FIC: "Son Et Lumiere: A Story About Surrealism" 1/ 1
Title: "Son Et Lumiere: A Story About Surrealism" 1/1
Author:
caramel_maddy@
maddys_slash
Pairing/Characters: Jared / Jensen, minor Jeffrey Dean Morgan / John Schneider, Chad M. Murray
Summary: Alternative Universe. Addicts in love.
Word Count: 3,020
Rating / Warning: Strong R, some sexual situations, drug usage.
A/N: The style of this story is different from how I usually write, inspired by 'My Loose Thread' which is pretty much one, long ramble of a story. This is a VERY belated birthday present for my twin
tabularassawho wanted angst, drugs and 'maleness' in a love story. Girl, I can say a million things about you, but you already know just how much I adore you and our odd-instant connection. You can have my babies. Or this fic two weeks late lol.
PODFIC by Lunchee
Son Et Lumiere:
A Story About Surrealism
They used to dream about the sun. Now they do not dream. Dreaming is for assholes and puppets, people with time and clean hands. They sit in respective silence listening to the thump-thump-thumpty-thump of reverberated heartbeats. Sounds like strings on a guitar strumming, or veins being pierced or sand pouring from an hourglass. Something random and pointless. It’s hot out today. The kind of hot that melts the plastic and vinyl lacing of car dashboards. The smell inside of the vehicle is like burnt tires and lit matches. Doesn’t matter anyway, the fucking Chevy won’t even start up. They sit in silence cutting and pressing lines into the half-cracked mirror of a discarded Cover Girl matte compact. Neither of them wear makeup -they’re men, just need a smooth surface. Thank God for Jared’s baby sister and her ever-vain ways. The man on the news this morning said it was supposed to rain today. Finally. Hasn’t rained in Texas for a week. That’s like death for most things living out in the middle of nowhere. This dry ass day could use a little moisture, something to push away the feeling of choke and cram every time you breathe. Jensen doesn’t think it will rain though. Jensen Ackles thinks the man on the news is a goddamn liar because it’s almost three in the afternoon and the sky still blazes. ‘Clouds of fire’, his mama used to say, ‘means the devil’s out playing and planning’.
“We’re gonna run out soon,” Jared says. His hair is dark, and long -falls to his shoulders where the ends curl under, and dirty. He smells like candy, gummy-bears and cherry drops. He’s a sweet kid, barely nineteen, too tall, rail-like and Jensen feels three shakes awful for letting him in. Truth was he got lonely, craved the company, lives off the adoration. Jared adores him. And Jared gives great head, great fucking head and he makes him laugh.
“Don’t worry. Got a plan.”
“What is it?” He inhales. Who knew you could sniff heroin? This is pure shit, still brown. Jared never knew it didn’t only come up right and white. Highs better than cocaine, lasts longer, feels sweeter. Jared hates needles anyway, fucking awful things.
“Don’t worry,” Jensen leans across Jared’s lap. “I’ll look out for you.” Glances up, licks his lips. They make eye contact and smile. ‘This isn’t love’, Jensen says to himself. Just a good time. He inhales. He prefers needles -misses his ‘works’ like they‘re old friends, but he doesn’t want to scare Jared off. He can wait out the handful of minutes.
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
“You do, don’t you?” Jared’s smile is awful. It hurts Jensen to see it because it’s so beautiful. Jared Padalecki and his straight, white teeth and his rosy cheeks and his catlike green-gray-blue-brown-plethora colored eyes that don’t just look at you, but stare, soak through your skin and bone like acid rain. Hits you right in the gut. He’s so awfully perfect. Jensen should leave him while he can; he knows he’s no good for him. It’s just he gets so lonely, so awfully lonely.
And Jared is company. Jared gives great head.
* * *
Jared hates this place, hates how the men look at him. They’re all like pigs, stuffed pigs, even the ones that are as thin as skeletons. Bastard pigs, fucking vile, bastard creatures with claws for fingernails and shit-breath.
“Oh, you‘re a tall drink,” one of them says. “Bareback?”
“Fuck off.” Jared dismisses him, holds onto Jensen’s hand as they make their way through the crowd. This isn’t really a crowd, only twenty or so people, but Chad’s apartment is small and twenty people is a whole fucking lot.
