FIC: You're The Whip In My Valise
HI. I SLEEP NOW. RESPOND TO COMMENTYS AND FEEDBACKY PEOPLE LATER. I HAVE NO BRAIN LEFT, I'M AFRAID SOMEONE ATED IT D:
Title: You're The Whip In My Valise
Characters/Pairings: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17, and I really mean it.
Word Count: 9,650
Warnings: BDSM, spankings, boys in corsets, bucketloads of kink.
Notes/Credits: For reel_spn, A J2 version of the movie Secretary. Probably the kinkiest thing I've ever written. EVER.
Disclaimer: So not mine :(
Summary: Jared Padalecki just wanted a nice, boring, normal secretarial job. What he gets, is something entirely different. Along the way, he finds himself.
You're The Whip In My Valise
When Jared gets released from the hospital, his mother is there to pick him up, hugging and kissing and smiling. He tosses his green duffel bag into the trunk and just kind of tumbles into the backseat, taking it over with his long legs and gangly frame. His mother eyes him from the rearview mirror, red lipstick uneven on one side, but he doesn't say anything. Sprawls and feels the sun on his face.
"So, sweetie, are you better now?" She breaks the silence.
"I guess."
"Are you still sad?"
"No." He's not anything. He's got percoset for flesh and valproic acid for blood.
"Are you still… doing it?" Still can't bring herself to put it in words, he almost laughs.
"No."
"Are you still gay, sweetie?" She whispers, as if there was anyone else in the car, or his father could hear them from wherever he was. Stinking drunk.
"Yes." He says, unflinching.
"Oh…"
***
His older brother's wedding seems to go on forever. At every minute there's another relative introduced to him, another single secretary who tickles his palm and smiles too much.
Sandy McCoy, from his high school, is there too. She's got little white flowers in her hair, and she looks nicer than the bride so none of the girls are allowed to talk to her. So sayeth Jared's new sister-in-law, who used to baby-sit him and won't let him forget about the time he cried during My Stepmother Is An Alien.
Jared brings Sandy madeline cookies and cups of honey-raspberry tea, and they hide from people in the kitchen. She tells him about college. He tells her about the guy he knew in the hospital, Chad something-something, he actually never caught his last name through the lithium haze, but he was fun. He knew lots of dirty jokes and Jared fucked him after-hours when the nurses weren't around. But she doesn't need to know that. He just tells her he was a good friend, and not an easy lay who was totally closeted, but traded spare meds for blowjobs.
His father pats him on the back and hands him a brochure for a trade school. He smells like bourbon and vomit, and Jared shivers and goes up to his room. He takes a handful of pills and calms down, tries to ignore the sounds of his parents shouting in the kitchen and his little sister crying in the bathroom.
He tears up the trade school flyer, and flips through his mother's magazines until he finds an ad for typing school.
***
It's raining when he gets there on a Monday morning. His mother pulls up to the curb and tries to wish him luck, but he's already out of the car. He opens his royal purple umbrella, the only splash of color against the gray and weary day.
Long legs two-step along the driveway, against the puddles and they send water splattering in every direction. Clip-clop, splish-splash. Past the sign which reads "J. Ross Ackles, Esq." And below it, a little neon part that says "Secretary Wanted".
So there he finds himself, at the door of the lawyer's office, Jared Padalecki, former patient of a mental hospital, now well enough to function in society. Typing-school graduate, with a personal best of 70 words per minute. Employable.
He rings the bell, waits a minute, and rings again. His hand grips the umbrella handle tighter, was there a light on inside? Was he at the wrong address? But there's an answer, a wobbly and sad little "Yes?"
"Hi!" He breathes into the intercom, "I'm here about the job, the-the secretary job, in the paper. I, um, hope I'm at the right place, is it still open?"
There's a sort of muffled, indeterminable sound over the intercom. And then the door clicks open, Jared closes his umbrella and walks inside.
The office looks like it was hit by a hurricane, papers and folders and a scattered rolodex pieces on the floor. Garbage cans turned over, coffee staining the west wall, shattered bits of mug on the floor.
A woman turns the corner of a little hallway, her eyes wet and streaked with mascara and tears. She's carrying a cardboard box, of papers and knickknacks and gives him a look, a sad, pathetic look. And as she leaves, she turns and in a broken voice she says, "Mr. Ackles wants to see you." And nods him towards the hallway.
Jared carefully steps over the debris of office supplies and wanders down the hallway. It's much neater than the reception area, ornate and simple, eastern art and cold colors. Pumice buddhas and jade figurines on shelves.
There's a big, huge, red wooden door at the end of the hall. Jared knocks, just two quick taps and it's opened by a man.
***
Mr. J. Ross Ackles eyes him carefully, adjusts the wire-rimmed glasses on his face.
"70 words per minute?"
"Yes."
"No previous secretarial, administrative assistant, or receptionist experience?"
"No."
"No college degree, no answer for the four year gap on your resume, no employment since several part-time jobs in high school."
"No."
"And… you're a guy."
Jared swallows, "Yes."
"You, really want to be my secretary? It's boring, tedious, endlessly uninteresting work. You want that?"
Jared leans forward, "I want that, very much, Mr. Ackles." He looks him dead in the eye and smiles, fills his mouth with charm and charisma.
"I want to be your secretary."
***
Jared goes outside to his mother's car, purple umbrella bobbing up and down as he jogs to her. She rolls down the window, the radio's on and the engine's still running. She smiles at him, wearing her too-big sunglasses that hide the dark circles under her eyes.
"How'd it go sweet-?"
"I got the job. You can go home now." Jared turns arounds and she calls to him.
"Oh! Oh! Oh sweetie, th-that's wonderful! Do you need a ride home, Jared? Honey?" Jared's shoulders slump and he looks over his shoulder.
"You can come back at 5."
Jared's mom stays in the car at the curb all day, regardless.
***
Jared's on the floor, on his hands and knees, stacking and alphabetizing the folders and re-filing the displaced rolodex cards. Mr. Ackles leans against the wall and watches him, legs and arms crossed, almost like he's holding himself in place.
"Answer the phone, 'J. Ross Ackles' office.' Nothing else. No, 'How may I help you?' or anything. Keep it simple."
"Mmmm hmm." Jared looks up and nods as he speaks.
"Call a painter, under 'P' in the rolodex. They close in an hour, you'll want to catch them today. I want them here tomorrow to paint over the stains on the wall. I want it in 1 part toasted marmalade, 2 parts eggshell white. They'll know. Have them send me an invoice, original copy only, not a fax. I need it in ink."
"Mmmm hmm."
"You come in at 9 am, no later, though earlier is acceptable, there's no overtime pay. You are to leave exactly at 5 o'clock, not earlier nor later. I leave at 5:30, but tell all clients, callers and deliveries that I leave at 4. I don't see or speak with anybody after 4. Be sure if you have a question, you ask it before then, I will only call you into my office if there is an emergency."
"Mmmm hmm."
"I take my coffee black, no sugar, never decaf, at: 9:15, 10:30, 1:45, 2 and 3 o'clock. Before 4, I will have a cup of green tea: no milk, just two teaspoons of honey, no comb. The last secretary put bits of comb in, which is simply," Mr. Ackles sighs, rubbing his temples, "unacceptable."
Jared smiles at him, "I hate honeycomb bits too."
Mr. Ackles rests his hand against his mouth and leaves the room.
***
Sandy comes over for dinner and asks Jared about his new job. He doesn't say much, just shrugs and eats more mashed potatoes that aren't really mashed all the way through. His brother flirts viciously with her whenever his new wife isn't paying attention. She's too nice and just giggles his affections off.
Jared sleeps that night and doesn't dream, the lithium kills any images that might want to wander through his head.
***
His first full day is a disaster waiting to happen, starting with his mother driving him in late, and continuing her curbside vigil. Mr. Ackles has him type and retype everything at least three times, even if there's only one typo. The phone won't stop ringing, and Jared wants to pull it out of the wall. Mr. Ackles catches him chewing gum, and picks up a garbage can, making him spit it out like a kid in high school.
The week continues much like Tuesday, Mr. Ackles criticizes everything about Jared. His chewing, the little humming noises he makes when he's reading, the way he scratches his nose-constantly. Jared had never realized he had so many habits, or as Mr. Ackles called them, "nervous tics". Jared is required to wear all black, so he goes out and buys purple and blue and dark orange ties so at least he can match the décor. His hair is an "unruly mess" according to Mr. Ackles, so he has it cut a little, but the bangs still bother the lawyer. So he slicks it back, and tries to remember to comb it before he leaves the house.
Friday comes around and he's really about it lose it when Mr. Ackles asks him for a file Jared could've sworn he asked him to shred on Thursday. It's been raining all damn week, and Jared sighs and marches outside sans purple umbrella. Jared rolls up his sleeves, and jumps into the dumpster, shifting through bags and bags of garbage and shredding. He finally figures out which is the right bag by reading through strips of tiny type. He looks up, and he can swear he sees Mr. Ackles watching him from his office window.
When he goes inside, he peeks in Mr. Ackles office to tell him he's found it, and Mr. Ackles is doing pushups. Furiously doing pushups, grunting and breathing hard. Jared looks away and feels his face burn.
His hair is a mess and he's dripping wet and sitting on the floor of the reception area, putting together the file, like a massive jigsaw puzzle, taping up the matching pieces. Mr. Ackles clears his throat and Jared looks up.
"I found my backup copy. So you can stop now. And-" Mr. Ackles slurps down the dregs of his coffee, "It's one minute to 3." He leaves the empty mug on Jared's desk and saunters back to his office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Jared bursts into the bathroom, splashing water on his face and shaking, trying not to scream. Nothing works on him! Nothing Jared does or says or the jokes he cracks, the moments he tries to have an actual connection with him, even shamelessly flirting, nothing! Jared's practically throwing himself at the guy, and he's not even blinking.
Jared locks himself in a bathroom stall and shoves down a handful of antidepressants and tranquilizers. The rest of the day goes by in a colorless haze. He throws up when he gets home and sleeps like a dead man.
***
That weekend Sandy invites him out to do laundry, it's nice being with her, she's closer to his level, easier to understand. They get each other.
She's a sweetheart with a brilliant smile and a wicked sense of humor paired with the sunniest disposition he's ever encountered. She tells him she wants him with every touch, every stalled breath.
"Jared?" She asks while folding her tiny pink t-shirts. "Do you think that you, um… that you like both?"
Jared raises an eyebrow.
"Both, y'know? Boys and girls. Both." She clarifies.
He presses his lips together and avoids her gaze, her sunshine smoothed smile, "Yeah, I like girls too." He lies.
***
A severe woman comes into the office on Monday.
Severe blunt, blond, bob haircut. Severe expression highlighted by a angular swathe of green and blue eye shadow on each lid. She stares down at him like a bird of prey atop of rocky crag, and Jared swears he can hear the violins from The Wizard of Oz denoting the presence of the Wicked Witch.
"Can I… help you?" He says under her predatory scrutiny.
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"Excuse me-"
"Question or a statement?"
"Um, a question?"
"Submissive." She sniffs, looking down the empty hall. "Where is he?"
Submissive, he rolls the word around his mouth, and sees her moving towards the hall. Jared jumps up and blocks her.
"Where is he?" She repeats, her voice a little louder this time, looking over his shoulder. Severe manicure, pointy red talons tapping against her designer handbag.
It's after 4, "Mr. Ackles is gone for the day-"
She scoffs, "Still pulling that 4 o'clock bullshit-JENSEN!" She yells. "JEN-SEN! Jensen Ross Ackles, you get the hell out here! Fucking COWARD!"
She's so loud, Jared wants to cover his ears but he's seriously afraid she might vivisect him with her sharp red nails, tear into his throat. She stomps her feet and screams for about two minutes, cursing and calling him a slime, a cowardly worm. She eventually huffs and spins on her stiletto heels.
"Tell him to sign the fucking papers already." She says reaching for the knob.
"What papers?" Jared practically whispers.
"Divorce papers." She says, slamming the door, taking the angry violins with her.
Jared peeks down the hallway, shuffles quietly towards Mr. Ackles' office, and taps on the door. "Mr. Ackles?" He asks carefully. Something in him tells him to break the rules and open the door.
