Along Came Jared - Chapter 5

[namichan89]

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Long hours and a bad working environment are the reasons why Jensen quit his old job in the first place. His workload these days is a harsh reminder of that time.

He doesn't like coming home after 10 p.m. every day. He doesn't like spending his free time with worrying if the case will be lost or won. He doesn't like the mental ballast weighing him down constantly. He especially doesn't like the prep work.

Back then, they always had a sufficient amount of time to prepare their cases-this time, Jensen has exactly four days. The time-consuming, long conferences with the law firm that is engaged to help him with the lawsuit aren't making things any easier, and he barely sees his own office from the inside, much less his apartment.

He and Jared still don't talk, but it's kind of easier this way.

It's not like Jensen has any time to run after him, nor does he want to. Well, maybe a bit. He hasn't even gotten around to telling him the news about the contract.

Coming home after 10 p.m. also means that Jensen doesn't have the time or the motivation to do much of anything. He sits on his too-uncomfortable couch with a beer in his hand, alone, and watches the news. There's no one around to tell about his day. There's no dog laying on his feet until they fall asleep.

If Jensen is honest with himself, he misses Jared. Not in the missing-your-best-friend way. He misses how Jared would always be on board with snuggling on the couch. He misses Jared’s easy, warm laughter after a long day at work. He misses Jared's kisses, that range from affectionate to downright dirty, but always perfect.

No matter how long Jensen stares at Jared's contact information on his cell, he can't bring himself to message Jared. Jared probably doesn't even want to talk to him, seeing as he has been avoiding Jensen all week. It's understandable; Jensen can’t deny that.

Instead, he scrolls down a bit and calls a different contact.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Misha. You got a minute?" Jensen asks. His voice is rough from not having talked in hours, and he quickly clears his throat. "I know it's late, so sorry if-"

"Oh, no problem at all. West has this phase, you know, where he thinks only daddy can keep the monsters from crawling out of his closet, so I'm actually on monster-watch."

"I don't want him to wake up or anything."

"He's out like a light, don't worry," Misha chuckles. "So, anything else you need for tomorrow? Something we haven't talked about yet?"

"Um, I... no, this is not about Green. It's personal," Jensen mumbles into the speaker. Usually, he would talk to Jared about stuff like this, but that's clearly not happening.

Misha tsks at the other end of the line. "So it's about Jared."

"It is. How did you know?"

"Why would you discuss anything with me that you could discuss with him, if it wasn't about him?" Misha laughs again softly.

"Uh..."

"I don't mind. So. Trouble in paradise, I guess?"

Jensen shouldn't be surprised anymore, because Misha is damn perceptive when he wants to be. "Well, we... had a fight."

"That happens."

"He won't talk to me. For a week now, and I'm... it gets to me, you know," Jensen admits. He doesn't know how much Misha knows about his and Jared's situation-it's not like they had been sworn to secrecy, but they haven't talked openly about it either.

And that one kiss at the community center is, to this date, their only public display.

"Okay," Misha says on the exhale. "First things first. How long has it been?"

"A week, like I said."

"No, I mean since you've been dating. Or sleeping with each other. Haven't figured out which it is yet,” Misha deadpans.

“I-what?” Jensen gapes. “Did he tell you that or...?”

The eye roll in Misha's answer is practically audible. “I have eyes, you know. You two are not as subtle as you think, not when one knows where to look. And for the record, Jared hasn't told me jack squat.”

And Jensen doesn't know if he should be relieved that he doesn't need to explain or if he should be shocked that they'd been so obvious.

“About half a year,” Jensen sighs. “Since we started sleeping with each other.”

What he hears reminds Jensen of a whoop and a fist pump.

“Misha?”

“You've just won me ten dollars.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yes. Ty said it was less than three months.”

Jensen groans, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“So, you were saying,” Misha continues, “that you've been sleeping with each other. So what's the problem?”

“Jared told me he's in love with me, but I'm not even sure I'm gay,” Jensen simply summarizes. “And I tried to not think in boxes, but I just can't do that. I need... you know, something.”

