Fic: We've Got Spirit (Jared/Jensen, NC-17)
Title: We've Got Spirit
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jared's on the basketball team. Jensen's cheer captain. Between them, they've got a whole load of spirit.
Disclaimer: Lies!
Words: ~3,500
Notes: Ummm, see this post of wendy's. Clearly, there needs to be longfic of this written by someone who actually has a passing understanding of cheerleading and basketball not gleaned from teen movies, but for now, I couldn't resist plugging the gap with some schmoopy porn. Thanks to all the ex-cheerleaders on my Twitter who helped me with little details. :)
If Jared had been a first-string football player, he'd probably have flat-out refused the suggestion that they meet behind the bleachers on grounds of cliche amounting almost to the level of self-parody. Jared doesn't do predictability, and the quarterback-bleachers-cheerleader combo is about as predictable as it gets. But the thing is - first, Jared's the captain of the varsity basketball team, which, he likes to think, distances him at least a little from the iconic jock; and second, out of a first-string squad of seven girls and two guys, Jared chose Jensen Ackles to hook up with. Clearly, there have got to be some points for originality to be won there.
Jared likes to win, and he's a lot more fun to be around when he does.
Right now, still damp with the sweat of a resounding victory, Jared feels amazing. It's always a thrill, dunking a winning shot from beyond the three-point line, but this was a win against Jefferson, a team they've faced twice already without success. Third time lucky, Jared thinks gleefully, and his skin buzzes all over with the high of it, blood rushing hot and close to the surface.
Jensen knows alllll about what winning does to Jared, and he's sure as hell making no attempt to damp his exhilaration now. Jared used to think cheerleading was 'just dancing' until he saw Jensen do it. Now, for a number of reasons he'd rather not disclose to his momma, he tends to pay a lot more attention, and holy shit, there is nothing soft or girly about what Jensen does. The whistle's long blown and most of the team has filtered away in dribs and drabs, but Jared, skulking behind the sideline, can't seem to tear his eyes away from the way the muscles clench and pull in Jensen's arms as he hefts up 120 lb girls like they're children; the apparent ease with which he catches them at the critical point of the parabola. Mostly, the team doesn't give a shit, because they're seventeen-year-old boys and if they were going to stare at cheerleaders, they sure as hell wouldn't be staring at Jensen. As far as Jared's concerned, though, Jensen is plenty worth staring at - and oh boy, is Jensen aware of Jared's opinion on the matter.
By the time the cheers are done, Jared's seriously grateful that basketball shorts, while thin, are extremely roomy. Still, when Jensen shoulders up to him, grinning and out of breath, his eyes go straight to the barely perceptible bulge below Jared's waistband.
"Enjoyed that, huh?" He's grinning, the smug bastard, teeth a perfect scythe of white, green eyes shining, and Jared, dammit, can't resist that smile, the way his freckles stand out over the bridge of his nose when he's flushed. He ducks his head and grins.
"You know I did, jerk." He gives Jensen a little shove. "I respect your art."
Jensen snorts. "You respect my ass." He shoves back. "Saw you dunk that last one."
"Oh yeah?" Jared's grinning at him sidelong, despite his best intentions to keep all signs of pride off his face. "And?"
"Pretty okay," Jensen allows. His mouth twitches for a second before he relents, grins wider. "Fine," he concedes, angling his body in towards Jared's, "it was...kinda hot."
The slow prickle of a blush begins to crawl up the back of Jared's neck like a burn, which is totally stupid, since it's not as if he hasn't been fucking this guy six ways from Sunday for months. Jared shouldn't still be blushing at his compliments like some virginal southern belle in an unlikely dress. Apparently, though, his body never got that memo.
"You're kinda hot," he shoots back lamely. It ends up coming out sort of as if he'd meant it as an insult, which only makes Jensen grin more.
"Tell me about it, stud," he says, mock-breathy, and gives Jared another shove to the ribs. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone develops a pressing need to talk to us." His hand finds the small of Jared's back, warm through the thin jersey, and Jared doesn't need telling twice.
There's nobody outside, the track and field both deserted, but they scurry into the space beneath the bleachers like criminals all the same. The fact that there's no-one here now doesn't mean there won't be someone here soon, and the last thing they need is to be caught like this, Jensen stifling his laughter against Jared's shoulder while Jared manoeuvres his way in between his legs. They've learned to be quiet, as a necessary component of semi-public sexual encounters, but it's not as if anyone glancing in at this could mistake it for anything other than exactly what it is.
