Woven Together
Title:Woven Together
Author: Samaya
Pairing: J2
Warnings: Angst, AU, were-creatures,mpreg(hinted)
Word Count: 1800
Summary: On a lonely night, Jensen finds himself drawn toward the tall stranger in the dark corner of the local bar.
Notes: Written for the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange.
She sits there for fucking hours at a time, as still as a dead stone, just watching. She sits there, with seemingly infinite patience, waiting for her prey to come to her, so that she can embrace them, so that she can kiss them with her poisonous lips.
Jensen throws his head back, balances the glass on the soft skin between his fingers, and swallows the last drops of the whiskey, feeling the liquid burn in his throat with each gulp. The club is full today; a crowd of beautiful bodies swaying together like a swarm of dancing insects. His head is buzzing with the same crazy tune, and all he wants is to let go for the moment.
Music blasts from the stereos, loud and rhythmic, an arrangement of unruly sound waves assaulting Jensen’s delicate senses. He goes with the flow, joins the heaving biomass like a dedicated disciple following the temple ritual.
He’s good here, lost in the sea of strange smells and grinding bodies, moving along with the music as the tempo changes. Night is still young, and Jensen feels it in his limbs with each and every shake.
A turn here, a whisper there, a step and a push, an unintended touch, a slow caress- all of that comes to a halt when he picks up the scent.
It hits him out of nowhere, like a square punch straight to his face, utterly devastating in its simplicity.
Fresh. Sweet. Clean.
It’s not all pure though; there is this quality to it, something that screams of dark hallways and abandoned houses, and he takes another sniff at air just to inhale the rich aroma.
It reminds him of the first dew drops on moist earth, soft like freshly woven silk threads, intoxicating with just the right amount of allure.
Fertile.
With that recognition his eyes close shut, and a groan escapes his throat as if he can’t handle the weight of this discovery, as if he can’t taste the sweet, sweet promise it brings.
He licks his lips, casts his gaze around the club to find the source even when he knows he shouldn’t, for he is not strong enough to resist this pull, not when his mate could be here, within touching distance, not when Jensen could have what he longed for with all his being.
It has been so long, so, so long.
There is this thought running at the back of his head, a silent array of alarm bells ringing in a frantic manner, trying to get his attention. He does his best to ignore that thought, but the idea won’t leave him, and with that another word occupies the forefront of his mind.
Poisonous. She is poison. She is dangerous. She just is.
Jensen discards the thought without care, walks with definite intent, searching for that one body amidst the frenzy of senseless bodies. The search takes an eternity, for Jensen is tasked with an impossible task here, but he doesn’t walk away. The scent is faint, nothing but a hint, a rather well-timed tease. Not a blatant invitation, not yet.
She’s young and inexperienced. Her scent is fresh and new, untouched. How is Jensen supposed to resist that?
It’s a guy. Not a girl like he thought.
For some reason, he’s been expecting to see a girl there, someone pretty and fragile, someone he could take in his arms without feeling inadequate. But instead he finds himself drawn to the tall stranger dancing in one of the farthest corners of the bar. There is a girl with him, but she’s barely a blip on Jensen’s radar, a dim light obscured by the brilliance of the sun.
From here, Jensen can see him, can see the outline of those wide shoulders, can picture a face that could only belong to an angel and there is no chance to mistake him for a girl. It’s a guy, alright.
And he smells so good, so right.
Jensen can work with that. Hell, Jensen can work with anything. The thing inside him is excited, coils and uncoils like a serpent ready to strike and he is past the point of caring. This close it is strong, potent to the point of intoxication, and Jensen is hopelessly drenched in it.
He’s just glad that he caught it first. A fight now would have been most unfortunate to partake.
Jensen takes in the sight before him, lets his eyes wander across those long, mile long legs, dips at the narrow expanse of the waist to rise alongside the smooth muscles and stops on the pink, pink lips. He is distracted by the curve of that mouth, wide and generous and alive with a hint of straight white teeth behind the closed lips, a flash of pink tongue peaking from in-between.
He’s doomed. Either way, he is done. The realization should scare him, should make him run for the hills, but it doesn’t. There is no fighting it.
“Hi” The word sounds foreign to his own ears, unfamiliar and timid in a way he’s not supposed to be.
This is a bad move. This is unchartered territory for him, and that puts him at a disadvantage. He is rather charming when he wants to be, all confident smiles and smooth words when the situation calls in. Now, he’s flushed and stuttering, throat dry with sudden onslaught of lust. His heart skips a beat when the stranger smiles at him, and with the first glance his fate is sealed.