“Living without labels is great, I can tell you that. But involuntary or not, most people label you anyway. Being able to just say which label you prefer instead of letting different people label you in different ways is often much easier to deal with. We are strange in the way that we need labels to know how to think not only about other people, but mostly about ourselves”

“Okay.”

“You know, I usually say I'm queer, since that's the easiest way to put it, but honestly, I don't care if I fall in love with a man, woman, transwoman, transman, or anything in between. Or even if I just want into their pants. The correct term for that would be pansexual, but hardly anyone knows what it means. So I'm queer, and that's fine,” Misha pauses for effect, then continues. “Just think about it. You don't need to tell me. Just try to be honest with yourself.”

Jensen rubs his spare hand over his eyes, ponders for a second as he shuffles and buries himself deeper in the cushions of the sofa. Then he sighs. “I've been straight all my life and never had any reason to question it-I like women, okay. But when I went out with a girl not too long ago, I just... I couldn't do it, you know. I wanted to sleep with her, and I couldn't, but not, like, physically. Mentally. All I could think about was Jared.”

Misha just waits on the line, giving noncommittal, vague hums only.

“And I'm not attracted to other guys. Well, generally. Sometimes I think about it, but that's like having a girlfriend and looking at another woman at the mall. It means nothing. But there’s Jared, so... I’m not straight.”

He stops for a few moments.

He doesn't do this for Misha. He does it for himself. And, logically speaking, it's pretty clear, and what reason is there to lie to himself any longer?

I'm bisexual, Jensen mouths to himself, silently tries the way the words feel on his tongue. I'm attracted to men and women.

At least to that one, special man.

“I'm bisexual,” Jensen states, still dazed and still zoned out. And suddenly, more relieved than he’d ever thought.

“And that's exactly what I thought, too. Congratulations.”

“Don't say I won you another ten bucks,” Jensen groans.

He hears Misha's chuckle travel across the line. “No, we didn't bet on that. I probably should have.”



Jensen goes to bed not half an hour later, right after finishing off his beer, without sending a text to Jared. He jerks off when he's in bed, to the image of him and Jared having sex.

Only when he comes - not nearly as intense as usual - he has one finger in his ass, and the accompanying image is of Jared fucking him, Jensen on all fours in front of him, and he moans into the pillow in both his fantasy and in reality.



“You ready?” Misha asks from the door to his office that Friday.

“Just a second,” Jensen answers, and collects his notes and the folders he means to bring, when additional footfalls make him look up and at the door. “Jared,” he says surprised.

Which is the moment Misha bows out.

“Listen, before we get going and I don't have an opportunity to say this anymore... Good luck, man. Knock 'em dead,” Jared says as he enters the room, his voice a warm, welcome flow that's instantly comforting.

Jensen smiles at him, notices how the bags under his eyes have darkened and his skin is paler than usual.

“Thanks.”

When Jared smiles back, it's forced and tense, and Jared swallows heavily.

Jensen takes a step towards him, raises his hand to slowly reach for his hip, place it there. Jared doesn’t flinch, just looks a bit baffled. “Are you alright?”

“Not so much,” Jared admits, the tired smile falling as he sighs.

“Me neither,” Jensen says quietly. “And I'm not talking about the lawsuit.”

Jared startles, fixes him with a hopeful gaze. “What then?”

“I miss you, man,” Jensen looks down at where his hand is rubbing over Jared's side.

“Yeah, I... you too,” Jared stutters.

This is the side of Jared that Jensen misses the most. He isn't acting like he is fine; he isn't pretending. Before, Jensen had only seen Jared put on his act a couple times, and never for him. Until last week, Jared had never been anyone but himself for Jensen.

For Jensen, he's vulnerable.

Jensen looks up, meets Jared's troubled blue-grey eyes, and strokes his cheek. He watches in awe when Jared leans into the touch.

He can barely stand seeing Jared miserable. It's not like Jared is fishing for support, because Jared doesn't do that; however, Jensen has the overwhelming urge to just wrap him up in his arms until he feels better.

“Can we talk, after all of this is over?” Jensen asks softly.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Jensen answers, before he pulls Jared into a bone-crushing hug. “It's gonna be alright.”



