Fic: Sure To Lure Someone Bad (J2, NC-17)
Title: Sure to Lure Someone Bad
Authors:mistyzeo and obstinatrix
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jensen plans to take care of his heat the way he normally does: alone. But there’s a stranger on the subway who has a better idea.
Notes/Word Count: To satisfy the final square on the fic tac toe game between misty and obstinatrix, because nothing says “lust” like “undeniable mating urge.” We muddled the board so bad neither of us won, but everyone else did. That was our plan from the start. Yeah right. Title from the song ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ by Sam the Sham. Many thanks to cherie_morte for beta! ♥ ~6k.
Jensen’s just on the very edge of the heat, headed home on the subway for his allotted half-week off from work. He can feel it creeping up his spine, warm and tingling, swelling his cock to half-hard in his pants, but it’s not the overwhelming, raging, desperate-to-fuck madness that day two always brings with it. His palms are a little sweaty, and it makes hanging on to the overhead bar in the subway a little questionable, but he’s nearly home anyway, and then he’ll be fine. Four days of bedridden desperation, non-stop jerking off, and some hearty abuse of the box of stupidly big silicone toys hidden under his bed, and he’ll be fine.
The train stops six stations and ten minutes from Jensen’s house, and a crowd of people get off and on. Something sharp and hot ripples through Jensen’s body, and he turns his head to look. There’s a guy-- a big guy-- near the doors, all broad shoulders and big biceps and a kind of quiet intensity, and he’s got his chin tipped up and his eyes narrowed, like he’s scenting the air.
He’s scenting Jensen.
Fuck.
Jensen swallows hard and looks away, but the guy’s already caught his scent. Jensen can almost feel the weight of his gaze on the back of his neck, and he straightens his spine and tries not to look vulnerable. Alphas are as rare as omegas, like the flip of a very unfair coin would make you a standard Beta-- most of the population-- or a non-standard Other. Some people got domineering, type-A personalities to go with their thick cocks, and some people got an urge to submit and the ability to self-lubricate. Jensen's done a solid job busting the stereotypes about Omegas, and he could probably take this guy in a fight if it came down to it, but there are some times-- and he senses this was about to be one of them-- where he just wants to be bent over and fucked, knotted for hours and pinned to the bed, bitten and marked all over until his scent is indistinguishable from his mate’s.
The train rushes through the dark tunnel, rocking the whole crowd of people inside back and forth, and Jensen’s pulse is hammering. He can smell the guy now, his thick, musky, intoxicated scent filling the enclosed space. No one else notices, and Jensen thinks crazily, just for me. He looks deliberately down at his feet, but the hair is standing up at the nape of his neck and he just knows he’s making the wrong move.
There’s a shuffle and press of people when the train stops again, and the sharp scent of the Alpha gets closer, hotter, and Jensen’s starting to sweat. Then there’s a big, firm body pressed up behind him, and a hand on his hip. He turns his head, ready to tell the guy to seriously fuck off, he’s not interested, but the guy’s got a soft, earnest expression on his face, and he doesn’t actually look that dangerous. Still big, though.
“I’m Jared,” the guys says, very quietly. “And I’m gonna fuck you.”
It should be insulting. It should be ridiculous, and outrageous, and the exact opposite of really goddamn hot, but it isn’t. Jensen sucks in a sharp breath, a pulse of want and need rocketing though him. His cock is fully hard now, throbbing in his jeans, and he has his briefcase positioned just right to not scandalize the whole train. Jared takes another step into his space, gets a foot between Jensen’s boots where he’s bracing against the subway’s movement, and his hard thigh between Jensen’s spread legs. His crotch is against Jensen’s ass, and Jensen can feel the solid line of his dick.
“Jensen,” Jensen says, choking on a moan as the guy, Jared, ducks his head to the curve of his neck and inhales. He’s obviously got his animal instinct in check, just enough that he can keep up the charade of normality in public, but Jensen’s got a feeling this guy will take him apart.
“What are you doing,” Jared asks, his lips moving against Jensen’s bare neck, “out in public right now, smelling like you do?”
“Going home,” Jensen manages, but it's an effort. His voice sounds strung-out, stupidly desperate in his own ears, and he takes a second to hope nobody else in the car can hear this, Jared's voice low and dirty against his neck, Jensen's strained responses. Subway etiquette dictates that commuters should keep their goddamn eyes to themselves, but ears are a different matter. Someone could be listening to this. Jensen should be more disturbed by the thought than he is.
The fact is that Jensen's cock is pretty much beyond listening to the demands of his rational mind, and when a sudden jolt of the train throws Jared forward, rocking them together, he can't bite back a little whimper. Against the bolt of his jaw, he feels Jared smile.
"Home, huh?" He's still got his hand on Jensen's hip, long-fingered and broad, and Jensen can feel the scorching heat of it bleeding through the fabric of his pants, right down to his bones. "What were you planning on doing when you got there?" He flexes his fingers incrementally. "Got someone waiting in your bed?"
Jensen swallows. The weight of Jared's cock is fat and hot against his ass, riding the cleft with every motion of the car, and it's making it kind of difficult to think. "No." His throat feels like it's stuffed full of cotton, dry and thick. "No, I’m not-- no one’s waiting."
It was an obvious line, and Jensen just gave the obvious answer. Any other time, that might have bothered him, but this is now, and it's not like every damn thing about this whole situation isn't obvious already. Jensen's arousal, hidden from view by the shield of his briefcase but clear and sharp to Jared's Alpha senses; and Jared's response, evident in the thick jut of his dick, the raw, sexy smell of him. Jared says, "Huh," just that, and Jensen feels a slow curl of heat overtake him like a wave.
"Yeah," Jensen says, irritated with how breathless he sounds. Jared laughs softly, turning his head enough that his mouth brushes open against Jensen's neck when he moves, and Jensen's knees turn promptly liquid.
"I guess you have a lot of toys, then, huh, Jensen?" Jared shifts his leading foot just a little on the floor, hitching them closer, and shit, but Jensen likes the sound of his name in Jared's mouth. Christ. "They do it for you, when you're like this? Fill you up good when you fuck yourself with them?"
Jensen stumbles, one arm flailing out blindly to brace himself on the nearest available bar. He's seen people stumble like this often enough on the subway, natural reactions to being caught off guard by a sudden sickening roll of the train, no big deal. Nobody has to know it wasn't the train that robbed him of his balance. Fuck.
He shifts, and the hand on his hip splays out, casually possessive. Steadying. Jensen tries to concentrate on not making an embarrassing noise. Then Jared takes a breath like a promise, slow and rough by Jensen's ear. He says, "Bet I could fill you better. Knot in you." His next breath is tight with intent. "Don't think they make a toy that does that, yet."
Jensen swallows again, tilting his head unconsciously and giving Jared a little more access to his neck. He whispers, “they don’t,” because he’s already too far gone to deny either Jared’s (accurate) assumption that he has an array of dildos, or that he’s tried to find one that really satisfies him during the heat. There’s nothing that compares to getting fucked by a real guy, with a real dick and a real knot, but Jensen hasn’t allowed himself that pleasure since he was an idiot college student.
Something about Jared makes him yearn to be that idiot again. God, it's not like he doesn't remember all the reasons he decided it was a bad idea, the dangers that accompany surrendering himself like that. Alphas fuck hard, relentless, and Jensen in heat is too pumped up on pheromones and need to recognise when things are getting out of hand. Male Omegas are mostly infertile, but that doesn't stop the swell of something metasexual that begins during a knotting, leaving Jensen aching to be bred, to be owned. That kind of submissiveness just isn't Jensen, isn't safe, but, shit, the thought of being stuffed full of Jared's knot, his seed -- fuck. His toes curl in his boots, bracing against a new wave of heat.
Jared must smell it, because he makes this noise in his throat, low and rough, close enough to a growl that Jensen’s rational brain is on high alert while his dick throbs. He could stop this right now; could tell Jared “no,” get off the train, and spend the weekend safely fantasizing instead of inviting a stranger into his home. But he doesn’t want to, now that he’s here.
He shifts backwards, disguising it as a reaction to the roll of the train, but it lines him up knee to shoulder with Jared, pressing his ass against Jared’s cock. He’s so close he can feel the buttons of Jared’s shirt digging into his spine, and Jared gives a little short, surprised gasp against the back of his neck, like he wasn’t expecting Jensen to give in either.
Then Jared bites him, just a little sharp nip of teeth in the soft skin of his neck, hidden no doubt by Jared’s bent head, and Jensen has to stifle a moan. He’s so wet already, ass slippery and ready to be fucked, he can’t wait. One more stop and he’ll be home, and then he can get this Alpha into his bed and use him for days. He closes his eyes.