The office is empty, quiet, Zen garden fountain humming in the background.
"Is… she gone?" A small, almost unrecognizable voice asks.
"Yes." He says quietly.
Mr. Ackles peeks up from his desk, he must have been hiding underneath. He adjusts his glasses, smoothes down his suit, and sits at his desk, hands clasped together.
"Thank you Jared, that will be all for today."
Jared bites his lip, "But it's not 5 o'clock yet?"
"You can leave early today, Jared." Mr. Ackles stares at a spot on his desk, before turning up to meet his eyes. He takes off his glasses and Jared is almost stunned by how very green they are, against the red veins brought on by stress. "Maybe go take the long way home, walk through the park. Relax, enjoy yourself a little, Jared." His mouth settles in what Jared can only assume is as close to a smile as he'll get.
***
Jared almost stops to get in his mother's car, but instead he just leans down and tells her he's walking home from now on.
He walks through the park, by himself, and feels a release. Something inside him just feels right, about doing what Mr. Ackles said. Like, he's giving him permission to feel like this, to relax, enjoy the sun and the grass.
Jared doesn't realize, until he gets home and he counts his pills, that he didn't take his afternoon's dosage. He doesn't really want to.
That night, his dreams are blotches of color, and words he can't understand. It's a start, though. Something else edges closer, some clarity hovers in the horizon.
He feels like a spark that's just been lit.
***
Tuesday rolls around again, one full week into his job. His Dad was drinking at 8 o'clock when he left the house, breath smelling of whiskey and Raisin Bran. His mother doesn't drive him in, doesn't even offer and won't look up from the one dish she's been washing for the past twenty minutes. His little sister is pale and sick-looking, stealing outside to smoke Parliaments as he leaves.
He runs out of coffee filters and has to go to the store, misses about two-dozen calls and has to listen to and transcribe verbatim every voicemail message for Mr. Ackles. He gets that ball of panic in his chest, and that voice in his ear telling him he can't do anything right, that it's all wrong, wrong, wrong.
So he trips over his swivel-chair and stumbles into the bathroom and fuck, he just wants to crush the pills up on the counter and snort them, because then they'll get into his head quicker. He looks up and Mr. Ackles' reflection is in the mirror, he gasps and turns and he's gone, door swinging gently behind where he stood moments ago.
Jared's moving through water, pushing against imaginary resistance as he sits back at his little desk. Clasps his hands and tries not to tremble too much. He actually hasn't taken his antidepressants, his mood stabilizers, his tranquilizers, not one pill since yesterday afternoon. And he feels withdrawal, feels shaking in his hands and legs and tears at the edges of his eyes.
The intercom buzzes and Mr. Ackles asks him into the office. Jared grabs a legal pad and a pen and stalks through the water, up to his chin, pushing the heavy wood door with weak, atrophied muscles.
Mr. Ackles is sitting on his black leather couch, a plain file folder in his lap. He pats the empty spot next to him. Jared sits, facing forward, hands on his knees, heart beating like a war-drum.
Mr. Ackles points to the file and asks him, "Do you know what this is?" Jared shakes his head no. "This is, your data sheet. Like a permanent record, I ran a background check on you when you signed the consent form, and it just came on Monday, after you left."
Jared has got to stop signing things without reading them. He stares at his hands, how neatly they fit over his kneecaps. The shine on his nice dress shoes. The pinstripes on his pants.
"Now, it doesn't go into details, that would violate doctor-patient privileges. However, it does tell me you were in a particular hospital for about the past two years. What you may not know, is that I've dealt with this particular establishment before, and I know they tend to fall on the conservative side of certain issues. I represented a young man, much like yourself, who took his parents to court to file for a custodial separation. It seems they sent him there for treatment, when there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. They objected to the fact that he was a homosexual, and sought to cure him. While he stayed at the hospital, he underwent a lot of controversial drug therapy and-"
"I'm not like him." Jared interrupts, biting his mouth shut afterwards, teeth digging into the inside of his lips.
"Not like what?"
"I'm not-I'm better now."
"Oh. And what were you before?"
A nymphomaniac, he thinks. "Sick."
Mr. Ackles touches his shoulder and he faces him, finally. So very green…
"Were you sick? Jared, there's no shame in who you are, none at all. You shouldn't hide-"
"I'm still gay." He blurts out. "I'm clinically depressed bi-polar with compulsive erotomaniacal tendencies. Which means that when my father would drink and beat the life out of my mother, I'd go have anonymous sex with guys in bars. I'm not ashamed to be gay, no matter what the doctors said. I just need help with… control." Jared blinks a few times. Jensen's expression never changes, it really is frustrating.
"I see…" Mr. Ackles nods and releases his shoulder, and Jared almost lets out a whimper.
Mr. Ackles is the first guy to touch him like that since he left the hospital.
"But I've always wondered," Jared laughs bitterly, "If I was messing around with cheerleaders in the lockeroom, would my parents have thought it was a problem? Would they have still had me committed?"
"I was a cheerleader." Mr. Ackles raises an eyebrow.
Jared wonders if he could make room under his desk to hide. Before he can mumble an apology, Mr. Ackles stands and pats his shoulder. "Nevermind, vanilla or chocolate?"
"Huh?"
"Vanilla or chocolate?"
"Ummm," Jared looks back at his hands, weaving over themselves, fingers lacing together. "Chocolate." He says, and it's not a question, it's a statement. He smiles.
Mr. Ackles nods and turns to the big red door, pauses.
There's a twinge, almost unnoticeable by the both of them, but a crackle in the air, and Mr. Ackles' mood changes along with the timbre of his voice. Softer, but in a way, harder around the edges. Forceful.
"Stay right there, don't move." He leaves.
And those words, don't move rattle in Jared's head, freezing his palms to his knees, stalling his fidgeting fingers, straightening his back against the couch. He could move, he knows he could jump up and down or slump back in the couch, but he doesn't.
He doesn't want to.
It's almost as if he's testing himself. He's never been one for sitting still, the hospital misdiagnosed him with anxiety and attention disorders before finally settling on compulsivity. He wonders if he can do it, really just stay there, perfectly still, unmoving. Blinking and breathing the only luxuries allowed.
And he does. He really does stay in place the entire time Mr. Ackles is gone, until he returns with a chocolate milkshake from the diner down the block. "Here," he says, holding it out. "You can relax, Jared." And he does.
Mr. Ackles laughs quietly, "Did you… Did you really stay still the entire time?"
Yes. Because you told me to. Because you wanted me to. Because you let me.
Jared shrugs, "Nah, not really. I guess that's what it-"
"Take off your tie."
Jared's finger is at the knot before he can ask, "Why?"
"It's hideous, take it off. Undo the first two buttons." Mr. Ackles puts his cup down on the desk, and reaches into his desk, pulling out a Polaroid camera from a drawer. He reaches down and ruffles the coif and gel out of Jared's hair, so his bangs fall down like they normally would. Jared can't really speak.
He steps back, appraises Jared on the couch, and Jared awkwardly tries to pose, until Mr. Ackles says, "Something funny."
"What?" He says laughing just slightly, and the camera flashes, capturing his smile. Mr. Ackles pulls it out and pockets the developing photo. Then he grabs his cup and joins Jared back on the couch.
"I'm glad we had this talk. I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me when there's a problem, Jared." He sips his drink.
Mr. Ackles is so odd and distant and even when he tries to be close to him, he's as socially awkward as Jared. And his eyes are very, very green.
"What did you get?"
"Hmm?"
"Vanilla or chocolate?"
"Both." Mr. Ackles turns to look at him. "I like both."
***
Jared and Sandy go out for spaghetti at her friend's restaurant that night. He drinks too much red wine and tells her she has really shiny hair. She doesn't drink enough and has to hold his hand and drag him out of the restaurant when it's time to leave, laughing all the way.
She's sober enough to notice the older gentleman, staring at them with sharp green eyes and a worried, nervous expression. But she doesn't mention it to Jared.
He kisses her cheek at the door but misses and pecks her nose instead. Then stumbles inside the house and realizes it's been two whole days without meds and tomorrow will be three.
***
Jensen takes the picture of Jared, and hides it among his orchids.
***
Mr. Ackles is holding a red sharpie when Jared is called into his office that morning. In fact, there's now an entire jar of them on his desk. The laptop computer and the other miscellaneous papers and folders have been cleared from his desk. All that remains is the jar of red pens, and a white piece of paper Jared recognizes as a memo he typed last Wednesday.
Jared suddenly notices the quiet in the room, in the office, in the world at large.
He inches closer to Mr. Ackles' desk, where he sits, pen clasped between two hands, folded neatly in front of his face. He peers over the desk, the letter has been marked for grammatical and spelling errors. He recognizes the marks from typing school, MLA standard.
"Yes?" He asks.
Mr. Ackles pauses. Just stares at him, but he feels the mood change again, that soft timbre is back in his voice. "Place your hands on the desk, flat, on either side of the letter."
Jared blinks and does so, leaning over, just slightly, to compensate for his height.
"Step back, so that your body is parallel to the desk." So much for that thought, and Jared stretches so that he's literally leaning flat over the white piece of paper, marred with fresh red sharpie ink that he can still smell. Mr. Ackles stands up and walks behind him.
"Read the letter. Aloud."
Jared clears his throat, "Dear Mr. Garvey: I am very grateful to you for referring…" And on the word "referring" Jared feels a hard, fast smack on his ass. The air cracks and it makes a wonderful, satisfyingly sharp sound.
He feels flutters in his stomach.
"Start again," Comes the soft voice from behind him.
"D-dear Mr. Garvey:" smack.
"I am very grateful-" smack.
"-to you for re-" smack.
"FER! Referring me to-" smack.
"Ohgod… I lost my place," smack smack smack. Each harder and faster than the last. Jared finds his place and reads the letter through. Jared trembles with, something indefinable, something he's never felt before.
Something he never wants to stop feeling.
"Sin-sincerely. Ahem. Sincerely," smack.
"Mister!" smack.
"Jensen!" smack.
"Ross!" smack.
"Ackles! Ahhh!" smack. Jared drops his head on the desk, and can't move, his backside is burning with the friction. He can hear, fuck, he can hear Mr. Ackles cracking his knuckles. God he wants to turn around, kiss that man's hand.
"Now," Mr. Ackles clears his throat. "Can you correct the letter, and have it re-sent to Mr. Garvey, or would you like to go over it again?"
Jared's a puddle of mush and sensation, he's half-hard and straining against his black pants. He looks over his shoulder to see a flushed but unnerved Mr. Ackles, cleaning his glasses with his sleeve.
"Again…" He rasps.
***
Jared gets home and locks himself in the bathroom, despite Megan's protests. He pulls off his pants, his boxer-briefs, and grabs a hand mirror while standing with his back towards the one over the sink.
There are beautiful red and purple bruises flowering all over his ass. He touches them and feels a jolt run through his body, like electricity.
The parting words of Doctor Foster ring through his head:
"Jared, for you it's about control. You have none in your home life, so you seek it in others. You control sexual activities, you're physically bigger and stronger than your partners. You dominate them, and it brings you no satisfaction. You need a relationship of give and take. Find someone who isn't afraid of you. Someone who you want to listen to, you want to please them as much as they please you. Learn to let go, and let someone take care of you for a change."
That night he has his first lucid dream since before the hospital, Mr. Ackles is holding him, planting his naked body in his orchid garden.
***
Jared was willing to write it off as a fluke, a one-time moment of weakness, of strangeness, of borderline perversion. Perhaps he dreamed it, perhaps it's not something he should ever talk about again.
The day goes by sadly, uneventfully. Every time the intercom buzzes, he feels his heart rise, and sink when he's assigned a piece of busywork. It drags on, and he starts to space out, thinking about yesterday, pressing himself down in his seat and feeling the chair touching the bruises. He must not be thinking clearly, because Mr. Ackles calls him into his office at 3.
There's sugar in his coffee.
