen on in public, and awkward, situations. Jensen remembers Jared calling him suit the first time they played basketball, and now that they've been sleeping together for almost three weeks, the nickname has returned as a private joke.

"Um," Jensen coughs, "so that's a yes on asking Blake. I'll talk to Cindy when I go back up."

"This is gonna be a couples thing."

"Hmm?"

"Saturday night," Jared says. "All couples."

"It's a barbeque," Jensen tells him, wishing he had more coffee. It's been a long day already and seeing Jared has been his only reprieve. "That a problem?"

Jared smiles again. "Nope. Can I stay over?"

Warm with memories of Jared ‘staying over’ on previous weekends, Jensen nods. "I've got a golf game on Sunday afternoon, but that’s it.”

"With your friend?”

Jensen nods. Since Warren knew about Jared, it was only fair that Jensen told Jared about his old friend. He’d attempted to skirt around the fact that they’d been involved once upon a time, but Jared was smart enough to root out the truth.

“Do you want me to cancel?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” Jared smiles. “I’m sure you’ll have tons of fun swinging a club the day after our barbecue!”

"Jared"-Rich stands and tosses the crumpled remains of his paper-bag lunch in a trash can beneath the desk-"I'm gonna make a round. You got this?"

"Sure," Jared says, and turns back to Jensen. "Guess I'd better…"

"Yeah, I've got to get back upstairs." Jensen isn't looking forward to finishing his proposal, but he needs to get it out of the way in order to have a free weekend. "Don't forget to ask Blake."

"I'll text him right now," Jared promises. "Hey, Jensen?" He beckons with a finger and Jensen leans closer. "If I promise to make you scream, can I bring ribs?"

They may not be able to kiss, but Jensen looks up at Jared through lowered lashes, a promise of satisfaction in his smile.

"I would have caved for a reach-around in the shower."

Jensen is right about the proposal. He's still in the office when Jared texts to let him know that his shift's over. It's frustrating, but he texts back and tells Jared to go ahead without him.

They haven't established a routine yet, but Jensen's gotten used to meeting up Jared with as he’s leaving, saying goodbye face to face or heading out for a quick dinner before going their separate ways. Jensen finds himself striving to get to Friday with even more determination than before. He has turned his weekends over to Jared, happy to have his new boyfriend stay at his house. Things with Ben have calmed down, and they still play basketball on Saturday mornings, but they spend the rest of their time together alone, getting lost down every path two people take getting to know one another.

The barbeque is Jared's idea, a chance for his friends to hang out with Jensen off the court. With Mark and Blake there, it'll be a blast, but Jensen would much rather have Jared to himself. He hasn't quite gotten past the Jared is all mine, all the time phase yet. Based on how much Jensen wants him, it could be a while before he stops thinking like a caveman.

On Cindy’s way out of the office, she pops her head in and asks if she needs to bring anything on Saturday night. He tells her that the guys will appreciate anything with sugar or frosting, the more the better. She grins brightly and promises to bring dessert.

Left alone on EKI's vacuous corporate floor, Jensen's this close to banging his head against his desk. He can't fucking wait for the weekend.



"Anyone ever tell you that you look hot working the grill?"

Jensen leans away from the wafting heat of his Weber and back into Jared's solid arms.

"Think so?"

Jared sneaks a kiss to the side of Jensen's neck and says, "Well, I'm just passing the message along from Mark, but yeah, I totally agree."

"Jackass." Then Jensen turns and calls out, "Thanks, Mark!"

On the patio, Mark laughs as he digs through the cooler for another beer. "Hey buddy, I meant it. You look damn good in that apron . It's got Jamie all worked up!" He picks up two cold, dripping longnecks and walks back inside where the game's playing on Jensen's fifty inch flatscreen.

"I'm a big fan of the apron, too," Jared says, louder now that they're alone in Jensen's backyard, cooking up a second round of ribs and chicken.

When he arrived, Jared had wiggled his eyebrows and dropped the ribs triumphantly on Jensen's counter. Jensen's laugh was quickly cut off as Jared pressed him against the kitchen island and delivered on his promise to entertain Jensen until he screamed. While the rest of the meat defrosted, Jensen dragged Jared into the bedroom and returned the favor. He’d jerked Jared off, two fingers teasing his hole while Jensen's lips mouthed at his ear.

Jared's fingers are fiddling with the tie on Jensen's apron. "Maybe we should just stay out here for the rest of the night. You in this apron..."

"And you smelling like barbeque sauce," Jensen mocks.

"It's sexy, right?"

"Only if you're a drumstick."

"Oh," Jared laughs, breath wafting past Jensen's ear. "I'll show you my dr-"

"Hey, Jare!" Blake's honeyed drawl breaks through Jared's innuendo. He sticks his head through the open patio doors. "You comin' back inside or what?"

"What's the score?"

Blake dips back inside to check. In those few seconds, Jared's forehead falls onto Jensen's shoulder and he takes a deep breath. It's not meant as a comfort, but Jensen feels something settle in his stomach.

"We're down by three," Blake yells. "You're jinxin' the game, being out here!"

"Meat's almost done," Jensen jumps into the conversation. "We'll be in there in a couple minutes."

"Son of a bitch," Jared mutters after Blake disappears.

Jensen starts pulling meat off the grill and says, "This was your idea."

"Was it? Huh. Can't we just ignore them until they go away?"

Jensen laughs and covers the grill. Jared doesn't actually sound upset; he's been more animated than usual since his buddies came over. Besides the confrontation with Ben weeks ago, Jared's always been easy going with his friends-never a cruel word or scathing remark. Jensen has known guys in the service, and even the ones who'd never done tours overseas weren't always on such an even keel. Maybe Jared's built differently-and Jensen is still fuzzy on the details of Jared's time in Afghanistan-but Jensen can't help keeping one eye open at all times, ready to catch even the slightest hint that Jared's sunny disposition isn't as faultless as he's seen.

But he's not about to let some half-crazy thought about Jared's personality get in the way of their first shindig as a couple.

Jensen doesn’t mean to get drunk, but everyone's talking, laughing, and having a great time. Co-hosting with Jared is effortless, and instead of over-sentimentalizing that idea, Jensen drinks to keep pace with Mark, rolling on high spirits. Jared never scowls or mother-hens when Jensen reaches for another beer; he stays sober without complaint, nursing the same microbrew throughout the game.