Not that Jared actually knows exactly what it is. Sure, superficially it's Jensen's hand splayed over the back of Jared's thigh, inching its way up under the leg of his shorts; it's Jared nuzzling the warm, sweat-damp space under the jut of Jensen's clavicle, one thigh shoved between Jensen's, grinding down against the thickening heat of his cock. On the face of it, they're just a couple of teenagers blowing off steam with a bit of screwing around beneath the bleachers, sticky and hot and meaningless. Jared's kind of afraid that, actually, things've gotten beyond that point for him, but now's probably not the best time to say anything. Not if he wants to come, at any rate, and oh, God, he really wants to come.
Beneath him, Jensen's giving every indication of sharing this goal, hips setting up a steady pulse against Jared's pinioning body. His legs are long and bare beneath the indoor uniform shorts, the fine hair on his calves rasping pleasantly against Jared's as they press and grind, thigh muscles tensing and releasing with every undulation. His head is tipped back, mouth slightly open with exertion, and God, Jared wants to kiss him; wants to lick him all over and fuck that mouth thoroughly with his tongue, leave it kiss-bruised and bitten. Jared doesn't have much in the way of self-control when Jensen looks like that. Luckily, Jensen doesn't seem to have a problem with this.
The hollow of his throat is salt-slick with fresh sweat when Jared nuzzles his mouth along it, laving a line of heat right up to the bolt of his jaw, the soft space behind his ear that makes him whimper and thrust up. The bruise Jared left here the last time they did this is still faintly visible, a pale pink smear just behind Jensen's earlobe, and Jared gets his mouth on it, his stomach skipping with heat. This is where he marks Jensen, claims him, and he sucks at the skin until Jensen's squirming beneath him and the blood's all surged up purple under his mouth, right where it belongs.
"Shit," Jensen hisses, "Jared, shit," and his hands scrabble breathlessly at the nape of Jared's neck, palming the flat of his shoulders. Jared hmms gently against his skin, then pulls back a little and trails his mouth in a warm, slow drag along the blade of Jensen's jaw, over his cheek, to the swell of his lower lip, spit-damp and sinful.
"I got you," he says, nonsensical and strangely sure as his fingers find skin beneath the hem of Jensen's shirt, smoothing over his stomach so the muscles jump to the touch. "I got you, Jen, s'okay."
Jensen's mouth opens for him easily when Jared licks at the seam, tongue stroking firm over the flat of Jared's. Jensen kisses filthy and wet, jaw going wide as Jared presses the kiss deeper, and Jared shifts against him, skin lighting up all over at the slow, hot drag of Jensen's tongue against his.
"Nnngh," he murmurs into the kiss; pulls back to suck at the curve of Jensen's lip, subtle nips of teeth along the swell of it. Jensen laughs breathlessly, fingers tracing the blades of Jared's shoulders, the dip of his spine. His hands are firm and hot through the thin mesh of Jared's jersey and Jared thrusts down reflexively, biting at Jensen's mouth, shoving his thigh right up into the fork of Jensen's legs.
"God," Jensen grits out, the word tripping off his tongue in a slow drawl as his hips rock up, clear line of his dick hot against Jared's leg. Jared grins and skitters his fingers sideways over the front of Jensen's shorts, working them down until the head of Jensen's cock smears sticky-slick along the backs of his knuckles, and Jensen rears up off the ground with a curse, digging his nails into Jared's back.
"Shit," he spits, fingers five little crescent points of pain through Jared's shirt, "Shit, Jared, come on," and Jared laughs; leans up to press his mouth to Jensen's again, little sucking kisses over and over at his lips. Jensen's flushed up his neck, breathless and squirming and strung out, and God, this is the part Jared loves the most, the way he twists and bucks and shoves at Jared's shoulders, all his reserve lost to the urgency building in his dick. Jared would keep him on the edge like this for hours if he didn't so enjoy seeing him fly off it, melting under the heat of Jared's lips and tongue and hands.