Next thing he knows, Jared is in the kitchen, hands flat on the countertop, re-brewing his coffee and the crack of Jensen's hand is back on his ass. There are tears in the corner of his eyes, and he's so hard that after it's over, he has to go to the bathroom and finish himself off. He daydreams about Mr. Ackles' hands as his own, pale and smooth and perfectly manicured. Mr. Ackles breathing down his neck, jacking him slow and smooth, yet firm. In that wonderful, soft voice he hears him murmuring into the shell of his ear. Jared has to bite down on his tie in order to muffle the scream when he comes. He uses the tie to clean himself up, and throws it away, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt and ruffling his hair a bit.
The week goes on like that, and Jared couldn't be happier.
***
Megan sits by the pool, and says she's going to marry Pete Doherty, she doesn't care that he's a hopeless smack addict, he's a lovely singer and a poet. Sandy shrugs and Jared's mother giggles. His sister-in-law tells her she can't go through life attracted to deadbeats like that. Jared finds them all there over the weekend, planning weddings that will never happen while his father and brother drink beer and work on the car. He's not really part of either group, and feels a sense of homelessness in his own home.
"Jared, when are you and Sandy going to get married?" His mother asks.
They both become preoccupied with the ground and in his head, Jared knows the answer, knows that they're fooling themselves. Sandy is lonely and Jared needs to keep his parents happy. They don't say anything, just watch a movie in the living-room, and kiss goodnight with all the platonic emotion they can muster.
It's been almost seven days without drugs or pills and Jared's dreams are wonderful. He's with Mr. Ackles, bent over his desk, while he smacks him hard, and then ghosts his hand softly over where he's hurt.
"Do what you want to me." He groans, "Whatever you want, whatever you need. I'm your secretary…" He turns into Mr. Ackles' arms, their mouths finally meeting.
That morning, before he leaves for work, he dumps out every last pill into the toilet and flushes it all away. He rips up his refill slips and eats a big bowl of cereal, ignoring his father passed out drunk on the couch, and his mother washing her single dish. He kisses her on the cheek and says, "Thanks for breakfast, Mom." Even though he fixed it himself, and Megan's the one who buys cereal.
But it's what she needed to hear, because she turns to him and smiles.
***
The more it happens, the more Jared can see the shift. Whereas at first it's detached completely from his and Mr. Ackles' working relationship, slowly it moves closer and closer to the edges of intimacy.
It starts with a touch, just after Jared has finished reading back a memo with three grammatical errors and one spelling mistake. Mr. Ackles' hand lands against his ass, hard, but lingers there. Squeezes him until he cries out in pleasure, and then leaves him.
Jared whimpers, he can't help it.
Mr. Ackles cocks an eyebrow at him the first time. But then later in the week, he doesn't use enough stamps and a letter is returned postage due.
It's different that time, Mr. Ackles pulls his tie off, and ties it around Jared's wrists, pushes him down on the desk, hard. And Jared moans with every hit. Leans into the absent caress afterwards, the pull of his hair, the tug on his shirt, he's losing his mind when Mr. Ackles finally pulls him up. He's standing straight, bundled wrists held closely to his chest. He faces him, and Mr. Ackles rips his glasses off, eyes wild.
"Tell me you don't want this." Mr. Ackles says.
Jared can't.
"Tell me you like this."
Jared looks down, his erection standing straight as proof, the flush of his cheeks, the pull of fabric against his crotch. His mouth opens just ever so slightly, but he still can't talk.
Mr. Ackles looks at him, face tight again, soft voice. He tugs at the binding of his tie until it comes lose and Jared's hands hang at his sides. "Sit on the desk," Mr. Ackles begins. "Sit on the desk and put your hands on the edges, don't move them." Jared does so.
"Spread your legs, wider." And he does, and Mr. Ackles steps in-between them, puts his forehead to Jared's and grabs his hair with both hands. Jared's arms twitch, he wants to grab him, wants to hold him in his arms, but it seems this is as close to intimacy as he'll get right now.
And it's fine, because Mr. Ackles is talking dirty, in that wonderful voice, telling him he's going to tie him up, beat his ass cherry red, bind him with leather straps and hold him down. He's going to do so many things to him, and if he misbehaves, going to punish him and make him cry and scream and Jared is filled with want, with need.
"And then, then, when you're mine. When I have your body claimed as my own, I'm going to fuck you." He breathes hard in his ear.
Jared comes screaming "Yes!"
***
It's dinnertime, and his mother is calling him, but he cups the phone and whispers to Mr. Ackles.
"Porterhouse steak, creamed potatoes, peas, iced tea to drink, and ice-cream. Coffee ice-cream."
Mr. Ackles clears his throat. "One scoop of potatoes, four peas, a glass of tea, and as much ice-cream as you want."
Jared smiles and Mr. Ackles hangs up quickly.
His family stares at him, placing all four of his peas on the prongs of his fork, and then only having a spoonful of potatoes before excusing himself. He goes upstairs with five scoops of ice-cream and falls asleep with a chill on his tongue.
***
Mr. Ackles won't kiss him, not yet, but Jared thinks it's only a matter of time before he'll taste those full lips on his tongue. He won't let Jared do any of the work. Won't accept oral sex, a handjob, any kind of intimate touch from him.
Jared tries to put it out of his mind, tries to let himself feel adored, but he worries his bottom lip when he gets so aroused and out of his mind. He's bigger than Mr. Ackles, he could just push him down, and kiss him and fuck him and do crazy things to make him scream.
But then, Mr. Ackles has to pull him down on the couch after a session with the leather cuffs and a blindfold. His heart is racing, and he's still riding out the aftershocks of coming in his pants. But instead of letting him go back to his desk, Mr. Ackles is cuddling him on the couch, letting him sprawl out, his back to Mr. Ackles' chest.
He rubs Jared's belly. "I like you better like this. Not so scrawny and bony. I like you round and soft."
Jared murmurs, "Keep letting me have all the ice-cream I want then."
"You can have it all." Mr. Ackles says cryptically, yawns, and dozes off. It's just so sweet, the way he's holding on to Jared with one arm, pillowing his head on the other. Jared's adrenaline is too high to let him come down that quickly, so he concentrates on Mr. Ackles warm breath on his neck.
"Jensen…" He tests the name out, rolling it around his mouth like a marble. "Can I call you that, someday?"
***
Megan comes home one day, and declares she's pregnant, and dropping out of high school.
The next week it's a miscarriage, but she's out of school, and moved in with her boyfriend. They're getting married.
Sandy makes a face, but agrees to be his date to the wedding, and by that token his mother makes her a bridesmaid. He apologizes, but she shrugs it off. She asks him about the red bite on his shoulder.
"Dog bite?"
"Huh?"
"Jared, c'mon I can see the teeth marks." And he immediately slaps his hand over his neck and winces slightly. Sandy just raises an eyebrow.
"So… is he cute?"
Jared stares at his shoes, "I wish I knew a better guy for you. I wish I could be that kind of friend."
Sandy hugs him and it's okay. It's really okay.
***
"Casual Friday", is actually when Mr. Ackles likes to play dress-up.
Mr. Ackles idolizes him, in a way. At least, that's what Jared likes to think. He's on his knees after all, while Jared stands straight up, in front of the full-length mirror. He's treating him with such care, worship, devotion… It's hard not to get a bit of a swelled head from all the attention. The careful way Mr. Ackles' hands move up and down his body, as he laces him up with silk ribbons and leather fasteners.
He never even thought they could make corsets in his size.
It's pulled tightly against his body, like a lingering embrace around his torso. Every time he breathes out, he feels the pull. Mr. Ackles adjust his flimsy little undergarments, black of course, and a garter belt more for show than function. Maybe Mr. Ackles just liked the aesthetic of the straps against his thighs. He asks Jared, "How's it feel?"
Amazing, Jared thinks, "Fine."
Mr. Ackles stands up, running his hands along his ass, sliding around to clasp together under his stomach. No longer scrawny nor bony, but filling nicely with flesh and softness thanks to the surfeit of ice-cream and chocolate milkshakes he's been enjoying the past few weeks.
Jared can see them both, Mr. Ackles over his shoulder in the mirror, resting his chin on his shoulder. He sighs and draws his body closer to Jared's. "I didn't mean how does it feel, I meant you. How does it make you feel?" He undoes the clasp of his hands and runs his fingertips into the slots of Jared's hipbones, eliciting a sigh and a wave of gooseflesh.
"I feel…" Jared starts, and feels his face flush with the answer. It's a rush to look this good, to see Mr. Ackles this crazy for him. A bit like the old days when he'd flaunt his sexuality, his power, like a weapon.
"Sexy," he whispers.
"Damn right you are." Mr. Ackles mutters and nips his shoulder in a love-bite, teeth just scraping him. Drives him nuts, really, he just wants that mouth glued to his skin. Mr. Ackles pulls away and goes to throw a sheet over the mirror and Jared sighs, gathering up his work shirt and pants to slip over the naughty underclothes. He leaves the button up un-tucked, so it hangs loose enough to hide the lines of the corset. But Mr. Ackles knows it's there.
The phone rings and he leaves the office for the reception desk, his day starting as usual. Work now, play later, Jared's learned the rules. After 4 o'clock, Mr. Ackles is pretty much all his.
For the whole day, it's there, pulling him and tugging at him, driving him and Mr. Ackles up the wall with the fact of its very existence. When Jared leans over Mr. Ackles' file cabinets, he might as well be naked, because that's all Mr. Ackles sees, with wide, hungry eyes.
It all breaks down when he goes to Mr. Ackles' desk, and asks for the Delancey file. Mr. Ackles beckons him behind his desk, and points to the drawer opposite him, so Jared smiles and bends himself over Mr. Ackles' lap, reaching into his desk drawer. Mr. Ackles can't really take anymore of the tease, and he places a hand on Jared's face, turning his gaze to meet his own, filled with lust and need.
Jared thinks he wins today.
***
They move wordlessly to the corner of the office, and Mr. Ackles pulls the drape off the mirror, and Jared loves every kinky little thought burning in his brain as he strips. Mr. Ackles ties his hands with the leather cuffs, and throws off the garter, the black underwear, letting his half-hard cock taste the air. Jared faces the mirror, and Mr. Ackles stands behind him, eyes hooded.
"You've never been fucked, have you?" He asks. Jared shakes his head no. Shivers slightly when Mr. Ackles pulls his hips back, lets his ass slide against his clothed crotch. Mr. Ackles is definitely as hard as he is, maybe even more.
And then, fuck, he's burying his face in Jared's nape, and sighing into his neck, making Jared moan and they're dropping to the floor, gracefully. Jared feels cold, moist fingers probing his entrance, and suddenly they're inside. He puts his bound hands on the carpet, and goes on his knees, moaning as Mr. Ackles stretches him, tests him and manipulates his body with an expert touch.
Mr. Ackles leans in close and breathes in his ear, "We've gone so far."
Jared nods.
"I do this, and that's it. We cross that final line."
Jared breathes out, "I know."
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes…" he moans.
Mr. Ackles yanks his tie off and brings it around Jared's mouth, like a gag. He knots it tight, Jared bites down on it, and Mr. Ackles pulls him straight back with a sharp tug.
Slides Jared onto his cock, grips the back of Jared's head, by his hair, and begins to thrust inside him.
The silk in-between his teeth muffles the cries of sheer joy that try desperately to escape his throat. Jared looks forward and space becomes a blur.
It's the mirror, making him lose awareness, making him feel like he's outside of his body, looking at them. They're beautiful as they move together, fucking and grinding against each other. Mr. Ackles, with his glasses off and his belt thrown aside, sweat soaked hair and face flushed, so the tiny swathe of freckles on his nose pops out. Green eyes hungry for him.
And then he sees himself, hands on the floor bound together as if in prayer. Mouth gagged and tears pouring out of the corners of his eyes. Body still corseted tight, and breathing harder and harder, loud roars of pleasure rattling inside his mouth, unable to escape.
Almost like clockwork, Mr. Ackles pulls the gag out of Jared's mouth and he's back inside himself. Coming and screaming, semen splashing onto the cream colored rug, leaving no stains. Jared screams, curses, and thanks him all in one, long, dirty trail of non-sequitors. Thrums in his belly and is pulled into Mr. Ackles' lap, twitching with the last shocks of such a powerful orgasm.
He's practically vibrating, and Mr. Ackles is holding him, thrusting deeper and deeper, his breathing even and steady. It could be one of his mediation techniques, allowing him to hold out as long as possible, Jared's always been intrigued by the idea of tantric sex. Or it could be that he's just so powerful, by sheer force of will he can stave off orgasm.
