Fic: Carnations That Propagate Fire (Jared/JDM, NC-17)
Title: Carnations That Propagate Fire
Pairing: Jared/JDM
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2,200
Summary/Notes: For salt_burn_porn, for the prompt: "this one's gonna leave a mark." I'm not quite sure how I got this from that, but there you go. As ever for this challenge, written very fast and not beta-ed, so, apologies.
"How many was that?" Jeff's voice crawls across the nape of Jared's neck like the blunt back of a razorblade, a barely-sheathed threat. "Jared." He shoulders in closer. His boots scuff on the floor. "How many?"
It isn't always like this. Some nights, they walk down to the football bar on the corner of Fifth and Main and watch the game together, like any two regular guys. Sometimes, they stay in, and Jeff picks holes in the plots of CSI knockoffs with his arm warm and easy around Jared's shoulder, his chin on the top of Jared's head. It's just that, other times, Jeff takes him to places like this, upstairs clubs in the shady backstreets of shady districts, and the comfortable warmth in his voice is gone, leaving only its gravel behind. It's just the way they are.
"Jared," Jeff says, cautionary, "I asked you a question, boy." And Jared feels the sting of the words like a slap, the fine hairs on his forearms prickling.
"Three," he says, tongue tripping over itself to get the word out. "Three -- you saw."
"Did I ask for your comments?" Jeff snaps, and Jared shakes his head tightly, breath catching. Jeff never asks for his comments. That's not what happens when they do this.
What happens is this: Jeff drives them to a club. Drives, because they aren't going out to drink, though Jeff will nurse a beer that'll last all night, just to keep up appearances. Not that it's necessary, really, in a place like this. Everyone knows what they're here for; everyone's here of their own free will.
What happens is this: Jeff points out a girl, and Jared fucks her. It sounds simple enough, and with the first girl of the evening, it is. A little small talk, Jared's big hand on the sharp spur of his hip, his long legs crossed at the ankle. Showing off. A nod, and they're out back somewhere, going at it faceless and dirty in the dark, and when Jared comes back, there's a flush across his cheeks and sweat prickling down the back of his shirt, sticking it to his skin. The first time, it's always easy. By the time Jeff's picked out a second girl, and a third, Jared's having a harder time of it, but he comes. He has to; that's the point of it. Jeff wants him fucked out, stumbling into Jeff's arms on shaking legs with his insides hollowed out, ready for Jeff to pour inside, take him over.
"Three," Jeff says, slow, and Jared just got done shivering from the last girl, but it's starting up again now at the tone of Jeff's voice, this stuttering pulse behind his navel that would go straight to his dick, if his dick were still playing. "Christ, kid. Where'd I get you?"
Jared's laughter is reflexive, exhausted, but when Jeff's big hand comes up to cup his chin, holding it firm, it becomes something else, a hitching of breath.
"What would they think of you, huh, if they knew you were coming back here to me?" The hand tightens, till Jared feels his pulse diffuse into five distinct points on his jaw, thundering under the pads of Jeff's fingers. "Screw as many girls as you like, but you're not fucked out till I finish you, are you, baby?" Abruptly, Jeff releases him. "Want me to finish you, Jared?"
Relief rolls through Jared sickly, punching the words out of him. "Fuck, yeah. Please."
"On your knees," Jeff says, his voice, for the first time, kind, and Jared drops like a stone.
He shouldn't want it. He knows that, knows there's something fucked up in his wiring that feels like a clenched fist in his gut all evening when they do this, every orgasm a heightening, and not a release, of tension. He isn't even hard. But this isn't about that, isn't about the easy rush he gets when Jeff fucks him senseless on a work night, deep, hard grinds of his hips in their Ikea bed. This is his body straining for the release that only comes when there's nothing left, all that surface heat shorted out of him. He's not hard, but he's aching somewhere different, too deep in him for anyone but Jeff to reach.
The belt uncoils from around Jeff's waist like a snake, the buckle gripped, glinting, in his big hand. Jared feels the air ripple as Jeff throws it down, and then he's opening his pants, sliding the zipper down over the thrust of an erection that's already full and obvious, straining naked against the dark denim of his jeans. When the head breaks free, blood-dark and slick, Jared groans half-consciously and Jeff laughs, takes hold of his dick at the base and angles it downward.