“Ferris & Gamble Ltd. will be represented by attorney Jensen Ackles,” the judge announces, and Jensen dutifully steps up to the middle of the court room.

After the usual questions, the judge asks wearily. “So, Mr. Ackles. We heard the charge, so let’s start with the witnesses.”

“I summon Michael Rosenbaum, the author of the book in question.” Jensen nods at Mike, and waits until he has taken his seat and has confirmed his personal data to the judge.

He’s obviously nervous, so Jensen smiles at him calmly. “Mr. Rosenbaum, your first book, ‘Homoerotic Readings in Video Games’, was published by Green Publishing in 2004, right?”

“Correct,” Mike nods.

“It wasn’t very successful, though, and they put it out of print after three years, in 2007.”

“Also correct.”

“So when your next book was ready to publish, you searched for a new publisher. Why is that exactly?” Jensen paces up and down in front of the judge, calm and confident. The way he knows will catch people’s eyes.

“Well, I know it was my first book, but I really expected more promotion for it from Green. I still believe that their lack of advertisement is part of the reason why it wasn’t successful. Of course, since I put a lot of time and effort into this book, I was disappointed.”

“Understandably so,” Jensen says. “So in 2010, you found Ferris & Gamble publishing and signed a contract for your latest book. It included a clause stipulating that Ferris & Gamble had the right to re-publish your first book, assuming that, because it had been out of print since 2007, the initial contract with Green would have been terminated due to the effluxion of time.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s very common among publishers to have the contract terminated without further notice if the book is out of print for two years. However, in this contract,“ Jensen points at the document, which is promptly brought over to Mike, “you signed that it would be ten years, not two, before the contract runs out.”

Jensen makes a dramatic pause for effect, and then opens his suitcase to pull out Mike’s original contract. “But this contract-your copy of the document you signed-says otherwise.”

The judge raises an eyebrow.

“Your honor,” Jensen addresses him. “This is the original contract. You can easily tell by the yellowed edges that this one has been lying on a windowsill for a while. And because Mr. Rosenbaum signed it in blue ink.”

“Hand it to me,” the judge says, and Jensen immediately does as he’s told.

“And if you look for the clause in question, there’s two years, not ten.”

“True,” the judge nods, and his brow furrows.

Jensen shoots a triumphant smile in the direction of Green and his lawyer, Welling. The smug bastard had turned very pale during the last minute. Perhaps Jensen's gloating is unbecoming, but he feels no sympathy when Welling has risked his degree to ruin smaller publishers.

“Mr. Rosenbaum.” The judge turns to him, pondering. “Is it possible that you didn’t sign the contract Mr. Green handed me?”

“That’s exactly the case, and I can easily tell you why,” Mike smiles and pulls out a pen from his pocket. “I have this fountain pen. It's a family heirloom; my grandfather gave it to me. And honestly, I'm a bit superstitious. I only sign my contracts with that pen. And it's always filled with blue, inerasable ink. I haven't made one single exception from this rule since I started writing. The signature on this contract is black. This is not my signature.”

“So you say it's been forged,” the judge concludes.

“Yes,” Mike confirms, and Jensen swallows. This could be it.

“Bring me Anderson, he should take a look at these contracts,” the judge orders.

“Can I add a few more things while we wait?” Jensen asks.

“Go on, then.”

“I know we can’t prove anything, but I’d like to point out a few other things that I came across during my investigations. There are actually not many small presses or publishers around here, and I began to wonder why. There’s Thompson & Glass, who were fairly successful-at least that’s what they told me when I met them last month-until the lawsuit from Green & Partner, that left them barely able to survive after the reparations payment. I also talked to Eric Kripke, a freelance editor of ours, who owned a publishing business a few years back. He also was sued by Green, and was forced to file for bankruptcy subsequently. In all of these cases-ours, Thompson & Glass’, Kripke’s-there wasn’t any evidence against Green. But I think it’s kind of suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, Mr. Ackles, but you are making serious assumptions here. I’m sure you’re aware that these are, if at all, to be discussed separately.”

“I’m aware, your honor, but since these lawsuits have little to no chance of being re-opened, I needed to point this out. For the record.”