Jared’s hand on his hip starts to sneak underneath his shirt, pressing a thumb into the dip of Jensen’s pelvis, and at the same time he mouths softly at the bite mark he’s left on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen can feel the heat radiating off of him, can smell the musk of his arousal, and he almost can’t breathe. This way, it's easier to ignore the glances of the other passengers and focus on the feeling of Jared’s fingers on his skin, and he counts down the seconds until the train stops.
When the doors open, he yanks himself away from Jared, grabs for his hand, and pulls him to the exit. He pushes past people roughly enough to get a muffled, “Hey!” from behind him, but he doesn’t care. Jared’s keeping up, strong fingers squeezing Jensen’s, and Jensen wonders how in the hell he’s going to make it home.
“Elevator,” Jared says, changing direction for him.
Jensen doesn't generally take well to other people's barked orders, but one of the irresistible effects of heat on an Omega is a heightened desire to submit, and Jensen doesn't even think before he turns to follow Jared. It occurs to him, as he hurries across the tile floor at Jared's heels, that they don't actually need to use the elevator to exit the station, but the thought seems weirdly distant, unlikely to have any direct impact on the situation at hand. By the time Jared's chivvying him into the empty elevator, one big hand flattened against the doors to keep them from closing, he's forgotten it entirely.
The elevator, as it happens, is going up. Jensen doesn't know whether Jared told it to do so or what -- maybe it's just bowing unconsciously to his will, as far awash on all the raw heat and strength of him as Jensen is. It's pretty much a standard subway elevator, the obscene graffiti of years scrawled in spray paint and Sharpie across the industrial-tin walls. Intellectually, he knows it probably stinks to high heaven, too, rank with that unmistakable public toilet smell. Ordinarily, Jensen wouldn't take the elevator in a subway station unless his life depended on it.
Now, though. Jared's a looming wall of warmth all up Jensen's side, and if the elevator ever had a smell of its own, Jensen can't detect it, not under the scent of Jared's arousal growing overpowering in the enclosed space. They're close, two big men crowded tight together in an area that could barely accommodate four medium-sized people, whatever the half-shredded signs might claim. They're close, and it's stupidly, inexplicably exciting, Jared's dick fat and full and pushing out his zipper, his eyes dark and intent on Jensen. Jensen's eyes have just drifted to Jared's hands, the long-fingered grace of them, when the left one moves, decisive and quick; slams back hard against something that makes the elevator lurch sickeningly, and stop.
The emergency stop, Jensen realizes, through a haze of lust. Jared's stopped the elevator in the space between station and street, trapping Jensen in here like prey.
Probably, the lance of heat that flashes through his stomach is an inappropriate reaction to this kind of thing, but Jensen can't help it. He looks back at Jared's face, and in that instant Jared has him slammed against the metal wall of the elevator, the handrail digging into his back. Jared meets his eyes for a second, gauging Jensen's reaction, and then he's kissing him with an unbridled ferocity that makes Jensen's knees weak. He finds himself clutching Jared's broad shoulders, spreading his legs in unmistakable invitation, and moaning shamelessly into his mouth. He wants to be owned by this man, covered in his scent and dripping with his come.
Jared grinds up into him, hard, pushing the huge bulge of his dick against Jensen's crotch, and Jensen hears himself whimpering. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, and Jared immediately latches onto his bared throat, worrying a mark into the skin. It sends jolts of pleasure-pain through Jensen's body, straight to his dick. His boxers are damp, clinging to his skin all slippery and wet, and he shifts awkwardly, trying to give Jared a hint. He's more than ready to bend over for him, if he would only stop palming Jensen's ass and kissing his neck.
Then Jared grips his ass in both huge hands and lifts, pulling Jensen right off the floor. Jensen's abandoned briefcase clatters in the corner, but Jensen can barely hear it over his own pulse roaring in his ears, and the harsh sound of Jared breathing. Jared shoves him against the wall again, pinning Jensen's hips and forcing him to wrap his legs around Jared's waist. He's perched precariously on the handrail, held in place by the weight of Jared's body, and he curls his arms around Jared's shoulders too and lets Jared bite at his mouth again.
Jared shifts him against the wall, spreading him wide while he grinds against him, and suddenly Jared's cock is pressing behind Jensen's erection, between his cheeks, where he's wet like a bitch and aching for it. Jensen rides a surge of lust and adrenaline and comes, shouting, in his jeans.
"There," Jared breathes, letting him down and kissing his burning face, "take the edge off, baby."
"Don't--" Jensen huffs, stumbling, and Jared catches him with both hands. “Don’t call me ‘baby.’” He's still keyed up, the heat running rampant through his blood, only now he's sticky and shaking. Jared smells incredible, thick and warm and dark, and Jensen licks his lips restlessly.
"Okay," Jared says, appeasing, and darts in to bite Jensen's lower lip. Again, "Okay," and then he's turning Jensen around. Jensen goes willingly, easily, bending over and bracing his forearms against the elevator wall as Jared tugs his hips back and runs a hand up his spine, rucking up his shirt. Jensen hears him sigh with satisfaction, and then Jared's mouth is on the small of his back, biting and licking, as Jared reaches around him and starts to undo his jeans.
The enormity of the situation hits him suddenly-- he's in a dirty subway elevator with some guy he's never met, about to get fucked to within an inch of his life. It's tempered by a wave of pleasure that comes from Jared's teeth against his skin and Jared's hands on his thighs, thumbs dragging over the denim before they slide back up to his waistband, palm the fine skin over the ridges of his hipbones. He decides he doesn’t care-- he’s an adult, he can do what he wants.
"I've got you," Jared says, and his voice is warm and low in the space between Jensen's shoulder blades, his breath setting a trail of sparks jolting down Jensen's spine. His cock is fattening again already, the relief of coming barely a relief at all, and Jared's fingers don't help, brushing at his hips, at the rough thatch of his pubic hair. It's on the tip of his tongue to spit come on, to hitch back his ass against Jared and demand, beg, but there's still an ounce of dignity hidden away somewhere inside him, and he isn't there yet. Maybe that's the effect of the unsatisfying orgasm. Five minutes ago, he probably would have succumbed to the urge, pleaded unrestrainedly for the thick shove of Jared's cock in his ass.
Fuck. He flattens his hands against the wall, back dipping into a sinuous curve. His muscles are straining so hard with tension that it feels as if his ribs are straining, too, the jutting bones of his pelvis, the wings of his shoulder blades. Jared's palm finds the swell of his ass, shoving his pants lower so they pool at Jensen's knees, and it's all he can do to bite back a litany of pleading.
"Shit," Jared says, lust twisting the word into something else, something that mingles with the smell of him to set Jensen's mind reeling in his skull. Jared's fingers are long and deft and powerful, scratching fine lines of heat across Jensen's skin, tracing a line up the cleft of his backside, and Jensen's hips hitch, helpless and wanting, shoving back for more of Jared's touch.
"Jared," he gets out, strangled through his clenched teeth, "would you just --"
And then Jared's fingers are there, between his thighs, breaching him, and Jensen can't make words any more. He's wet, shit, smearing wet and musky all over the fine skin of his inner thighs, and Jared's fingers make slow trails through his slickness, breath going short against Jensen's back.
"I've got you," Jared repeats, but this time he means it, one finger sinking into Jensen's heat. It slides in easy as a knife through hot butter, crooking up against Jensen's inner wall, and Jensen feels his body clamp down instantly around it, trying to keep it there, wanting more.
A second finger shoves in alongside the first, and there's no need for it, not really, not with how bad Jensen's leaking, inner muscles fluttering around Jared's hand. There's no need, but the tightness in Jared's breathing says he likes it, the smell of him intensifying in Jensen's nostrils, so much overwhelming Alpha want.
"How long?" Jared breathes, and his voice is so soft that Jensen's straining to hear him over the pounding of his heart. "How long since you got knotted, Jensen?" A third finger edges in, stretching Jared wide, and Jensen feels the rush of it jackknife through his body.
"Uh," he gets out, but it's hard to think, every muscle he has torn between tensing up and liquefying entirely under Jared's touch. "Must be -- shit -- must be six years, I can't -- Jared --"
Jared makes a strangled sound, gut-twistingly, achingly deep, opens his mouth against the nape of Jensen's neck. "Six years," he breathes, "how the fuck --?" and then he's four fingers deep, and Jensen can't take it, has to get fucked right now or he'll die.
"Jared," he rasps out, "come on, please." And he pushes his hips back in open invitation, riding the ragged edge of desperation.