Jared's not in control, of anything. His legs are jellyboned and his head just lolls back, letting Mr. Ackles' hand steady it. Mr. Ackles bites down on his shoulder when he comes, right in that spot he always seems to find, his place-marker on Jared's skin. Somehow, Mr. Ackles manages to push even deeper inside him for the final few thrusts, and then goes almost as boneless as Jared. They maneuver themselves to the floor, Mr. Ackles spooning him close and not pulling out.
Jared looks at them in the mirror and his reflection smiles so wide back at him, he'd never known he could smile that big and that bright.
***
After they clean up and Jared is released from the sweat and testosterone-soaked corset, they just sort of flop together on the couch.
Mr. Ackles takes out his book of Confucianisms, and lets Jared lay across his lap, on his stomach. He flips through a gossipy rag from the waiting room, amusing himself with vapid commentary and flashy captions. Mr. Ackles sips his green tea, but whenever he puts his cup down, he resumes stroking Jared's hair, and Jared hums in kind. Almost purring at the touch. They stay past 7 that night, and parting for the weekend is the hardest thing ever.
If only Jared knew.
***
It's Sunday night when Jared's house gets a call from the ER. His father's been in a car accident, and of course his blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit. They're treating his wounds, and sending him to rehab.
The entire Padalecki clan gathers in his room, to see the old man purple and sewn together. Jared's stomach lurches and he leaves when he thinks no one is looking.
He ends up at Mr. Ackles' house, watching him run on a treadmill through the window, just staring at his body as it glides gracefully. The sweat that pours down his face, the redness in his cheeks, light stubble from not shaving all weekend.
He's so very lovely.
Jared walks to the door, and before he can stop himself he's rapping gently at it, wringing his hands together when he hears footsteps approaching.
Mr. Ackles opens the door and furrows his brow, almost has a chance to ask what Jared is doing there, when he collapses in his arms. Jared holds him awkwardly, not feeling reassuring arms hugging him back, but a stiff body backing out of his grip.
"Jared, I'm afraid I don't understand."
"My Dad's in the hospital!" He blurts out, walking into the foyer. "There was an accident. My Dad almost died."
Mr. Ackles looks down and nods, "I'm sorry-" and Jared drops to his knees, his face in his hands.
"Oh god, oh god, what am I doing?" He moans and Mr. Ackles steps forward, and that's just close enough for Jared to reach his arms out, and pull him in. He's never used his strength or his height to his advantage before, but he wants it, needs it. He works open the drawstring to Mr. Ackles' workout pants and, god he just wants to feel him in his mouth until Mr. Ackles says:
"Stop."
And he does, and he releases him and falls back on his haunches and screams, "Why can't I touch you!? Why won't you let me!?" He grabs his head and presses the heels of his hands into his temples, and Mr. Ackles drops to the floor. He pulls Jared's hands back and yanks him upright.
"Go home, Jared. Don't come back ever again. Just go to your family."
Jared walks home with his heart in his throat.
***
On Monday, Jared notices the "Secretary Wanted"-sign is lit again. He walks in the office anyway, pretending like it's not there.
When he walks in the office, Mr. Ackles is sitting on his desk. A cardboard box of his things sits on the floor by his feet.
Mr. Ackles has his face in his hands, but drops them and sits up straight when he sees Jared.
He hands him a letter of dismissal, and a severance check.
Jared reads it, and without really thinking slaps him hard, across the face, almost knocks the fragile man down. Mr. Ackles doesn't blink, almost like he was expecting it.
Jared grabs his things and storms out, remembering his first day, the tear-stained woman, the wrecked office.
***
Jared tries unsuccessfully to find a like-minded partner in the local S&M scene, but they're all creeps and weirdoes and no one compares to Mr. Ackles. Not even that Eric Kripke guy; who was kinda fun until he had Jared handcuff him to an oven and throw overripe tomatoes at him while Eric wept and said "Thank you! Thank you!"
God, was he really like these people?
He's getting fitted for a tuxedo for his sister's wedding when suddenly, he's running. Long legs striding over cool concrete and plasticky dress shoes taking a beating against the ground.
He throws open the door, (the secret is: it's never really locked,) and runs banging and crashing into Mr. Ackles' office. He looks up from his desk and puzzles, his new secretary already running into the room just to see the commotion.
"I love you." Jared says.
Mr. Ackles shivers.
"I love you, Jensen Ross Ackles, and I know you love me too!"
(Jensen, he's Jensen now, he's not his boss anymore, Jared reminds himself.)
Jensen stands and looks him in the eyes. Jared kisses him, leans down and puts every bit of love and submission into the kiss, pulls away and whispers. "You're the only one who isn't afraid to give me what I need."
"… Sit down." Jensen says, and Jared complies. "Put your hands, palms flat, on the top of the desk." He does. "Stay there. Until I tell you to move." Jared nods, and stares straight ahead. Jensen grabs his jacket, his briefcase and tugs his newly slack-jawed secretary with him out the door.
***
Sandy smiles at him, "He called me, y'know? Told me to come see you. He thinks we're dating."
Jared nods.
"Do you, want some water? I brought you some water, and a straw."
Jared shakes his head, but she leaves it for him, just in case. Programs her number into the speed-dial on Jensen's phone. She touches his hand, and smiles. "I'll see you later."
Jared never sees her again until three years down the line, when she politely sends him an invitation to her engagement party.
***
Megan screams at him, "You're ruining my fucking wedding!" Stomps her feet and crosses her arms. Her deadbeat methadone clinic fiancée decides to try and move him from the desk, by force.
But he's, what? 5'9", maybe 5'10" in shoes. And Jared easily pushes himself back into place, knocking him down on the floor and making him cry out.
***
Jensen watches him from outside, it's nighttime now, and he's been calling his office phone on and off for the past half hour. Jared nudges it off the receiver with his nose, and leans in to say, "J. Ross Ackles' office," perfectly, just the way he likes it. Replaces the receiver by grabbing it in-between his teeth.
Jensen closes his cellphone, and finds himself hopelessly aroused. He jogs home, faster and faster, and when he finally gets there, he does 100 pushups and 150 sit-ups.
But it's no use.
He lies flat on his back, on his meditation rug, trying to gain control of himself. But when he opens his eyes, Jared's there. Pressed naked against his body, smiling.
In his mind he fucks Jared, kisses him and comes hard inside him. Holds him and Jared tells him he loves him, tells him he's always loved him, he's always wanted it. That this could be real.
Jared tells Jensen he's not fucked up or deranged. And Jensen tells him the truth. The truth about the boy who divorced his parents when he was seventeen because they sent him to a mental hospital for being queer. The truth that it was him. That even years after he'd reclaimed his sanity, he still believed the lies the doctors tried to tell him. That he was a deviant, a freak. Unlovable and incurable cur. A sick, sick pervert.
Jared holds him and loves him, tells him he's not a pervert, and even if they are, they can stay sick together. They fit each other like yin and yang.
Jensen wakes from his daydream, and allows himself to masturbate to the image of Jared's lovely face, allows himself to orgasm and feel no shame.
He's crying when it's over, it feels so right. Finally.
***
Jared's mother takes out a Tupperware of peas, "Honey, I brought your favorite, there's only four…"
Jared sighs.
"The tuxedo place called, you're going to have to buy that from them. It's kind of expensive."
Jared thinks of his unspent severance check, floating in the pool. He wonders if it's still good.
***
Joanna bites her sharp, red nail. That's her name now, not "The Wicked Witch", Joanna.
"Honestly? I think I did this to him. He's a very particular, persnickety, demanding little worm. But god help me, I loved him." She sighs, tossing her blunt blond bob over her shoulder. Then she leans in and gets quiet.
"That thing with the leather cuffs and the corset? I taught him that. But I made him wear heels too." She winks.
Jared is embarrassingly hard after she leaves, picturing Jensen in lingerie with his arms bound together. Naked and needing.
***
His father reads to him from the bible, the trials of Job. It's the third day and he's hollowed out, and food and water are all he can think of, but he takes comfort in his father's presence.
He's sober and quiet, much like the man who would tuck him in at night, and tell him stories and cradle his head. The man he was before he got laid off, and the drinking started.
"Thank you, daddy." Jared murmurs in a small voice that his father hasn't heard in years. He smiles, nods, and keeps reading while Jared rests his weary head against the desk.
***
Jensen arrives later that evening to a group of strangers sitting outside of his office, picnicking with boxes of Chinese food and slices of pizza. He looks down and everyone gets out of the way, staring at him with gaping mouths, worried and surprised expressions.
He strides into his office, Jared is still there, head laying on the desk, palms flat and unmoving. He takes out the container from the brown paper bag he carries, and puts the straw to Jared's mouth. Jared sips unconsciously, finally peeking up with one eye, and smiling weakly when he sees Jensen standing above him.
***
Jensen has an amazing apartment, though it's somewhat ascetic and sparse. There's a standing tub instead of a shower, with little animal feet, paws and such. Jared's never had a bath drawn for him, but that's what Jensen does, discards the tuxedo and puts him in the warm soapy water, full of salts and minerals and good smells. He rolls up his sleeves and washes Jared's hair.
Jared finally regains his voice, and some of his strength, and tugs at Jensen's arm. Smiling slyly, inviting him in. Jensen pulls off his glasses and his shirt, steps out of his pants and shoes. He stands there, naked, and Jared smiles at the sight of him. Soft, lightly muscled and pale, perfect. Smatterings of freckles against his shoulders, and Jared feels his cock stir. Jensen climbs in, straddling his hips and resting his arms on Jared's shoulders.
Jared touches his face, runs wet fingers over the stubbly-
"You haven't been shaving."
Jensen shrugs, "I was worried."
"I like it. I want to see it every day of my life. God, I want to marry you. I want to know everything about you…" Jensen cuts him off with a lingering, sweet kiss. That mouth finally against his, and Jensen lets him take his bottom lip in-between his teeth and bite down, gently.
Jensen pulls back, and looks at Jared, eyes scanning over him back and forth. "You've become someone I've only ever dreamed about before." He says, "You make me feel normal."
"You're not afraid of me."
"You're beautiful, so fucking beautiful. And you're mine, every last part."
Jared smiles. "I love you too."
***
They look like any other couple.
The neighbors see them move into their new house, they come over with casseroles and pies and well-wishes. They walk inside and admire the décor, a mix of eastern influences and cozy traditional American designs.
They see the beautiful box gardens of orchids Jensen tends to. They see Jared lounging on the porch, reading or scribbling in a notebook. They jog with Jensen in the early mornings, and talk about sports or stocks. They see Jared pondering over pasteurized and organic milk at the fresh market, and offer to explain the differences.
They invite them to the summer block party. Jared brings potato salad and eats a big bowl of ice-cream while Jensen drinks bitters and nibbles on mini-quiches.
They see the goodbye kisses in the morning, some of the older ladies on the block coo and swoon a little when they catch sight of them. Jensen hands Jared his lukewarm coffee cup, which he exchanges for a silver thermos. They kiss, long lingering presses of mouths against each other, smiles and small laughs. Jared cinches his husband's tie, and Jensen rests his hands on Jared's backside. Jensen takes off for work, and Jared waves him away as the car disappears down the block.
They don't see what happens when Jared goes back inside, shutting the door. They don't see him walk upstairs to the master bedroom, pull back the dark comforter and dump the stale dregs of coffee all over the nice, white, clean cotton sheets.
They don't see what happens that night, what Jensen does to him when he gets home. They don't hear the screams. They don't smell the scent of sex and violence in the air.
They just see Jared the next morning, lying on his belly on the porch chair, his legs dangling in the air. He's flipping through a well-worn copy of Venus in Furs.
***
le fin
Soundtrack!
1. Adam and the Ants - Whip in My Valise
2. Baby - Soft Feminine Boys
3. Jack Off Jill - I Touch Myself
4. Peaches feat. Taylor Savvy - Stuff Me Up
5. The Ponys - I Wanna Fuck You
6. Sneaker Pimps - Loretta Young Silks
7. Lords of Acid - Nasty Love
8. Kinky Boyz feat. Kia - Sexy Boy
9. Snake River Conspiracy - More Than Love
10. Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man
46 MB Zip
Title: You're The Whip In My Valise
Characters/Pairings: Jensen/Jared
Rating: NC-17, and I really mean it.