“Be nice,” Jensen whispers. He holds Jared’s hand tighter. Jared is his and he doesn’t like to share. “He might want in later.”
“I don’t like it when it’s people I don’t know. You said it would only be-”
“Shh!” Jensen turns around, narrows his bottle-green eyes at Jared. Damn. He’s gorgeous. Even in this place where everything is ugly Jared is. . .he’s different. He doesn’t belong here, not with the rest of them. Jared‘s not corrupted, yet. Poor thing. “Money is money. We could use it.”
“But I don’t -oh, fuck it.” Jared gives up, keeps quiet as they walk out into the back patio.
Jensen feels like he’s leading Jared into hell. Fuck, he probably is. He’s a Tuesday afternoon soul-collector. It still hasn’t rained yet. Fucking newsman, liar.
Chad Michael Murray will fuck anything that walks. He’s not your typical faggot. He’s worse because he’ll fuck anything. Anything. Jared’s even heard stories about Chad and farm animals, but some things are too nasty to be true. Too nasty. How can a horse dick fit inside of a man anyway? That’s like a bear trying to sleep in a beehive. Fucking rumors, everybody always saying shit just to be sensational.
“Boys,” Chad yells like they’re fifty feet away and not right in front of him. “I’m glad you showed up this time.” Chad’s hair is short now, shaved and his ears look funny exposed. Naturally he has light hair, but his latest trick has convinced him to bleach it. The tricks’ a stylist up in Austin and he did it for free, Jared thinks anyway. Chad’s hair is almost white and he wears too much product. Jared thinks the ‘Caesar’ haircut is the gayest of all haircuts. Chad doesn’t seem gay though, not when you talk to him, not at first. It’s when you look at him you can tell. He doesn’t walk soft. It’s that damn, white-yellow hair and those hoop earrings. That, and the silver glitter speckled across his cheeks. Typical faggot, but worse. He’ll fuck anything.
“Didn’t have a choice, did we?” Jensen replies with a roll of the eyes. It’s not that he hates Chad, he just has little patience for him. Chad’s a loose cannon, a tweaker, binges and runs off at the mouth. He’s a liability, but right now he’s Jensen’s only source of income. He’ll play nice, for now.
“Party’s not ready yet. Still waiting for Jeff and John to get here. Can’t start without them now, can we?”
“Guess not,” Jensen drawls. He’s still holding onto Jared’s hand. Jared’s still holding onto his.
This isn’t love, Jensen tell himself. He just doesn’t want to lose Jared, not in this crowd.
* * *
Jeff and John are a strange couple Jared thinks as he steps into the shower. They’re the same in height, but Jeff’s looks are darker, black-Irish Jensen said and John’s a yella-blond. He might come from Germany, might not. Nordic? Probably not. Jeff and John like for Jensen and Jared to be clean, completely clean inside and out. Soap fresh. They make them shower separately, John says because he doesn’t want any time to be wasted. They pay by the hour and surely boys as attractive as them do not have any self-control and can’t go fifteen minutes without touching each other. John is right, Jared can’t help himself. Jensen’s just so sturdy and slender and perfect and freckled. Every place on Jensen’s body is freckled, even his upper thighs. Jensen has strong upper thighs, even if he thinks his legs are too skinny, to Jared they’re the perfect size, perfect fit. Like a key into a lock everything settles, fits.
When he steps out of the bathroom, a towel draped precariously across his waist, the first thing he sees is Jensen splayed across Chad‘s too big for the small room bed. He’s wearing a towel too, his hair still wet from the shower, a few lengthy strands spilling across his forehead. Damn, he’s twenty-three, but he barely looks sixteen. Jared thinks if Jensen would cut his hair a little shorter he’d actually look his age because the bangs are what makes him look like a high school junior.
“You ready?” Jensen mouths to him. Jared glances to his left, glances to his right. He sees them, sees Jeff and John and Anthony and Anthony‘s boyfriend J.W. -John Wesley. Out of all the guys who pay to watch him fuck Jensen, Anthony is the one that makes him the most uncomfortable. Anthony’s eyes are beady and he’s from England so when he talks to you his speech is clipped with an air of authority. Jared doesn’t know what Anthony does in his ‘real life’, but in his ‘pretend life’ he’s just another dirty, old man paying to watch two young guys fuck for an hour.