“Yeah,” Jared says roughly, “gonna give it to you,” and pulls his fingers out. The loss of them has Jensen gasping, squirming helplessly at how empty he feels. Then he’s gasping for an entirely different reason, as Jared wraps his slick hand around Jensen’s cock and gives it a tug. “Wanna make it so good.”
“Yes,” Jensen says, “god, yes,” because it is, so fucking good he almost can’t stand it. He could come again already, Jared’s pheromones turning him into a quivering, needy mess. It won’t be enough though, not until he’s tied to Jared, until he has that knot stuffed up inside him, stretching him to the point of pain, claiming him. He shudders, jerking against the bonds of his jeans to try to spread his legs wider, and he can feel Jared fumbling with the buttons of his own pants even as he keeps a hand wrapped around Jensen's erection.
Then the weight of Jared's cock is brushing the curve of his ass, feeling huge and hard. Jensen drops his head between his elbows and looks back, trying to see past Jared's big hand on him. He can't, even with his legs spread as far as they'll go, but then it doesn't matter because he has to close his eyes to control himself when Jared starts rubbing the head of his cock against Jensen's slick hole. Jared moans, teasing them both, drawing it out until Jensen's so on edge he’s worried he's going to explode.
"Okay?" Jared asks, one last time, giving Jensen an out. Like Jensen's going to take it, now that he's ass-up in an elevator with his jeans around his knees and his dignity all over the floor. The heat isn't going away, and Jensen's not stopping.
"Do it," he says, clenching his fingers on air, and Jared leans in to kiss the back of his neck again. Then he's pressing in, fat head stretching Jensen's hole open, sliding in sweet and smooth and deep. He sinks all the way in, until his sharp hipbones are pressed against Jensen’s ass, and Jensen’s so fucking full he wants to cry with relief. Nothing else matters but the thickness of Jared’s dick inside him, splitting him open, getting ready to knot him tight. His whole body tenses suddenly, clenching, and Jared lets out a shocked breath.
“Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, you’re incredible.” He lets go of Jensen’s dick, mercifully, giving him a little room to gather his composure, but then he fits both huge hands to Jensen’s hips and uses them to push Jensen forward off his dick, and then yank him back onto it. Jensen shouts, grabbing on hard to the handrail, and he rocks his hips hard, trying to get Jared to do it again. He’s sweating, can feel it running down his face and the back of his neck, and Jared bends forwards to lick it off him, biting and sucking at his skin until he trembles all over.
It's ferocious, the pace of it, Jared swiveling his hips on every back stroke in a way that drags maddeningly against Jensen's insides, pistoning back in with his fingers tight on Jensen's hips. Jensen's skin is jumping with the pounding of his heart, cock fat and aching again between his legs, and for a rising span of seconds there's just Jared falling into rhythm behind him like clockwork, jackhammer snap of his hips hitting Jensen's prostate on every thrust.
"Fuck," Jensen moans, low and dirty-rough. "So fucking big."
Jared's laughter scrapes along the crest of Jensen's spine, hot and dark. "God, it really has been a long time for you, huh, babe?" And then, abruptly, he's stilling -- fucks into Jensen once, again, and then pauses balls-deep in Jensen's ass, hips rocking against him in an incremental grind. Jensen would protest being called 'babe' were it not for the fact that, shit, he knows what this is. Jared leans in, closes his teeth around the knob of Jensen's spine and Jensen full-on moans before he even breaks the skin, starts to suck his mark there.
"Oh, fuck," Jensen breathes, and he can feel it starting, Jared's cock shoved right up against Jensen's prostate, the unmistakable sense of getting fuller as it swells, fattening with the weight of Jared's knot. "Jared --"
Jared pulls off slickly, his mouth making a wet sound as he nips his way across to Jensen's shoulder blade, and there'll be a bruise there after, Jensen knows, dark and showing the impression of Jared's teeth. "Yeah," Jared breathes, in a voice gone thick and low, feral against Jensen's blood-hot skin. "Look at you, Jensen, God, just -- waiting to be filled up, aren't you?" He grinds his pelvis into Jensen's ass, balls nudged up against him, and Jensen can feel him growing, fattening enough that they'll soon be stuck together. "Feel that, babe? Feel my knot gettin' all big in you? Getting you ready for me?"
"Shit," Jensen moans, and really, it's more like keening, his cock seizing up and leaking helplessly beneath him. Jared's huge inside him, so fucking massive, and Jensen knows he's gonna start coming soon and that will be it. Jensen's too close to the edge already: another hot second and he'll be free-falling over it.
Then Jared's hand slips off the sweaty edge of his hipbone, thumb sliding down the cut of his pelvis. It brushes against the base of Jensen's cock where it's swollen up and ready, and it's barely a touch, but Jensen's so close. Jared twists his hips a half-turn and Jensen clenches at the crest of it, ass shoving backward as he grits his teeth and comes.
It lasts longer than the first orgasm, wracking his body with shivery pleasure that goes on and on. Jared strokes his back and moans softly, and through the haze Jensen can feel the wet pulse of his come, filling Jensen up slowly. Jensen goes almost limp, held up by the wall and Jared’s arms around his body, and presses his face into his hands, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He can breathe again, the all-consuming heat dimming to a flicker under his skin, keeping him eager but allowing him to function.
He reaches back with one hand and finds the back of Jared’s head, grips a handful of hair and pulls. Jared rises up, still working his hips in a slow grind that tugs at Jensen’s hole, and meets Jensen’s eyes. His gaze is dark and hooded, and Jensen knows his attention is focused on the place where they’re joined, the way he’s breeding Jensen up right now, marking him with his come and his scent and claiming him. Jensen turns his head a little farther, twisting his upper body, and Jared presses their mouths together. The kiss is a little sloppy, uncoordinated, but Jensen forgives him when Jared groans again and shudders all over, caught in the tide of lust.
“Is it always--?” Jensen manages, shifting his hips awkwardly. He’s so full, pinned so decisively, and Jared’s hands stroking along his belly and chest are distracting. Jared rubs his thumb over one of Jensen’s nipples, and it makes him jolt. They’re so sensitive right now, like a live wire right to his dick.
“Always what?” Jared asks, nosing the back of his neck and licking the marks he left earlier.
“So intense?” Jensen feels like an idiot for asking, but it’s been a long time, and he doesn’t remember the few times he allowed himself to do this in college being so wild and out of control.
Jared shakes his head. "Something about you," he says, breaking off on a curious note that maybe isn't the end of the sentence, Jensen can't be sure. Jared's still pulsing come, the bulge of his knot still fat inside Jensen as he leaks and spurts, locking them together. Jensen feels as if the tension in his chest at Jared's words should shame him, the way it makes his body thrum with a weird kind of fondness, but the truth is, it doesn't. Maybe they're out of their minds right now, breathless and giddy with the heat, but Jensen's been knotted before and never felt like this, loving the way their bodies interlock and hoping Jared's knot never goes down.
"Something about me?" Stupid. He doesn't know why he says it, but Jared makes a tight noise from somewhere in his chest, rolls his pelvis slowly against the swell of Jensen's backside.
"Something -- I don't know." His hand slides lower, splaying long-fingered and massive across Jensen's stomach. "I know you're in your heat, but fuck, Jensen, I want to be in you, I need --"
"You are in me," Jensen points out, but his voice is thin and unsteady as his palm shifts to cover the back of Jared's hand. His cock is half-mast between them, pulse pouring under the slicked velvet skin of it as it twitches, Jesus, again.
Jared laughs, mouths at the bolt of Jensen's jaw, nipping at the bone. "God. I know. So deep in you. Can almost feel myself, here." His palm presses in, firm push against Jensen's abdomen, and Jensen can feel his breath quickening in his chest as it pinions him there, trapped between Jared's hand and the furnace heat of his body. Jared's still shifting, pulses of come slowing, and his voice is rough and oddly soft against Jensen's neck. "Wish I could stay all tied up in you. Wanna -- God -- wanna breed you, fill you up, knot you good every time I smell you wet for me."
"God," Jensen moans, knees going liquid under the stupid fucking heat of it, Jesus Christ. He can't remember how long knots take to go down -- he guesses it varies -- but Jared feels so good in there, plugs him up so full, and God, he wishes Jared could stay in him, too. He pushes at Jared's hand and Jared goes with it easily, fingers encircling the whole length of Jensen's dick.