He inches closer, confidence returning with each passing second, feet sliding in the free space between them, with slow, deliberate movements. The rules of this courtship are undecided, are long-forgotten, erased from the collective memories of scattered population like they never existed in the first place and he is left with nothing but his instincts. Odds are definitely not in his favor. The line is steep and narrow, threads drawn on the quick sand and Jensen has to tread carefully for he doesn’t want to end up on the wrong side.
This close the heat is unbearable. The warmth seeps and sinks in his bones, acts as a fuel to the kindling fire inside. It makes him daring.
A flipped coin, a decision made on the go, a touch unasked. He sees the answering glint in the stranger’s eyes, basks in the knowledge that his affections are returned, for however briefly. And within minutes he’s outside, following the nameless stranger, ready to go anywhere with him, for him.
Jared, his name is Jared. Jared tells him that, on the short walk to Jared’s house, he tells him that when they are making out in the darkened parking lot. Somewhere, somehow, that detail is spilled on, exchanged between them.
Names are nothing but labels put on people for identification. Jensen rarely gives attention to such mundane things, but he can honestly say that he was never this anxious to know a name, to know another piece of the puzzle.
“Jensen, call me Jensen” He says in the same breath.
If you invite me to your home, if you take me tonight, please remember me. When you are done with me, when I’m nothing but a stain on your bedsheets, when I’m nothing but a body you’ll have to dispose before weekend ends- please, please remember my name.
He doesn’t say any of that out loud.
“You are so beautiful,” Jared’s eyes are huge, unfocused, pupils dilated with the first signs of lust, and they zero in on Jensen. Jensen can hear confusion in his voice, can sense the rugged quality of it on his skin, but, he can’t talk now, he’s focused on the task on hand.
Hungry. Jared is so hungry for this. How is it possible that he doesn’t know what this is?
Maybe later, they can talk about it, if such a thing exists. It’s entirely possible that Jensen will never get the chance.
“Jared,” Jensen’s mumbling now, running his mouth across the inseam of Jared’s lips, testing the waters before diving inside.
“I want you to know” Jared pants in his mouth, his hands tugging at Jensen’s collar, unsure of whether he wants to push or pull, fingers twitching “I don’t do this, ever” he’s sincere in a way Jensen can only hope to be, his words unintentionally loud in the silence between them, a drawn-out whisper fit for a declaration.
Jensen kisses him again at that, licks his way inside to taste the unique flavor that belongs to Jared. He’s deliberate, for he wants to enjoy this kiss, wants to take this to his grave.
It’s a frenzy of movements after that, a poorly coordinated dance where both the participants are barely coherent. Teeth marks rake across Jensen’s chest, fingers digging at his back, a fight for dominance. Jensen takes it all, with a fervent prayer on his lips, each scar adding to his collection. Jared is such a minx in his arms, an enticing one, and Jensen hopes that he stays there, with him, forever.
With a sudden move of hips he flips them, lays Jared on the bed, and holds the insides of his wrists in an iron grip. It’s now or never, and Jensen is not ready to let go.
“Stop,” He says, lets his fingers press marks on Jared’s skin, hopes they will be there tomorrow to remind Jared of tonight. “Trust me. Relax” puts emphasis on the word, and watches as Jared sinks in the bed, loose for the first time since he’s touched Jensen.
You can have this. You can have me. You don’t have to fight, just, please trust me.
And miraculously, Jared does.
Jensen traces constellations on the exposed planes of Jared's body, explores with his fingers and tongue until Jared is reduced to a mess beneath him. He’s so pretty like this, prettier than Jensen ever could be, all wild and wanting, free. He’s so hot on the inside too, perfect in every way. His breath hitches when Jensen pushes in him, because Jensen is not slow or deliberate now, he can only be gracious for a time. His lips are bitten red, his eyes are closed shut, and Jensen longs to drown in them.
If it is possible, he'd like to stay like this, where they are one, where Jensen is nothing but a part of Jared.
With that thought running in his head, he spills, hopes that he did the job, hopes that he's left some part of himself in Jared. Then, he'll have something, even if nothing else remains.
Sunlight sneaks in through the open curtains, traces a curved path around the room and finally lands on the dark hairs at the base of Jensen's neck. Jared watches with bleary eyes, scoots closer so that he can listen to Jensen's heartbeat.