“I never am,” Jared admits as he crawls on top of Jensen. He’s trying his best to block out the sound of Jeff’s hand stroking John’s cock. He’s trying to pretend that there isn’t four naked men -most of who are the same age as his father, paying them a few sullied dollar bills to screw without a condom. Fucking perverts is what they all are. Fucking perverts.
“Close your eyes baby,” Jensen says spreading his legs. Jared sinks right into him, his chest against Jensen’s. Jensen smells clean and fresh and as their lips meet, Jared does forget about everyone else. He doesn’t hear Jeffrey’s mouth working its way around the girth of John’s cock. John Schneider has a big dick, too big Jensen thinks as he begins to pull at Jared’s towel. Unlike Jared, Jensen loves an audience. He thinks in a past life he must have been an actor or something because he loves being watched. That doesn’t mean he wants those dirty motherfuckers to touch him though. No, never again. He’s found someone now. He’s not lonely anymore.
It’s not love though. No. Never. Jared just-
His hands are wide and strong. They fumble with Jensen’s towel until it’s open and all that’s left separating their two bodies is skin. “I love you,” Jared whispers into Jensen’s neck.
Jensen cums without being touched. He can’t help it, he does, shoots a pitiful load against Jared’s stomach.
Damn. Maybe this is love. Maybe he should let him go. Maybe Jensen’s too selfish to.
* * *
Fucking Chad, fucking Chad Michael Murray and his fucking ‘new thrills’. Jensen decides he wants to kill him for giving Jared the X. Jared is someone who naturally can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Jared is someone who naturally craves human contact, thrives off affection. Jared is someone who you should not give Ecstasy too, no, not him, not ever. He probably shouldn’t be using heroin either, but at least with that it just makes him calm. Excuses, all bullshit excuses.
“Touch me,” Jared says peeling off his clothes.
“Shh, my folks are downstairs!” Tonight they stay with Donna and Alan Ackles. It still hasn’t rained yet. Donna’s the organist at the church up on Millers Road. Alan is an honest man, makes his money the old fashion Texas way. He’s a politician, or something like that. The Ackles are a good, God fearing, happy family. They do not acknowledge that their youngest son is a junky just as they don’t acknowledge his homosexual behavior. ‘Just a phase’, his mother has been saying since Jensen was fourteen, ‘just confused. . .it’ll go away. . .pray on it baby, just pray on it’. Bullshit, all bullshit. They love their son. He’s always welcomed home, even if he’s high or just wants to steal something. He’s just not allowed to talk about his deviant lifestyle, no, never.
“I, I need to feel you,” Jared bites Jensen’s ear, presses him against his childhood bedroom wall. There are posters of baseball players and old movie stills everywhere. From Leo Durocher to ‘Rebel Without A Cause’. Yeah, Jared imagines Jensen wasn’t hidden very well in the closet, not with all the ‘gay’ everywhere.
Jared is fascinated with ‘gay’ and all the ‘gay things’. Until he met Jensen he wasn’t aware that such a thing existed, such a thing that wasn’t supposed to be filthy and in secret. Lies. He was told lies growing up. Lies by his parents’ -the good teacher and straight-laced tax accountant. Lies by all of his friends: ‘You gotta go to college to have a good life. You can’t be happy staying home, here, not in Texas’. Lies by his pastor, his church: ‘Yadda, yadda, wrong, yadda, yadda right.’ Lies. Everyone in his entire life has told him lies. Everyone except for Jensen.
Jared would kill for him. He hasn’t known him for more than five months, but he would, he truly, truly would. All Jensen would have to do was ask. He loves him, loves him more than any and everything in the whole, wide world. That makes him gay, queer. He’s fascinated by this new revelation. He picks the word ‘homosexual’ apart until he’s left with nothing. It’s just a word anyway, doesn’t mean much. Just a word. He loves how he feels, how Jensen makes him feel. Love. . .just another fucking word, too.
“I, I, I feel like I’m on fire! Touch me Jensen, just touch me! Anywhere, anywhere baby, any fucking where. . .please!” Jared can barely get the words out of his mouth before Jensen is dropping to his knees.