Jensen’s a mess down there, sticky and wet, strings of his own come clinging to the head of his cock and wetness from his hole leaking down his balls and making his pubic hair damp. The touch of Jared’s hand is almost too much, he’s so sensitive, but his fingers glide easily and Jared’s groan of appreciation distracts him. His jeans and boxers are probably ruined, totally unsalvageable, covered in spunk and sweat. He’s going to have to walk home in them anyway.
“Bet I could make you come again,” Jared says, sounding pleased with himself. He kisses Jensen’s jaw again and gives him a tighter squeeze, just this side of painful, that makes Jensen gasp and his traitorous cock fatten up. He dips his head, shoulders aching with the strain, and shakes his head in disbelief. He’s not a kid anymore, but this heat is insane.
“Gently,” he warns, knowing he’s not going to get out of it. Jared’s low laugh rumbles through him, and his grip on Jensen’s dick eases.
“Okay,” Jared says. “Might be a while.”
“Fuck.”
Jared starts rubbing his other hand in a slow circle over Jensen’s stomach, at the same time pulling his collar away from his neck with his teeth. He mouths at the skin he can reach, fresh and unmarked, and starts biting. He licks the bite-marks, soothing, and then sucks the skin with an intent to bruise. Jensen rolls his shoulders, murmuring nonsense as his breathing starts to pick up. Jared kisses him tenderly, and the faint scratch of his stubble against Jensen’s skin tingles. The hand on Jensen’s cock strokes him slowly, working him until he’s fully hard, while the other smooths up his chest to pinch at his nipple. He’s still rocking his hips, rhythmically, working his seed deep into Jensen’s body with every tiny thrust.
The sensations are overwhelming: Jared’s mouth, Jared’s hands, Jared’s knot. It’s like a litany inside Jensen’s head-- Jared, Jared, Jared. He should feel low, disgusting, even used, but instead he’s feeling warm inside, cared for, and a little sappy. It could be the heat talking-- getting knotted satisfies that burning desire like nothing else-- but Jared’s definitely a factor. Jensen didn’t ever think he could meet a boyfriend this way.
Oh, shit.
It's not that Jensen, like, doesn't do boyfriends, or anything like that. There was never any moment of decisive action, so much as a gradual realization that he was too old for picking up guys in clubs where most of the patrons were underage. Jensen is a grown-up now, and obviously that's why he's holed up in a sweaty elevator with his ass stuffed full of some huge, gorgeous stranger he met on the train.
Some huge, gorgeous stranger who never set off the danger alarms he's had up for as long as he can remember, who has this smile and this voice and this dick. Fuck. If only it was mostly the dick that had Jensen interested. He's starting to think he's screwed in more ways than one. He's starting to think he might like to be.
Jared's hand is still working his cock, though, slow milking motions, and it's reached the point where it's getting difficult to think anything at all. Doubtless Jared's done this plenty, knows how to time it, but Jensen thinks he can feel him diminishing slightly. His insides clench, like they're aware of it, too, not ready yet to be empty, but Jared's not coming any more, the last of his seed spat into Jensen's body, all the thick mess of it plugged up in him behind that knot. But the knot'll go down, and it'll all dribble out of him, and Jensen's gonna need Jared to fix that for him, fuck him full again.
"Jensen," Jared breathes against his neck, and his thumb finds the bundle of nerves just under the head of Jensen's cock. He presses, rubbing through the sticky-slick mess there, and Jensen's got it bad, tips his head back against Jared's and moans open-mouthed.
This one is slow, coaxed out of him by inches as Jared's fingers splay open, then closed as he jacks Jensen through it, but it's an orgasm wrenched from his toes, and he can hear Jared laughing in quiet triumph as he works. Jared's slipping in him now, hips gone still, but Jensen's spurting what he can over Jared's fingers and maybe he can wait. Maybe next time they'll fuck in someone's bed and he can keep Jared in there till he's ready to go again, knot fattening up to lock them tight.
"God," Jared breathes, and there's something reverent about it that makes Jensen feel a little less stupid about all his freaking afterglow when Jared lets go, one last swipe of his thumb over the sensitive head of Jensen's cock. "So fucking beautiful, Jensen, you know that?" He opens his mouth against the tendon in Jensen's neck, drags it up to the soft place behind his ear. "Mine," he whispers, and it sparks in Jensen's blood, trips down his spine and catches there, taking fire.
“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs, swallowing hard. His throat is dry and he licks his lips a few times, trying to gather his composure. Jared rubs his forehead against the back of Jensen’s neck, and then he’s pulling away, cock sliding out of Jensen’s body with a wet sound. Jensen catches himself before he whines about it, and straightens his back carefully. Every muscle in his body protests, and he has to steady himself against the wall before he can turn around.
Jared’s tucking himself in and doing up his pants, his face hidden by the messy fall of his hair. Jensen eases his boxers up his thighs, feeling the slow slide of Jared’s come leaking out of him, and he winces. The heat in him is not totally satisfied, but it’s considerably subdued now that he’s given in to every single one of its demands. He risks checking his watch.
Christ, he’s forty five minutes late. Danneel is going to throw a shit-fit. She knows he has his days off scheduled, and was going to spend the weekend with her sister to give Jensen the apartment to himself. But now that he’s not home on time, she’s going to go mental.
“I have to--” Jensen says, tugging up his jeans awkwardly and fumbling for his phone, “I have to get home soon. My roommate.”
“You said you lived alone,” Jared says, glancing up.
“I said I didn’t have anyone waiting,” Jensen corrects with a smile, typing out a text to Danneel, telling her he’s okay.
“Oh,” Jared says. “What time is it?” Jensen tells him, and he whispers, “Shit.”
Jensen tucks his phone away and picks up his briefcase. It’s a wonder it didn’t break open when it hit the floor. “Do you wanna, like, get us out of here?”
“Right,” Jared says, “sorry, sorry,” and he turns the elevator back on. It lurches, groans, and starts to ascend.
“So I don’t know what you’re doing for the next four days,” Jensen says, shifting uncomfortably as the mess in his pants starts to seep through the layers of fabric, “but my roommate is going to be away, and um. I’m going to be like this.” He leaves it there, stealing a glance at Jared out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll call in sick,” Jared says instantly. He hesitates a moment, and then reaches out to smooth Jensen’s rumpled shirt down in back and pull Jensen against him. Jensen leans into him, body humming with desire, and smiles. He feels like the predator now. Jared seems to sense it, smile dipping in something like shyness, but he likes it. Jensen can tell, and if it gives him ideas, nobody could blame him for it.
Three days later, curled up in the ruin of his bed with Jared tangled around him, Jensen's ideas have shown no signs of dimming with the banked heat in his stomach, now mostly ebbed away. Jared's knotted him good in every room in the apartment, pounded him over the bathroom sink with Jensen's hands on the mirror, bitten enough bruises into his skin-- neck, stomach, thighs, ass-- that he'll be marked up for weeks. Danneel is not going to be happy when she sees what they did to the side table that used to sit by the sofa and is now in pieces in the dumpster, but Danneel can just deal. Jensen is happy, and Jared's the reason.
He's never really woken up with anyone else in his bed. If anything, he'd probably have guessed he'd hate having his space invaded like that, but Jared is a warm, heavy blanket all down his side, his grip possessive without uncomfortable pretensions to ownership, and Jensen doesn't want to lose that with his heat. He's thought as much for a while, but now he's sure of it. Something tells him Jared won't disagree.
"Gotta go back to work soon," he tosses out casually, when they've taken a long final shower together and he's fucking about with the coffee machine.
"Yeah," Jared says, just that. "Yeah." If he was going to throw out anything trite and awful like 'thanks for this' or 'this was fun', this would be the time, but he just kind of stands there, biting his lip.
Under Jensen's ear, Jared's latest bruise throbs in sympathy, and his stomach feels warm with it. God. It shouldn't feel so weirdly familiar, lounging nakedly in the kitchen with Jared, but already it does. Jensen wants to keep it, and he's gathered by now that Jared's not half so bossy out of bed as in it. Jensen thinks he can see the question waiting on the tip of Jared's tongue, but he could be waiting on it a long while.
Screw it. Jensen clears his throat, lifts the coffee pot and nonchalantly starts to pour. "So, I have this thing to go to on Saturday night. You're coming with me, right?"
Jard pauses. His face has gone weirdly blank, like he's trying to school his expression and isn't very good at it. "A thing? What kind of thing?"
"Do you care?"
Jared laughs, then, reaches across to curl his hand around the mark he's bitten into the back of Jensen's neck. "Naw," he concedes, voice low and warm. "Guess not."
"Good answer," Jensen tells him lightly, trying not to look like he kind of wants to do a few cartwheels around the room.
Then Jared kisses him, soft, and the curve of his smile against Jensen's mouth says he pretty much understands the sentiment, all the same.