When he makes to slip downwards, with a final bite to Jensen's lower lip, Jensen lets his head fall back, fingers clenching and unclenching on Jared's biceps, his clavicle, the nape of his neck. He's breathless, rasping, and when Jared shoves up his shirt to get at his nipples, the rasps turn into whimpers, hips shifting frenetically and back arching up out of the dirt. There's sweat licking the edges of his muscles, pooled in the centre of his chest, and Jared laps at the shine of it, tongue tracing new glistening trails of his own out to the taut little point of Jensen's nipple. Jensen hisses harsh through his teeth when Jared gets his mouth around it, nipping at the nub of it and then closing his lips and sucking at it after, and Jared hums his approval; pulls off and trails his mouth lower, tonguing a wet path over the flat of Jensen's abdomen.
"Shit," Jensen groans, "shit, Jared." He's shoving again, thrusting the bulge of his cock up against Jared's chest like he thinks that'll actually help him get off any quicker. Jared damn well knows what he's doing and he'll get Jensen off in his own good time, and not a second before.
Jensen's shorts are structured, flat-fronted things, not like Jared's loose polyester, but Jared can still smell him through the fabric when he presses his face there, mouthing along the hot line of his cock where it's pushing out the seam. Jensen torques under him immediately, pushing up against his mouth, but Jared's hands are ready at his hips to flatten him down again, holding him still while he nuzzles and nips at his dick.
"Jared," Jensen grits out, frustrated; "Jesus Christ, just do it, would you?"
Jared laughs against him; slides his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts. "Forgot the magic word." It's not in his nature to tease, not with any seriousness, but it's so hard to resist when Jensen gets like this, his voice breaking tight over his tongue as he twitches and jerks. Jared's gonna get his mouth on that cock anyway, saliva pooling under his tongue already at the thought of it, but it's nice to hear Jensen beg for it, honor-roll, squeaky-clean Jensen pleading and writhing under the bleachers.
Jensen, on the brink of desperation, never disappoints. The next breath that escapes him is something between a groan and a sob, back arching sharply as his fingers twist in Jared's hair, overtight, and pull. "Please. That what you wanna hear? C'mon, Jared, suck my cock. Please."
He bucks his hips helplessly against Jared's palms and tugs on his hair for emphasis, but Jared doesn't need any further encouragement. He's leaking, dick rock-hard and bulging out obscenely against the loose mesh of his shorts, and Jensen's right there, hot and aching for his mouth. Jared fumbles his shorts out of the way in two sharp tugs, Jensen lifting his ass obligingly to facilitate, and then Jensen's naked from waist to knees, cock straining against his stomach in a puddle of its own slick. He's so hard, fuck, precome drooling from the head and Jared can't bite back the groan that rises in his throat at the sight, at the musky-sour smell of him, all sweat and sex. He shoulders Jensen's thighs a little wider, working himself further between, and then his fingers wrap firm around the root of Jensen's cock and Jensen almost cries out, transmuting it into a broken groan at only the very last second.
"Fuck," he mutters, "fuck, Jared, Jared, come on," and his hips lift frantically, seeking Jared's heat.
"I got you," Jared says again, and this time he means it. "C'mon, Jen, I got you."
He jacks him slowly at first, angling Jensen's cock so his breath skitters warm over the head of it even before he ducks low enough to tease at the slit with his tongue. Jensen draws in a sharp, tight breath; throws up an arm over his face and bites down on it, muffling a groan in the meat of his forearm, and Jared lets his lips slip down over the tip of him until the whole crown of his cock is sheathed in his mouth. Jensen's shifting his hips incrementally, trying not to thrust, and Jared's grateful for it as he slowly bobs deeper, drooling around the thick weight of Jensen as he descends, tongue flat and rasping against the vein on the underside.
"God," Jensen grits out desperately into the crook of his elbow, "fuck, Jared, shit, like that. Like that."
There's too much of Jensen for Jared to take easily, even now, but God, when Jensen begs like that he has to try. He takes a deep breath and presses deeper until his eyes water with the burn of it, the back of his throat fluttering in protest as Jensen's cock slides home. Down here, with his nose in Jensen's pubic hair, the smell and taste of him are overpowering, animalistic and sexy in a way that makes Jared question whether he really needs to be able to breathe. Jensen's moaning, fucking shallowly in and out of the entrance to Jared's throat, and God, Jared would stay here forever if he could, pressing his own hips frenetically into the dirt with Jensen's cock filling him up, stuffing him full.
Ultimately, though, Jared's lungs are not down with this plan. Reluctantly, he pulls off a little way when they start to burn; gets his hand around the base of Jensen's cock where his spit has slicked it up and starts jerking him, mouth still working at him sloppy and wet. Jensen's close, fuck, blood-hot and leaking all over Jared's tongue, and Jared groans around him, bobbing his head faster when Jensen's moans go shuttered and sharp, the muscles in his thighs tensing against Jared's shoulders.