Fuck. Whatever baby wants, baby gets. Jared is baby. Jared gets his way.
* * *
Another morning. Another day. Another fucking day. Too hot Jensen thinks as he yawns, stretches. Hasn’t rained yet. Damn it. Jared sleeps soundly beside him, snoring. Fucking big baby. He’s cute though. Damn, Jensen doesn’t want to feel this, doesn’t want to feel so much. . .responsibility? Yeah. That’s it. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s the one bringing Jared down. He is though, he knows it. This makes him an asshole. Jared ‘s turning into a junky, a fiend and it’s all Jensen’s fault.
He feels it. He feels that thing called ‘guilt’ and ‘regret’. He should have left him alone, shouldn’t have walked up to him that night in the bar. Poor thing, didn’t even know he was in a queer establishment, just wanted a drink, other place wouldn’t give him a P.B.R. Damn, that was . . .that was six months ago. Six months ago on the eighth. Damn, what’s today’s date? The ninth. Shit, day after, day late, missed the mark. Jared probably remembered it though, Jared’s good at remembering things, things like numbers and dates and names and faces. He’s like a genius or something. He’s brilliant and beautiful and Jensen decides he’s going to leave him. He’s no good for Jared, no good at all. He should call up Jared’s parents, tell them everything, tell them how their son is a druggie and needs help. Maybe Jared will get better. Fuck, maybe not. Maybe Jensen doesn’t want him to, doesn’t want him to because then Jared will leave. Shit, Jared needs to leave though. This is not a life you’d wish for someone you love.
Jensen gets up. He’s quiet, slips from underneath the sheets like some kind of ghost. Maybe he’s a monster. Maybe he’s the boogeyman. He can feel the sun warming the bare skin of his back slithering through the parted curtains as he scours the floor for his clothes. That’s how he remembers that he’s human because he can feel the warmth of the sun, he can still feel the warmth. If he leaves now, Jared will find the note, the note written on a torn piece of newspaper. The note that says:
GO HOME. GET BETTER!! -J.R.
For the first time in his life Jensen’s going to do something good for someone else. He doesn’t want to though, doesn’t want to send Jared away, but he will, just this once. He needs to save him, doesn’t need for him to be like this, like him, corrupted.
Jensen’s not altogether immoral, yet. He will be soon though, he will be. He’s going to kill Chad later, kill him for a lot of things, most for giving Jared the X, and his first hit of Black Tar. Fucking Chad, Chad gives everyone anything. Typical faggot, just wants to be liked, wants to be included so he excludes. Maybe Jensen won’t kill Chad, maybe he’ll just hit him really, really hard, steal his stash and then hop on a Greyhound. Maybe he’ll head to California, become an actor, and get on a soap opera or something. Maybe not. Either way he’s done with this, done screwing around with this kid, this poor kid who looks something like an angel while he sleeps.
Jensen finds his clothes, has them on and he’s leaving, yeah, he’s about to leave, but then Jared stirs. Sometimes Jared can’t sleep without having nightmares and he needs to be calmed down, needs his back rubbed or something or else he’ll wake up in tears and won’t sleep for days. Damn. Jensen eases back into the bed with him. He doesn’t even kick his sneakers off first, even though he knows Jared has this ‘thing’ with shoes on the bed. He hates that, hates shoes to come into contact with anywhere that he has to lay in or on, which means the couch too.
“Shh, it’s okay. Go to sleep, go to sleep.” Jensen whispers running his fingers through Jared’s hair. Damn, it’s soft. Jared smells like candy and Jensen closes his eyes. Damn. He’s staying. Fuck, he can’t leave him, can’t leave this. Damn. Maybe this is love. Yeah, this is. Fuck, if you love someone or something you’re supposed to let them -it, go, right? Jensen remembers that from some book he read back when he used to read them. Maybe he should let Jared go. Maybe he won’t, maybe he’s too selfish to. Maybe he’s just scared of being alone.
Outside, Jensen hears the first rumble of thunder. Finally, rain. He kicks off his sneakers, pulls Jared closer and waits for sleep to pull him under. Fuck, he's a selfish bastard. At least he knows it. At least somebody loves him.