That’s when a man in a long, white coat steps into the court room. “Ah, Anderson,” the judge greets him, and then steps towards him to explain the situation. The contract is handed to Anderson, and after a few moments of looking at it and running his fingertips over the sheet of paper, he starts to whisper to the judge excitedly.

Jensen waits patiently for them to finish talking, and it’s like everyone in the whole court room holds their breath until the judge returns to his seat.

“Any more questions for Mr. Rosenbaum?”

“Not at the moment, your honor.”

“Okay, then I summon William Anderson to tell us about the signatures on these contracts.”

Anderson takes Mike’s seat and clears his throat. “I-yes. Your honor, as you know, I work at the police department’s lab, and I took a quick look at this contract.”

He pauses, looks around, then states, “You see, with a signature made in ink, the ink spreads in various thicknesses over the page, depending on how fast the writer signs and how firmly he presses the pen to the paper; you can easily tell a fake that was made with a photocopier. The ink tells clearly how the person signs. Pressure on the pen is visible from the ink. If you take the shape of the signature, copy it in black instead of blue, and trace it with the right accentuation on certain letters with the pin of a blunt instrument like a thick needle, you could easily recreate how the signature would look if it had been done in ballpoint. Which, I think, is exactly what has been done here.”

Everyone in the room seems to take a deep breath, and Jensen steals a glance over his shoulder, to where Jared sits. He looks just about ready to pass out from nerves, and Jensen smiles at him, wide and happy. Told you.

“Your honor, I'd like to talk to my client in private,” Welling suddenly breaks the silence.

The judge nods. “Everyone, we will break for ten minutes. Then Mr. Welling will fully explain this matter before the court,” he adds, and slams his hammer down.

Jared, Jensen and Sam step outside for a short minute, too, just to get some fresh air. Jensen smiles brightly, and so does Sam.

“Let’s not jinx it.” Jensen points at them. “This isn't over yet.”

“But we are at a pretty good point there,” Sam says, unable to keep from grinning.

“They might still deny any knowledge of what was going on. They might find a loophole around all this.”

“Yeah, but at least the charges against us sure must be dropped?” Jared asks.

“I'd feel better if they'd get more than that. I mean, what they did was forging of a signature and false testimony at least,” Sam adds.

“Basically, yeah, but we'll have to wait and see,” Jensen nods.

About ten minutes later, they're called back into the court room.



“In the name of the people I render the following verdict: Charges against Ferris & Gamble will be dropped. The plaintiff, Green Publishing, after confessing to an illegal alteration of the contract held with Michael Rosenbaum, is financially liable for the defendant’s expenditures. Furthermore, there will be a separate trial for fraud, false testimony, and forging of a signature against Green & Partner, which is yet to be announced.”



“You were absolutely brilliant,” Sam says proudly, as she places her hand on Jensen's shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jensen smiles around the glass of champagne in his hand, and takes a sip from it.

They're celebrating the end of the trial, and all staff have gathered around the conference table in the board room. Someone sent Kevin, their intern, for champagne and some pastries from Ty's shop. The elation in the room is almost palpable.

For a celebration, it's still quiet - it's still sinking in that the trial is over, that they've made it.

But when Jared comes over and leans against the table beside Jensen, a happy grin on his face, it's clear as day how much they both needed this.

Jensen smiles back and leans against Jared's shoulder.

“Talk later?” Jared asks quietly.

“At home,” Jensen nods.

“My place?”

It doesn't take as long for that realization to sink in. “Yes, that's what I meant,” Jensen answers. Because his apartment might be his apartment, but it's a few rooms with furniture that isn't even his. It's a bed he only slept in a few nights per week, while he spent his weekends at Jared's place, in his bed. Home is where Jared and his dogs are.

Jared seems to have that same realization right then, and his grin is blinding.



Sam sends them home at about four in the afternoon, when it's clear nothing more is going to happen in the office that day.

Jensen is pleasantly buzzed on champagne, and Jared is practically glowing beside him on the bus.

When they're home and have taken care of the dogs, they stand awkwardly in the kitchen. Neither of them is sure how to begin.

“So, the talk,” Jared eventually says, clapping his hands.