"Shit," Jensen's gasping, "Shit, fuck, Jared, fuck - "
Jared sucks hard, tongue curling up to flatten against the head of Jensen's cock, working into the slit. Jensen sucks in a tight breath with a stifled sound breaking through it, and Jared grips his thighs, encouraging, until Jensen lets go and fucks up into his mouth, rocking up desperately over his tongue.
"Fuck," Jensen manages, "shit," and that's it, that's all she wrote; he's coming so hard that Jared can't keep up, strings of it drooling out of the corners of his mouth despite his best attempts to swallow. "God," Jensen moans; clutches at Jared's hair as his body goes limp, though his hips are still moving incrementally in Jared's mouth.
"Mmm," Jared murmurs; pulls off him and presses a kiss to the head of his cock, laughing a little as Jensen twitches and flinches away, oversensitive. "Good?"
"Nguh," Jensen says, intelligently. "Gimme a minute." His hand flails blindly for Jared's face, and Jared catches it in his mouth, sucking lightly at the tip of the index finger. Jensen shivers a little and Jared feels himself twitch; rolls his hips into the ground, slow hard pressure.
"Hey," Jensen says, and Jared lifts his head, grinning apologetically.
"What?"
"That's mine," Jensen says, mock-petulantly, and closes his thighs around Jared's body, urging him pointedly upward.
Jared goes willingly, following a wave of heat on his hands and knees until Jensen's fingers find the waistband of his shorts and dip beneath, closing firm and sure around the shaft of his cock.
"Fuck," Jared whispers, turning his face into the hollow of Jensen's throat. "God, Jensen. Please."
Jensen's good at this, fingers now closed, now open as he jerks Jared's cock, steady and quick. Jared's so far beyond ready that every stroke sets him shivering, hips rocking forward into the tunnel of Jensen's fist, fucking in and out through a film of his own slick. Jensen's other arm tightens around him, stroking his back, his sides, free hand skittering ticklishly over the jut of his hipbone, and Jared groans against his neck, licks at the skin there reflexively.
"Jensen," he gasps out, breath catching as Jensen flicks his thumb over the head of him, smearing his slickness over the crown.
"I got you," Jensen whispers in his ear; hitches his hips to cradle Jared properly between his thighs, strong and sure. "Come on, Jay, I got you. Let me see you, huh?"
And that's it, that does it, heat seizing in his stomach and spasming out in wet white pulses, over Jensen's sticky fingers, over his hipbone and the waistband of his shorts. It's a slick, hot mess but Jensen just keeps moving, milking it out of Jared in spurts until Jared jerks his hips away, gasping for breath.
"That's it," Jensen whispers; lifts his sticky hand and sucks his fingers into his mouth and it's for show, but fuck, it works for Jared. His spent cock twitches limply in protest, and when he turns his head, Jensen's there to catch him, licking his way into Jared's slack mouth, the taste of them both mingling between.
They make out for long, slow minutes, Jared propped on his elbow over Jensen in the dirt, tongues moving lazy and deep. In the world beyond the bleachers, though, the sky is fading to grey, and Jared reluctantly pulls himself away, mouthing at Jensen's jaw, at the soft skin of his neck.
"Should probably go," he says, low and reluctant. Nobody's gonna come out here, not now, but Jensen's taking about forty-seven APs, and Jared knows that if he's got homework to do, Jensen's gotta have twice as much. "Gettin' late."
"Yeah," Jensen says, fingers combing idly through Jared's hair. He's gorgeous like this, all fucked out and languid in the half-light, eyes heavy-lidded and his hair all mussed. Jared wants to stay with him like this all night.
"Five more minutes," Jensen says, after a second, and nuzzles at the corner of Jared's mouth. Jared's stomach tugs a little guiltily, but he doesn't have the heart to refuse him, not like this, with this something all warm and adoring in his chest.
"Kay," he says, slanting his mouth back over Jensen's, and dips his tongue back into his mouth.
By the time they slip out from under the shelter of the bleachers, it's full dark, and Jared's gonna catch all kinds of shit when he shows up in chem lab tomorrow without any homework. For now, though, his lips are buzzing numbly in the aftermath of kisses, and Jensen's hand is soft against his waist when it brushes there, nudging him ahead. Tomorrow, he thinks, a little dimly, can worry about itself.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jared's on the basketball team. Jensen's cheer captain. Between them, they've got a whole load of spirit.