/FIN
FEEDBACK IS LOVELY AND AWESOMELY ENCOURAGED!
PODFIC by Lunchee
.Complete Fiction List new updates found.friend @
maddys_slash
Author:
caramel_maddy@
maddys_slash
Pairing/Characters: Jared / Jensen, minor Jeffrey Dean Morgan / John Schneider, Chad M. Murray
Summary: Alternative Universe. Addicts in love.
Word Count: 3,020
Rating / Warning: Strong R, some sexual situations, drug usage.
A/N: The style of this story is different from how I usually write, inspired by 'My Loose Thread' which is pretty much one, long ramble of a story. This is a VERY belated birthday present for my twin
tabularassawho wanted angst, drugs and 'maleness' in a love story. Girl, I can say a million things about you, but you already know just how much I adore you and our odd-instant connection. You can have my babies. Or this fic two weeks late lol.
PODFIC by Lunchee
Son Et Lumiere:
A Story About Surrealism
They used to dream about the sun. Now they do not dream. Dreaming is for assholes and puppets, people with time and clean hands. They sit in respective silence listening to the thump-thump-thumpty-thump of reverberated heartbeats. Sounds like strings on a guitar strumming, or veins being pierced or sand pouring from an hourglass. Something random and pointless. It’s hot out today. The kind of hot that melts the plastic and vinyl lacing of car dashboards. The smell inside of the vehicle is like burnt tires and lit matches. Doesn’t matter anyway, the fucking Chevy won’t even start up. They sit in silence cutting and pressing lines into the half-cracked mirror of a discarded Cover Girl matte compact. Neither of them wear makeup -they’re men, just need a smooth surface. Thank God for Jared’s baby sister and her ever-vain ways. The man on the news this morning said it was supposed to rain today. Finally. Hasn’t rained in Texas for a week. That’s like death for most things living out in the middle of nowhere. This dry ass day could use a little moisture, something to push away the feeling of choke and cram every time you breathe. Jensen doesn’t think it will rain though. Jensen Ackles thinks the man on the news is a goddamn liar because it’s almost three in the afternoon and the sky still blazes. ‘Clouds of fire’, his mama used to say, ‘means the devil’s out playing and planning’.
“We’re gonna run out soon,” Jared says. His hair is dark, and long -falls to his shoulders where the ends curl under, and dirty. He smells like candy, gummy-bears and cherry drops. He’s a sweet kid, barely nineteen, too tall, rail-like and Jensen feels three shakes awful for letting him in. Truth was he got lonely, craved the company, lives off the adoration. Jared adores him. And Jared gives great head, great fucking head and he makes him laugh.
“Don’t worry. Got a plan.”
“What is it?” He inhales. Who knew you could sniff heroin? This is pure shit, still brown. Jared never knew it didn’t only come up right and white. Highs better than cocaine, lasts longer, feels sweeter. Jared hates needles anyway, fucking awful things.
“Don’t worry,” Jensen leans across Jared’s lap. “I’ll look out for you.” Glances up, licks his lips. They make eye contact and smile. ‘This isn’t love’, Jensen says to himself. Just a good time. He inhales. He prefers needles -misses his ‘works’ like they‘re old friends, but he doesn’t want to scare Jared off. He can wait out the handful of minutes.
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
“You do, don’t you?” Jared’s smile is awful. It hurts Jensen to see it because it’s so beautiful. Jared Padalecki and his straight, white teeth and his rosy cheeks and his catlike green-gray-blue-brown-plethora colored eyes that don’t just look at you, but stare, soak through your skin and bone like acid rain. Hits you right in the gut. He’s so awfully perfect. Jensen should leave him while he can; he knows he’s no good for him. It’s just he gets so lonely, so awfully lonely.
And Jared is company. Jared gives great head.
* * *
Jared hates this place, hates how the men look at him. They’re all like pigs, stuffed pigs, even the ones that are as thin as skeletons. Bastard pigs, fucking vile, bastard creatures with claws for fingernails and shit-breath.
“Oh, you‘re a tall drink,” one of them says. “Bareback?”
“Fuck off.” Jared dismisses him, holds onto Jensen’s hand as they make their way through the crowd. This isn’t really a crowd, only twenty or so people, but Chad’s apartment is small and twenty people is a whole fucking lot.