Word Count: 9,650
Warnings: BDSM, spankings, boys in corsets, bucketloads of kink.
Notes/Credits: For reel_spn, A J2 version of the movie Secretary. Probably the kinkiest thing I've ever written. EVER.
Disclaimer: So not mine :(
Summary: Jared Padalecki just wanted a nice, boring, normal secretarial job. What he gets, is something entirely different. Along the way, he finds himself.
You're The Whip In My Valise
When Jared gets released from the hospital, his mother is there to pick him up, hugging and kissing and smiling. He tosses his green duffel bag into the trunk and just kind of tumbles into the backseat, taking it over with his long legs and gangly frame. His mother eyes him from the rearview mirror, red lipstick uneven on one side, but he doesn't say anything. Sprawls and feels the sun on his face.
"So, sweetie, are you better now?" She breaks the silence.
"I guess."
"Are you still sad?"
"No." He's not anything. He's got percoset for flesh and valproic acid for blood.
"Are you still… doing it?" Still can't bring herself to put it in words, he almost laughs.
"No."
"Are you still gay, sweetie?" She whispers, as if there was anyone else in the car, or his father could hear them from wherever he was. Stinking drunk.
"Yes." He says, unflinching.
"Oh…"
***
His older brother's wedding seems to go on forever. At every minute there's another relative introduced to him, another single secretary who tickles his palm and smiles too much.
Sandy McCoy, from his high school, is there too. She's got little white flowers in her hair, and she looks nicer than the bride so none of the girls are allowed to talk to her. So sayeth Jared's new sister-in-law, who used to baby-sit him and won't let him forget about the time he cried during My Stepmother Is An Alien.
Jared brings Sandy madeline cookies and cups of honey-raspberry tea, and they hide from people in the kitchen. She tells him about college. He tells her about the guy he knew in the hospital, Chad something-something, he actually never caught his last name through the lithium haze, but he was fun. He knew lots of dirty jokes and Jared fucked him after-hours when the nurses weren't around. But she doesn't need to know that. He just tells her he was a good friend, and not an easy lay who was totally closeted, but traded spare meds for blowjobs.
His father pats him on the back and hands him a brochure for a trade school. He smells like bourbon and vomit, and Jared shivers and goes up to his room. He takes a handful of pills and calms down, tries to ignore the sounds of his parents shouting in the kitchen and his little sister crying in the bathroom.
He tears up the trade school flyer, and flips through his mother's magazines until he finds an ad for typing school.
***
It's raining when he gets there on a Monday morning. His mother pulls up to the curb and tries to wish him luck, but he's already out of the car. He opens his royal purple umbrella, the only splash of color against the gray and weary day.
Long legs two-step along the driveway, against the puddles and they send water splattering in every direction. Clip-clop, splish-splash. Past the sign which reads "J. Ross Ackles, Esq." And below it, a little neon part that says "Secretary Wanted".
So there he finds himself, at the door of the lawyer's office, Jared Padalecki, former patient of a mental hospital, now well enough to function in society. Typing-school graduate, with a personal best of 70 words per minute. Employable.
He rings the bell, waits a minute, and rings again. His hand grips the umbrella handle tighter, was there a light on inside? Was he at the wrong address? But there's an answer, a wobbly and sad little "Yes?"
"Hi!" He breathes into the intercom, "I'm here about the job, the-the secretary job, in the paper. I, um, hope I'm at the right place, is it still open?"
There's a sort of muffled, indeterminable sound over the intercom. And then the door clicks open, Jared closes his umbrella and walks inside.
The office looks like it was hit by a hurricane, papers and folders and a scattered rolodex pieces on the floor. Garbage cans turned over, coffee staining the west wall, shattered bits of mug on the floor.
A woman turns the corner of a little hallway, her eyes wet and streaked with mascara and tears. She's carrying a cardboard box, of papers and knickknacks and gives him a look, a sad, pathetic look. And as she leaves, she turns and in a broken voice she says, "Mr. Ackles wants to see you." And nods him towards the hallway.
Jared carefully steps over the debris of office supplies and wanders down the hallway. It's much neater than the reception area, ornate and simple, eastern art and cold colors. Pumice buddhas and jade figurines on shelves.
There's a big, huge, red wooden door at the end of the hall. Jared knocks, just two quick taps and it's opened by a man.
***
Mr. J. Ross Ackles eyes him carefully, adjusts the wire-rimmed glasses on his face.
"70 words per minute?"
"Yes."
"No previous secretarial, administrative assistant, or receptionist experience?"
"No."
"No college degree, no answer for the four year gap on your resume, no employment since several part-time jobs in high school."
"No."
"And… you're a guy."
Jared swallows, "Yes."
"You, really want to be my secretary? It's boring, tedious, endlessly uninteresting work. You want that?"
Jared leans forward, "I want that, very much, Mr. Ackles." He looks him dead in the eye and smiles, fills his mouth with charm and charisma.
"I want to be your secretary."
***
Jared goes outside to his mother's car, purple umbrella bobbing up and down as he jogs to her. She rolls down the window, the radio's on and the engine's still running. She smiles at him, wearing her too-big sunglasses that hide the dark circles under her eyes.
"How'd it go sweet-?"
"I got the job. You can go home now." Jared turns arounds and she calls to him.
"Oh! Oh! Oh sweetie, th-that's wonderful! Do you need a ride home, Jared? Honey?" Jared's shoulders slump and he looks over his shoulder.
"You can come back at 5."
Jared's mom stays in the car at the curb all day, regardless.
***
Jared's on the floor, on his hands and knees, stacking and alphabetizing the folders and re-filing the displaced rolodex cards. Mr. Ackles leans against the wall and watches him, legs and arms crossed, almost like he's holding himself in place.
"Answer the phone, 'J. Ross Ackles' office.' Nothing else. No, 'How may I help you?' or anything. Keep it simple."
"Mmmm hmm." Jared looks up and nods as he speaks.
"Call a painter, under 'P' in the rolodex. They close in an hour, you'll want to catch them today. I want them here tomorrow to paint over the stains on the wall. I want it in 1 part toasted marmalade, 2 parts eggshell white. They'll know. Have them send me an invoice, original copy only, not a fax. I need it in ink."
"Mmmm hmm."
"You come in at 9 am, no later, though earlier is acceptable, there's no overtime pay. You are to leave exactly at 5 o'clock, not earlier nor later. I leave at 5:30, but tell all clients, callers and deliveries that I leave at 4. I don't see or speak with anybody after 4. Be sure if you have a question, you ask it before then, I will only call you into my office if there is an emergency."
"Mmmm hmm."
"I take my coffee black, no sugar, never decaf, at: 9:15, 10:30, 1:45, 2 and 3 o'clock. Before 4, I will have a cup of green tea: no milk, just two teaspoons of honey, no comb. The last secretary put bits of comb in, which is simply," Mr. Ackles sighs, rubbing his temples, "unacceptable."
Jared smiles at him, "I hate honeycomb bits too."
Mr. Ackles rests his hand against his mouth and leaves the room.
***
Sandy comes over for dinner and asks Jared about his new job. He doesn't say much, just shrugs and eats more mashed potatoes that aren't really mashed all the way through. His brother flirts viciously with her whenever his new wife isn't paying attention. She's too nice and just giggles his affections off.
Jared sleeps that night and doesn't dream, the lithium kills any images that might want to wander through his head.
***
His first full day is a disaster waiting to happen, starting with his mother driving him in late, and continuing her curbside vigil. Mr. Ackles has him type and retype everything at least three times, even if there's only one typo. The phone won't stop ringing, and Jared wants to pull it out of the wall. Mr. Ackles catches him chewing gum, and picks up a garbage can, making him spit it out like a kid in high school.
The week continues much like Tuesday, Mr. Ackles criticizes everything about Jared. His chewing, the little humming noises he makes when he's reading, the way he scratches his nose-constantly. Jared had never realized he had so many habits, or as Mr. Ackles called them, "nervous tics". Jared is required to wear all black, so he goes out and buys purple and blue and dark orange ties so at least he can match the décor. His hair is an "unruly mess" according to Mr. Ackles, so he has it cut a little, but the bangs still bother the lawyer. So he slicks it back, and tries to remember to comb it before he leaves the house.
Friday comes around and he's really about it lose it when Mr. Ackles asks him for a file Jared could've sworn he asked him to shred on Thursday. It's been raining all damn week, and Jared sighs and marches outside sans purple umbrella. Jared rolls up his sleeves, and jumps into the dumpster, shifting through bags and bags of garbage and shredding. He finally figures out which is the right bag by reading through strips of tiny type. He looks up, and he can swear he sees Mr. Ackles watching him from his office window.
When he goes inside, he peeks in Mr. Ackles office to tell him he's found it, and Mr. Ackles is doing pushups. Furiously doing pushups, grunting and breathing hard. Jared looks away and feels his face burn.
His hair is a mess and he's dripping wet and sitting on the floor of the reception area, putting together the file, like a massive jigsaw puzzle, taping up the matching pieces. Mr. Ackles clears his throat and Jared looks up.
"I found my backup copy. So you can stop now. And-" Mr. Ackles slurps down the dregs of his coffee, "It's one minute to 3." He leaves the empty mug on Jared's desk and saunters back to his office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Jared bursts into the bathroom, splashing water on his face and shaking, trying not to scream. Nothing works on him! Nothing Jared does or says or the jokes he cracks, the moments he tries to have an actual connection with him, even shamelessly flirting, nothing! Jared's practically throwing himself at the guy, and he's not even blinking.
Jared locks himself in a bathroom stall and shoves down a handful of antidepressants and tranquilizers. The rest of the day goes by in a colorless haze. He throws up when he gets home and sleeps like a dead man.
***
That weekend Sandy invites him out to do laundry, it's nice being with her, she's closer to his level, easier to understand. They get each other.
She's a sweetheart with a brilliant smile and a wicked sense of humor paired with the sunniest disposition he's ever encountered. She tells him she wants him with every touch, every stalled breath.
"Jared?" She asks while folding her tiny pink t-shirts. "Do you think that you, um… that you like both?"
Jared raises an eyebrow.
"Both, y'know? Boys and girls. Both." She clarifies.
He presses his lips together and avoids her gaze, her sunshine smoothed smile, "Yeah, I like girls too." He lies.
***
A severe woman comes into the office on Monday.
Severe blunt, blond, bob haircut. Severe expression highlighted by a angular swathe of green and blue eye shadow on each lid. She stares down at him like a bird of prey atop of rocky crag, and Jared swears he can hear the violins from The Wizard of Oz denoting the presence of the Wicked Witch.
"Can I… help you?" He says under her predatory scrutiny.
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"Excuse me-"
"Question or a statement?"
"Um, a question?"
"Submissive." She sniffs, looking down the empty hall. "Where is he?"
Submissive, he rolls the word around his mouth, and sees her moving towards the hall. Jared jumps up and blocks her.
"Where is he?" She repeats, her voice a little louder this time, looking over his shoulder. Severe manicure, pointy red talons tapping against her designer handbag.
It's after 4, "Mr. Ackles is gone for the day-"
She scoffs, "Still pulling that 4 o'clock bullshit-JENSEN!" She yells. "JEN-SEN! Jensen Ross Ackles, you get the hell out here! Fucking COWARD!"
She's so loud, Jared wants to cover his ears but he's seriously afraid she might vivisect him with her sharp red nails, tear into his throat. She stomps her feet and screams for about two minutes, cursing and calling him a slime, a cowardly worm. She eventually huffs and spins on her stiletto heels.
"Tell him to sign the fucking papers already." She says reaching for the knob.
"What papers?" Jared practically whispers.
"Divorce papers." She says, slamming the door, taking the angry violins with her.
Jared peeks down the hallway, shuffles quietly towards Mr. Ackles' office, and taps on the door. "Mr. Ackles?" He asks carefully. Something in him tells him to break the rules and open the door.
The office is empty, quiet, Zen garden fountain humming in the background.