Disclaimer: Lies!
Words: ~3,500
Notes: Ummm, see this post of wendy's. Clearly, there needs to be longfic of this written by someone who actually has a passing understanding of cheerleading and basketball not gleaned from teen movies, but for now, I couldn't resist plugging the gap with some schmoopy porn. Thanks to all the ex-cheerleaders on my Twitter who helped me with little details. :)
If Jared had been a first-string football player, he'd probably have flat-out refused the suggestion that they meet behind the bleachers on grounds of cliche amounting almost to the level of self-parody. Jared doesn't do predictability, and the quarterback-bleachers-cheerleader combo is about as predictable as it gets. But the thing is - first, Jared's the captain of the varsity basketball team, which, he likes to think, distances him at least a little from the iconic jock; and second, out of a first-string squad of seven girls and two guys, Jared chose Jensen Ackles to hook up with. Clearly, there have got to be some points for originality to be won there.
Jared likes to win, and he's a lot more fun to be around when he does.
Right now, still damp with the sweat of a resounding victory, Jared feels amazing. It's always a thrill, dunking a winning shot from beyond the three-point line, but this was a win against Jefferson, a team they've faced twice already without success. Third time lucky, Jared thinks gleefully, and his skin buzzes all over with the high of it, blood rushing hot and close to the surface.
Jensen knows alllll about what winning does to Jared, and he's sure as hell making no attempt to damp his exhilaration now. Jared used to think cheerleading was 'just dancing' until he saw Jensen do it. Now, for a number of reasons he'd rather not disclose to his momma, he tends to pay a lot more attention, and holy shit, there is nothing soft or girly about what Jensen does. The whistle's long blown and most of the team has filtered away in dribs and drabs, but Jared, skulking behind the sideline, can't seem to tear his eyes away from the way the muscles clench and pull in Jensen's arms as he hefts up 120 lb girls like they're children; the apparent ease with which he catches them at the critical point of the parabola. Mostly, the team doesn't give a shit, because they're seventeen-year-old boys and if they were going to stare at cheerleaders, they sure as hell wouldn't be staring at Jensen. As far as Jared's concerned, though, Jensen is plenty worth staring at - and oh boy, is Jensen aware of Jared's opinion on the matter.
By the time the cheers are done, Jared's seriously grateful that basketball shorts, while thin, are extremely roomy. Still, when Jensen shoulders up to him, grinning and out of breath, his eyes go straight to the barely perceptible bulge below Jared's waistband.
"Enjoyed that, huh?" He's grinning, the smug bastard, teeth a perfect scythe of white, green eyes shining, and Jared, dammit, can't resist that smile, the way his freckles stand out over the bridge of his nose when he's flushed. He ducks his head and grins.
"You know I did, jerk." He gives Jensen a little shove. "I respect your art."
Jensen snorts. "You respect my ass." He shoves back. "Saw you dunk that last one."
"Oh yeah?" Jared's grinning at him sidelong, despite his best intentions to keep all signs of pride off his face. "And?"
"Pretty okay," Jensen allows. His mouth twitches for a second before he relents, grins wider. "Fine," he concedes, angling his body in towards Jared's, "it was...kinda hot."
The slow prickle of a blush begins to crawl up the back of Jared's neck like a burn, which is totally stupid, since it's not as if he hasn't been fucking this guy six ways from Sunday for months. Jared shouldn't still be blushing at his compliments like some virginal southern belle in an unlikely dress. Apparently, though, his body never got that memo.
"You're kinda hot," he shoots back lamely. It ends up coming out sort of as if he'd meant it as an insult, which only makes Jensen grin more.
"Tell me about it, stud," he says, mock-breathy, and gives Jared another shove to the ribs. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone develops a pressing need to talk to us." His hand finds the small of Jared's back, warm through the thin jersey, and Jared doesn't need telling twice.
There's nobody outside, the track and field both deserted, but they scurry into the space beneath the bleachers like criminals all the same. The fact that there's no-one here now doesn't mean there won't be someone here soon, and the last thing they need is to be caught like this, Jensen stifling his laughter against Jared's shoulder while Jared manoeuvres his way in between his legs. They've learned to be quiet, as a necessary component of semi-public sexual encounters, but it's not as if anyone glancing in at this could mistake it for anything other than exactly what it is.