Blake and Cindy take off first. Standing out on the front step, Jensen and Cindy watch Blake (who may or may not be taller than Jared; an official ruling was never made) pull Jared into a two-armed bear hug. Blake whispers something only Jared can hear before pulling away and walking Cindy to his truck.

Jamie and Mark stick around long enough for Jensen and Mark to each polish off another beer, post-game show on mute as the four of them talk randomalities Jensen forgets about ten minutes later. Finally, when Jared and Jensen are alone and Jared has single-handedly wrangled the majority of the clean-up (Jensen knows he tried to help, seriously, but the couch was so comfy) they end up in the bedroom. Jensen lays down the ground rules.

"No sexy stuff," he says, the majority coming out as a garbled mess. He wags his finger at Jared, or possibly the oak armoire since they're both tall and dark.

"What?" The dark shape is Jared, unless the armoire can talk.

"Don't do anything sexy."

"Want me to go?" Jared asks.

Jensen shakes his head once before deciding it's a really bad idea. "No," Jensen says. He's become rather attached to the crater Jared leaves in his bed every weekend. "Just don't, you know"-he waves at Jared's crotch-"don't tempt me."

Jared laughs. It’s too big of a boom for Jensen's senses in their delicate state. "What's wrong with you?"

"Too drunk to get it up." At least Jensen admits it and saves himself from explaining an embarrassing performance issue later on. "So I don't need you in here being all hot n' willing or anything."

"Oh my god. Okay." Jared steeples his fingers over his mouth for a second. "I'm gonna use the guest bath. You need to get into your bathroom and drink some water, take an Advil, and get undressed. Then, get in bed and I'll be back."

"Wait..." Jensen gives himself a clumsy pat-down. "I'm wearing clothes?"

"Go, Jensen!"

Ten minutes later Jared stands at the side of the bed, a pair of Jensen's nicest boxers fitting snugly around his hips.

Jensen groans. "I told you not to be sexy."

"That's like telling me not to be funny," Jared says. Jensen lets that one go, rolling and sinking into the downy softness beneath his head, and Jared gasps. "Oh my god! You don't think I'm funny, do you?"

"Hilarious. Now get in and stay on your side."

Jared climbs in and immediately violates Jensen's rule by tucking up against his back. Jensen would complain but the tilt-a-whirl in his head eases into a kiddie roller coaster as soon as Jared's arms are around him. Jared sighs, shifting his lower body.

"This is like going to an amazing steakhouse and then being told you can only order the lima beans."

Jensen’s bizarrely flattered. "You're sayin' sex with me is like eating steak?"

"Maybe," Jared teases. Jensen decides that's allowed. "But it's definitely better than lima beans."

"I got me a sweet talker here," Jensen mumbles, slowly tipping into the dark swell of oblivion.

"That's not all you've got."

"Nnnn, stop." Jensen flails back and grazes Jared's hip.

"Okay. Okay. But what about kissing? I mean, if you can't get it up anyway, there's no harm. Right?"

"You wanna 'iss me?" Jensen makes it over onto his back, finding Jared's outline in the dark.

"All the time."

He feels warm breath on his lips, but nothing after that.



"Hey, Jare!" DJ pushes between Jared and Jensen, slinging his arm over Jared's shoulder. "Guess what?"

Rolling his eyes, Jared shares a lop-sided grin with Jensen. “What’s up, Silo?”

DJ giggles at his strange nickname, as ridiculous and drunk as Jensen's ever seen him. The artfully tousled hair he’d arrived with is now a mess from dozens of hugs.

"I'm gay, man!"

"Really?" Jared mocks.

"Dude. Yes! I like dick and everything!”

“You guys hear that?” Jared shouts across the bar, his voice shot deep from all the beer he's been drinking. "Silo's gay!"

Someone hoots, "So are you, Iron Man!"

"Seriously?" Jared laughs. "No shit!"

Even sober, Jensen can't help getting caught up in the joy and excitement of the servicemen and women crowding The Plank on Friday night. DJ had invited the whole basketball gang, plus dozens of friends and family out to his uncle's bar to commemorate the official repeal of ‘Don't Ask, Don't Tell’ across all branches of the military. Like a bunch of rowdy children let off the leash, Jared and his buddies had been asking and telling, very loudly, all night.

"Hey man, I got a question." Blake sidles up to the group, a beer in one hand and Cindy’s hand in the other.

"No dude," DJ says. "I never checked you out in the showers."

Blake pouts and Jensen stifles a laugh. The big man's acting as if DJ kicked his puppy.

"Jare?"

"Sorry man. Me neither."

Pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, Blake whines, "I'm not pretty enough, am I?" He turns to Cindy. "Tell me I'm pretty, baby."

Cindy winks at Jensen. Her dark hair is piled up in a tousled knot, loose waves tucked behind her ears. She looks casual and relaxed, welcomed into the group just like Jensen.

"You're pretty," she insists gently. Blake sticks his tongue out at his friends. "I bet you're just too tall for these guys."

"Way too tall, man," DJ agrees, wobbling his head. "Look at Jared. I mean, the dude's a giant like you and you don't see me checking him out."

"And if you did, I'd have to object," Jensen says, prompting Jared to curl a possessive arm around his waist.

Lincoln, Caitlin, and Jimmy are gathered on the far side of the bar. Jimmy's date is a black haired woman Jensen recognizes as a nurse from the VA. Mark and Jamie are tucked in a booth sharing a huge plate of chili fries with Ben and another couple. There are smiles all around and Jensen's happy to see everyone so relaxed. Jared finds a familiar face every time he turns around, but never ditches Jensen, going so far as to drag him up to the bar with a finger through his belt loop when he needs a refill.

"Plenty of available guys here," Jensen teases while he's squeezed in between a bar stool and Jared's hip. "Afraid I'm gonna run off?"

"I'm not even giving you the chance," Jared says as he signals for another beer. Jensen counts this as his sixth. "Lots of people celebrating their sexuality. Probably lookin' to celebrate a little in private, too."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah." Hidden by their joined stance, Jared slinks one hand down to Jensen's crotch. His fingers find the shape of Jensen's dick down his left inseam, stroking through denim. "I know there's a storeroom in the back. Wanna duck away so I can remind you what an awesome boyfriend I am?"

Jensen would be lying if he claims he isn't tempted. He's already responding to the subtle pressure of Jared's hand between his legs, blood starting to slow and reroute itself downstairs.

"How about if I be the awesome boyfriend and stop you from potentially embarrassing yourself in front of your friends?" The slope of Jared's eyebrow questions Jensen's logic. "You really want to chance one of these guys walking in on us?"