“Yeah, I,” Jensen takes a deep breath. “I kinda had a revelation last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Jared's smile widens.

With a nod, Jensen looks away. “It's- I can't believe I'm saying this, but...” He finds Jared's eyes again, and then states as firmly as his nervousness lets him, “I'm bisexual.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jared grins. “I'm glad you see it now, though.”

“Yeah, I... me too. I mean, it's pretty obvious in hindsight. I don't know why I didn't want to see that sooner.”

Jared shrugs. “It's an uncomfortable thing to admit to, and it means trouble. Believe me, I know.”

Jensen nods quietly, and bites his lip. “You know,” he starts, and feels how his heart picks up the pace. “It means trouble alright, but... you're worth the trouble. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like you weren't.”

“So you're saying you want to come out? Official and all?” Jared asks hesitantly.

“I... pretty much, yeah,” Jensen nods. “I have no idea where to start or what to do, but I guess I'm not the first one who has to bite the bullet. And you... if you're still interested, I really want to try this.”

“This-as in us, a relationship, being with me, everything?”

“All of it,” Jensen smiles.

“Okay, then.” The smile slowly returns to Jared's face as he pulls Jensen into his arms, squeezes him tightly, and finally kisses him on the lips. It's still soft and gentle, but it sweeps Jensen off his feet, makes his heart race and his hands shake. He clutches them into Jared's shirt, pulls him even closer.

When they break apart for air, they can't wipe the huge grins off their faces. Jensen leans his forehead against Jared's, and bumps their noses together. Still, there's one more matter he needs to address.

“My only condition is that my big plan still stands. You know, the house/husband/kids kind of plan?”

“I remember,” Jared smiles. “Count me in.”

For a few moments, all they do is stand in front of each other and smile. The picture of West crawling all over Jared, his tiny arms wrapped around Jared's neck, is back stronger than ever, and Jensen wants it sooner rather than later.

But then again, what if...

“There's something still bothering you, isn't it?”

With a long sigh, Jensen nods. “Jared, I... I suck at relationships, you know.”

Jared wiggles his eyebrows. “I know for a fact that you do, in fact, suck pretty good.”

Breaking into a heartfelt laugh - the first in the last week - Jensen feels the last remnant of the tension falling off of him. “You know what I mean, though,” he continues, “I don't want to mess this up. It's too important to me.”

“We are two adults, Jen. We can talk it out if there's a problem. Hell, we're talking a problem out right now, aren't we? And we did so before, too.”

“But we weren't dating at the time,” Jensen objects.

Jared raises both of his eyebrows as he huffs, “Seriously? Have you met us during the past six months? And you still call that not dating?”

In hindsight, it makes sense. There were weekends spent entirely with each other, dinner in fancy Italian restaurants, and a two week holiday that they practically spent in each other's pocket.

“Holy shit, was I blind,” Jensen states. His eyes are wide open when he looks up at Jared and for the first time, he doesn't see his friend or his fuckbuddy.

He sees Jared, with his floppy brown hair and his dimpled grin and his beautiful eyes and for the first time, he sees him as the one person he couldn't ever live without again.

“Fuck, I've been in love with you all this time, haven't I?” he adds breathlessly.

“Took you some time to figure that out,” Jared teases, his grin turning smug, but Jensen can't help but reciprocate it.

Their lips crash together, passionate, desperate. Jensen presses into Jared, and backs him up against the counter as he licks into Jared's mouth. Jared's hands are on his hips, and his thigh slots between Jensen's, rubbing against the bulge there. A deep moan wrings its way out of Jensen and gets muffled against Jared's lips, and Jensen is surprised by yet another revelation.

“Jay,” Jensen groans in-between heated kisses. “Jay, I want you to fuck me.”

Jared leans back, watching him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Nodding solemnly, Jensen smiles. “As sure as I'll ever be.”

Strong hands travel up the underside of his thighs until they reach Jensen's ass, and grip it tightly to rock him gently against Jared's crotch. The line of Jared’s hard cock, trapped in black slacks, rubs against Jensen's, and the thin fabric of his own suit pants doesn't disguise his enthusiasm.