Authors:mistyzeo and obstinatrix
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jensen plans to take care of his heat the way he normally does: alone. But there’s a stranger on the subway who has a better idea.
Notes/Word Count: To satisfy the final square on the fic tac toe game between misty and obstinatrix, because nothing says “lust” like “undeniable mating urge.” We muddled the board so bad neither of us won, but everyone else did. That was our plan from the start. Yeah right. Title from the song ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ by Sam the Sham. Many thanks to cherie_morte for beta! ♥ ~6k.
Jensen’s just on the very edge of the heat, headed home on the subway for his allotted half-week off from work. He can feel it creeping up his spine, warm and tingling, swelling his cock to half-hard in his pants, but it’s not the overwhelming, raging, desperate-to-fuck madness that day two always brings with it. His palms are a little sweaty, and it makes hanging on to the overhead bar in the subway a little questionable, but he’s nearly home anyway, and then he’ll be fine. Four days of bedridden desperation, non-stop jerking off, and some hearty abuse of the box of stupidly big silicone toys hidden under his bed, and he’ll be fine.
The train stops six stations and ten minutes from Jensen’s house, and a crowd of people get off and on. Something sharp and hot ripples through Jensen’s body, and he turns his head to look. There’s a guy-- a big guy-- near the doors, all broad shoulders and big biceps and a kind of quiet intensity, and he’s got his chin tipped up and his eyes narrowed, like he’s scenting the air.
He’s scenting Jensen.
Fuck.
Jensen swallows hard and looks away, but the guy’s already caught his scent. Jensen can almost feel the weight of his gaze on the back of his neck, and he straightens his spine and tries not to look vulnerable. Alphas are as rare as omegas, like the flip of a very unfair coin would make you a standard Beta-- most of the population-- or a non-standard Other. Some people got domineering, type-A personalities to go with their thick cocks, and some people got an urge to submit and the ability to self-lubricate. Jensen's done a solid job busting the stereotypes about Omegas, and he could probably take this guy in a fight if it came down to it, but there are some times-- and he senses this was about to be one of them-- where he just wants to be bent over and fucked, knotted for hours and pinned to the bed, bitten and marked all over until his scent is indistinguishable from his mate’s.
The train rushes through the dark tunnel, rocking the whole crowd of people inside back and forth, and Jensen’s pulse is hammering. He can smell the guy now, his thick, musky, intoxicated scent filling the enclosed space. No one else notices, and Jensen thinks crazily, just for me. He looks deliberately down at his feet, but the hair is standing up at the nape of his neck and he just knows he’s making the wrong move.
There’s a shuffle and press of people when the train stops again, and the sharp scent of the Alpha gets closer, hotter, and Jensen’s starting to sweat. Then there’s a big, firm body pressed up behind him, and a hand on his hip. He turns his head, ready to tell the guy to seriously fuck off, he’s not interested, but the guy’s got a soft, earnest expression on his face, and he doesn’t actually look that dangerous. Still big, though.
“I’m Jared,” the guys says, very quietly. “And I’m gonna fuck you.”
It should be insulting. It should be ridiculous, and outrageous, and the exact opposite of really goddamn hot, but it isn’t. Jensen sucks in a sharp breath, a pulse of want and need rocketing though him. His cock is fully hard now, throbbing in his jeans, and he has his briefcase positioned just right to not scandalize the whole train. Jared takes another step into his space, gets a foot between Jensen’s boots where he’s bracing against the subway’s movement, and his hard thigh between Jensen’s spread legs. His crotch is against Jensen’s ass, and Jensen can feel the solid line of his dick.
“Jensen,” Jensen says, choking on a moan as the guy, Jared, ducks his head to the curve of his neck and inhales. He’s obviously got his animal instinct in check, just enough that he can keep up the charade of normality in public, but Jensen’s got a feeling this guy will take him apart.
“What are you doing,” Jared asks, his lips moving against Jensen’s bare neck, “out in public right now, smelling like you do?”
“Going home,” Jensen manages, but it's an effort. His voice sounds strung-out, stupidly desperate in his own ears, and he takes a second to hope nobody else in the car can hear this, Jared's voice low and dirty against his neck, Jensen's strained responses. Subway etiquette dictates that commuters should keep their goddamn eyes to themselves, but ears are a different matter. Someone could be listening to this. Jensen should be more disturbed by the thought than he is.
The fact is that Jensen's cock is pretty much beyond listening to the demands of his rational mind, and when a sudden jolt of the train throws Jared forward, rocking them together, he can't bite back a little whimper. Against the bolt of his jaw, he feels Jared smile.
"Home, huh?" He's still got his hand on Jensen's hip, long-fingered and broad, and Jensen can feel the scorching heat of it bleeding through the fabric of his pants, right down to his bones. "What were you planning on doing when you got there?" He flexes his fingers incrementally. "Got someone waiting in your bed?"
Jensen swallows. The weight of Jared's cock is fat and hot against his ass, riding the cleft with every motion of the car, and it's making it kind of difficult to think. "No." His throat feels like it's stuffed full of cotton, dry and thick. "No, I’m not-- no one’s waiting."
It was an obvious line, and Jensen just gave the obvious answer. Any other time, that might have bothered him, but this is now, and it's not like every damn thing about this whole situation isn't obvious already. Jensen's arousal, hidden from view by the shield of his briefcase but clear and sharp to Jared's Alpha senses; and Jared's response, evident in the thick jut of his dick, the raw, sexy smell of him. Jared says, "Huh," just that, and Jensen feels a slow curl of heat overtake him like a wave.
"Yeah," Jensen says, irritated with how breathless he sounds. Jared laughs softly, turning his head enough that his mouth brushes open against Jensen's neck when he moves, and Jensen's knees turn promptly liquid.
"I guess you have a lot of toys, then, huh, Jensen?" Jared shifts his leading foot just a little on the floor, hitching them closer, and shit, but Jensen likes the sound of his name in Jared's mouth. Christ. "They do it for you, when you're like this? Fill you up good when you fuck yourself with them?"
Jensen stumbles, one arm flailing out blindly to brace himself on the nearest available bar. He's seen people stumble like this often enough on the subway, natural reactions to being caught off guard by a sudden sickening roll of the train, no big deal. Nobody has to know it wasn't the train that robbed him of his balance. Fuck.
He shifts, and the hand on his hip splays out, casually possessive. Steadying. Jensen tries to concentrate on not making an embarrassing noise. Then Jared takes a breath like a promise, slow and rough by Jensen's ear. He says, "Bet I could fill you better. Knot in you." His next breath is tight with intent. "Don't think they make a toy that does that, yet."
Jensen swallows again, tilting his head unconsciously and giving Jared a little more access to his neck. He whispers, “they don’t,” because he’s already too far gone to deny either Jared’s (accurate) assumption that he has an array of dildos, or that he’s tried to find one that really satisfies him during the heat. There’s nothing that compares to getting fucked by a real guy, with a real dick and a real knot, but Jensen hasn’t allowed himself that pleasure since he was an idiot college student.
Something about Jared makes him yearn to be that idiot again. God, it's not like he doesn't remember all the reasons he decided it was a bad idea, the dangers that accompany surrendering himself like that. Alphas fuck hard, relentless, and Jensen in heat is too pumped up on pheromones and need to recognise when things are getting out of hand. Male Omegas are mostly infertile, but that doesn't stop the swell of something metasexual that begins during a knotting, leaving Jensen aching to be bred, to be owned. That kind of submissiveness just isn't Jensen, isn't safe, but, shit, the thought of being stuffed full of Jared's knot, his seed -- fuck. His toes curl in his boots, bracing against a new wave of heat.
Jared must smell it, because he makes this noise in his throat, low and rough, close enough to a growl that Jensen’s rational brain is on high alert while his dick throbs. He could stop this right now; could tell Jared “no,” get off the train, and spend the weekend safely fantasizing instead of inviting a stranger into his home. But he doesn’t want to, now that he’s here.
He shifts backwards, disguising it as a reaction to the roll of the train, but it lines him up knee to shoulder with Jared, pressing his ass against Jared’s cock. He’s so close he can feel the buttons of Jared’s shirt digging into his spine, and Jared gives a little short, surprised gasp against the back of his neck, like he wasn’t expecting Jensen to give in either.
Then Jared bites him, just a little sharp nip of teeth in the soft skin of his neck, hidden no doubt by Jared’s bent head, and Jensen has to stifle a moan. He’s so wet already, ass slippery and ready to be fucked, he can’t wait. One more stop and he’ll be home, and then he can get this Alpha into his bed and use him for days. He closes his eyes.