Author: Samaya
Pairing: J2
Warnings: Angst, AU, were-creatures,mpreg(hinted)
Word Count: 1800
Summary: On a lonely night, Jensen finds himself drawn toward the tall stranger in the dark corner of the local bar.
Notes: Written for the spn_j2_xmas gift exchange.
She sits there for fucking hours at a time, as still as a dead stone, just watching. She sits there, with seemingly infinite patience, waiting for her prey to come to her, so that she can embrace them, so that she can kiss them with her poisonous lips.
Jensen throws his head back, balances the glass on the soft skin between his fingers, and swallows the last drops of the whiskey, feeling the liquid burn in his throat with each gulp. The club is full today; a crowd of beautiful bodies swaying together like a swarm of dancing insects. His head is buzzing with the same crazy tune, and all he wants is to let go for the moment.
Music blasts from the stereos, loud and rhythmic, an arrangement of unruly sound waves assaulting Jensen’s delicate senses. He goes with the flow, joins the heaving biomass like a dedicated disciple following the temple ritual.
He’s good here, lost in the sea of strange smells and grinding bodies, moving along with the music as the tempo changes. Night is still young, and Jensen feels it in his limbs with each and every shake.
A turn here, a whisper there, a step and a push, an unintended touch, a slow caress- all of that comes to a halt when he picks up the scent.
It hits him out of nowhere, like a square punch straight to his face, utterly devastating in its simplicity.
Fresh. Sweet. Clean.
It’s not all pure though; there is this quality to it, something that screams of dark hallways and abandoned houses, and he takes another sniff at air just to inhale the rich aroma.
It reminds him of the first dew drops on moist earth, soft like freshly woven silk threads, intoxicating with just the right amount of allure.
Fertile.
With that recognition his eyes close shut, and a groan escapes his throat as if he can’t handle the weight of this discovery, as if he can’t taste the sweet, sweet promise it brings.
He licks his lips, casts his gaze around the club to find the source even when he knows he shouldn’t, for he is not strong enough to resist this pull, not when his mate could be here, within touching distance, not when Jensen could have what he longed for with all his being.
It has been so long, so, so long.
There is this thought running at the back of his head, a silent array of alarm bells ringing in a frantic manner, trying to get his attention. He does his best to ignore that thought, but the idea won’t leave him, and with that another word occupies the forefront of his mind.
Poisonous. She is poison. She is dangerous. She just is.
Jensen discards the thought without care, walks with definite intent, searching for that one body amidst the frenzy of senseless bodies. The search takes an eternity, for Jensen is tasked with an impossible task here, but he doesn’t walk away. The scent is faint, nothing but a hint, a rather well-timed tease. Not a blatant invitation, not yet.
She’s young and inexperienced. Her scent is fresh and new, untouched. How is Jensen supposed to resist that?
It’s a guy. Not a girl like he thought.
For some reason, he’s been expecting to see a girl there, someone pretty and fragile, someone he could take in his arms without feeling inadequate. But instead he finds himself drawn to the tall stranger dancing in one of the farthest corners of the bar. There is a girl with him, but she’s barely a blip on Jensen’s radar, a dim light obscured by the brilliance of the sun.
From here, Jensen can see him, can see the outline of those wide shoulders, can picture a face that could only belong to an angel and there is no chance to mistake him for a girl. It’s a guy, alright.
And he smells so good, so right.
Jensen can work with that. Hell, Jensen can work with anything. The thing inside him is excited, coils and uncoils like a serpent ready to strike and he is past the point of caring. This close it is strong, potent to the point of intoxication, and Jensen is hopelessly drenched in it.
He’s just glad that he caught it first. A fight now would have been most unfortunate to partake.
Jensen takes in the sight before him, lets his eyes wander across those long, mile long legs, dips at the narrow expanse of the waist to rise alongside the smooth muscles and stops on the pink, pink lips. He is distracted by the curve of that mouth, wide and generous and alive with a hint of straight white teeth behind the closed lips, a flash of pink tongue peaking from in-between.
He’s doomed. Either way, he is done. The realization should scare him, should make him run for the hills, but it doesn’t. There is no fighting it.
“Hi” The word sounds foreign to his own ears, unfamiliar and timid in a way he’s not supposed to be.
This is a bad move. This is unchartered territory for him, and that puts him at a disadvantage. He is rather charming when he wants to be, all confident smiles and smooth words when the situation calls in. Now, he’s flushed and stuttering, throat dry with sudden onslaught of lust. His heart skips a beat when the stranger smiles at him, and with the first glance his fate is sealed.