“Fucking finally,” Jared growls deeply. The rough tone of his voice goes straight to Jensen's cock. Then he's pulled towards the bedroom and kissed with an urgency he never expected. He thought he knew Jared, got to know him over the course of these months, but the man before him is nothing like the guy who once offered to bottom so they could have anal sex at all.

Within a split second, Jensen is met with a Jared who's all too confident in every single one of his moves. He sits down on the bed and pulls Jensen into his lap by his tie. Jared uses it to hold him in place while he snaps the buttons of his shirt open with his other hand, shoves both pieces of clothing out of the way, and, while he's at it, flips them both over. A hot trail of kisses is planted down Jensen's back, along his spine, until Jared's lips are right at the small of his back, hands running down over the swell of his ass.

“Up,” Jared orders softly, slapping one hand gently down on Jensen's ass.

Dutifully, and not without a chuckle, Jensen lifts his hips and squirms when Jared's fingers hit a ticklish spot on his hipbones on their way to his front.

“Sorry,” Jared's voice breaks as he fumbles with Jensen's belt buckle. As soon as it's open, Jensen finds his pants and underwear tugged down to his knees. Jared's large palm is splayed on the small of his back once again, and it pushes him down onto the bed so Jared can pull off the remaining clothes.

With a grin, Jensen reaches for the bottle of lube that they always hide between the two mattresses and subsequently hands it over to Jared. He's ready for this. Really, he is. It's just that for the first time, he is not the one in control here. Sure, he knows about the technicalities, he knows the logistics, and he's had Jared's lubed finger inside of him more than once. But this is still new, and he's admittedly nervous.

The bottle of lube snaps open, and after a few moments, Jensen feels the wetness on his sensitive entrance. This part is familiar, and so is Jared's finger, shoving in to the second knuckle in one go.

Jensen breathes out slowly, willing his body to relax and accept the intrusion. It did get easier and less uncomfortable with every time they did this, so he's optimistic. However, Jensen doesn't start to moan until the fingertip of Jared's index finger rubs over his prostate. It’s tentative and careful at first, but soon Jared works his finger in and out of him steadily.

“C'mon, one more,” Jensen manages to groan when it seems like Jared is just trying to make him rut into the mattress with every stroke.

“Sorry, Jen, but I'm calling the shots today,” Jared practically purrs behind him, his voice is malicious and seductive, and it’s doing nothing to lessen Jensen's arousal.

He gets a second finger after a few more encouraging thrusts of his ass into Jared's touch. He can still remember how one finger felt: like something that wasn't supposed to be there, yet was giving him so much pleasure. The second finger in his ass feels like his body is stretched impossibly and unnaturally to something that's simply too much to take. He jerks forward in surprise, away from Jared's fingers.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Jared immediately asks, sounding worried.

“No... no, just. It's a bit much,” Jensen manages to cough out as he feels warmth spreading on his cheeks. Fuck, he's blushing. And with his cheek pressed into the pillow, Jared surely notices.

Jared smiles as he shamelessly resumes his ministrations on Jensen's asshole, with only one finger this time, running along the rim, dipping the fingertip in every so often, and thrusting in barely to the second ring of muscle before retreating. And he still manages to talk during that. “It's gonna be okay, Jen. Just relax. Think about how good it's going to feel once we're done with the foreplay and get to the actual fucking. You do still want to do this, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Because I'll stop the moment you say you changed your mind. No hard feelings, I promise.”

“Just an epic set of blue balls on your side.”

Jared levels him with a firm look and stops even the movement of his finger for a moment. “I'm serious.”

“I know,” Jensen sighs. “So get on with it.”

Because honestly, Jensen can't wait. He wants to feel Jared inside of him, and not just his finger.

“Stop being so impatient,” Jared scolds, leaning down to playfully nibble at Jensen's neck. “The journey's the fun part, remember? Enjoy it.” He punctuates every word with a stroke of his finger, as deep into Jensen's body as it's physically possible, and Jensen feels how the muscles accept it more and more with every thrust. “This part is all about you, the next will be about me having my way with you.”