"Man, I have totally seen Mark having sex." Abandoning his sneak attack on Jensen's crotch, Jared takes a long pull of his new beer, a third of it gone when he sets it back on the bar. "Nothing I couldn't wash away with some mental bleach and strong whiskey."

Jensen glances over at Mark and shudders theatrically. "Call me old-fashioned-"

"Old fashioned."

"-but I prefer sex behind closed doors-"

"I'm sure there's a door, Jensen."

"-and without an audience!"

"Hey y'all!" Blake's voice roars over the rest and conversations are left unfinished as everyone turns to stare. "My man Silo's tryin' to say a few words."

Standing on a table in the corner of the room, DJ shouts back, "Thanks, Big Country!"

Jensen finds Cindy's eyes just as she mouths Big Country? He shrugs and gives her a grin.

"Alright, I wanna thank everybody for coming out"-DJ pauses to let the hollers pass-"tonight! And I've gotta thank my Uncle Paul for letting this rowdy bunch into his bar. C'mon, y'all! Give him a hand." They do, and Jensen feels the air vibrate with the force of the applause. When he has everyone's attention, DJ continues. "We're all here celebrating a different kind of victory, but that doesn't make it less important. Finally being acknowledged for who we are, who we really are, by the country that asked us to lay our lives on the line every day…well, I don't think there's a bigger victory than that."

Applause swells for the second time. Jared's hand wanders down again, but this time he threads his fingers through Jensen's and holds tight.

"No more hiding.” DJ’s voice rises about the noise. "Although, to be honest, some of us weren't doing a real good job keepin’ our secrets!"

That brings laughter, and Jensen watches Jared shake his head in amusement.

"Now before I get down and let y'all get on with your night, I wanna raise my glass to the soldiers who aren't here tonight. Fallen friends who gave it all in service to this country, the way any of us would have been proud to do." DJ's speech drops off and before he can say anything else, Ben climbs up on the table with him. It wobbles but holds their weight. Ben wraps his arm around DJ's shoulder, nodding him on. "All of 'em are heroes, but they never got the chance to live this freely."

He toasts the fallen and silently, somberly, the crowd does the same. Jensen's eyes feel heavy and wet. He squeezes Jared's hand, trying to pass on solidarity, but the hand folded in his is unresponsive. Jensen looks over and sees Jared staring at DJ's feet, eyes glassy and wide.

"Jared?" The volume of the bar is beginning to return to pre-speech levels. "Doing okay?"

That vacant hazel gaze crosses from DJ's table to the bar stool Jensen's leaning against. Jensen wraps his arm around Jared's waist, hoping the contact will draw Jared out of his sudden stupor.

"Feeling sick?"

Jared shakes his head once. "No, I'm okay. You, um-you think we could get out of here?"

"You sure?" Jensen looks around; the party's in full swing. "I don't mind staying." And he doesn't, really. Jared's friends have become his friends, too, and they've all been having a good time.

Jared's eyes catch a flash from across the bar, illuminating the sudden sexual appetite in his gaze. "I know you don't mind," he whispers, seducing Jensen with the hint of lips on his skin, “but I’m feelin’ the need to express my sexuality.”

The rest of Jensen's protests die on his tongue as he's whisked out of the bar, shouted goodbyes falling on deaf ears.

Jensen points his Acura towards the house without asking, fighting to keep from swerving as Jared's hands wander and tease.

"Neutral zone infraction!" Jensen laughs, batting Jared's hand away the next time it crosses the center console. "Five minute penalty, keep your hands to yourself."

Jensen barely has a chance to engage the deadbolt on his front door before Jared's got him pinned against it, the last note of a desperate whine muffled against Jensen's lips. Jared snaps his tongue behind Jensen's teeth, spreading a bitter aftertaste over his taste buds. Though the kiss is fierce, biting and robust, Jared spares no concentration for the rest of his body. His chest sags heavily against Jensen's, arms spaghetti-weak at his sides. As much as Jensen would like to kick this impromptu grinding session back into gear, there's definitely something off with his boyfriend.

Framing Jared's shoulders with his hands, Jensen eases them apart.

"Hmm, what?" Jensen counts off a few seconds before Jared's blurry haze catches up with his. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, c'mon. Let's get in bed." Jared acknowledges with a series of mumbles trapped in humid breath. "I'm gonna assume that means, 'Okay, Jensen. Bed sounds great.'"

Jared’s head lolls to the right. "Your bed's better than mine."

"Damn right it is."

Jensen drops Jared off on the mattress before continuing into the bathroom to wash tonight off his face. He wets a washcloth and brings it into the bedroom, hoping to sober up his boyfriend, but drops it with a plop on the hardwood floor when he sees Jared reclining against the pillows. Jared’s all but naked on the russet sheets, wearing only his navy blue boxer-briefs, tight fabric shaping those generous parts of him that Jensen would kill to get his mouth on, and his dog tags.

“Thought you were never comin’ back,” Jared drawls, teasing himself with molasses-slow fingers along his unscarred thigh. Jensen immediately perks up again. “Gonna join me?”

He pounces, lands hands-and-knees over Jared, and sweeps him up in another long kiss. Conflicting schedules and a mountain of work had prevented them from getting down and intimate during the week. As a result, Jensen’s ready for a slow stroll down pleasure street. With Jared, there’s so much to worship: miles and miles of skin to journey across. It’s no wonder Jensen enjoys taking his time.

But in contrast to the way Jared held him studded against the front door fifteen minutes ago, Jared’s raring now. His arms seize Jensen around the middle, pulling and writhing and not letting go.

“Jay-” Jensen tears his mouth away. “Hey, wait.”

Waiting’s not in Jared’s playbook tonight. He’s passionately manic, surging back up to find Jensen’s lips. And if Jared wants to get off this badly, Jensen would be all kinds of accommodating, except…except Jared’s not reacting with anything besides desperation, and Jensen’s conscience won’t let him follow through.

Silently apologizing to his testicles, Jensen heaves himself off the bed.

“Hey!” Even over a single word, Jared’s slur is obvious. “I’m okay.” He tries to enunciate. “We can keep going.” His lashes flutter. Fuck, Jensen wants him so damn bad.

“I’m sorry”-and God, is he ever-“but I totally forgot about this file I need to email.”