"Is… she gone?" A small, almost unrecognizable voice asks.
"Yes." He says quietly.
Mr. Ackles peeks up from his desk, he must have been hiding underneath. He adjusts his glasses, smoothes down his suit, and sits at his desk, hands clasped together.
"Thank you Jared, that will be all for today."
Jared bites his lip, "But it's not 5 o'clock yet?"
"You can leave early today, Jared." Mr. Ackles stares at a spot on his desk, before turning up to meet his eyes. He takes off his glasses and Jared is almost stunned by how very green they are, against the red veins brought on by stress. "Maybe go take the long way home, walk through the park. Relax, enjoy yourself a little, Jared." His mouth settles in what Jared can only assume is as close to a smile as he'll get.
***
Jared almost stops to get in his mother's car, but instead he just leans down and tells her he's walking home from now on.
He walks through the park, by himself, and feels a release. Something inside him just feels right, about doing what Mr. Ackles said. Like, he's giving him permission to feel like this, to relax, enjoy the sun and the grass.
Jared doesn't realize, until he gets home and he counts his pills, that he didn't take his afternoon's dosage. He doesn't really want to.
That night, his dreams are blotches of color, and words he can't understand. It's a start, though. Something else edges closer, some clarity hovers in the horizon.
He feels like a spark that's just been lit.
***
Tuesday rolls around again, one full week into his job. His Dad was drinking at 8 o'clock when he left the house, breath smelling of whiskey and Raisin Bran. His mother doesn't drive him in, doesn't even offer and won't look up from the one dish she's been washing for the past twenty minutes. His little sister is pale and sick-looking, stealing outside to smoke Parliaments as he leaves.
He runs out of coffee filters and has to go to the store, misses about two-dozen calls and has to listen to and transcribe verbatim every voicemail message for Mr. Ackles. He gets that ball of panic in his chest, and that voice in his ear telling him he can't do anything right, that it's all wrong, wrong, wrong.
So he trips over his swivel-chair and stumbles into the bathroom and fuck, he just wants to crush the pills up on the counter and snort them, because then they'll get into his head quicker. He looks up and Mr. Ackles' reflection is in the mirror, he gasps and turns and he's gone, door swinging gently behind where he stood moments ago.
Jared's moving through water, pushing against imaginary resistance as he sits back at his little desk. Clasps his hands and tries not to tremble too much. He actually hasn't taken his antidepressants, his mood stabilizers, his tranquilizers, not one pill since yesterday afternoon. And he feels withdrawal, feels shaking in his hands and legs and tears at the edges of his eyes.
The intercom buzzes and Mr. Ackles asks him into the office. Jared grabs a legal pad and a pen and stalks through the water, up to his chin, pushing the heavy wood door with weak, atrophied muscles.
Mr. Ackles is sitting on his black leather couch, a plain file folder in his lap. He pats the empty spot next to him. Jared sits, facing forward, hands on his knees, heart beating like a war-drum.
Mr. Ackles points to the file and asks him, "Do you know what this is?" Jared shakes his head no. "This is, your data sheet. Like a permanent record, I ran a background check on you when you signed the consent form, and it just came on Monday, after you left."
Jared has got to stop signing things without reading them. He stares at his hands, how neatly they fit over his kneecaps. The shine on his nice dress shoes. The pinstripes on his pants.
"Now, it doesn't go into details, that would violate doctor-patient privileges. However, it does tell me you were in a particular hospital for about the past two years. What you may not know, is that I've dealt with this particular establishment before, and I know they tend to fall on the conservative side of certain issues. I represented a young man, much like yourself, who took his parents to court to file for a custodial separation. It seems they sent him there for treatment, when there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. They objected to the fact that he was a homosexual, and sought to cure him. While he stayed at the hospital, he underwent a lot of controversial drug therapy and-"
"I'm not like him." Jared interrupts, biting his mouth shut afterwards, teeth digging into the inside of his lips.
"Not like what?"
"I'm not-I'm better now."
"Oh. And what were you before?"
A nymphomaniac, he thinks. "Sick."
Mr. Ackles touches his shoulder and he faces him, finally. So very green…
"Were you sick? Jared, there's no shame in who you are, none at all. You shouldn't hide-"
"I'm still gay." He blurts out. "I'm clinically depressed bi-polar with compulsive erotomaniacal tendencies. Which means that when my father would drink and beat the life out of my mother, I'd go have anonymous sex with guys in bars. I'm not ashamed to be gay, no matter what the doctors said. I just need help with… control." Jared blinks a few times. Jensen's expression never changes, it really is frustrating.
"I see…" Mr. Ackles nods and releases his shoulder, and Jared almost lets out a whimper.
Mr. Ackles is the first guy to touch him like that since he left the hospital.
"But I've always wondered," Jared laughs bitterly, "If I was messing around with cheerleaders in the lockeroom, would my parents have thought it was a problem? Would they have still had me committed?"
"I was a cheerleader." Mr. Ackles raises an eyebrow.
Jared wonders if he could make room under his desk to hide. Before he can mumble an apology, Mr. Ackles stands and pats his shoulder. "Nevermind, vanilla or chocolate?"
"Huh?"
"Vanilla or chocolate?"
"Ummm," Jared looks back at his hands, weaving over themselves, fingers lacing together. "Chocolate." He says, and it's not a question, it's a statement. He smiles.
Mr. Ackles nods and turns to the big red door, pauses.
There's a twinge, almost unnoticeable by the both of them, but a crackle in the air, and Mr. Ackles' mood changes along with the timbre of his voice. Softer, but in a way, harder around the edges. Forceful.
"Stay right there, don't move." He leaves.
And those words, don't move rattle in Jared's head, freezing his palms to his knees, stalling his fidgeting fingers, straightening his back against the couch. He could move, he knows he could jump up and down or slump back in the couch, but he doesn't.
He doesn't want to.
It's almost as if he's testing himself. He's never been one for sitting still, the hospital misdiagnosed him with anxiety and attention disorders before finally settling on compulsivity. He wonders if he can do it, really just stay there, perfectly still, unmoving. Blinking and breathing the only luxuries allowed.
And he does. He really does stay in place the entire time Mr. Ackles is gone, until he returns with a chocolate milkshake from the diner down the block. "Here," he says, holding it out. "You can relax, Jared." And he does.
Mr. Ackles laughs quietly, "Did you… Did you really stay still the entire time?"
Yes. Because you told me to. Because you wanted me to. Because you let me.
Jared shrugs, "Nah, not really. I guess that's what it-"
"Take off your tie."
Jared's finger is at the knot before he can ask, "Why?"
"It's hideous, take it off. Undo the first two buttons." Mr. Ackles puts his cup down on the desk, and reaches into his desk, pulling out a Polaroid camera from a drawer. He reaches down and ruffles the coif and gel out of Jared's hair, so his bangs fall down like they normally would. Jared can't really speak.
He steps back, appraises Jared on the couch, and Jared awkwardly tries to pose, until Mr. Ackles says, "Something funny."
"What?" He says laughing just slightly, and the camera flashes, capturing his smile. Mr. Ackles pulls it out and pockets the developing photo. Then he grabs his cup and joins Jared back on the couch.
"I'm glad we had this talk. I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me when there's a problem, Jared." He sips his drink.
Mr. Ackles is so odd and distant and even when he tries to be close to him, he's as socially awkward as Jared. And his eyes are very, very green.
"What did you get?"
"Hmm?"
"Vanilla or chocolate?"
"Both." Mr. Ackles turns to look at him. "I like both."
***
Jared and Sandy go out for spaghetti at her friend's restaurant that night. He drinks too much red wine and tells her she has really shiny hair. She doesn't drink enough and has to hold his hand and drag him out of the restaurant when it's time to leave, laughing all the way.
She's sober enough to notice the older gentleman, staring at them with sharp green eyes and a worried, nervous expression. But she doesn't mention it to Jared.
He kisses her cheek at the door but misses and pecks her nose instead. Then stumbles inside the house and realizes it's been two whole days without meds and tomorrow will be three.
***
Jensen takes the picture of Jared, and hides it among his orchids.
***
Mr. Ackles is holding a red sharpie when Jared is called into his office that morning. In fact, there's now an entire jar of them on his desk. The laptop computer and the other miscellaneous papers and folders have been cleared from his desk. All that remains is the jar of red pens, and a white piece of paper Jared recognizes as a memo he typed last Wednesday.
Jared suddenly notices the quiet in the room, in the office, in the world at large.
He inches closer to Mr. Ackles' desk, where he sits, pen clasped between two hands, folded neatly in front of his face. He peers over the desk, the letter has been marked for grammatical and spelling errors. He recognizes the marks from typing school, MLA standard.
"Yes?" He asks.
Mr. Ackles pauses. Just stares at him, but he feels the mood change again, that soft timbre is back in his voice. "Place your hands on the desk, flat, on either side of the letter."
Jared blinks and does so, leaning over, just slightly, to compensate for his height.
"Step back, so that your body is parallel to the desk." So much for that thought, and Jared stretches so that he's literally leaning flat over the white piece of paper, marred with fresh red sharpie ink that he can still smell. Mr. Ackles stands up and walks behind him.
"Read the letter. Aloud."
Jared clears his throat, "Dear Mr. Garvey: I am very grateful to you for referring…" And on the word "referring" Jared feels a hard, fast smack on his ass. The air cracks and it makes a wonderful, satisfyingly sharp sound.
He feels flutters in his stomach.
"Start again," Comes the soft voice from behind him.
"D-dear Mr. Garvey:" smack.
"I am very grateful-" smack.
"-to you for re-" smack.
"FER! Referring me to-" smack.
"Ohgod… I lost my place," smack smack smack. Each harder and faster than the last. Jared finds his place and reads the letter through. Jared trembles with, something indefinable, something he's never felt before.
Something he never wants to stop feeling.
"Sin-sincerely. Ahem. Sincerely," smack.
"Mister!" smack.
"Jensen!" smack.
"Ross!" smack.
"Ackles! Ahhh!" smack. Jared drops his head on the desk, and can't move, his backside is burning with the friction. He can hear, fuck, he can hear Mr. Ackles cracking his knuckles. God he wants to turn around, kiss that man's hand.
"Now," Mr. Ackles clears his throat. "Can you correct the letter, and have it re-sent to Mr. Garvey, or would you like to go over it again?"
Jared's a puddle of mush and sensation, he's half-hard and straining against his black pants. He looks over his shoulder to see a flushed but unnerved Mr. Ackles, cleaning his glasses with his sleeve.
"Again…" He rasps.
***
Jared gets home and locks himself in the bathroom, despite Megan's protests. He pulls off his pants, his boxer-briefs, and grabs a hand mirror while standing with his back towards the one over the sink.
There are beautiful red and purple bruises flowering all over his ass. He touches them and feels a jolt run through his body, like electricity.
The parting words of Doctor Foster ring through his head:
"Jared, for you it's about control. You have none in your home life, so you seek it in others. You control sexual activities, you're physically bigger and stronger than your partners. You dominate them, and it brings you no satisfaction. You need a relationship of give and take. Find someone who isn't afraid of you. Someone who you want to listen to, you want to please them as much as they please you. Learn to let go, and let someone take care of you for a change."
That night he has his first lucid dream since before the hospital, Mr. Ackles is holding him, planting his naked body in his orchid garden.
***
Jared was willing to write it off as a fluke, a one-time moment of weakness, of strangeness, of borderline perversion. Perhaps he dreamed it, perhaps it's not something he should ever talk about again.
The day goes by sadly, uneventfully. Every time the intercom buzzes, he feels his heart rise, and sink when he's assigned a piece of busywork. It drags on, and he starts to space out, thinking about yesterday, pressing himself down in his seat and feeling the chair touching the bruises. He must not be thinking clearly, because Mr. Ackles calls him into his office at 3.
There's sugar in his coffee.
Next thing he knows, Jared is in the kitchen, hands flat on the countertop, re-brewing his coffee and the crack of Jensen's hand is back on his ass. There are tears in the corner of his eyes, and he's so hard that after it's over, he has to go to the bathroom and finish himself off. He daydreams about Mr. Ackles' hands as his own, pale and smooth and perfectly manicured. Mr. Ackles breathing down his neck, jacking him slow and smooth, yet firm. In that wonderful, soft voice he hears him murmuring into the shell of his ear. Jared has to bite down on his tie in order to muffle the scream when he comes. He uses the tie to clean himself up, and throws it away, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt and ruffling his hair a bit.