At that, Jensen groans deeply, both at Jared's words and because Jared just worked his middle finger in alongside his index finger without Jensen even noticing. And it doesn't hurt, it just feels a bit uncomfortable. Jared takes his time, starting with slow, short strokes that give Jensen all the time he needs to adjust to the feeling of being so full.

“Think you can take a third one?” Jared asks after a while, and how he's still able to sound so calm and collected, Jensen has no idea. He's never had to take so much time to prepare Jared, especially during the last couple of weeks. Jensen knows he'd go crazy if he were in Jared's place right now.

“Yeah, do it. Better safe than sorry,” Jensen answers anyway. “I've seen your cock, after all.”

Chuckling in that deep sex-voice that never fails to amaze Jensen, Jared replies, “And just think about what it's going to feel like inside of you. My thick cock stretching you, filling you up so good. Oh, you're gonna love it. You know how it feels when you fuck me? I promise you this is going to be even better.”

“Promises, promises,” Jensen smiles and shakes his head teasingly, only to clutch the sheets under his hands the second after. Third finger, right there, agonizingly slowly sliding in along the other two. It's okay, mostly, so Jensen breathes in and out quickly and works through the initial, slight burn.

“You okay?” Jared asks again when he's fully in.

“Yeah.”

“Feels good?”

“Doesn't feel bad?” Jensen supplies, and wriggles his hips backwards, trying to shove Jared's fingers further into him experimentally.

“Hey, easy. I said I'm calling the shots, didn't I?”

Jensen grumbles, but stays still for a few maddening seconds. Then Jared starts moving, gentle, steady thrusts into his body, again and again, until Jensen is a writhing mess on the bed. At various stages his mouth has dropped Jared's name, , more or less involuntarily, starting as a sigh and a whisper, and ending up not far from being a loud, frustrated groan.

“God, just-” Jensen breaks off mid-sentence, unable to form one coherent thought. At this point, he's painfully hard, craving his release, and his heart racing in his chest. “Just do it,” he says eventually, at a loss for words.

“Still so bossy,” Jared comments, but pulls his fingers out.

When Jensen looks over his shoulders to watch Jared, he notices that the other man is still fully dressed. Right, that was the thing he forgot.

Jensen rolls over onto his back, just to help Jared get undressed, pulling his shirt off his broad, perfect shoulders, running his hands down his trained torso, tracing his abs and the jut of his hipbones with his fingers on his way to the belt and zipper.

While Jared is busy getting rid of his pants and rolling on a condom, Jensen grabs the lube to spread a generous amount on his own palm.

Jared eyes him confused. “Huh?”

“C'mere,” Jensen drawls, and that's all Jared needed to crawl back into bed with him.

Jensen opens his legs and beckons Jared between them, reaching down to wrap his lube-covered hand around Jared's hard dick. That move elicits an immediate, blissful sigh from Jared's lips, and Jensen enjoys that he can make him sound like that when Jared asks, “Don't you wanna ride me? You'd have all the control over every move.”

“I trust you,” Jensen says simply. “And I can relax better like this.”

Jensen guides Jared forward with one hand on his cock, towards Jensen's ass. It takes them a few tries until the fit is perfect, and they're trying to cover it with awkward laughter and giggling.

But as soon as the head of Jared's cock is in place and pushing in, slipping into Jensen’s ass, past the first muscle, he's done with the laughing.

Because holy fucking shit.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I... yeah. I'm good.”

Once again, Jared moves slowly, but steadily, and by the time he's buried, balls-deep, into Jensen's body, Jensen is about to go crazy. Not only because the pain is absolutely minimal-Jared's excessive prep spared him that-but because it feels amazing.

Jared falls forward to rest both elbows beside Jensen's head, and, without moving, he kisses Jensen passionately. Jensen tries to kiss back, but, considering that Jensen was already a panting, breathless mess when Jared was still pushing in, he's too distracted and too out of air. Jared doesn't seem to mind, judged by the smile on his lips.

Sometime mid-kiss, Jared starts to pull out, just an inch or two. Then he pushes equally slowly back in, not hurrying along even though Jensen knows how good it feels, and how much Jared must crave to fuck him through the mattress right now, yet he's so sweet and considerate about it.

“I won't break,” he reassures Jared, lips still resting on his. “Promise. I'm good.”