Not that Jared actually knows exactly what it is. Sure, superficially it's Jensen's hand splayed over the back of Jared's thigh, inching its way up under the leg of his shorts; it's Jared nuzzling the warm, sweat-damp space under the jut of Jensen's clavicle, one thigh shoved between Jensen's, grinding down against the thickening heat of his cock. On the face of it, they're just a couple of teenagers blowing off steam with a bit of screwing around beneath the bleachers, sticky and hot and meaningless. Jared's kind of afraid that, actually, things've gotten beyond that point for him, but now's probably not the best time to say anything. Not if he wants to come, at any rate, and oh, God, he really wants to come.
Beneath him, Jensen's giving every indication of sharing this goal, hips setting up a steady pulse against Jared's pinioning body. His legs are long and bare beneath the indoor uniform shorts, the fine hair on his calves rasping pleasantly against Jared's as they press and grind, thigh muscles tensing and releasing with every undulation. His head is tipped back, mouth slightly open with exertion, and God, Jared wants to kiss him; wants to lick him all over and fuck that mouth thoroughly with his tongue, leave it kiss-bruised and bitten. Jared doesn't have much in the way of self-control when Jensen looks like that. Luckily, Jensen doesn't seem to have a problem with this.
The hollow of his throat is salt-slick with fresh sweat when Jared nuzzles his mouth along it, laving a line of heat right up to the bolt of his jaw, the soft space behind his ear that makes him whimper and thrust up. The bruise Jared left here the last time they did this is still faintly visible, a pale pink smear just behind Jensen's earlobe, and Jared gets his mouth on it, his stomach skipping with heat. This is where he marks Jensen, claims him, and he sucks at the skin until Jensen's squirming beneath him and the blood's all surged up purple under his mouth, right where it belongs.
"Shit," Jensen hisses, "Jared, shit," and his hands scrabble breathlessly at the nape of Jared's neck, palming the flat of his shoulders. Jared hmms gently against his skin, then pulls back a little and trails his mouth in a warm, slow drag along the blade of Jensen's jaw, over his cheek, to the swell of his lower lip, spit-damp and sinful.
"I got you," he says, nonsensical and strangely sure as his fingers find skin beneath the hem of Jensen's shirt, smoothing over his stomach so the muscles jump to the touch. "I got you, Jen, s'okay."
Jensen's mouth opens for him easily when Jared licks at the seam, tongue stroking firm over the flat of Jared's. Jensen kisses filthy and wet, jaw going wide as Jared presses the kiss deeper, and Jared shifts against him, skin lighting up all over at the slow, hot drag of Jensen's tongue against his.
"Nnngh," he murmurs into the kiss; pulls back to suck at the curve of Jensen's lip, subtle nips of teeth along the swell of it. Jensen laughs breathlessly, fingers tracing the blades of Jared's shoulders, the dip of his spine. His hands are firm and hot through the thin mesh of Jared's jersey and Jared thrusts down reflexively, biting at Jensen's mouth, shoving his thigh right up into the fork of Jensen's legs.
"God," Jensen grits out, the word tripping off his tongue in a slow drawl as his hips rock up, clear line of his dick hot against Jared's leg. Jared grins and skitters his fingers sideways over the front of Jensen's shorts, working them down until the head of Jensen's cock smears sticky-slick along the backs of his knuckles, and Jensen rears up off the ground with a curse, digging his nails into Jared's back.
"Shit," he spits, fingers five little crescent points of pain through Jared's shirt, "Shit, Jared, come on," and Jared laughs; leans up to press his mouth to Jensen's again, little sucking kisses over and over at his lips. Jensen's flushed up his neck, breathless and squirming and strung out, and God, this is the part Jared loves the most, the way he twists and bucks and shoves at Jared's shoulders, all his reserve lost to the urgency building in his dick. Jared would keep him on the edge like this for hours if he didn't so enjoy seeing him fly off it, melting under the heat of Jared's lips and tongue and hands.
When he makes to slip downwards, with a final bite to Jensen's lower lip, Jensen lets his head fall back, fingers clenching and unclenching on Jared's biceps, his clavicle, the nape of his neck. He's breathless, rasping, and when Jared shoves up his shirt to get at his nipples, the rasps turn into whimpers, hips shifting frenetically and back arching up out of the dirt. There's sweat licking the edges of his muscles, pooled in the centre of his chest, and Jared laps at the shine of it, tongue tracing new glistening trails of his own out to the taut little point of Jensen's nipple. Jensen hisses harsh through his teeth when Jared gets his mouth around it, nipping at the nub of it and then closing his lips and sucking at it after, and Jared hums his approval; pulls off and trails his mouth lower, tonguing a wet path over the flat of Jensen's abdomen.