Jared pouts, utterly fuckable with pursed lips and soft strands of hair falling over his forehead, dog tags reflecting the dim light. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I gotta-well, it’s important and if I don’t get it out tonight…”

“Fine,” Jared groans, “but you’d better do it fast ‘r else I’ll have t’entertain myself.”

Jensen’s counting on that. Given how low Jared’s eyelids have drooped, he’ll be out cold in less than five minutes. Jensen wastes more than that pacing between the kitchen and his office, attempting to place the reason for Jared’s mood flip. He’d been so eager to see his friends, celebrate their new freedom. Jensen understands a certain degree of melancholy, especially after DJ’s heartfelt speech, but that doesn’t explain Jared’s emotional see-saw. Up one minute, down the next.

As expected, Jared’s asleep when Jensen reenters the bedroom, one of his arms reaching across Jensen’s side of the bed.

Jensen finds himself in the dark when he’s startled awake. Out of habit, he checks the clock. The neon green numbers are fuzzy; it’s just before three a.m.

As Jensen’s eyes adjust and pull shapes out of the blackness, a full-out tremor rocks the bed. Beside him, Jared is shaking as if a live current is being passed through his body. Jensen is alert in seconds, reaching out to set his hand over Jared’s chest while repeating his name over and over.

Jared doesn’t fall out of his spell, nearly paralyzed as he battles a terror within the confines of his mind. His lips are pale, opened wide around silent screams.

After two excruciatingly long minutes, Jensen feels Jared’s muscles go loose. He sinks into the mattress with a whimper, head tossing restlessly from side to side. Jensen lightly touches Jared’s forehead, his fingers slipping through a cold sweat. Whatever the nightmare was about, it has left Jared drained.

What the hell?

They’ve slept in the same bed dozens of times. Bumped knees, fought for cool space on the sheets, kicked everything onto the floor when their passion gets too rowdy for things like pillows and comforters, but Jensen’s never known Jared to have nightmares before.

He considers rousing Jared, but he hasn’t moved since going limp. Rest is more important than answers.

Jensen keeps his silent vigil next to Jared for as long as he can keep his eyes open, makes sure that big body is lying calm and still, and falls asleep in the space between relief and concern.



"How do you like your eggs?"

Jensen yawns and almost misses Jared’s question. "Cooked by someone else."

The left side of Jared's mouth curls up. He turns back to the stove and says, "Messy omelets it is."

There’s no trace of a nightmare in Jared’s expression. He looks well-rested and chipper unlike Jensen who fumbles for his first cup of coffee, grumbling when he can’t find the Keurig pod he wants in the drawer.

“It’s already in the machine,” Jared tells him, “and I added coffee to your grocery list.”

Jared must have showered before Jensen woke up, wet hair curling around his ears. He whisks, chops, and cooks while Jensen watches (he truly is next to useless without caffeine).

“Do you remember dreaming last night?” Jensen asks after breakfast. He’s loading the dishwasher while Jared sits at the counter sipping the last of his orange juice.

Jared shakes his head. “Nah, I never remember them unless they’re freaky-weird. Why? Was I muttering about aliens or the ballet?” Jared chuckles. “Maybe aliens performing ballet?”

“I don’t think so. Seemed more like a nightmare to me. You were shaking.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jensen reassures. “I think you were trying to scream, but nothing was coming out. You don’t remember anything?”

Jared stares at the leftover pulp in his glass, unresponsive, and Jensen regrets bringing it up.

“Jay? Are you okay?”

“Fine, yeah.” Jared hurries to stand, carrying his glass to the sink. “It was probably nothing.”

“I’ve just never seen you react like that in your sleep. Was it the party? Maybe it brought back some memories-”

“Sure, okay,” Jared cuts him off. “That was probably it.” He spins and slouches back against the granite countertop. “Everyone has bad dreams sometimes.”

Jensen sees this conversation going off the rails. “I know, and I’m not trying to dig. I was worried. I stayed awake for a while just trying to make sure you were okay.”

Something predatory takes shapes in Jared’s eyes. He angles his body towards Jensen’s, giving him an eyeful of lean hips and broad shoulders wrapped in heather gray.

“I kept you up?” Jared purrs. “You should let me make up for that.”

“Sounds promising,” Jensen says as Jared closes in.

They share a tangy-sweet kiss, much gentler than the night before. As distractions go, this is a good one. Soon the two of them are in flagrante in the kitchen (and not for the first time). Jensen’s dishwater-pruned fingers quest beneath Jared’s nylon track pants, tickling his abs on the way down. And mmm, there’s Jared’s cock, warm and solid from their post-breakfast foreplay. Jensen wraps his fingers around it, swallowing every happy little mewl from Jared’s mouth.

“Like that?” Jensen asks, keeping his strokes light so they don’t chafe. Slow and comfortable, that’s what Jensen wants. That and a close-up of Jared’s face when he comes-one of Jensen’s secret, ultimate pleasures.

“God, Jen…” Jared moans. “Do whatever you want to me.”

Jensen’s touch is a tease, his first two fingers tracing invisible signs at the base of Jared’s cock. “Who says this isn’t what I want?”

Apparently his technique leaves Jared wanting. He slips Jensen’s hand out of his pants and does an about-face in the circle of Jensen’s arms. His ass grinds against Jensen’s hard-on-Jensen’s nose is filled with the clean smell of Jared’s shampoo.

“C’mon,” he says, “I know you want to fuck me.”

Jensen could laugh (duh, obvious). If they’d already taken that step he’d be more than willing to blow Jared’s mind, but he knows Jared hasn’t bottomed in a long time. That, and a handful of brain cells not dedicated to getting off are telling Jensen that Jared’s demand is tied to his strange behavior.

Up on his toes, Jensen bites along Jared’s throat. “You’re right, I do,” he whispers, hand wandering around to Jared’s front, retaking the prize between his thighs. “And it’s gonna happen soon, Jay, I promise.”

“How soon?”

That earns Jared a light smack on his uninjured thigh. “Be patient,” Jensen says, stroking Jared in time with his exhales. His own cock isn’t benefitting from much friction, but Jensen sees the need for something more than his own gratification. Maintaining a rhythm, he keeps Jared pinned, painting vivid scenarios with his words.

He pours them right into Jared’s ear. “It’ll be slow at first. So slow, you’re gonna beg me to get on with it.”

“Kinda like now?” Jared asks even as his cock slips through Jensen’s grip.

“Remember that massage I gave you? It’s going to start like that,” Jensen vows, “only there won’t be any pain. I’ll work you so deep, so thoroughly, that you’re gonna melt under my hands.”