Jared’s hand on his hip starts to sneak underneath his shirt, pressing a thumb into the dip of Jensen’s pelvis, and at the same time he mouths softly at the bite mark he’s left on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen can feel the heat radiating off of him, can smell the musk of his arousal, and he almost can’t breathe. This way, it's easier to ignore the glances of the other passengers and focus on the feeling of Jared’s fingers on his skin, and he counts down the seconds until the train stops.
When the doors open, he yanks himself away from Jared, grabs for his hand, and pulls him to the exit. He pushes past people roughly enough to get a muffled, “Hey!” from behind him, but he doesn’t care. Jared’s keeping up, strong fingers squeezing Jensen’s, and Jensen wonders how in the hell he’s going to make it home.
“Elevator,” Jared says, changing direction for him.
Jensen doesn't generally take well to other people's barked orders, but one of the irresistible effects of heat on an Omega is a heightened desire to submit, and Jensen doesn't even think before he turns to follow Jared. It occurs to him, as he hurries across the tile floor at Jared's heels, that they don't actually need to use the elevator to exit the station, but the thought seems weirdly distant, unlikely to have any direct impact on the situation at hand. By the time Jared's chivvying him into the empty elevator, one big hand flattened against the doors to keep them from closing, he's forgotten it entirely.
The elevator, as it happens, is going up. Jensen doesn't know whether Jared told it to do so or what -- maybe it's just bowing unconsciously to his will, as far awash on all the raw heat and strength of him as Jensen is. It's pretty much a standard subway elevator, the obscene graffiti of years scrawled in spray paint and Sharpie across the industrial-tin walls. Intellectually, he knows it probably stinks to high heaven, too, rank with that unmistakable public toilet smell. Ordinarily, Jensen wouldn't take the elevator in a subway station unless his life depended on it.
Now, though. Jared's a looming wall of warmth all up Jensen's side, and if the elevator ever had a smell of its own, Jensen can't detect it, not under the scent of Jared's arousal growing overpowering in the enclosed space. They're close, two big men crowded tight together in an area that could barely accommodate four medium-sized people, whatever the half-shredded signs might claim. They're close, and it's stupidly, inexplicably exciting, Jared's dick fat and full and pushing out his zipper, his eyes dark and intent on Jensen. Jensen's eyes have just drifted to Jared's hands, the long-fingered grace of them, when the left one moves, decisive and quick; slams back hard against something that makes the elevator lurch sickeningly, and stop.
The emergency stop, Jensen realizes, through a haze of lust. Jared's stopped the elevator in the space between station and street, trapping Jensen in here like prey.
Probably, the lance of heat that flashes through his stomach is an inappropriate reaction to this kind of thing, but Jensen can't help it. He looks back at Jared's face, and in that instant Jared has him slammed against the metal wall of the elevator, the handrail digging into his back. Jared meets his eyes for a second, gauging Jensen's reaction, and then he's kissing him with an unbridled ferocity that makes Jensen's knees weak. He finds himself clutching Jared's broad shoulders, spreading his legs in unmistakable invitation, and moaning shamelessly into his mouth. He wants to be owned by this man, covered in his scent and dripping with his come.
Jared grinds up into him, hard, pushing the huge bulge of his dick against Jensen's crotch, and Jensen hears himself whimpering. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, and Jared immediately latches onto his bared throat, worrying a mark into the skin. It sends jolts of pleasure-pain through Jensen's body, straight to his dick. His boxers are damp, clinging to his skin all slippery and wet, and he shifts awkwardly, trying to give Jared a hint. He's more than ready to bend over for him, if he would only stop palming Jensen's ass and kissing his neck.
Then Jared grips his ass in both huge hands and lifts, pulling Jensen right off the floor. Jensen's abandoned briefcase clatters in the corner, but Jensen can barely hear it over his own pulse roaring in his ears, and the harsh sound of Jared breathing. Jared shoves him against the wall again, pinning Jensen's hips and forcing him to wrap his legs around Jared's waist. He's perched precariously on the handrail, held in place by the weight of Jared's body, and he curls his arms around Jared's shoulders too and lets Jared bite at his mouth again.
Jared shifts him against the wall, spreading him wide while he grinds against him, and suddenly Jared's cock is pressing behind Jensen's erection, between his cheeks, where he's wet like a bitch and aching for it. Jensen rides a surge of lust and adrenaline and comes, shouting, in his jeans.
"There," Jared breathes, letting him down and kissing his burning face, "take the edge off, baby."
"Don't--" Jensen huffs, stumbling, and Jared catches him with both hands. “Don’t call me ‘baby.’” He's still keyed up, the heat running rampant through his blood, only now he's sticky and shaking. Jared smells incredible, thick and warm and dark, and Jensen licks his lips restlessly.
"Okay," Jared says, appeasing, and darts in to bite Jensen's lower lip. Again, "Okay," and then he's turning Jensen around. Jensen goes willingly, easily, bending over and bracing his forearms against the elevator wall as Jared tugs his hips back and runs a hand up his spine, rucking up his shirt. Jensen hears him sigh with satisfaction, and then Jared's mouth is on the small of his back, biting and licking, as Jared reaches around him and starts to undo his jeans.
The enormity of the situation hits him suddenly-- he's in a dirty subway elevator with some guy he's never met, about to get fucked to within an inch of his life. It's tempered by a wave of pleasure that comes from Jared's teeth against his skin and Jared's hands on his thighs, thumbs dragging over the denim before they slide back up to his waistband, palm the fine skin over the ridges of his hipbones. He decides he doesn’t care-- he’s an adult, he can do what he wants.
"I've got you," Jared says, and his voice is warm and low in the space between Jensen's shoulder blades, his breath setting a trail of sparks jolting down Jensen's spine. His cock is fattening again already, the relief of coming barely a relief at all, and Jared's fingers don't help, brushing at his hips, at the rough thatch of his pubic hair. It's on the tip of his tongue to spit come on, to hitch back his ass against Jared and demand, beg, but there's still an ounce of dignity hidden away somewhere inside him, and he isn't there yet. Maybe that's the effect of the unsatisfying orgasm. Five minutes ago, he probably would have succumbed to the urge, pleaded unrestrainedly for the thick shove of Jared's cock in his ass.
Fuck. He flattens his hands against the wall, back dipping into a sinuous curve. His muscles are straining so hard with tension that it feels as if his ribs are straining, too, the jutting bones of his pelvis, the wings of his shoulder blades. Jared's palm finds the swell of his ass, shoving his pants lower so they pool at Jensen's knees, and it's all he can do to bite back a litany of pleading.
"Shit," Jared says, lust twisting the word into something else, something that mingles with the smell of him to set Jensen's mind reeling in his skull. Jared's fingers are long and deft and powerful, scratching fine lines of heat across Jensen's skin, tracing a line up the cleft of his backside, and Jensen's hips hitch, helpless and wanting, shoving back for more of Jared's touch.
"Jared," he gets out, strangled through his clenched teeth, "would you just --"
And then Jared's fingers are there, between his thighs, breaching him, and Jensen can't make words any more. He's wet, shit, smearing wet and musky all over the fine skin of his inner thighs, and Jared's fingers make slow trails through his slickness, breath going short against Jensen's back.
"I've got you," Jared repeats, but this time he means it, one finger sinking into Jensen's heat. It slides in easy as a knife through hot butter, crooking up against Jensen's inner wall, and Jensen feels his body clamp down instantly around it, trying to keep it there, wanting more.
A second finger shoves in alongside the first, and there's no need for it, not really, not with how bad Jensen's leaking, inner muscles fluttering around Jared's hand. There's no need, but the tightness in Jared's breathing says he likes it, the smell of him intensifying in Jensen's nostrils, so much overwhelming Alpha want.
"How long?" Jared breathes, and his voice is so soft that Jensen's straining to hear him over the pounding of his heart. "How long since you got knotted, Jensen?" A third finger edges in, stretching Jared wide, and Jensen feels the rush of it jackknife through his body.
"Uh," he gets out, but it's hard to think, every muscle he has torn between tensing up and liquefying entirely under Jared's touch. "Must be -- shit -- must be six years, I can't -- Jared --"
Jared makes a strangled sound, gut-twistingly, achingly deep, opens his mouth against the nape of Jensen's neck. "Six years," he breathes, "how the fuck --?" and then he's four fingers deep, and Jensen can't take it, has to get fucked right now or he'll die.
"Jared," he rasps out, "come on, please." And he pushes his hips back in open invitation, riding the ragged edge of desperation.