"Shit," Jensen groans, "shit, Jared." He's shoving again, thrusting the bulge of his cock up against Jared's chest like he thinks that'll actually help him get off any quicker. Jared damn well knows what he's doing and he'll get Jensen off in his own good time, and not a second before.
Jensen's shorts are structured, flat-fronted things, not like Jared's loose polyester, but Jared can still smell him through the fabric when he presses his face there, mouthing along the hot line of his cock where it's pushing out the seam. Jensen torques under him immediately, pushing up against his mouth, but Jared's hands are ready at his hips to flatten him down again, holding him still while he nuzzles and nips at his dick.
"Jared," Jensen grits out, frustrated; "Jesus Christ, just do it, would you?"
Jared laughs against him; slides his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts. "Forgot the magic word." It's not in his nature to tease, not with any seriousness, but it's so hard to resist when Jensen gets like this, his voice breaking tight over his tongue as he twitches and jerks. Jared's gonna get his mouth on that cock anyway, saliva pooling under his tongue already at the thought of it, but it's nice to hear Jensen beg for it, honor-roll, squeaky-clean Jensen pleading and writhing under the bleachers.
Jensen, on the brink of desperation, never disappoints. The next breath that escapes him is something between a groan and a sob, back arching sharply as his fingers twist in Jared's hair, overtight, and pull. "Please. That what you wanna hear? C'mon, Jared, suck my cock. Please."
He bucks his hips helplessly against Jared's palms and tugs on his hair for emphasis, but Jared doesn't need any further encouragement. He's leaking, dick rock-hard and bulging out obscenely against the loose mesh of his shorts, and Jensen's right there, hot and aching for his mouth. Jared fumbles his shorts out of the way in two sharp tugs, Jensen lifting his ass obligingly to facilitate, and then Jensen's naked from waist to knees, cock straining against his stomach in a puddle of its own slick. He's so hard, fuck, precome drooling from the head and Jared can't bite back the groan that rises in his throat at the sight, at the musky-sour smell of him, all sweat and sex. He shoulders Jensen's thighs a little wider, working himself further between, and then his fingers wrap firm around the root of Jensen's cock and Jensen almost cries out, transmuting it into a broken groan at only the very last second.
"Fuck," he mutters, "fuck, Jared, Jared, come on," and his hips lift frantically, seeking Jared's heat.
"I got you," Jared says again, and this time he means it. "C'mon, Jen, I got you."
He jacks him slowly at first, angling Jensen's cock so his breath skitters warm over the head of it even before he ducks low enough to tease at the slit with his tongue. Jensen draws in a sharp, tight breath; throws up an arm over his face and bites down on it, muffling a groan in the meat of his forearm, and Jared lets his lips slip down over the tip of him until the whole crown of his cock is sheathed in his mouth. Jensen's shifting his hips incrementally, trying not to thrust, and Jared's grateful for it as he slowly bobs deeper, drooling around the thick weight of Jensen as he descends, tongue flat and rasping against the vein on the underside.
"God," Jensen grits out desperately into the crook of his elbow, "fuck, Jared, shit, like that. Like that."
There's too much of Jensen for Jared to take easily, even now, but God, when Jensen begs like that he has to try. He takes a deep breath and presses deeper until his eyes water with the burn of it, the back of his throat fluttering in protest as Jensen's cock slides home. Down here, with his nose in Jensen's pubic hair, the smell and taste of him are overpowering, animalistic and sexy in a way that makes Jared question whether he really needs to be able to breathe. Jensen's moaning, fucking shallowly in and out of the entrance to Jared's throat, and God, Jared would stay here forever if he could, pressing his own hips frenetically into the dirt with Jensen's cock filling him up, stuffing him full.
Ultimately, though, Jared's lungs are not down with this plan. Reluctantly, he pulls off a little way when they start to burn; gets his hand around the base of Jensen's cock where his spit has slicked it up and starts jerking him, mouth still working at him sloppy and wet. Jensen's close, fuck, blood-hot and leaking all over Jared's tongue, and Jared groans around him, bobbing his head faster when Jensen's moans go shuttered and sharp, the muscles in his thighs tensing against Jared's shoulders.