“Got such talented hands…”

“You know that’s right. Your legs, your back, your shoulders, your ass,” Jensen growls, “there’s no part of you I don’t want to touch.” He feels incomparable satisfaction when Jared shivers. “How’s that sound?”

“Getting better,” Jared admits with a clipped tone. Jensen smirks against his shoulder. “Keep talking…”

“I’ll have you spread out on our bed, ‘cause I want to see all that beautiful skin.” It might be his imagination, but Jensen hears a muffled sob. “Touch you and taste you from top to bottom,” he adds, curling his tongue around Jared’s ear. “Kiss you every time I pass your lips, ‘cause I won’t be able to resist.” Jared arches his back and Jensen pushes forward into the concave space. “When I’ve got you completely relaxed, I’m gonna open you up. I know it’s been a long time, so I’ll make my fingers nice and slick, work ‘em into you slowly, probably suck your cock at the same time, ‘cause you know how much I love that-”

Jared knows it, too, shuddering in Jensen’s hold and coming all over his hand. Jensen kisses the back of his neck through the aftershocks, small pulses adding to the slippery mess.

“Well,” Jared pants, “that was awesome.”

Jensen’s too content to do anything but mumble happily against the back of Jared’s t-shirt, body loose and a grin in place when Jared turns around and catches him in an embrace. Jared shifts until Jensen’s cock is rutting against the groove of his hips.

“What’s this?” he asks mischievously. “I guess it’s my turn to elaborate on the things I’d like to do to you someday.”

“Do whatever you want to me.”

Hearing his own words used against him, Jared’s sated eyes sparkle.

“In that case…”



Jensen swears he’s not going to dwell on Jared’s nightmare, but he finds himself reading through various articles on Wikipedia while he’s supposed to be completing reviews for his team’s last project.

Using his incredibly erotic distraction techniques, Jared had prevented Jensen from brooding over his concerns, but in the harsh light of the work week, Jensen’s anxiety resurfaces. He keeps flashing back to the fear he’d felt, watching Jared shiver and quake, unable to snap him out of the nightmare.

“Can I ask you something?”

Cindy looks up from rearranging the avocado slices on top of her black bean hummus plate. “Personal or project-related?”

They’re camping out in the conference room where their meeting’s scheduled to take place in an hour; they’d grabbed lunch along with all their notes in order to finish some last minute prep-work.

“Personal.”

Cindy smiles. “Good, ‘cause I was getting bored.”

“How does Blake sleep?”

“Wow.” She sets aside her fork. “Personal-you weren’t kidding.”

“Sorry,” Jensen says, running his fingers down his tie over and over. “I meant, does he have trouble sleeping? You know, in general.”

Cindy’s ready to crack a joke, but whatever she sees in Jensen’s expression gives her pause. “He’s only slept over a few times,” she shyly admits, brown eyes melting. Jensen’s happy for her. “I don’t know. I’ve gotten up a couple of times and he’s been awake, grabbing something to eat or reading on his phone.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“No, but I think bouts of insomnia are pretty common for soldiers who’ve been in combat. I know my dad had a tough time sleeping after his first tour.”

Curiosity piqued, Jensen asks, “Any particular reason?”

Cindy shakes her head, smile fond in memory. “He said it was hard adjusting to a normal bed again.” Jensen pictures the mattress in Jared’s apartment, wondering if his Spartan accommodations are deliberate. “That and the lack of base noise, having his own space, the air.” She sighs. “There were a lot of things, I guess. Are you asking because of Jared?”

He nods but declines to elaborate, which Cindy seems to accept. Jared wouldn’t appreciate being the subject of gossip, whereas Blake has a tendency to overshare.

Odds are good that Jared’s not the only one cursed with troubling dreams, but Jensen needs to determine whether they’re the exception or the rule. If he asks Jared directly, he’ll get blown off again, so Jensen decides that a bit of research is in order.

First, he offers to spend a few nights at Jared’s apartment. He’s never slept there-given a choice, Jared always redirects them to Jensen’s house-but he’s willing to give that floor-mattress a shot.

Jared’s not as keen on the idea.

“What?” Jared peers over the rim of his coffee cup. “Why would you want to do that?”

Jensen shrugs, staring forlornly down at his empty cup. He and Jared have stuck with their afternoon coffee dates at least three days per week. Visiting Jared in the middle of the day is like an influx of positive energy. Better than the caffeine, and that’s saying a lot.

“I figured you’d be sick of staying at my place all the time.”

Jared pauses to nod at a pair of suited men leaving through the main doors. “What gave you that impression?”

“Just trying to be considerate.” And I’m curious about your sleeping patterns. “I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jared laughs. “Hey, I mind! My place is crap compared to yours. My bed is on the floor, my internet is slow, and I’m not allowed to have a grill.”

“I knew you were using me for my grill.”

Jared leans over the counter. “Don’t forget about your DVR.”

They have the lobby to themselves so Jensen has no trouble accepting the flutter of a kiss Jared teases him with, filling his reserves for the rest of the afternoon. He doesn’t let the subject drop though, and under light duress, Jared invites him to stay over on Wednesday night. Jensen brings dinner (and beer, and plates, and a fork since Jared only owns two and one’s missing) and they share Jared’s not-all-that-uncomfortable sofa while they eat and watch Top Shot.

At eleven, Jensen starts yawning.

“Tired?” Jared’s leaning back into the cushions, ankles crossed over Jensen’s lap. “Go to bed, I’ll put everything away.”

“You’re not coming?”

Jared hauls himself off the couch, movements isolated and stiff like an old clock in need of winding. Jensen watches his face to gauge the level of pain.

“I will, just gotta shut everything down.”

At Jensen’s house, they’ve developed a routine: Jensen locks up, puts his laptop back on his desk, makes sure the dishes in the sink get moved to the dishwasher (or at least rinsed if they’re too busy to be meticulous). Jared grabs two glasses of water, fluffs pillows, and checks that there’s an extra blanket at the end of the bed in case Jensen gets cold in the middle of the night.

Here, Jensen hovers aimlessly for a moment. “Can I help?” he offers.

“Nah.” Jared hip-checks him towards the bedroom. “I’ve got it. I’ll move quicker knowing you’re waiting for me, all naked and willing.”

Jensen smirks. “I have an early morning, remember?”

“Right. Just naked then?”

“Wait and see.”