The week goes on like that, and Jared couldn't be happier.
***
Megan sits by the pool, and says she's going to marry Pete Doherty, she doesn't care that he's a hopeless smack addict, he's a lovely singer and a poet. Sandy shrugs and Jared's mother giggles. His sister-in-law tells her she can't go through life attracted to deadbeats like that. Jared finds them all there over the weekend, planning weddings that will never happen while his father and brother drink beer and work on the car. He's not really part of either group, and feels a sense of homelessness in his own home.
"Jared, when are you and Sandy going to get married?" His mother asks.
They both become preoccupied with the ground and in his head, Jared knows the answer, knows that they're fooling themselves. Sandy is lonely and Jared needs to keep his parents happy. They don't say anything, just watch a movie in the living-room, and kiss goodnight with all the platonic emotion they can muster.
It's been almost seven days without drugs or pills and Jared's dreams are wonderful. He's with Mr. Ackles, bent over his desk, while he smacks him hard, and then ghosts his hand softly over where he's hurt.
"Do what you want to me." He groans, "Whatever you want, whatever you need. I'm your secretary…" He turns into Mr. Ackles' arms, their mouths finally meeting.
That morning, before he leaves for work, he dumps out every last pill into the toilet and flushes it all away. He rips up his refill slips and eats a big bowl of cereal, ignoring his father passed out drunk on the couch, and his mother washing her single dish. He kisses her on the cheek and says, "Thanks for breakfast, Mom." Even though he fixed it himself, and Megan's the one who buys cereal.
But it's what she needed to hear, because she turns to him and smiles.
***
The more it happens, the more Jared can see the shift. Whereas at first it's detached completely from his and Mr. Ackles' working relationship, slowly it moves closer and closer to the edges of intimacy.
It starts with a touch, just after Jared has finished reading back a memo with three grammatical errors and one spelling mistake. Mr. Ackles' hand lands against his ass, hard, but lingers there. Squeezes him until he cries out in pleasure, and then leaves him.
Jared whimpers, he can't help it.
Mr. Ackles cocks an eyebrow at him the first time. But then later in the week, he doesn't use enough stamps and a letter is returned postage due.
It's different that time, Mr. Ackles pulls his tie off, and ties it around Jared's wrists, pushes him down on the desk, hard. And Jared moans with every hit. Leans into the absent caress afterwards, the pull of his hair, the tug on his shirt, he's losing his mind when Mr. Ackles finally pulls him up. He's standing straight, bundled wrists held closely to his chest. He faces him, and Mr. Ackles rips his glasses off, eyes wild.
"Tell me you don't want this." Mr. Ackles says.
Jared can't.
"Tell me you like this."
Jared looks down, his erection standing straight as proof, the flush of his cheeks, the pull of fabric against his crotch. His mouth opens just ever so slightly, but he still can't talk.
Mr. Ackles looks at him, face tight again, soft voice. He tugs at the binding of his tie until it comes lose and Jared's hands hang at his sides. "Sit on the desk," Mr. Ackles begins. "Sit on the desk and put your hands on the edges, don't move them." Jared does so.
"Spread your legs, wider." And he does, and Mr. Ackles steps in-between them, puts his forehead to Jared's and grabs his hair with both hands. Jared's arms twitch, he wants to grab him, wants to hold him in his arms, but it seems this is as close to intimacy as he'll get right now.
And it's fine, because Mr. Ackles is talking dirty, in that wonderful voice, telling him he's going to tie him up, beat his ass cherry red, bind him with leather straps and hold him down. He's going to do so many things to him, and if he misbehaves, going to punish him and make him cry and scream and Jared is filled with want, with need.
"And then, then, when you're mine. When I have your body claimed as my own, I'm going to fuck you." He breathes hard in his ear.
Jared comes screaming "Yes!"
***
It's dinnertime, and his mother is calling him, but he cups the phone and whispers to Mr. Ackles.
"Porterhouse steak, creamed potatoes, peas, iced tea to drink, and ice-cream. Coffee ice-cream."
Mr. Ackles clears his throat. "One scoop of potatoes, four peas, a glass of tea, and as much ice-cream as you want."
Jared smiles and Mr. Ackles hangs up quickly.
His family stares at him, placing all four of his peas on the prongs of his fork, and then only having a spoonful of potatoes before excusing himself. He goes upstairs with five scoops of ice-cream and falls asleep with a chill on his tongue.
***
Mr. Ackles won't kiss him, not yet, but Jared thinks it's only a matter of time before he'll taste those full lips on his tongue. He won't let Jared do any of the work. Won't accept oral sex, a handjob, any kind of intimate touch from him.
Jared tries to put it out of his mind, tries to let himself feel adored, but he worries his bottom lip when he gets so aroused and out of his mind. He's bigger than Mr. Ackles, he could just push him down, and kiss him and fuck him and do crazy things to make him scream.
But then, Mr. Ackles has to pull him down on the couch after a session with the leather cuffs and a blindfold. His heart is racing, and he's still riding out the aftershocks of coming in his pants. But instead of letting him go back to his desk, Mr. Ackles is cuddling him on the couch, letting him sprawl out, his back to Mr. Ackles' chest.
He rubs Jared's belly. "I like you better like this. Not so scrawny and bony. I like you round and soft."
Jared murmurs, "Keep letting me have all the ice-cream I want then."
"You can have it all." Mr. Ackles says cryptically, yawns, and dozes off. It's just so sweet, the way he's holding on to Jared with one arm, pillowing his head on the other. Jared's adrenaline is too high to let him come down that quickly, so he concentrates on Mr. Ackles warm breath on his neck.
"Jensen…" He tests the name out, rolling it around his mouth like a marble. "Can I call you that, someday?"
***
Megan comes home one day, and declares she's pregnant, and dropping out of high school.
The next week it's a miscarriage, but she's out of school, and moved in with her boyfriend. They're getting married.
Sandy makes a face, but agrees to be his date to the wedding, and by that token his mother makes her a bridesmaid. He apologizes, but she shrugs it off. She asks him about the red bite on his shoulder.
"Dog bite?"
"Huh?"
"Jared, c'mon I can see the teeth marks." And he immediately slaps his hand over his neck and winces slightly. Sandy just raises an eyebrow.
"So… is he cute?"
Jared stares at his shoes, "I wish I knew a better guy for you. I wish I could be that kind of friend."
Sandy hugs him and it's okay. It's really okay.
***
"Casual Friday", is actually when Mr. Ackles likes to play dress-up.
Mr. Ackles idolizes him, in a way. At least, that's what Jared likes to think. He's on his knees after all, while Jared stands straight up, in front of the full-length mirror. He's treating him with such care, worship, devotion… It's hard not to get a bit of a swelled head from all the attention. The careful way Mr. Ackles' hands move up and down his body, as he laces him up with silk ribbons and leather fasteners.
He never even thought they could make corsets in his size.
It's pulled tightly against his body, like a lingering embrace around his torso. Every time he breathes out, he feels the pull. Mr. Ackles adjust his flimsy little undergarments, black of course, and a garter belt more for show than function. Maybe Mr. Ackles just liked the aesthetic of the straps against his thighs. He asks Jared, "How's it feel?"
Amazing, Jared thinks, "Fine."
Mr. Ackles stands up, running his hands along his ass, sliding around to clasp together under his stomach. No longer scrawny nor bony, but filling nicely with flesh and softness thanks to the surfeit of ice-cream and chocolate milkshakes he's been enjoying the past few weeks.
Jared can see them both, Mr. Ackles over his shoulder in the mirror, resting his chin on his shoulder. He sighs and draws his body closer to Jared's. "I didn't mean how does it feel, I meant you. How does it make you feel?" He undoes the clasp of his hands and runs his fingertips into the slots of Jared's hipbones, eliciting a sigh and a wave of gooseflesh.
"I feel…" Jared starts, and feels his face flush with the answer. It's a rush to look this good, to see Mr. Ackles this crazy for him. A bit like the old days when he'd flaunt his sexuality, his power, like a weapon.
"Sexy," he whispers.
"Damn right you are." Mr. Ackles mutters and nips his shoulder in a love-bite, teeth just scraping him. Drives him nuts, really, he just wants that mouth glued to his skin. Mr. Ackles pulls away and goes to throw a sheet over the mirror and Jared sighs, gathering up his work shirt and pants to slip over the naughty underclothes. He leaves the button up un-tucked, so it hangs loose enough to hide the lines of the corset. But Mr. Ackles knows it's there.
The phone rings and he leaves the office for the reception desk, his day starting as usual. Work now, play later, Jared's learned the rules. After 4 o'clock, Mr. Ackles is pretty much all his.
For the whole day, it's there, pulling him and tugging at him, driving him and Mr. Ackles up the wall with the fact of its very existence. When Jared leans over Mr. Ackles' file cabinets, he might as well be naked, because that's all Mr. Ackles sees, with wide, hungry eyes.
It all breaks down when he goes to Mr. Ackles' desk, and asks for the Delancey file. Mr. Ackles beckons him behind his desk, and points to the drawer opposite him, so Jared smiles and bends himself over Mr. Ackles' lap, reaching into his desk drawer. Mr. Ackles can't really take anymore of the tease, and he places a hand on Jared's face, turning his gaze to meet his own, filled with lust and need.
Jared thinks he wins today.
***
They move wordlessly to the corner of the office, and Mr. Ackles pulls the drape off the mirror, and Jared loves every kinky little thought burning in his brain as he strips. Mr. Ackles ties his hands with the leather cuffs, and throws off the garter, the black underwear, letting his half-hard cock taste the air. Jared faces the mirror, and Mr. Ackles stands behind him, eyes hooded.
"You've never been fucked, have you?" He asks. Jared shakes his head no. Shivers slightly when Mr. Ackles pulls his hips back, lets his ass slide against his clothed crotch. Mr. Ackles is definitely as hard as he is, maybe even more.
And then, fuck, he's burying his face in Jared's nape, and sighing into his neck, making Jared moan and they're dropping to the floor, gracefully. Jared feels cold, moist fingers probing his entrance, and suddenly they're inside. He puts his bound hands on the carpet, and goes on his knees, moaning as Mr. Ackles stretches him, tests him and manipulates his body with an expert touch.
Mr. Ackles leans in close and breathes in his ear, "We've gone so far."
Jared nods.
"I do this, and that's it. We cross that final line."
Jared breathes out, "I know."
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes…" he moans.
Mr. Ackles yanks his tie off and brings it around Jared's mouth, like a gag. He knots it tight, Jared bites down on it, and Mr. Ackles pulls him straight back with a sharp tug.
Slides Jared onto his cock, grips the back of Jared's head, by his hair, and begins to thrust inside him.
The silk in-between his teeth muffles the cries of sheer joy that try desperately to escape his throat. Jared looks forward and space becomes a blur.
It's the mirror, making him lose awareness, making him feel like he's outside of his body, looking at them. They're beautiful as they move together, fucking and grinding against each other. Mr. Ackles, with his glasses off and his belt thrown aside, sweat soaked hair and face flushed, so the tiny swathe of freckles on his nose pops out. Green eyes hungry for him.
And then he sees himself, hands on the floor bound together as if in prayer. Mouth gagged and tears pouring out of the corners of his eyes. Body still corseted tight, and breathing harder and harder, loud roars of pleasure rattling inside his mouth, unable to escape.
Almost like clockwork, Mr. Ackles pulls the gag out of Jared's mouth and he's back inside himself. Coming and screaming, semen splashing onto the cream colored rug, leaving no stains. Jared screams, curses, and thanks him all in one, long, dirty trail of non-sequitors. Thrums in his belly and is pulled into Mr. Ackles' lap, twitching with the last shocks of such a powerful orgasm.
He's practically vibrating, and Mr. Ackles is holding him, thrusting deeper and deeper, his breathing even and steady. It could be one of his mediation techniques, allowing him to hold out as long as possible, Jared's always been intrigued by the idea of tantric sex. Or it could be that he's just so powerful, by sheer force of will he can stave off orgasm.