"Shit," Jensen's gasping, "Shit, fuck, Jared, fuck - "
Jared sucks hard, tongue curling up to flatten against the head of Jensen's cock, working into the slit. Jensen sucks in a tight breath with a stifled sound breaking through it, and Jared grips his thighs, encouraging, until Jensen lets go and fucks up into his mouth, rocking up desperately over his tongue.
"Fuck," Jensen manages, "shit," and that's it, that's all she wrote; he's coming so hard that Jared can't keep up, strings of it drooling out of the corners of his mouth despite his best attempts to swallow. "God," Jensen moans; clutches at Jared's hair as his body goes limp, though his hips are still moving incrementally in Jared's mouth.
"Mmm," Jared murmurs; pulls off him and presses a kiss to the head of his cock, laughing a little as Jensen twitches and flinches away, oversensitive. "Good?"
"Nguh," Jensen says, intelligently. "Gimme a minute." His hand flails blindly for Jared's face, and Jared catches it in his mouth, sucking lightly at the tip of the index finger. Jensen shivers a little and Jared feels himself twitch; rolls his hips into the ground, slow hard pressure.
"Hey," Jensen says, and Jared lifts his head, grinning apologetically.
"What?"
"That's mine," Jensen says, mock-petulantly, and closes his thighs around Jared's body, urging him pointedly upward.
Jared goes willingly, following a wave of heat on his hands and knees until Jensen's fingers find the waistband of his shorts and dip beneath, closing firm and sure around the shaft of his cock.
"Fuck," Jared whispers, turning his face into the hollow of Jensen's throat. "God, Jensen. Please."
Jensen's good at this, fingers now closed, now open as he jerks Jared's cock, steady and quick. Jared's so far beyond ready that every stroke sets him shivering, hips rocking forward into the tunnel of Jensen's fist, fucking in and out through a film of his own slick. Jensen's other arm tightens around him, stroking his back, his sides, free hand skittering ticklishly over the jut of his hipbone, and Jared groans against his neck, licks at the skin there reflexively.
"Jensen," he gasps out, breath catching as Jensen flicks his thumb over the head of him, smearing his slickness over the crown.
"I got you," Jensen whispers in his ear; hitches his hips to cradle Jared properly between his thighs, strong and sure. "Come on, Jay, I got you. Let me see you, huh?"
And that's it, that does it, heat seizing in his stomach and spasming out in wet white pulses, over Jensen's sticky fingers, over his hipbone and the waistband of his shorts. It's a slick, hot mess but Jensen just keeps moving, milking it out of Jared in spurts until Jared jerks his hips away, gasping for breath.
"That's it," Jensen whispers; lifts his sticky hand and sucks his fingers into his mouth and it's for show, but fuck, it works for Jared. His spent cock twitches limply in protest, and when he turns his head, Jensen's there to catch him, licking his way into Jared's slack mouth, the taste of them both mingling between.
They make out for long, slow minutes, Jared propped on his elbow over Jensen in the dirt, tongues moving lazy and deep. In the world beyond the bleachers, though, the sky is fading to grey, and Jared reluctantly pulls himself away, mouthing at Jensen's jaw, at the soft skin of his neck.
"Should probably go," he says, low and reluctant. Nobody's gonna come out here, not now, but Jensen's taking about forty-seven APs, and Jared knows that if he's got homework to do, Jensen's gotta have twice as much. "Gettin' late."
"Yeah," Jensen says, fingers combing idly through Jared's hair. He's gorgeous like this, all fucked out and languid in the half-light, eyes heavy-lidded and his hair all mussed. Jared wants to stay with him like this all night.
"Five more minutes," Jensen says, after a second, and nuzzles at the corner of Jared's mouth. Jared's stomach tugs a little guiltily, but he doesn't have the heart to refuse him, not like this, with this something all warm and adoring in his chest.
"Kay," he says, slanting his mouth back over Jensen's, and dips his tongue back into his mouth.
By the time they slip out from under the shelter of the bleachers, it's full dark, and Jared's gonna catch all kinds of shit when he shows up in chem lab tomorrow without any homework. For now, though, his lips are buzzing numbly in the aftermath of kisses, and Jensen's hand is soft against his waist when it brushes there, nudging him ahead. Tomorrow, he thinks, a little dimly, can worry about itself.