Jensen is shirtless (but not naked) when Jared climbs into bed. Jared’s mouth feigns disappointment yet his eyes are golden and sincere. The bedroom features one nightstand on Jared’s side, topped with two glasses of water, a clock, and a book. The austere surroundings don’t fit him at all-a product of his circumstances.

They trade mint-fresh kisses, a habit that sticks no matter where they’re spending the night, until Jensen’s yawns throw a wrench in the works and they gradually shift from each other. For once, Jensen fights to keep from drifting off, cataloging every breath Jared takes, hyper-conscious of his restless legs.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jensen turns onto his side and sees Jared looking at him. He’s gleaned nothing other than the fact that neither of them were tired enough to sleep.

“Something wrong?” Jared asks, eyes drowsy like he’s been tightrope-walking on the edge of dreaming.

“Can’t seem to stop thinking tonight,” Jensen mumbles, curling a little closer to Jared’s chest. His fingers float across the warm skin under Jared’s tank. “What about you? Can’t sleep?”

Jared mutters something untranslatable, rolling into the S-shape of Jensen’s body, eager to cuddle. Jensen holds him as he listens and feels for Jared’s breathing to deepen, but Jared never crosses into sleep. He must sense that Jensen’s awake, too.

“Wanna have sex?”

Jensen huffs, lips tickling Jared’s ear. We are both awake…

Needless to say, his research is compromised that night.



Jensen doesn’t give up.

Jared stays at Jensen’s house three or four nights a week, and Jensen is surprisingly comfortable with the arrangement. He’s depended on routines since his four years at the Citadel, where every moment of a cadet’s day was plotted on a piece of paper. He’d come to appreciate the order, the way it minimized chaos and stress. It helps that Jared, after nearly a decade in the Army, is used to schedules. He’s adopted a more lax approach since his injury, but being with someone like Jensen hardly seems to upset him. Not all of Jensen’s very-temporary ex-boyfriends had felt the same way.

Jensen’s study of Jared’s sleeping habits produces mixed results. As much as he tries, Jensen can’t help falling asleep half the time. But when he manages to stay awake longer, it’s evident that Jared’s restlessness is a recurring condition.

Spying through his eyelashes, Jensen catches Jared reading, playing games on his cell phone, or staring into space. A few times, when Jensen happens to wake up on his own before dawn, he sees Jared watching him with a soft gaze.

If Jared’s curious about Jensen’s behavior, he never says anything. He simply shrinks the amount of empty space between them and lies silently until the alarm goes off.

Unfortunately, it also becomes obvious that Jared’s nightmare wasn’t a freak occurrence.

Overly eager after a cocktail party for one of Jensen’s clients where suits and ties were required, Jared and Jensen go a few rounds between the sheets. Jared had groped Jensen the entire way home, fingers unable to find purchase on the fluid, expensive fabric of Jensen’s suit, and when they get home, it’s all craving, no holds barred. They pass out, naked and tangled together, until Jensen gets trapped in the wake of one of Jared’s nightmares.

The next time it happens, Jared comes home in pain, thanks to a change in the weather and a rough workout session with some of his VA buddies. He conks out in Jensen’s bed before the eleven o’clock news and rouses Jensen with his thrashing just before 2 a.m.

The nightmares prey on Jared when he drinks too much, pushes too hard, or fucks too enthusiastically. The rest of the time, it’s possible that Jared’s trying to stay awake, choosing the lesser of two evils between nightmares and insomnia.

And that’s not much of a choice.



“Dude, I was wide open!” Lincoln shouts after Jensen slots a neat pass over to Caitlin. “C’mon!”

“Blake is riding your ass, man,” Jared calls out, getting the ball from Caitlin and dribbling around Mark for a layup, neatly tossing the ball to Jimmy at the last second when DJ gets too close. Wide open, Jimmy sinks the ball cleanly.

Caitlin claps. “Six-two! Somebody call the gravediggers, because we’re gonna bury you guys today.”

Ben groans, leaning on DJ’s shoulder. “Your trash talk needs so much work, Cait.”

“Kinda like your game?”

The group laughs at Ben’s expense, but he shrugs it off with a grin. Jared and Jensen’s team had won the first game handily as Jimmy put on a freaking clinic. It’s no wonder he’d been accepted onto Dallas’ traveling wheelchair basketball team (an accomplishment they’d paraded out to celebrate on Thursday night after Jimmy posted the news).

Jamie inbounds the ball to DJ who dribbles for the full five seconds before passing it off to Blake. Thanks to Lincoln’s interference, the ball is tipped off Blake’s fingers, bouncing towards the bleachers. Jared sidles up beside Jensen while Lincoln chases it down.

“I hope you didn’t make plans after the game.”

“Hmm?” Jensen turns. For months, his Saturday afternoon plans start and end with Jared. “No, why?”

Jared’s thumb teases beads of sweat off Jensen’s temple. “I need to book one of your massages later.”

Jensen turns a clinical eye on Jared’s stance. “Are you sore?”

On the other side of the court, Lincoln lobs a high pass to Caitlin. She looks for an opening, but Jared’s still pressed against Jensen’s shoulder.

“No,” Jared whispers, words meant only for Jensen, “but I could be tomorrow.” He punctuates his statement with a hidden caress of Jensen’s ass, fingers flirting below the elastic of his shorts before the touch evaporates.

Jimmy maneuvers around Jamie and catches Caitlin’s pass. He throws it to Jensen, but the ball whiffs right past. Jared winks and grabs the ball while Jimmy curses, leaving Jensen gaping on the hardwood.

Son of a bitch.

With his brain reduced to goo, Jensen’s team loses the game by five points. He gladly takes the blame.

In the locker room, Jimmy wheels around on Jared. “What the hell did you do to Jensen? He couldn’t handle a single pass!” He glances between Jensen’s flushed face and Jared’s too-innocent-to-be-convincing expression. “On second thought,” Jimmy says, “I really don’t want to know.”

The drive home is uncomfortable in all the right ways, miles of erotic tension to suffer between the rec center and Jensen’s house. Every dirty promise Jensen has ever made forms a word cloud in his mind, some bigger and brighter than the others: massage, beautiful, slow, slick. He shivers; Jared notices and smirks, trailing his fingers down the inseam of his pants.

It’s pure torture.

At the house, Jensen wants to make sure they’re on the same page, but one look at Jared is enough to confirm that he wants this. Jensen only wishes he had more time to plan and make this perfect.