"Like that?" he demands. His free hand cards through the hair at the base of Jared's skull, fisting in it, and Jared feels the familiar rush fizz through him, his thighs, his spine.
"Yeah," he breathes, craning his neck, and Jeff laughs again, turning his wrist so the fat head of his cock is beyond Jared's reach.
"Oh, you want it, do you?" Jared's face is turned up, expectant, and before his eyes, Jeff skims his knuckles down the spine of his cock, then grips the base again and smacks the wet head across Jared's cheek, hard. "Fuck, Jared, your face." Another slap, backhanded across the opposite cheek, and Jared moans in his throat, whole body clenching, and he can feel it, now, the way his poor spent dick is trying to fatten, the tip getting thinly wet. "I don't know how anyone could look at that face and not want to come all over it, Jesus."
"Jeff." Jared doesn't mean to speak. It's barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut, but it makes Jeff groan and shift, hand slipping wetly on his dick, and then the head of him is warm and musky-slick at the corner of Jared's mouth.
"Yeah," Jeff tells him, voice dark-brown and sure. He drags his cock along Jared's swollen lower lip, slowly, slowly. "You got me. I'm here." The hand in Jared's hair shifts to cradle his skull, pulling him in. "C'mon, baby."
He's big in Jared's mouth, hot and full and Jared groans around the heft of him. He's pulsing everywhere, now, feeling strung-out and giddy and used, and when Jeff hauls him further onto his cock Jared opens his throat, takes Jeff as deep as he can get him. Like this, he can't breathe around him, drooling messily down the shaft of Jeff's dick and squinting against the colours bursting behind his eyes, but it doesn't matter; makes it better. Jeff pulls out, smooth and slow, and the world rushes back for a moment till he pushes in again, and Jared moans and moans around him, rubbing his tongue over the hot silk of him, reckless, trembling.
When Jeff pulls back entirely, Jared breaks the surface like a swimmer emerging from the depths, sucking in a shivering breath that brings reality back in fierce slashes of sound. "Jeff," he mutters, reaching, but Jeff pushes his hands away gently, chest heaving, eyes dark. His dick is stiff and shining with Jared's spit.
He says, "Pants off for me, sweetheart," and Jared feels his stomach lurch hotly, the spasm echoing in his thighs, in his toes, at the back of his neck.
"God, yeah," he says, reaching for his jeans, kicking off his boots. It still feels like moving underwater, all his limbs kitten-weak and his jaw aching, but the thrill of it is powering him, now, the want in Jeff's voice. "Yeah."
Jeff turns him over easily, big hands on Jared's thighs, on his ass, and, stupidly, Jared blushes. Jeff must have seen him like this a hundred times, cheek pressed to the carpet and his bare ass in the air, but it still makes his gut dip and his breath quicken, knowing what he must look like, what Jeff must be seeing. When Jeff trails a fingertip down the crease of Jared's ass, settling on the little square of rubber, Jared's whole body turns inside out in a twist of huge, hectic embarrassment that makes him moan into the carpet, wrecked with heat.
"Fuck, Jeff," he manages, and, Christ, he can feel his dick leaking steadily, now, a thin trail of wetness slipping down the soft shaft. Half-unconsciously, he spreads his thighs a little wider, clenches his toes. "Jeff."
"Sssh, sweetheart." A tug, and Jared knows it's Jeff's finger and thumb closing around the square at the base of his plug, starting to work it out of him. "Gimme a second." Another tug, and Jared can feel it, now, the long curve of the plug sliding out of him, and Jeff's breath hissing out through his nose. "Jesus Christ, you don't know what you look like, boy. This thing inside you, keeping you open for me." The plug slips out entirely, and Jared's muscles clench weakly in its wake, his ass feeling suddenly desperately empty.
"Jeff," he insists, arching his back, and Jeff traces a slow hand across the curve of his backside; smacks it once, hard, so it stings.
"Okay, baby," Jeff says, and Jared can feel him, now, the fat head of him breaching Jared where he's stretched and ready, working its way inside. "Gonna finish you off, okay? Only me." He pushes in, firm and hard, until Jared feels the cold touch of Jeff's zipper against his slapped-hot skin. "Only me."