“Yeah,” Jared says roughly, “gonna give it to you,” and pulls his fingers out. The loss of them has Jensen gasping, squirming helplessly at how empty he feels. Then he’s gasping for an entirely different reason, as Jared wraps his slick hand around Jensen’s cock and gives it a tug. “Wanna make it so good.”
“Yes,” Jensen says, “god, yes,” because it is, so fucking good he almost can’t stand it. He could come again already, Jared’s pheromones turning him into a quivering, needy mess. It won’t be enough though, not until he’s tied to Jared, until he has that knot stuffed up inside him, stretching him to the point of pain, claiming him. He shudders, jerking against the bonds of his jeans to try to spread his legs wider, and he can feel Jared fumbling with the buttons of his own pants even as he keeps a hand wrapped around Jensen's erection.
Then the weight of Jared's cock is brushing the curve of his ass, feeling huge and hard. Jensen drops his head between his elbows and looks back, trying to see past Jared's big hand on him. He can't, even with his legs spread as far as they'll go, but then it doesn't matter because he has to close his eyes to control himself when Jared starts rubbing the head of his cock against Jensen's slick hole. Jared moans, teasing them both, drawing it out until Jensen's so on edge he’s worried he's going to explode.
"Okay?" Jared asks, one last time, giving Jensen an out. Like Jensen's going to take it, now that he's ass-up in an elevator with his jeans around his knees and his dignity all over the floor. The heat isn't going away, and Jensen's not stopping.
"Do it," he says, clenching his fingers on air, and Jared leans in to kiss the back of his neck again. Then he's pressing in, fat head stretching Jensen's hole open, sliding in sweet and smooth and deep. He sinks all the way in, until his sharp hipbones are pressed against Jensen’s ass, and Jensen’s so fucking full he wants to cry with relief. Nothing else matters but the thickness of Jared’s dick inside him, splitting him open, getting ready to knot him tight. His whole body tenses suddenly, clenching, and Jared lets out a shocked breath.
“Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, you’re incredible.” He lets go of Jensen’s dick, mercifully, giving him a little room to gather his composure, but then he fits both huge hands to Jensen’s hips and uses them to push Jensen forward off his dick, and then yank him back onto it. Jensen shouts, grabbing on hard to the handrail, and he rocks his hips hard, trying to get Jared to do it again. He’s sweating, can feel it running down his face and the back of his neck, and Jared bends forwards to lick it off him, biting and sucking at his skin until he trembles all over.
It's ferocious, the pace of it, Jared swiveling his hips on every back stroke in a way that drags maddeningly against Jensen's insides, pistoning back in with his fingers tight on Jensen's hips. Jensen's skin is jumping with the pounding of his heart, cock fat and aching again between his legs, and for a rising span of seconds there's just Jared falling into rhythm behind him like clockwork, jackhammer snap of his hips hitting Jensen's prostate on every thrust.
"Fuck," Jensen moans, low and dirty-rough. "So fucking big."
Jared's laughter scrapes along the crest of Jensen's spine, hot and dark. "God, it really has been a long time for you, huh, babe?" And then, abruptly, he's stilling -- fucks into Jensen once, again, and then pauses balls-deep in Jensen's ass, hips rocking against him in an incremental grind. Jensen would protest being called 'babe' were it not for the fact that, shit, he knows what this is. Jared leans in, closes his teeth around the knob of Jensen's spine and Jensen full-on moans before he even breaks the skin, starts to suck his mark there.
"Oh, fuck," Jensen breathes, and he can feel it starting, Jared's cock shoved right up against Jensen's prostate, the unmistakable sense of getting fuller as it swells, fattening with the weight of Jared's knot. "Jared --"
Jared pulls off slickly, his mouth making a wet sound as he nips his way across to Jensen's shoulder blade, and there'll be a bruise there after, Jensen knows, dark and showing the impression of Jared's teeth. "Yeah," Jared breathes, in a voice gone thick and low, feral against Jensen's blood-hot skin. "Look at you, Jensen, God, just -- waiting to be filled up, aren't you?" He grinds his pelvis into Jensen's ass, balls nudged up against him, and Jensen can feel him growing, fattening enough that they'll soon be stuck together. "Feel that, babe? Feel my knot gettin' all big in you? Getting you ready for me?"
"Shit," Jensen moans, and really, it's more like keening, his cock seizing up and leaking helplessly beneath him. Jared's huge inside him, so fucking massive, and Jensen knows he's gonna start coming soon and that will be it. Jensen's too close to the edge already: another hot second and he'll be free-falling over it.
Then Jared's hand slips off the sweaty edge of his hipbone, thumb sliding down the cut of his pelvis. It brushes against the base of Jensen's cock where it's swollen up and ready, and it's barely a touch, but Jensen's so close. Jared twists his hips a half-turn and Jensen clenches at the crest of it, ass shoving backward as he grits his teeth and comes.
It lasts longer than the first orgasm, wracking his body with shivery pleasure that goes on and on. Jared strokes his back and moans softly, and through the haze Jensen can feel the wet pulse of his come, filling Jensen up slowly. Jensen goes almost limp, held up by the wall and Jared’s arms around his body, and presses his face into his hands, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He can breathe again, the all-consuming heat dimming to a flicker under his skin, keeping him eager but allowing him to function.
He reaches back with one hand and finds the back of Jared’s head, grips a handful of hair and pulls. Jared rises up, still working his hips in a slow grind that tugs at Jensen’s hole, and meets Jensen’s eyes. His gaze is dark and hooded, and Jensen knows his attention is focused on the place where they’re joined, the way he’s breeding Jensen up right now, marking him with his come and his scent and claiming him. Jensen turns his head a little farther, twisting his upper body, and Jared presses their mouths together. The kiss is a little sloppy, uncoordinated, but Jensen forgives him when Jared groans again and shudders all over, caught in the tide of lust.
“Is it always--?” Jensen manages, shifting his hips awkwardly. He’s so full, pinned so decisively, and Jared’s hands stroking along his belly and chest are distracting. Jared rubs his thumb over one of Jensen’s nipples, and it makes him jolt. They’re so sensitive right now, like a live wire right to his dick.
“Always what?” Jared asks, nosing the back of his neck and licking the marks he left earlier.
“So intense?” Jensen feels like an idiot for asking, but it’s been a long time, and he doesn’t remember the few times he allowed himself to do this in college being so wild and out of control.
Jared shakes his head. "Something about you," he says, breaking off on a curious note that maybe isn't the end of the sentence, Jensen can't be sure. Jared's still pulsing come, the bulge of his knot still fat inside Jensen as he leaks and spurts, locking them together. Jensen feels as if the tension in his chest at Jared's words should shame him, the way it makes his body thrum with a weird kind of fondness, but the truth is, it doesn't. Maybe they're out of their minds right now, breathless and giddy with the heat, but Jensen's been knotted before and never felt like this, loving the way their bodies interlock and hoping Jared's knot never goes down.
"Something about me?" Stupid. He doesn't know why he says it, but Jared makes a tight noise from somewhere in his chest, rolls his pelvis slowly against the swell of Jensen's backside.
"Something -- I don't know." His hand slides lower, splaying long-fingered and massive across Jensen's stomach. "I know you're in your heat, but fuck, Jensen, I want to be in you, I need --"
"You are in me," Jensen points out, but his voice is thin and unsteady as his palm shifts to cover the back of Jared's hand. His cock is half-mast between them, pulse pouring under the slicked velvet skin of it as it twitches, Jesus, again.
Jared laughs, mouths at the bolt of Jensen's jaw, nipping at the bone. "God. I know. So deep in you. Can almost feel myself, here." His palm presses in, firm push against Jensen's abdomen, and Jensen can feel his breath quickening in his chest as it pinions him there, trapped between Jared's hand and the furnace heat of his body. Jared's still shifting, pulses of come slowing, and his voice is rough and oddly soft against Jensen's neck. "Wish I could stay all tied up in you. Wanna -- God -- wanna breed you, fill you up, knot you good every time I smell you wet for me."
"God," Jensen moans, knees going liquid under the stupid fucking heat of it, Jesus Christ. He can't remember how long knots take to go down -- he guesses it varies -- but Jared feels so good in there, plugs him up so full, and God, he wishes Jared could stay in him, too. He pushes at Jared's hand and Jared goes with it easily, fingers encircling the whole length of Jensen's dick.
Jensen’s a mess down there, sticky and wet, strings of his own come clinging to the head of his cock and wetness from his hole leaking down his balls and making his pubic hair damp. The touch of Jared’s hand is almost too much, he’s so sensitive, but his fingers glide easily and Jared’s groan of appreciation distracts him. His jeans and boxers are probably ruined, totally unsalvageable, covered in spunk and sweat. He’s going to have to walk home in them anyway.
