Jeff/Jen, NC-17
Title: Hindsight.
Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles.
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Fact and fantasy collide.
Disclaimer: Not real.
Notes: I'm kinda experimenting with something. Yes. Erm, Hi! *shifty eyes* Thanks to zelda_zee for the beta and for lots of other stuff as well. ♥
Hindsight.
Light flickers through the hotel room as garish colours stream from the TV, projecting dark shadows onto the wall behind them, their actions captured and displayed in sharp relief. On the screen a plastically perfect blonde writhes and moans, overacting her way to orgasm as a brunette kneels between her legs, pushing a neon-pink vibrator roughly in and out. Jeff wonders briefly if it’s ironic for two men to be fucking while watching lesbian porn but then Jensen shifts, pushing back a little stronger, fucking himself a little harder on Jeff’s cock and all thoughts of irony and its meaning are driven from Jeff’s mind.
Jensen looks out of focus, fuzzy and indistinct. Jeff thinks it might be the alcohol in his bloodstream or the sweat stinging in his eyes or, maybe, it’s just that the reality of fucking Jensen is so different from how Jeff thought it would be. Fact and fantasy meeting but not joining up, making his vision of Jensen unclear and shaky even as he feels Jensen’s hips roll back onto his, Jensen’s skin hot and sweat-slick under his hands and the clench and release around him as Jensen jerks and curses his way toward getting off.
Jeff smoothes a hand up and over the ridges of Jensen’s spine, towards a shoulder more defined than he’d ever noticed before. He isn’t sure what he was expecting to find beneath the baggy clothes but it wasn’t this hard, athletic frame packed with muscles that he can feel working under the fingertips he trails over Jensen’s bicep and down further still till he curls his palm over the hand that Jensen has fisted around his cock, mirroring its movement and feeling the flex and pull of sinew and bone. Jeff thought Jensen would be softer - not feminine, just less sharp-edged, less of a man somehow, his boyish sense of fun belying the maturity underneath.
It almost makes Jeff regret what they’re doing, this discovery he’s made, it makes it more real, less likely to be forgotten in the morning or written off as just one of those things that happen when drink is plentiful and free. In the glowing light of cheap pay-per-view TV, this plan of his no longer seems like such harmless fun.
But, fuck, it feels so good.
Jeff folds himself down over Jensen’s back, needing to get closer, to feel more connected. He wants to hear the sound of Jensen’s breath grunting out in time with each slam of his hips, he wants to feel the sweat pool between them as they slide back to chest. Muttered obscenities drip from Jensen’s mouth as Jeff drives into him hard and fast, the sharp slap of their bodies colliding echoing around the room. Jensen’s close, Jeff can sense it in the quickening of his breath and the jerking of his hand, the movements too rough and irregular for Jeff to follow. He leans back again, grips Jensen’s hips tight and drives in as hard as he can, pulls out and then does it again and again, his thrusts pushing them both a little higher up the bed. Sparks pool at the base of his spine, becoming flames that lick along his nerves as Jensen’s back arches and Jeff fucks through the shudder and writhe of Jensen coming beneath him. His hips moving in sharp, animalistic jerks, instinct taking over and all his uncertainties vanishing as the fire engulfs him and he loses himself to its burn - his heart racing, his vision fading out as he comes hard, his cock pulsing over and over deep in the vise-like heat of Jensen’s ass.
There’s no afterglow, just a sense of regret pervading the room and Jeff finds himself rolling up and off the bed, heading for the bathroom before he even has a chance to think. To speak. He quickly cleans up and disposes of the condom, wincing as the words ‘flushing away the evidence’ spring to his mind. Looking up he catches sight of himself in the mirror, the harsh light of the small room highlighting the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes and he wonders how much worse he will look in the morning, and how he will feel when he’s back on the set with ‘his boys’ on Monday. Jeff takes a deep breath and tries to calm the nerves that roll in the pit of his stomach. He plasters on a smile and opens the door, ready to face Jensen again.
But the bed is empty, and so is the room. The only sign that Jensen was ever there is a slowly spreading stain.
Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles.
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Fact and fantasy collide.
Disclaimer: Not real.
Notes: I'm kinda experimenting with something. Yes. Erm, Hi! *shifty eyes* Thanks to zelda_zee for the beta and for lots of other stuff as well. ♥
Hindsight.
Light flickers through the hotel room as garish colours stream from the TV, projecting dark shadows onto the wall behind them, their actions captured and displayed in sharp relief. On the screen a plastically perfect blonde writhes and moans, overacting her way to orgasm as a brunette kneels between her legs, pushing a neon-pink vibrator roughly in and out. Jeff wonders briefly if it’s ironic for two men to be fucking while watching lesbian porn but then Jensen shifts, pushing back a little stronger, fucking himself a little harder on Jeff’s cock and all thoughts of irony and its meaning are driven from Jeff’s mind.
Jensen looks out of focus, fuzzy and indistinct. Jeff thinks it might be the alcohol in his bloodstream or the sweat stinging in his eyes or, maybe, it’s just that the reality of fucking Jensen is so different from how Jeff thought it would be. Fact and fantasy meeting but not joining up, making his vision of Jensen unclear and shaky even as he feels Jensen’s hips roll back onto his, Jensen’s skin hot and sweat-slick under his hands and the clench and release around him as Jensen jerks and curses his way toward getting off.
Jeff smoothes a hand up and over the ridges of Jensen’s spine, towards a shoulder more defined than he’d ever noticed before. He isn’t sure what he was expecting to find beneath the baggy clothes but it wasn’t this hard, athletic frame packed with muscles that he can feel working under the fingertips he trails over Jensen’s bicep and down further still till he curls his palm over the hand that Jensen has fisted around his cock, mirroring its movement and feeling the flex and pull of sinew and bone. Jeff thought Jensen would be softer - not feminine, just less sharp-edged, less of a man somehow, his boyish sense of fun belying the maturity underneath.
It almost makes Jeff regret what they’re doing, this discovery he’s made, it makes it more real, less likely to be forgotten in the morning or written off as just one of those things that happen when drink is plentiful and free. In the glowing light of cheap pay-per-view TV, this plan of his no longer seems like such harmless fun.
But, fuck, it feels so good.
Jeff folds himself down over Jensen’s back, needing to get closer, to feel more connected. He wants to hear the sound of Jensen’s breath grunting out in time with each slam of his hips, he wants to feel the sweat pool between them as they slide back to chest. Muttered obscenities drip from Jensen’s mouth as Jeff drives into him hard and fast, the sharp slap of their bodies colliding echoing around the room. Jensen’s close, Jeff can sense it in the quickening of his breath and the jerking of his hand, the movements too rough and irregular for Jeff to follow. He leans back again, grips Jensen’s hips tight and drives in as hard as he can, pulls out and then does it again and again, his thrusts pushing them both a little higher up the bed. Sparks pool at the base of his spine, becoming flames that lick along his nerves as Jensen’s back arches and Jeff fucks through the shudder and writhe of Jensen coming beneath him. His hips moving in sharp, animalistic jerks, instinct taking over and all his uncertainties vanishing as the fire engulfs him and he loses himself to its burn - his heart racing, his vision fading out as he comes hard, his cock pulsing over and over deep in the vise-like heat of Jensen’s ass.
There’s no afterglow, just a sense of regret pervading the room and Jeff finds himself rolling up and off the bed, heading for the bathroom before he even has a chance to think. To speak. He quickly cleans up and disposes of the condom, wincing as the words ‘flushing away the evidence’ spring to his mind. Looking up he catches sight of himself in the mirror, the harsh light of the small room highlighting the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes and he wonders how much worse he will look in the morning, and how he will feel when he’s back on the set with ‘his boys’ on Monday. Jeff takes a deep breath and tries to calm the nerves that roll in the pit of his stomach. He plasters on a smile and opens the door, ready to face Jensen again.
But the bed is empty, and so is the room. The only sign that Jensen was ever there is a slowly spreading stain.