When he starts to move, it's like nothing else. All evening, Jared's worked for this, waited for this; and every time, he forgets exactly why until he's got it again, Jeff filling him up without the distraction of his dick begging for attention; Jeff grinding hard and slow against his prostrate so it feels like every nerve in Jared's body is lit up from the inside. He won't come again tonight, not exactly, but that isn't the point, not with Jeff pistoning in and out of him like this, fingers digging bruises into Jared's hips, Jared's name tripping off his tongue at the crest of every stroke. Like this, Jared feels owned, subjugated and protected and loved, and every thrust of Jeff's hips ramps the heat up in him in this slow, hard, desperate wave, taking him over.
"Jared," Jeff wrenches out, hips snapping, and the hand on Jared's hip slides up the length of his back, clutches at his hair. "Fuck, I love you. Fuck."
When he comes, it's hard and hot and it's Jared who screams, Jared who bites a red welt into his forearm; Jared who feels it thundering through him, everywhere.
Afterwards, when Jared rolls over, it feels as if things are real again. The minutiae of the room -- the rumble of the ceiling fan, the prickle of the carpet against the backs of his thighs -- become evident, as if a fog has been rolled away from his mind. Jeff makes a soft noise in his throat, like the purr of a big cat, and then his fingers crook up between Jared's thighs, parting them gently.
"God, you're amazing," he says. He pushes two fingers up inside Jared, into the hot clutch of his body, and spreads them lazily. "Let me do anything, wouldn't you?"
The two fingers find the spongy bump of Jared's prostate and push against it, hard. Jared hisses, drawing his thighs together, and Jeff laughs, half-disbelieving. "Seriously? I say again, where did I get you?"
Languidly, Jared turns his face towards him, mouths at his jaw. "Tell you what," he says, and his voice sounds hoarse and fucked-out even to his own ears, "if you can get it up again, old man, you can have another go."
He isn't sure it's true, not really. He isn't sure he could take that again tonight, every part of him worn-out and used up and aching. But it's worth it for the look on Jeff's face, his quick grin and the jab he aims at Jared's ribs. "Old man? Fuck you." He pulls himself up onto one elbow. "Just for that? You're on."
"Great," Jared tells him, heavy-lidded and smiling, and kisses him.
Pairing: Jared/JDM
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~2,200
Summary/Notes: For salt_burn_porn, for the prompt: "this one's gonna leave a mark." I'm not quite sure how I got this from that, but there you go. As ever for this challenge, written very fast and not beta-ed, so, apologies.
"How many was that?" Jeff's voice crawls across the nape of Jared's neck like the blunt back of a razorblade, a barely-sheathed threat. "Jared." He shoulders in closer. His boots scuff on the floor. "How many?"
It isn't always like this. Some nights, they walk down to the football bar on the corner of Fifth and Main and watch the game together, like any two regular guys. Sometimes, they stay in, and Jeff picks holes in the plots of CSI knockoffs with his arm warm and easy around Jared's shoulder, his chin on the top of Jared's head. It's just that, other times, Jeff takes him to places like this, upstairs clubs in the shady backstreets of shady districts, and the comfortable warmth in his voice is gone, leaving only its gravel behind. It's just the way they are.
"Jared," Jeff says, cautionary, "I asked you a question, boy." And Jared feels the sting of the words like a slap, the fine hairs on his forearms prickling.
"Three," he says, tongue tripping over itself to get the word out. "Three -- you saw."
"Did I ask for your comments?" Jeff snaps, and Jared shakes his head tightly, breath catching. Jeff never asks for his comments. That's not what happens when they do this.
What happens is this: Jeff drives them to a club. Drives, because they aren't going out to drink, though Jeff will nurse a beer that'll last all night, just to keep up appearances. Not that it's necessary, really, in a place like this. Everyone knows what they're here for; everyone's here of their own free will.
What happens is this: Jeff points out a girl, and Jared fucks her. It sounds simple enough, and with the first girl of the evening, it is. A little small talk, Jared's big hand on the sharp spur of his hip, his long legs crossed at the ankle. Showing off. A nod, and they're out back somewhere, going at it faceless and dirty in the dark, and when Jared comes back, there's a flush across his cheeks and sweat prickling down the back of his shirt, sticking it to his skin. The first time, it's always easy. By the time Jeff's picked out a second girl, and a third, Jared's having a harder time of it, but he comes. He has to; that's the point of it. Jeff wants him fucked out, stumbling into Jeff's arms on shaking legs with his insides hollowed out, ready for Jeff to pour inside, take him over.