“Bet I could make you come again,” Jared says, sounding pleased with himself. He kisses Jensen’s jaw again and gives him a tighter squeeze, just this side of painful, that makes Jensen gasp and his traitorous cock fatten up. He dips his head, shoulders aching with the strain, and shakes his head in disbelief. He’s not a kid anymore, but this heat is insane.
“Gently,” he warns, knowing he’s not going to get out of it. Jared’s low laugh rumbles through him, and his grip on Jensen’s dick eases.
“Okay,” Jared says. “Might be a while.”
“Fuck.”
Jared starts rubbing his other hand in a slow circle over Jensen’s stomach, at the same time pulling his collar away from his neck with his teeth. He mouths at the skin he can reach, fresh and unmarked, and starts biting. He licks the bite-marks, soothing, and then sucks the skin with an intent to bruise. Jensen rolls his shoulders, murmuring nonsense as his breathing starts to pick up. Jared kisses him tenderly, and the faint scratch of his stubble against Jensen’s skin tingles. The hand on Jensen’s cock strokes him slowly, working him until he’s fully hard, while the other smooths up his chest to pinch at his nipple. He’s still rocking his hips, rhythmically, working his seed deep into Jensen’s body with every tiny thrust.
The sensations are overwhelming: Jared’s mouth, Jared’s hands, Jared’s knot. It’s like a litany inside Jensen’s head-- Jared, Jared, Jared. He should feel low, disgusting, even used, but instead he’s feeling warm inside, cared for, and a little sappy. It could be the heat talking-- getting knotted satisfies that burning desire like nothing else-- but Jared’s definitely a factor. Jensen didn’t ever think he could meet a boyfriend this way.
Oh, shit.
It's not that Jensen, like, doesn't do boyfriends, or anything like that. There was never any moment of decisive action, so much as a gradual realization that he was too old for picking up guys in clubs where most of the patrons were underage. Jensen is a grown-up now, and obviously that's why he's holed up in a sweaty elevator with his ass stuffed full of some huge, gorgeous stranger he met on the train.
Some huge, gorgeous stranger who never set off the danger alarms he's had up for as long as he can remember, who has this smile and this voice and this dick. Fuck. If only it was mostly the dick that had Jensen interested. He's starting to think he's screwed in more ways than one. He's starting to think he might like to be.
Jared's hand is still working his cock, though, slow milking motions, and it's reached the point where it's getting difficult to think anything at all. Doubtless Jared's done this plenty, knows how to time it, but Jensen thinks he can feel him diminishing slightly. His insides clench, like they're aware of it, too, not ready yet to be empty, but Jared's not coming any more, the last of his seed spat into Jensen's body, all the thick mess of it plugged up in him behind that knot. But the knot'll go down, and it'll all dribble out of him, and Jensen's gonna need Jared to fix that for him, fuck him full again.
"Jensen," Jared breathes against his neck, and his thumb finds the bundle of nerves just under the head of Jensen's cock. He presses, rubbing through the sticky-slick mess there, and Jensen's got it bad, tips his head back against Jared's and moans open-mouthed.
This one is slow, coaxed out of him by inches as Jared's fingers splay open, then closed as he jacks Jensen through it, but it's an orgasm wrenched from his toes, and he can hear Jared laughing in quiet triumph as he works. Jared's slipping in him now, hips gone still, but Jensen's spurting what he can over Jared's fingers and maybe he can wait. Maybe next time they'll fuck in someone's bed and he can keep Jared in there till he's ready to go again, knot fattening up to lock them tight.
"God," Jared breathes, and there's something reverent about it that makes Jensen feel a little less stupid about all his freaking afterglow when Jared lets go, one last swipe of his thumb over the sensitive head of Jensen's cock. "So fucking beautiful, Jensen, you know that?" He opens his mouth against the tendon in Jensen's neck, drags it up to the soft place behind his ear. "Mine," he whispers, and it sparks in Jensen's blood, trips down his spine and catches there, taking fire.
“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs, swallowing hard. His throat is dry and he licks his lips a few times, trying to gather his composure. Jared rubs his forehead against the back of Jensen’s neck, and then he’s pulling away, cock sliding out of Jensen’s body with a wet sound. Jensen catches himself before he whines about it, and straightens his back carefully. Every muscle in his body protests, and he has to steady himself against the wall before he can turn around.
Jared’s tucking himself in and doing up his pants, his face hidden by the messy fall of his hair. Jensen eases his boxers up his thighs, feeling the slow slide of Jared’s come leaking out of him, and he winces. The heat in him is not totally satisfied, but it’s considerably subdued now that he’s given in to every single one of its demands. He risks checking his watch.
Christ, he’s forty five minutes late. Danneel is going to throw a shit-fit. She knows he has his days off scheduled, and was going to spend the weekend with her sister to give Jensen the apartment to himself. But now that he’s not home on time, she’s going to go mental.
“I have to--” Jensen says, tugging up his jeans awkwardly and fumbling for his phone, “I have to get home soon. My roommate.”
“You said you lived alone,” Jared says, glancing up.
“I said I didn’t have anyone waiting,” Jensen corrects with a smile, typing out a text to Danneel, telling her he’s okay.
“Oh,” Jared says. “What time is it?” Jensen tells him, and he whispers, “Shit.”
Jensen tucks his phone away and picks up his briefcase. It’s a wonder it didn’t break open when it hit the floor. “Do you wanna, like, get us out of here?”
“Right,” Jared says, “sorry, sorry,” and he turns the elevator back on. It lurches, groans, and starts to ascend.
“So I don’t know what you’re doing for the next four days,” Jensen says, shifting uncomfortably as the mess in his pants starts to seep through the layers of fabric, “but my roommate is going to be away, and um. I’m going to be like this.” He leaves it there, stealing a glance at Jared out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll call in sick,” Jared says instantly. He hesitates a moment, and then reaches out to smooth Jensen’s rumpled shirt down in back and pull Jensen against him. Jensen leans into him, body humming with desire, and smiles. He feels like the predator now. Jared seems to sense it, smile dipping in something like shyness, but he likes it. Jensen can tell, and if it gives him ideas, nobody could blame him for it.
Three days later, curled up in the ruin of his bed with Jared tangled around him, Jensen's ideas have shown no signs of dimming with the banked heat in his stomach, now mostly ebbed away. Jared's knotted him good in every room in the apartment, pounded him over the bathroom sink with Jensen's hands on the mirror, bitten enough bruises into his skin-- neck, stomach, thighs, ass-- that he'll be marked up for weeks. Danneel is not going to be happy when she sees what they did to the side table that used to sit by the sofa and is now in pieces in the dumpster, but Danneel can just deal. Jensen is happy, and Jared's the reason.
He's never really woken up with anyone else in his bed. If anything, he'd probably have guessed he'd hate having his space invaded like that, but Jared is a warm, heavy blanket all down his side, his grip possessive without uncomfortable pretensions to ownership, and Jensen doesn't want to lose that with his heat. He's thought as much for a while, but now he's sure of it. Something tells him Jared won't disagree.
"Gotta go back to work soon," he tosses out casually, when they've taken a long final shower together and he's fucking about with the coffee machine.
"Yeah," Jared says, just that. "Yeah." If he was going to throw out anything trite and awful like 'thanks for this' or 'this was fun', this would be the time, but he just kind of stands there, biting his lip.
Under Jensen's ear, Jared's latest bruise throbs in sympathy, and his stomach feels warm with it. God. It shouldn't feel so weirdly familiar, lounging nakedly in the kitchen with Jared, but already it does. Jensen wants to keep it, and he's gathered by now that Jared's not half so bossy out of bed as in it. Jensen thinks he can see the question waiting on the tip of Jared's tongue, but he could be waiting on it a long while.
Screw it. Jensen clears his throat, lifts the coffee pot and nonchalantly starts to pour. "So, I have this thing to go to on Saturday night. You're coming with me, right?"
Jard pauses. His face has gone weirdly blank, like he's trying to school his expression and isn't very good at it. "A thing? What kind of thing?"
"Do you care?"
Jared laughs, then, reaches across to curl his hand around the mark he's bitten into the back of Jensen's neck. "Naw," he concedes, voice low and warm. "Guess not."
"Good answer," Jensen tells him lightly, trying not to look like he kind of wants to do a few cartwheels around the room.
Then Jared kisses him, soft, and the curve of his smile against Jensen's mouth says he pretty much understands the sentiment, all the same.