Jared's not in control, of anything. His legs are jellyboned and his head just lolls back, letting Mr. Ackles' hand steady it. Mr. Ackles bites down on his shoulder when he comes, right in that spot he always seems to find, his place-marker on Jared's skin. Somehow, Mr. Ackles manages to push even deeper inside him for the final few thrusts, and then goes almost as boneless as Jared. They maneuver themselves to the floor, Mr. Ackles spooning him close and not pulling out.
Jared looks at them in the mirror and his reflection smiles so wide back at him, he'd never known he could smile that big and that bright.
***
After they clean up and Jared is released from the sweat and testosterone-soaked corset, they just sort of flop together on the couch.
Mr. Ackles takes out his book of Confucianisms, and lets Jared lay across his lap, on his stomach. He flips through a gossipy rag from the waiting room, amusing himself with vapid commentary and flashy captions. Mr. Ackles sips his green tea, but whenever he puts his cup down, he resumes stroking Jared's hair, and Jared hums in kind. Almost purring at the touch. They stay past 7 that night, and parting for the weekend is the hardest thing ever.
If only Jared knew.
***
It's Sunday night when Jared's house gets a call from the ER. His father's been in a car accident, and of course his blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit. They're treating his wounds, and sending him to rehab.
The entire Padalecki clan gathers in his room, to see the old man purple and sewn together. Jared's stomach lurches and he leaves when he thinks no one is looking.
He ends up at Mr. Ackles' house, watching him run on a treadmill through the window, just staring at his body as it glides gracefully. The sweat that pours down his face, the redness in his cheeks, light stubble from not shaving all weekend.
He's so very lovely.
Jared walks to the door, and before he can stop himself he's rapping gently at it, wringing his hands together when he hears footsteps approaching.
Mr. Ackles opens the door and furrows his brow, almost has a chance to ask what Jared is doing there, when he collapses in his arms. Jared holds him awkwardly, not feeling reassuring arms hugging him back, but a stiff body backing out of his grip.
"Jared, I'm afraid I don't understand."
"My Dad's in the hospital!" He blurts out, walking into the foyer. "There was an accident. My Dad almost died."
Mr. Ackles looks down and nods, "I'm sorry-" and Jared drops to his knees, his face in his hands.
"Oh god, oh god, what am I doing?" He moans and Mr. Ackles steps forward, and that's just close enough for Jared to reach his arms out, and pull him in. He's never used his strength or his height to his advantage before, but he wants it, needs it. He works open the drawstring to Mr. Ackles' workout pants and, god he just wants to feel him in his mouth until Mr. Ackles says:
"Stop."
And he does, and he releases him and falls back on his haunches and screams, "Why can't I touch you!? Why won't you let me!?" He grabs his head and presses the heels of his hands into his temples, and Mr. Ackles drops to the floor. He pulls Jared's hands back and yanks him upright.
"Go home, Jared. Don't come back ever again. Just go to your family."
Jared walks home with his heart in his throat.
***
On Monday, Jared notices the "Secretary Wanted"-sign is lit again. He walks in the office anyway, pretending like it's not there.
When he walks in the office, Mr. Ackles is sitting on his desk. A cardboard box of his things sits on the floor by his feet.
Mr. Ackles has his face in his hands, but drops them and sits up straight when he sees Jared.
He hands him a letter of dismissal, and a severance check.
Jared reads it, and without really thinking slaps him hard, across the face, almost knocks the fragile man down. Mr. Ackles doesn't blink, almost like he was expecting it.
Jared grabs his things and storms out, remembering his first day, the tear-stained woman, the wrecked office.
***
Jared tries unsuccessfully to find a like-minded partner in the local S&M scene, but they're all creeps and weirdoes and no one compares to Mr. Ackles. Not even that Eric Kripke guy; who was kinda fun until he had Jared handcuff him to an oven and throw overripe tomatoes at him while Eric wept and said "Thank you! Thank you!"
God, was he really like these people?
He's getting fitted for a tuxedo for his sister's wedding when suddenly, he's running. Long legs striding over cool concrete and plasticky dress shoes taking a beating against the ground.
He throws open the door, (the secret is: it's never really locked,) and runs banging and crashing into Mr. Ackles' office. He looks up from his desk and puzzles, his new secretary already running into the room just to see the commotion.
"I love you." Jared says.
Mr. Ackles shivers.
"I love you, Jensen Ross Ackles, and I know you love me too!"
(Jensen, he's Jensen now, he's not his boss anymore, Jared reminds himself.)
Jensen stands and looks him in the eyes. Jared kisses him, leans down and puts every bit of love and submission into the kiss, pulls away and whispers. "You're the only one who isn't afraid to give me what I need."
"… Sit down." Jensen says, and Jared complies. "Put your hands, palms flat, on the top of the desk." He does. "Stay there. Until I tell you to move." Jared nods, and stares straight ahead. Jensen grabs his jacket, his briefcase and tugs his newly slack-jawed secretary with him out the door.
***
Sandy smiles at him, "He called me, y'know? Told me to come see you. He thinks we're dating."
Jared nods.
"Do you, want some water? I brought you some water, and a straw."
Jared shakes his head, but she leaves it for him, just in case. Programs her number into the speed-dial on Jensen's phone. She touches his hand, and smiles. "I'll see you later."
Jared never sees her again until three years down the line, when she politely sends him an invitation to her engagement party.
***
Megan screams at him, "You're ruining my fucking wedding!" Stomps her feet and crosses her arms. Her deadbeat methadone clinic fiancée decides to try and move him from the desk, by force.
But he's, what? 5'9", maybe 5'10" in shoes. And Jared easily pushes himself back into place, knocking him down on the floor and making him cry out.
***
Jensen watches him from outside, it's nighttime now, and he's been calling his office phone on and off for the past half hour. Jared nudges it off the receiver with his nose, and leans in to say, "J. Ross Ackles' office," perfectly, just the way he likes it. Replaces the receiver by grabbing it in-between his teeth.
Jensen closes his cellphone, and finds himself hopelessly aroused. He jogs home, faster and faster, and when he finally gets there, he does 100 pushups and 150 sit-ups.
But it's no use.
He lies flat on his back, on his meditation rug, trying to gain control of himself. But when he opens his eyes, Jared's there. Pressed naked against his body, smiling.
In his mind he fucks Jared, kisses him and comes hard inside him. Holds him and Jared tells him he loves him, tells him he's always loved him, he's always wanted it. That this could be real.
Jared tells Jensen he's not fucked up or deranged. And Jensen tells him the truth. The truth about the boy who divorced his parents when he was seventeen because they sent him to a mental hospital for being queer. The truth that it was him. That even years after he'd reclaimed his sanity, he still believed the lies the doctors tried to tell him. That he was a deviant, a freak. Unlovable and incurable cur. A sick, sick pervert.
Jared holds him and loves him, tells him he's not a pervert, and even if they are, they can stay sick together. They fit each other like yin and yang.
Jensen wakes from his daydream, and allows himself to masturbate to the image of Jared's lovely face, allows himself to orgasm and feel no shame.
He's crying when it's over, it feels so right. Finally.
***
Jared's mother takes out a Tupperware of peas, "Honey, I brought your favorite, there's only four…"
Jared sighs.
"The tuxedo place called, you're going to have to buy that from them. It's kind of expensive."
Jared thinks of his unspent severance check, floating in the pool. He wonders if it's still good.
***
Joanna bites her sharp, red nail. That's her name now, not "The Wicked Witch", Joanna.
"Honestly? I think I did this to him. He's a very particular, persnickety, demanding little worm. But god help me, I loved him." She sighs, tossing her blunt blond bob over her shoulder. Then she leans in and gets quiet.
"That thing with the leather cuffs and the corset? I taught him that. But I made him wear heels too." She winks.
Jared is embarrassingly hard after she leaves, picturing Jensen in lingerie with his arms bound together. Naked and needing.
***
His father reads to him from the bible, the trials of Job. It's the third day and he's hollowed out, and food and water are all he can think of, but he takes comfort in his father's presence.
He's sober and quiet, much like the man who would tuck him in at night, and tell him stories and cradle his head. The man he was before he got laid off, and the drinking started.
"Thank you, daddy." Jared murmurs in a small voice that his father hasn't heard in years. He smiles, nods, and keeps reading while Jared rests his weary head against the desk.
***
Jensen arrives later that evening to a group of strangers sitting outside of his office, picnicking with boxes of Chinese food and slices of pizza. He looks down and everyone gets out of the way, staring at him with gaping mouths, worried and surprised expressions.
He strides into his office, Jared is still there, head laying on the desk, palms flat and unmoving. He takes out the container from the brown paper bag he carries, and puts the straw to Jared's mouth. Jared sips unconsciously, finally peeking up with one eye, and smiling weakly when he sees Jensen standing above him.
***
Jensen has an amazing apartment, though it's somewhat ascetic and sparse. There's a standing tub instead of a shower, with little animal feet, paws and such. Jared's never had a bath drawn for him, but that's what Jensen does, discards the tuxedo and puts him in the warm soapy water, full of salts and minerals and good smells. He rolls up his sleeves and washes Jared's hair.
Jared finally regains his voice, and some of his strength, and tugs at Jensen's arm. Smiling slyly, inviting him in. Jensen pulls off his glasses and his shirt, steps out of his pants and shoes. He stands there, naked, and Jared smiles at the sight of him. Soft, lightly muscled and pale, perfect. Smatterings of freckles against his shoulders, and Jared feels his cock stir. Jensen climbs in, straddling his hips and resting his arms on Jared's shoulders.
Jared touches his face, runs wet fingers over the stubbly-
"You haven't been shaving."
Jensen shrugs, "I was worried."
"I like it. I want to see it every day of my life. God, I want to marry you. I want to know everything about you…" Jensen cuts him off with a lingering, sweet kiss. That mouth finally against his, and Jensen lets him take his bottom lip in-between his teeth and bite down, gently.
Jensen pulls back, and looks at Jared, eyes scanning over him back and forth. "You've become someone I've only ever dreamed about before." He says, "You make me feel normal."
"You're not afraid of me."
"You're beautiful, so fucking beautiful. And you're mine, every last part."
Jared smiles. "I love you too."
***
They look like any other couple.
The neighbors see them move into their new house, they come over with casseroles and pies and well-wishes. They walk inside and admire the décor, a mix of eastern influences and cozy traditional American designs.
They see the beautiful box gardens of orchids Jensen tends to. They see Jared lounging on the porch, reading or scribbling in a notebook. They jog with Jensen in the early mornings, and talk about sports or stocks. They see Jared pondering over pasteurized and organic milk at the fresh market, and offer to explain the differences.
They invite them to the summer block party. Jared brings potato salad and eats a big bowl of ice-cream while Jensen drinks bitters and nibbles on mini-quiches.
They see the goodbye kisses in the morning, some of the older ladies on the block coo and swoon a little when they catch sight of them. Jensen hands Jared his lukewarm coffee cup, which he exchanges for a silver thermos. They kiss, long lingering presses of mouths against each other, smiles and small laughs. Jared cinches his husband's tie, and Jensen rests his hands on Jared's backside. Jensen takes off for work, and Jared waves him away as the car disappears down the block.
They don't see what happens when Jared goes back inside, shutting the door. They don't see him walk upstairs to the master bedroom, pull back the dark comforter and dump the stale dregs of coffee all over the nice, white, clean cotton sheets.
They don't see what happens that night, what Jensen does to him when he gets home. They don't hear the screams. They don't smell the scent of sex and violence in the air.
They just see Jared the next morning, lying on his belly on the porch chair, his legs dangling in the air. He's flipping through a well-worn copy of Venus in Furs.
***
le fin
Soundtrack!
1. Adam and the Ants - Whip in My Valise
2. Baby - Soft Feminine Boys
3. Jack Off Jill - I Touch Myself
4. Peaches feat. Taylor Savvy - Stuff Me Up
5. The Ponys - I Wanna Fuck You
6. Sneaker Pimps - Loretta Young Silks
7. Lords of Acid - Nasty Love
8. Kinky Boyz feat. Kia - Sexy Boy
9. Snake River Conspiracy - More Than Love
10. Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man
46 MB Zip