"Three," Jeff says, slow, and Jared just got done shivering from the last girl, but it's starting up again now at the tone of Jeff's voice, this stuttering pulse behind his navel that would go straight to his dick, if his dick were still playing. "Christ, kid. Where'd I get you?"
Jared's laughter is reflexive, exhausted, but when Jeff's big hand comes up to cup his chin, holding it firm, it becomes something else, a hitching of breath.
"What would they think of you, huh, if they knew you were coming back here to me?" The hand tightens, till Jared feels his pulse diffuse into five distinct points on his jaw, thundering under the pads of Jeff's fingers. "Screw as many girls as you like, but you're not fucked out till I finish you, are you, baby?" Abruptly, Jeff releases him. "Want me to finish you, Jared?"
Relief rolls through Jared sickly, punching the words out of him. "Fuck, yeah. Please."
"On your knees," Jeff says, his voice, for the first time, kind, and Jared drops like a stone.
He shouldn't want it. He knows that, knows there's something fucked up in his wiring that feels like a clenched fist in his gut all evening when they do this, every orgasm a heightening, and not a release, of tension. He isn't even hard. But this isn't about that, isn't about the easy rush he gets when Jeff fucks him senseless on a work night, deep, hard grinds of his hips in their Ikea bed. This is his body straining for the release that only comes when there's nothing left, all that surface heat shorted out of him. He's not hard, but he's aching somewhere different, too deep in him for anyone but Jeff to reach.
The belt uncoils from around Jeff's waist like a snake, the buckle gripped, glinting, in his big hand. Jared feels the air ripple as Jeff throws it down, and then he's opening his pants, sliding the zipper down over the thrust of an erection that's already full and obvious, straining naked against the dark denim of his jeans. When the head breaks free, blood-dark and slick, Jared groans half-consciously and Jeff laughs, takes hold of his dick at the base and angles it downward.
"Like that?" he demands. His free hand cards through the hair at the base of Jared's skull, fisting in it, and Jared feels the familiar rush fizz through him, his thighs, his spine.
"Yeah," he breathes, craning his neck, and Jeff laughs again, turning his wrist so the fat head of his cock is beyond Jared's reach.
"Oh, you want it, do you?" Jared's face is turned up, expectant, and before his eyes, Jeff skims his knuckles down the spine of his cock, then grips the base again and smacks the wet head across Jared's cheek, hard. "Fuck, Jared, your face." Another slap, backhanded across the opposite cheek, and Jared moans in his throat, whole body clenching, and he can feel it, now, the way his poor spent dick is trying to fatten, the tip getting thinly wet. "I don't know how anyone could look at that face and not want to come all over it, Jesus."
"Jeff." Jared doesn't mean to speak. It's barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut, but it makes Jeff groan and shift, hand slipping wetly on his dick, and then the head of him is warm and musky-slick at the corner of Jared's mouth.
"Yeah," Jeff tells him, voice dark-brown and sure. He drags his cock along Jared's swollen lower lip, slowly, slowly. "You got me. I'm here." The hand in Jared's hair shifts to cradle his skull, pulling him in. "C'mon, baby."
He's big in Jared's mouth, hot and full and Jared groans around the heft of him. He's pulsing everywhere, now, feeling strung-out and giddy and used, and when Jeff hauls him further onto his cock Jared opens his throat, takes Jeff as deep as he can get him. Like this, he can't breathe around him, drooling messily down the shaft of Jeff's dick and squinting against the colours bursting behind his eyes, but it doesn't matter; makes it better. Jeff pulls out, smooth and slow, and the world rushes back for a moment till he pushes in again, and Jared moans and moans around him, rubbing his tongue over the hot silk of him, reckless, trembling.
When Jeff pulls back entirely, Jared breaks the surface like a swimmer emerging from the depths, sucking in a shivering breath that brings reality back in fierce slashes of sound. "Jeff," he mutters, reaching, but Jeff pushes his hands away gently, chest heaving, eyes dark. His dick is stiff and shining with Jared's spit.