He inches closer, confidence returning with each passing second, feet sliding in the free space between them, with slow, deliberate movements. The rules of this courtship are undecided, are long-forgotten, erased from the collective memories of scattered population like they never existed in the first place and he is left with nothing but his instincts. Odds are definitely not in his favor. The line is steep and narrow, threads drawn on the quick sand and Jensen has to tread carefully for he doesn’t want to end up on the wrong side.
This close the heat is unbearable. The warmth seeps and sinks in his bones, acts as a fuel to the kindling fire inside. It makes him daring.
A flipped coin, a decision made on the go, a touch unasked. He sees the answering glint in the stranger’s eyes, basks in the knowledge that his affections are returned, for however briefly. And within minutes he’s outside, following the nameless stranger, ready to go anywhere with him, for him.
Jared, his name is Jared. Jared tells him that, on the short walk to Jared’s house, he tells him that when they are making out in the darkened parking lot. Somewhere, somehow, that detail is spilled on, exchanged between them.
Names are nothing but labels put on people for identification. Jensen rarely gives attention to such mundane things, but he can honestly say that he was never this anxious to know a name, to know another piece of the puzzle.
“Jensen, call me Jensen” He says in the same breath.
If you invite me to your home, if you take me tonight, please remember me. When you are done with me, when I’m nothing but a stain on your bedsheets, when I’m nothing but a body you’ll have to dispose before weekend ends- please, please remember my name.
He doesn’t say any of that out loud.
“You are so beautiful,” Jared’s eyes are huge, unfocused, pupils dilated with the first signs of lust, and they zero in on Jensen. Jensen can hear confusion in his voice, can sense the rugged quality of it on his skin, but, he can’t talk now, he’s focused on the task on hand.
Hungry. Jared is so hungry for this. How is it possible that he doesn’t know what this is?
Maybe later, they can talk about it, if such a thing exists. It’s entirely possible that Jensen will never get the chance.
“Jared,” Jensen’s mumbling now, running his mouth across the inseam of Jared’s lips, testing the waters before diving inside.
“I want you to know” Jared pants in his mouth, his hands tugging at Jensen’s collar, unsure of whether he wants to push or pull, fingers twitching “I don’t do this, ever” he’s sincere in a way Jensen can only hope to be, his words unintentionally loud in the silence between them, a drawn-out whisper fit for a declaration.
Jensen kisses him again at that, licks his way inside to taste the unique flavor that belongs to Jared. He’s deliberate, for he wants to enjoy this kiss, wants to take this to his grave.
It’s a frenzy of movements after that, a poorly coordinated dance where both the participants are barely coherent. Teeth marks rake across Jensen’s chest, fingers digging at his back, a fight for dominance. Jensen takes it all, with a fervent prayer on his lips, each scar adding to his collection. Jared is such a minx in his arms, an enticing one, and Jensen hopes that he stays there, with him, forever.
With a sudden move of hips he flips them, lays Jared on the bed, and holds the insides of his wrists in an iron grip. It’s now or never, and Jensen is not ready to let go.
“Stop,” He says, lets his fingers press marks on Jared’s skin, hopes they will be there tomorrow to remind Jared of tonight. “Trust me. Relax” puts emphasis on the word, and watches as Jared sinks in the bed, loose for the first time since he’s touched Jensen.
You can have this. You can have me. You don’t have to fight, just, please trust me.
And miraculously, Jared does.
Jensen traces constellations on the exposed planes of Jared's body, explores with his fingers and tongue until Jared is reduced to a mess beneath him. He’s so pretty like this, prettier than Jensen ever could be, all wild and wanting, free. He’s so hot on the inside too, perfect in every way. His breath hitches when Jensen pushes in him, because Jensen is not slow or deliberate now, he can only be gracious for a time. His lips are bitten red, his eyes are closed shut, and Jensen longs to drown in them.
If it is possible, he'd like to stay like this, where they are one, where Jensen is nothing but a part of Jared.
With that thought running in his head, he spills, hopes that he did the job, hopes that he's left some part of himself in Jared. Then, he'll have something, even if nothing else remains.
Sunlight sneaks in through the open curtains, traces a curved path around the room and finally lands on the dark hairs at the base of Jensen's neck. Jared watches with bleary eyes, scoots closer so that he can listen to Jensen's heartbeat.