“Be nice,” Jensen whispers. He holds Jared’s hand tighter. Jared is his and he doesn’t like to share. “He might want in later.”
“I don’t like it when it’s people I don’t know. You said it would only be-”
“Shh!” Jensen turns around, narrows his bottle-green eyes at Jared. Damn. He’s gorgeous. Even in this place where everything is ugly Jared is. . .he’s different. He doesn’t belong here, not with the rest of them. Jared‘s not corrupted, yet. Poor thing. “Money is money. We could use it.”
“But I don’t -oh, fuck it.” Jared gives up, keeps quiet as they walk out into the back patio.
Jensen feels like he’s leading Jared into hell. Fuck, he probably is. He’s a Tuesday afternoon soul-collector. It still hasn’t rained yet. Fucking newsman, liar.
Chad Michael Murray will fuck anything that walks. He’s not your typical faggot. He’s worse because he’ll fuck anything. Anything. Jared’s even heard stories about Chad and farm animals, but some things are too nasty to be true. Too nasty. How can a horse dick fit inside of a man anyway? That’s like a bear trying to sleep in a beehive. Fucking rumors, everybody always saying shit just to be sensational.
“Boys,” Chad yells like they’re fifty feet away and not right in front of him. “I’m glad you showed up this time.” Chad’s hair is short now, shaved and his ears look funny exposed. Naturally he has light hair, but his latest trick has convinced him to bleach it. The tricks’ a stylist up in Austin and he did it for free, Jared thinks anyway. Chad’s hair is almost white and he wears too much product. Jared thinks the ‘Caesar’ haircut is the gayest of all haircuts. Chad doesn’t seem gay though, not when you talk to him, not at first. It’s when you look at him you can tell. He doesn’t walk soft. It’s that damn, white-yellow hair and those hoop earrings. That, and the silver glitter speckled across his cheeks. Typical faggot, but worse. He’ll fuck anything.
“Didn’t have a choice, did we?” Jensen replies with a roll of the eyes. It’s not that he hates Chad, he just has little patience for him. Chad’s a loose cannon, a tweaker, binges and runs off at the mouth. He’s a liability, but right now he’s Jensen’s only source of income. He’ll play nice, for now.
“Party’s not ready yet. Still waiting for Jeff and John to get here. Can’t start without them now, can we?”
“Guess not,” Jensen drawls. He’s still holding onto Jared’s hand. Jared’s still holding onto his.
This isn’t love, Jensen tell himself. He just doesn’t want to lose Jared, not in this crowd.
* * *
Jeff and John are a strange couple Jared thinks as he steps into the shower. They’re the same in height, but Jeff’s looks are darker, black-Irish Jensen said and John’s a yella-blond. He might come from Germany, might not. Nordic? Probably not. Jeff and John like for Jensen and Jared to be clean, completely clean inside and out. Soap fresh. They make them shower separately, John says because he doesn’t want any time to be wasted. They pay by the hour and surely boys as attractive as them do not have any self-control and can’t go fifteen minutes without touching each other. John is right, Jared can’t help himself. Jensen’s just so sturdy and slender and perfect and freckled. Every place on Jensen’s body is freckled, even his upper thighs. Jensen has strong upper thighs, even if he thinks his legs are too skinny, to Jared they’re the perfect size, perfect fit. Like a key into a lock everything settles, fits.
When he steps out of the bathroom, a towel draped precariously across his waist, the first thing he sees is Jensen splayed across Chad‘s too big for the small room bed. He’s wearing a towel too, his hair still wet from the shower, a few lengthy strands spilling across his forehead. Damn, he’s twenty-three, but he barely looks sixteen. Jared thinks if Jensen would cut his hair a little shorter he’d actually look his age because the bangs are what makes him look like a high school junior.
“You ready?” Jensen mouths to him. Jared glances to his left, glances to his right. He sees them, sees Jeff and John and Anthony and Anthony‘s boyfriend J.W. -John Wesley. Out of all the guys who pay to watch him fuck Jensen, Anthony is the one that makes him the most uncomfortable. Anthony’s eyes are beady and he’s from England so when he talks to you his speech is clipped with an air of authority. Jared doesn’t know what Anthony does in his ‘real life’, but in his ‘pretend life’ he’s just another dirty, old man paying to watch two young guys fuck for an hour.