With a broken moan, Jared finally thrusts firmly. He pushes in and out confidently, and Jensen acutely feels like the air is punched out of his lungs, because -

Oh, god, he's so very gay.

“How did I ever think I was the top in this relationship?” he groans. “God, this is good. Don't stop. Please.”

Jared laughs and leans back to watch Jensen with a fond smile.

“I'm so in love with you,” Jared whispers between two moans, again fully sheathed in Jensen's body.

“Me too,” Jensen adds softly, reaching up to stroke Jared's cheek.

From then on, there's no holding back. Jared's thrusts become faster and are clearly meant to drive Jensen to climax. Every move makes Jared's cockhead stroke over Jensen's prostate, driving him mad with arousal.

His orgasm slams into him after a set of perfectly timed thrusts, and makes him suck in a deep breath that shudders through his whole body as he comes across his own belly. Jensen vaguely is aware that his hands are on Jared's ass, pushing him rhythmically into his body while Jared sucks a mark onto his neck, and that Jared's coming only a few moments after him. And then they're just resting, Jared still within him, both breathless and fucked-out and grinning like morons as they trade frantic kisses.

After catching their breath and cleaning up, they fall back onto the bed, naked and happy and content as ever, when Jensen says casually, “Can I stay at your place after tonight's celebratory dinner?”

And Jared, sleepy and obviously still feeling hazy after his orgasm, answers, “As far as I'm concerned, you could move in.”

For a moment, Jensen just stares at him.

That's when it's dawning on Jared what he just said, his eyes widening in shock. “I'm... I mean, you've been living here practically, anyway, right? And the house was never meant for me alone, it was meant for... two. Or, you know, more, later. A place to start a family.”

Jensen swallows. “So what you're saying is-”

“Move in with me?” Jared finishes with a hopeful, tiny smile.

And honestly, thinking about spending one more week in his too-empty, too-impersonal apartment, is enough for Jensen to make his decision. “Okay.”

Jared kisses him breathless once more.



Jensen wakes up the next morning with a slight headache, but, with Jared spooned around him and dropping little kisses on his neck, he can't help but smile. “Morning,” he mumbles lazily.

“Morning,” Jared answers roughly, with his lips still resting against Jensen's skin and making the little hairs on his neck rise up. “Any preferences for breakfast?”

“Coffee,” Jensen yawns.

“Nothing else?”

“Well, sex would be nice,” he adds with a smirk.

Jared rolls over and drapes himself all over Jensen, captures his lips in a passionate kiss, and Jensen is so on board with this plan that he's already moaning and slowly grinding his hips into Jared's within two seconds flat.

But Jared breaks the kiss way too quickly and leans back, watching Jensen with a grin as he groans, frustrated. “Later,” Jared promises. “I'm starving.”

“You're always starving,” Jensen mumbles. “And hey, I hear protein is good for breakfast?”

Jared all but gapes at him. “You did not just say that.”

Wordlessly, Jensen grins some more.

“For that alone, you won't get lucky until after breakfast,” Jared scolds back playfully and goes to stand up.

“Really?” Jensen complains, but the grin is still persistent on his lips. “That's deceptive advertising, you know. All these months we had sex practically every waking minute, and now that we're boyfriends-”

Jared is back at his side right then to interrupt him, his face having turned serious. “Now that we're boyfriends, I don't need to be afraid of you being gone by next weekend,” he says quietly.

That makes Jensen swallow heavily, but then he grabs Jared's neck to place the most loving, reassuring kiss on his lips that he can manage. “I'm not going anywhere,” he says afterwards, his voice breathy but sure.

“Good,” Jared sighs in relief, then lies back down beside Jensen to bury his face in the crook of his neck, holding him close.

Only then does Jensen fully realize what their relationship limbo has done to poor Jared in all these months.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers quietly, running his hands through Jared's messy bed-head, smoothing the strands and brushing them back so they don't tickle his nose.

“It's okay,” Jared mumbles into his skin. “We're here now, aren't we?”

“And I'm not going anywhere,” Jensen repeats firmly with his hands wrapped tightly around Jared's torso. “Don't think I'll ever let you go again.”

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