He says, "Pants off for me, sweetheart," and Jared feels his stomach lurch hotly, the spasm echoing in his thighs, in his toes, at the back of his neck.
"God, yeah," he says, reaching for his jeans, kicking off his boots. It still feels like moving underwater, all his limbs kitten-weak and his jaw aching, but the thrill of it is powering him, now, the want in Jeff's voice. "Yeah."
Jeff turns him over easily, big hands on Jared's thighs, on his ass, and, stupidly, Jared blushes. Jeff must have seen him like this a hundred times, cheek pressed to the carpet and his bare ass in the air, but it still makes his gut dip and his breath quicken, knowing what he must look like, what Jeff must be seeing. When Jeff trails a fingertip down the crease of Jared's ass, settling on the little square of rubber, Jared's whole body turns inside out in a twist of huge, hectic embarrassment that makes him moan into the carpet, wrecked with heat.
"Fuck, Jeff," he manages, and, Christ, he can feel his dick leaking steadily, now, a thin trail of wetness slipping down the soft shaft. Half-unconsciously, he spreads his thighs a little wider, clenches his toes. "Jeff."
"Sssh, sweetheart." A tug, and Jared knows it's Jeff's finger and thumb closing around the square at the base of his plug, starting to work it out of him. "Gimme a second." Another tug, and Jared can feel it, now, the long curve of the plug sliding out of him, and Jeff's breath hissing out through his nose. "Jesus Christ, you don't know what you look like, boy. This thing inside you, keeping you open for me." The plug slips out entirely, and Jared's muscles clench weakly in its wake, his ass feeling suddenly desperately empty.
"Jeff," he insists, arching his back, and Jeff traces a slow hand across the curve of his backside; smacks it once, hard, so it stings.
"Okay, baby," Jeff says, and Jared can feel him, now, the fat head of him breaching Jared where he's stretched and ready, working its way inside. "Gonna finish you off, okay? Only me." He pushes in, firm and hard, until Jared feels the cold touch of Jeff's zipper against his slapped-hot skin. "Only me."
When he starts to move, it's like nothing else. All evening, Jared's worked for this, waited for this; and every time, he forgets exactly why until he's got it again, Jeff filling him up without the distraction of his dick begging for attention; Jeff grinding hard and slow against his prostrate so it feels like every nerve in Jared's body is lit up from the inside. He won't come again tonight, not exactly, but that isn't the point, not with Jeff pistoning in and out of him like this, fingers digging bruises into Jared's hips, Jared's name tripping off his tongue at the crest of every stroke. Like this, Jared feels owned, subjugated and protected and loved, and every thrust of Jeff's hips ramps the heat up in him in this slow, hard, desperate wave, taking him over.
"Jared," Jeff wrenches out, hips snapping, and the hand on Jared's hip slides up the length of his back, clutches at his hair. "Fuck, I love you. Fuck."
When he comes, it's hard and hot and it's Jared who screams, Jared who bites a red welt into his forearm; Jared who feels it thundering through him, everywhere.
Afterwards, when Jared rolls over, it feels as if things are real again. The minutiae of the room -- the rumble of the ceiling fan, the prickle of the carpet against the backs of his thighs -- become evident, as if a fog has been rolled away from his mind. Jeff makes a soft noise in his throat, like the purr of a big cat, and then his fingers crook up between Jared's thighs, parting them gently.
"God, you're amazing," he says. He pushes two fingers up inside Jared, into the hot clutch of his body, and spreads them lazily. "Let me do anything, wouldn't you?"
The two fingers find the spongy bump of Jared's prostate and push against it, hard. Jared hisses, drawing his thighs together, and Jeff laughs, half-disbelieving. "Seriously? I say again, where did I get you?"
Languidly, Jared turns his face towards him, mouths at his jaw. "Tell you what," he says, and his voice sounds hoarse and fucked-out even to his own ears, "if you can get it up again, old man, you can have another go."
He isn't sure it's true, not really. He isn't sure he could take that again tonight, every part of him worn-out and used up and aching. But it's worth it for the look on Jeff's face, his quick grin and the jab he aims at Jared's ribs. "Old man? Fuck you." He pulls himself up onto one elbow. "Just for that? You're on."
"Great," Jared tells him, heavy-lidded and smiling, and kisses him.