“I never am,” Jared admits as he crawls on top of Jensen. He’s trying his best to block out the sound of Jeff’s hand stroking John’s cock. He’s trying to pretend that there isn’t four naked men -most of who are the same age as his father, paying them a few sullied dollar bills to screw without a condom. Fucking perverts is what they all are. Fucking perverts.
“Close your eyes baby,” Jensen says spreading his legs. Jared sinks right into him, his chest against Jensen’s. Jensen smells clean and fresh and as their lips meet, Jared does forget about everyone else. He doesn’t hear Jeffrey’s mouth working its way around the girth of John’s cock. John Schneider has a big dick, too big Jensen thinks as he begins to pull at Jared’s towel. Unlike Jared, Jensen loves an audience. He thinks in a past life he must have been an actor or something because he loves being watched. That doesn’t mean he wants those dirty motherfuckers to touch him though. No, never again. He’s found someone now. He’s not lonely anymore.
It’s not love though. No. Never. Jared just-
His hands are wide and strong. They fumble with Jensen’s towel until it’s open and all that’s left separating their two bodies is skin. “I love you,” Jared whispers into Jensen’s neck.
Jensen cums without being touched. He can’t help it, he does, shoots a pitiful load against Jared’s stomach.
Damn. Maybe this is love. Maybe he should let him go. Maybe Jensen’s too selfish to.
* * *
Fucking Chad, fucking Chad Michael Murray and his fucking ‘new thrills’. Jensen decides he wants to kill him for giving Jared the X. Jared is someone who naturally can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Jared is someone who naturally craves human contact, thrives off affection. Jared is someone who you should not give Ecstasy too, no, not him, not ever. He probably shouldn’t be using heroin either, but at least with that it just makes him calm. Excuses, all bullshit excuses.
“Touch me,” Jared says peeling off his clothes.
“Shh, my folks are downstairs!” Tonight they stay with Donna and Alan Ackles. It still hasn’t rained yet. Donna’s the organist at the church up on Millers Road. Alan is an honest man, makes his money the old fashion Texas way. He’s a politician, or something like that. The Ackles are a good, God fearing, happy family. They do not acknowledge that their youngest son is a junky just as they don’t acknowledge his homosexual behavior. ‘Just a phase’, his mother has been saying since Jensen was fourteen, ‘just confused. . .it’ll go away. . .pray on it baby, just pray on it’. Bullshit, all bullshit. They love their son. He’s always welcomed home, even if he’s high or just wants to steal something. He’s just not allowed to talk about his deviant lifestyle, no, never.
“I, I need to feel you,” Jared bites Jensen’s ear, presses him against his childhood bedroom wall. There are posters of baseball players and old movie stills everywhere. From Leo Durocher to ‘Rebel Without A Cause’. Yeah, Jared imagines Jensen wasn’t hidden very well in the closet, not with all the ‘gay’ everywhere.
Jared is fascinated with ‘gay’ and all the ‘gay things’. Until he met Jensen he wasn’t aware that such a thing existed, such a thing that wasn’t supposed to be filthy and in secret. Lies. He was told lies growing up. Lies by his parents’ -the good teacher and straight-laced tax accountant. Lies by all of his friends: ‘You gotta go to college to have a good life. You can’t be happy staying home, here, not in Texas’. Lies by his pastor, his church: ‘Yadda, yadda, wrong, yadda, yadda right.’ Lies. Everyone in his entire life has told him lies. Everyone except for Jensen.
Jared would kill for him. He hasn’t known him for more than five months, but he would, he truly, truly would. All Jensen would have to do was ask. He loves him, loves him more than any and everything in the whole, wide world. That makes him gay, queer. He’s fascinated by this new revelation. He picks the word ‘homosexual’ apart until he’s left with nothing. It’s just a word anyway, doesn’t mean much. Just a word. He loves how he feels, how Jensen makes him feel. Love. . .just another fucking word, too.
“I, I, I feel like I’m on fire! Touch me Jensen, just touch me! Anywhere, anywhere baby, any fucking where. . .please!” Jared can barely get the words out of his mouth before Jensen is dropping to his knees.