“I guess we need-”

“Jensen.”

He’s spun around, silenced by Jared’s lips. That one drawn-out, soul-wheeling kiss wipes away his doubts.

“You promised me a bed…”

Jensen considers pulling the shades, lighting candles for atmosphere and romance, and quickly slipping into sexier underwear, but decides against the gimmicks. Except the underwear, of course; he seizes a pair of silky green boxers from his dresser on his way into the bathroom for massage oil. There’s no way Jared won’t appreciate a little bit of vanity on his part.

Jared’s waiting on the bed, calmly looking back at Jensen with his chin propped on his folded hands.

“Damn,” Jensen exhales, chest aching. The sight leaves him hard and dripping like a palm tree in the rain.

“You’d better get over here before I change my mind.”

Jensen kneels beside Jared’s shoulder. “Would you?”

“Mmm, nope. I’m looking forward to this too much.”

Jensen has fantasized about possessing Jared this way for months. He’s quenched his lusts in a dozen different ways, but this is the kind of sex that goes beyond getting off-a test of how well you know your partner. Jensen has gone out to meet a guy, had sex, and gone home satisfied, but that feeling is one star in the galaxy of sensations achievable with a man he can truly be intimate with. Jared is the man with whom he wants to sail through the stars.

“Jen?” Jared props himself up, nervously bitten lips full and flushed. “Feeling a little neglected here.”

Jensen has to kiss him, test the softness of his mouth. Map out the places he wants to revisit with his tongue over and over this afternoon.

“Just deciding where to begin,” he says. Jared makes the decision easier, rolling his long body out like a wave over the bedspread, a wash of freshly-showered skin to arouse Jensen’s appetite.

Last time he’d given Jared a massage, Jensen focused on Jared’s lower back and thighs, went straight to the source to relieve his aches. There’s no pain this time; Jensen has carte blanche to touch Jared however he wants. He begins by dripping eucalyptus oil all over Jared’s shoulders.

“Smells good.”

“It’s my favorite.” Jensen glides his fingers through the oil, streaking Jared’s skin, settling into the mood.

“Been giving a lot of massages?”

Jensen rakes his clean hand across Jared’s scalp. “Only to myself.”

Jared purrs, satisfied, and Jensen vows to drag out more sounds just like that one. Kneeling next to Jared, he begins by circling his shoulder blades with a light touch, gathering oil and smoothing it down Jared’s back. Then he makes long, sweeping strokes up from Jared’s last lumbar vertebra, tempering his initial pressure-obviously, he doesn’t want to render Jared useless. Jensen wants him primed, not reduced to putty. He kneads Jared’s shoulders with closed fists, eases the strain he carries atop his trapezius muscles, teases warmed fingers up around Jared’s neck, possessively tightening his grip in a moment of white-hot lust.

Jared moans as if he’s picking up on Jensen’s thoughts. He’s welcome to them.

“You’re killing me.”

“In a good way?”

“The best way,” Jared says, flexing his upper body. He stretches and brings one hand around to touch Jensen’s knee-a gesture to reassure Jensen that he’s comfortable. “Gonna keep going?”

“I’m just getting started.”

Jensen gauges the strength in Jared’s arms, traces the origin of his biceps and triceps, and tickles under his elbows. He tells his cock to be patient as his hands move lower along Jared’s spine, past his ribs to the sensitive skin around his hips. A stiff touch on the right side, getting deep into Jared’s muscles, but tender on the left, curling his fingers over the web of Jared’s scars. Jared grips Jensen’s knee and relaxes.

It’s always electric when he touches Jared’s scars, which can be good or bad depending on his mood. Today Jared allows it, letting Jensen explore the parts of him that he hides from everyone else in the world. Jensen coaxes the strain out of Jared’s legs with his well-trained hands, soothes his lower back, focusing on the muscles that bear the brunt of Jared’s injury, forced to compensate for damaged nerves and tissue. All this with a touch that’s never clinical-Jensen’s close, leaning down and sharing body heat, breath caressing the traumatized skin. He touches Jared with all the affection he can will into his fingers.

By now he’s worked most of the oil into Jared’s skin, leaving it soft and supple. He straddles Jared’s legs and arches over his back. Golden afternoon sun slants across their bodies and paints them for one another. Jensen kisses the back of Jared’s neck, bites at the soft hair, but tastes something bitter and metallic when his tongue slides over the ball chain to Jared’s dog tags.

Jensen suddenly needs to see Jared’s face. He taps Jared’s hip, encourages him to roll over, but remains atop him, gazing down into a feverishly pleasured expression.

“Do you know how hard it was not to come when you bit my neck?” Jared asks, planting his hands on Jensen’s hips. “I mean, holy shit, Jen. You’re kind of a sex god.”

Jensen grins at the breathless feedback. From under the pillows, Jared retrieves their preferred lube along with a strip of condoms. Taking the bottle in hand, Jensen indulges over Jared’s cock. It’s beautiful (and proportionate; Jensen’s worked himself giddy over it many times) with a wide flare in the middle that tapers up to a mouth-wateringly dusky head. Feather-light strokes down his thickness meant to titillate, not torment. Pushing sweat through his softly matted pubic hair, the musky scent appealing to the primal center in Jensen’s brain.

“Can you prop your leg up?”

Jared drags his left ankle along the bedspread, folding his leg up as much as he’s comfortable. “As pretty as those boxers are on you,” he says, “I need to insist on their removal.”

Jensen lacks the patience to make a show of stripping out of his olive-green underwear, carefully stretching them over his dick and yanking them past his knees, kicking them off the bed with his foot.

“Better?”

“It’s always better when you’re naked.” As Jared compliments his nudity (which never gets old), he wraps his right leg around the back of Jensen’s thigh, reeling him in. “You’d better not be through with me yet.”

Never. Jensen’s unable to say it out loud. No sense ruining perfectly good sex with hormone-driven romanticisms. He presses forward into the cradle of Jared’s thighs, licking across his lips. Jared’s mouth opens around a welcoming sound, and Jensen’s tongue curls behind his teeth, taking broad, fucking strokes as far back as he can reach.

Jensen probably uses too much lube. Scratch that-he definitely overdoes it, but hurting Jared is not an option. Good to his word, he stretches Jared slowly, scissoring one, two, and finally three fingers inside him. He uses his thumb to press and pull around the outside of Jared’s hole, a technique Jensen picked up (from many pleasurable experiences) that might subtract from the discomfort Jared’s probably feeling.