Fuck. Whatever baby wants, baby gets. Jared is baby. Jared gets his way.
* * *
Another morning. Another day. Another fucking day. Too hot Jensen thinks as he yawns, stretches. Hasn’t rained yet. Damn it. Jared sleeps soundly beside him, snoring. Fucking big baby. He’s cute though. Damn, Jensen doesn’t want to feel this, doesn’t want to feel so much. . .responsibility? Yeah. That’s it. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s the one bringing Jared down. He is though, he knows it. This makes him an asshole. Jared ‘s turning into a junky, a fiend and it’s all Jensen’s fault.
He feels it. He feels that thing called ‘guilt’ and ‘regret’. He should have left him alone, shouldn’t have walked up to him that night in the bar. Poor thing, didn’t even know he was in a queer establishment, just wanted a drink, other place wouldn’t give him a P.B.R. Damn, that was . . .that was six months ago. Six months ago on the eighth. Damn, what’s today’s date? The ninth. Shit, day after, day late, missed the mark. Jared probably remembered it though, Jared’s good at remembering things, things like numbers and dates and names and faces. He’s like a genius or something. He’s brilliant and beautiful and Jensen decides he’s going to leave him. He’s no good for Jared, no good at all. He should call up Jared’s parents, tell them everything, tell them how their son is a druggie and needs help. Maybe Jared will get better. Fuck, maybe not. Maybe Jensen doesn’t want him to, doesn’t want him to because then Jared will leave. Shit, Jared needs to leave though. This is not a life you’d wish for someone you love.
Jensen gets up. He’s quiet, slips from underneath the sheets like some kind of ghost. Maybe he’s a monster. Maybe he’s the boogeyman. He can feel the sun warming the bare skin of his back slithering through the parted curtains as he scours the floor for his clothes. That’s how he remembers that he’s human because he can feel the warmth of the sun, he can still feel the warmth. If he leaves now, Jared will find the note, the note written on a torn piece of newspaper. The note that says:
GO HOME. GET BETTER!! -J.R.
For the first time in his life Jensen’s going to do something good for someone else. He doesn’t want to though, doesn’t want to send Jared away, but he will, just this once. He needs to save him, doesn’t need for him to be like this, like him, corrupted.
Jensen’s not altogether immoral, yet. He will be soon though, he will be. He’s going to kill Chad later, kill him for a lot of things, most for giving Jared the X, and his first hit of Black Tar. Fucking Chad, Chad gives everyone anything. Typical faggot, just wants to be liked, wants to be included so he excludes. Maybe Jensen won’t kill Chad, maybe he’ll just hit him really, really hard, steal his stash and then hop on a Greyhound. Maybe he’ll head to California, become an actor, and get on a soap opera or something. Maybe not. Either way he’s done with this, done screwing around with this kid, this poor kid who looks something like an angel while he sleeps.
Jensen finds his clothes, has them on and he’s leaving, yeah, he’s about to leave, but then Jared stirs. Sometimes Jared can’t sleep without having nightmares and he needs to be calmed down, needs his back rubbed or something or else he’ll wake up in tears and won’t sleep for days. Damn. Jensen eases back into the bed with him. He doesn’t even kick his sneakers off first, even though he knows Jared has this ‘thing’ with shoes on the bed. He hates that, hates shoes to come into contact with anywhere that he has to lay in or on, which means the couch too.
“Shh, it’s okay. Go to sleep, go to sleep.” Jensen whispers running his fingers through Jared’s hair. Damn, it’s soft. Jared smells like candy and Jensen closes his eyes. Damn. He’s staying. Fuck, he can’t leave him, can’t leave this. Damn. Maybe this is love. Yeah, this is. Fuck, if you love someone or something you’re supposed to let them -it, go, right? Jensen remembers that from some book he read back when he used to read them. Maybe he should let Jared go. Maybe he won’t, maybe he’s too selfish to. Maybe he’s just scared of being alone.
Outside, Jensen hears the first rumble of thunder. Finally, rain. He kicks off his sneakers, pulls Jared closer and waits for sleep to pull him under. Fuck, he's a selfish bastard. At least he knows it. At least somebody loves him.
/FIN
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