By the time Jensen’s smoothly working three fingers in and out, Jared is thrashing on the bed, cursing Jensen’s vow to take things slowly.

“Oh God,” he moans, “you’ve gotta fuck me, Jen…”

Jensen taunts him, enjoying the vise-grip around his fingers. “Yeah? Think you’re ready?”

“Fuck-yes, c’mon…”

Jensen’s previous bed-partners hadn’t needed much more than a condom and his dick; he’d forgotten the effect intimately preparing his partner could have on his arousal. He’s raring now, surrounded by Jared and how the fuck have they not been doing this for months? It’s hotter than a strip tease as Jared helps him put on the condom and add more lube. Words are lost; they ignite one another with a look, a slippery touch along the inside of a thigh, a biting kiss.

He leaves their position up to Jared, who chooses to remain on his back; Jensen’s accustomed to fucking guys from behind-on all fours, against walls or doors-but right now he doesn’t want to miss a single flicker of enjoyment lighting up Jared’s face; wouldn’t trade a second of fucking Jared for anything or anyone else.

When he slides in, it’s perfect. Too perfect to waste precious seconds coming up with five-dollar words he can use to describe it. So goddamn good. Ever-conscious of the angle of Jared’s left leg, Jensen begins to thrust when he can’t stand the constricting pressure anymore.

Skin slaps together like a primitive drum, grunts and gasps echoing all around the room. Jensen wishes he could cool his engine a bit, extend the moment, but his body’s overridden his mind, thrusting with abandon. Unbridled, his knees falter, dropping him lower on the bed, and Jared loses it. The wail that leaves his lips is wild; it shoots right into Jensen’s bloodstream.

So that’s what ecstasy sounds like.

Jensen holds his new position as best he can, muscles quaking, and deliberately grinds forward.

“Fuck-oh, oh, oh…fuck, Jen!” Jared cries, breaths coming fast and shallow. Jensen readjusts to make his thrusts deeper, prolonging the slide of his cock over Jared’s prostate.

“Getting’ good?” Jensen drawls, licking salt from the corners of his mouth.

Jared’s able to focus on Jensen for a few seconds. “Should’ve done this a lot sooner.”

“Got a lot of time to make up for,” Jensen says, and he means it. He’s bent on learning how to completely unravel Jared, starting with the smallest touch. But there are a few parts of Jared’s body with which Jensen is already intimately familiar, like his cock, flushed with blood and standing at attention. Jensen sacrifices his rhythm to wrap his right hand around it, fumbles for the best grip and then strokes him in cadence with his hips.

Jared turns frantic, scrabbling at Jensen’s back, holding him off and welcoming him forward at the same time, unable to decide if he wants to submit to his orgasm or stave it off a little longer. By now, Jared’s hole is slick and accepting, exquisitely hugging his cock, and Jensen corkscrews into him, using the texture of the condom to his full advantage. Close to coming, Jared tugs Jensen down with fingers in his hair, licking into Jensen’s mouth. Impossibly deep in Jared’s body, Jensen coaxes him over the edge with a burst of short, sharp thrusts across his prostate, stripping his cock until his semen spills warm between them.

Instinct forces Jensen out of Jared as soon as his muscles relax. He tears off the condom and fists his cock hard. His grip is nothing compared to the clutch of Jared’s hold around him, but Jensen’s too far gone to care, adding his come to the small ocean on Jared’s stomach.



“Best massage ever,” Jared proclaims after a mile-wide yawn. “Did they teach a class on that?”

Though Jensen could barely convince his legs to function, he’d pulled Jared into the bathroom and gently wiped his stomach clean. After their post-sex ablutions, Jared surprised Jensen by pulling him back into bed, where they’re lying comfortably now.

Jensen laughs, the rumble in his chest passing straight through to Jared’s beneath him. “None of my classes ever covered the ‘happy ending.’”

“Too bad, you would’ve aced it.”

“So I passed?”

“Maybe,” Jared teases, leaning down to lay small pecks across Jensen’s forehead. “But I think you require further evaluation.”

Jensen sidles closer along Jared’s right side, his lips touching Jared’s sternum. Content, Jensen could rest here for hours, or until their bodies’ demands become hard to ignore. The sunlight’s acquired a reddish glow as it slowly begins to set, cutting through the shades and setting their skin aflame.

That’s when Jensen sees the marks. So faint they’re nearly invisible: half a dozen needle-thin white lines, no longer than a quarter of an inch, scattered around Jared’s chest. There’s one as high as his collarbone, one below the curve of his left pectoral. Without the sunlight hitting Jared’s skin at this angle, Jensen might never have seen them.

“What are these?”

Jared looks down, mouth flat. “Scars,” he says, “from my first tour.”

Jensen hasn’t pressed for information on Jared’s combat tours overseas, but when he does share information, it’s usually about his third and final tour. Silent, he wills Jared to continue.

After a moment of thought, Jared does. “It happened my second week of deployment. We were all pretty green back then-we were prepared, but we thought we were indestructible, you know?” He sighs fondly. “Anyway, we were on patrol when we were ordered back to a site where the bomb guys were diffusing some IEDs. We were there to transport the neutralized devices back to base, but while they were loading one into the truck, it went off.”

Jensen tenses.

“No, it’s okay,” Jared assures him, though Jensen can’t see how. “The team had taken care of the explosive, but there was still a live charge. When it went off, it sent shrapnel flying everywhere. Most of it couldn’t penetrate our gear, but I was the closest and a few pieces of metal got through and embedded themselves in my chest. Back at base, most of the guys laughed it off.”

Something clicks. “That’s where you got your nickname,” Jensen says. “Iron Man. Shrapnel around your heart.”

“I’m nowhere near as cool as Tony Stark.”

“No one is,” Jensen teases.

“But yeah, the name stuck. And you know how the guys are…once they know your nickname, they never let it drop.”

The words are on Jensen’s lips to thank Jared for sharing a small piece of his combat history, revealing one of the cards he keeps so close to his chest (literally, in this case), but he holds them back-doesn’t want Jared to feel awkward about telling stories. Instead he shifts his head back onto the pillows, kisses along Jared’s jawline until Jared turns towards him.

“Round two?” Jensen asks, winking.

“Nap first,” Jared says, green eyes soft and luminous. “Then food, and then rounds two, three, and four.”

Jensen feels a flutter in his stomach. “Ambitious.”

“Like you said, we’re just getting started…”

PART FOUR.