Work Text:
Title: It’s Shoot First, Apologize Later
Characters: SV!Jensen/GG!Jared
Rating/Word Count: NC-17; 5, 083
Beta: I’d like to thank my baby 
technosage for being so enthusiastic about this ‘verse of mine and basically just letting me porn at her all hours of the night and day. And then fixing it. ♥
Disclaimer: I don’t own Jared or Jensen, I’m not affiliated with them, and none of the following ever happened. Of that, I can be certain.
Summary: Next installment in the new otp ‘verse.
Notes: Written for the ultra gorgeous and incomparable __tiana__ on the occasion of her birthday. I love you, babycakes, and I hope this puts a smile on your face. ♥
“So, you can tell me later how much you adore me,” the voice purrs in his ear. “Because I found it. It’s perfect, and I found it.”
Jared blinks away sleep, cheek pressed into the seam of his pillow as his fingers fumble with the telephone receiver. When his voice comes, it’s thick and yawning in the quiet room. “Was it lost?”
After a beat of static, Sandy clucks her tongue over the line. “Sleeping at four PM…you’re getting lazy, Padalecki. Back in LA you were up before the sun.”
There’s amusement in her tone, and Jared grunts before rolling over onto his back. The curtains are closed, allowing a thin stream of late-afternoon sunlight to pour through, and it lays golden stripes down the length of his body. “Long night, McCoy,” he mumbles around a yawn, still chasing away the lingering dreams weighing on his body and mind.
Dreams about familiar hands and lips, sweat and muscle, and suddenly he’s wide awake and beyond irritated. Sleep is pretty much the only sanctuary he has left these days, and now Jensen’s gone and snuck his way inside there, too, and Jared’s just…he’s too fucking tired - what with filming and everything else – to put up enough of a defense against his subconscious.
“Jared?”
“Huh.” He clears his throat, sitting up and wincing at the pull and protest of his aching muscles. He’s pretty sure he rolled his left shoulder during that damn stunt on the bridge the day before, and Jensen’s concerned gaze and comments had made Jared suck it up and forego checking with the on-set doc before moving on. He’s not generally one to be ornery, but seeing the disapproving frown crease Jensen’s brow was worth every lingering moment of stiffness.
Sandy calls his name again, and he tries to focus on the sweet lilt of her voice, dragging his mind back from places it really has no business venturing. “I’m here, gorgeous,” he says, going for light and easy and succeeding. Mostly.
“You’re not gonna believe this place.” Excitement bubbles up in her tone and Jared smiles a bit as he imagines her bouncing on her toes, dark eyes shining, before he remembers what she’s even talking about.
A quick glance at the clock assures him he has a few hours left before Tom gets home. “You found something already?” He’s bending, searching for the shirt he’d yanked over his head and tossed before falling face-first in bed at whatever ungodly time he’d stumbled in earlier that morning. “That was quick, wasn’t it?”
“It’s what you called me here for, right?”
The words are sarcastic, but the tone is warm. Jared can’t help but grin, dropping his own voice to a teasing, flirtatious murmur. “Yeah, sure. Among other things.”
He hears the roll of her eyes in her voice. “Tell me another one.”
He looks up and finally spots his shirt hanging by the collar from one of the ceiling fan blades which, what? He’s not sure he even wants to try and figure that one out, or if he even could with the lack of mental energy he’s running on. Jerking the material down, he says sincerely, “Mostly I called you because you’re a good friend and I knew you’d come.”
Sandy’s laugh comes across the line, as rich and genuine as the woman herself. “You had to call me because Chad’s in rehab.”
Jared freezes, one arm shoved through the cotton sleeve as his mouth drops open in undisguised horror that he catches in the reflection of a wall mirror. “Nuh-uh.”
“Yeah-huh,” she counters. “He was so depressed by you taking this job and leaving California that he shaved his head and threatened to sell his body on the street for a dime sack.” There’s a beat of silence, and Jared feels his lips starting to twitch.
“Wow. That’s…devotion. Tell me more.”
Sandy hums in agreement before continuing. “Sadly, he’d pissed off so many of the other…working girls by spreading around that weird STD a few months back that none of them took too nicely to him turning tricks, and he wound up locked in a dumpster for three days before anyone thought to look for him”
“But Chad’s in North Carolina,” Jared points out, pulling on his shirt the rest of the way. “So, why would he care if I left Los Angeles?”
“Well, that’s Chad logic for you.”
After several seconds, Jared snorts around a chuckle. “Damn it, I wish none of that had made any sense.”
Sandy giggles. “Kinda scary, huh?”
Jared snorts again, switching ears before rifling through the dresser for a clean pair of pants. “How is he, really?”
“Seemed fine last I talked to him,” Sandy says, and Jared can hear the shrug in her voice. “I swear, though. He’s about two tequila shots away from asking that Sophia girl to marry him and making a complete ass out of himself when she realizes he can’t take care of his own hair, much less another whole person.”
Jared blinks. “He…Sophia…what…?” The words clog a bit in his throat, and his fingers tighten in denim.
“Well, you know the way he goes on and on about her…” Sandy’s voice trails off at the end, and then she adds more quietly, “You’ve talked to him, right?”
Actually, Jared had. Not all that long ago, in fact, although his and Chad’s conversations these days ran more along the lines of “hey, how ya doin’, catch ya later” than anything more deep and meaningful. Not that they’d ever really been deep and meaningful to begin with, but there’s a definite strain on their friendship now that Jared isn’t really sure how to fix.
Out loud, he just says, “Yeah.” Sandy doesn’t press him, and he – predictably – winds up caving a few seconds later and blurting out, “He’s pissed I took the job.”
“Well, what the hell for?” is Sandy’s eloquent response, and Jared bites back a hysterical laugh.
Again he thinks of golden skin, of half-mast green eyes and filthy-pink lips, and scrubs a hand down his face when his dick stirs in his shorts. “I’ll give you three guesses,” he mutters, cursing Jensen’s very existence with every syllable.
Despite the joke inherent in his response, he kind of expects to have to spell it out a bit for Sandy, even though she knows the basics of the disaster that’s his life. But just as he’s about to fill the silence that follows his words, Sandy make a musing sound. “But you’re not even fucking Jensen anymore.”
Jared’s not really sure why hearing…that…on anyone else’s lips gives him such a violent reaction. Hell, he tells himself the same damn thing about fifteen times a day since he and Jen had connected again, er, professionally, but Sandy manages to make it all sound sordid and dirty and…naughty. And if there’s one thing Jared really does not need right now when it comes to Jensen Ackles, it’s any more suggestive thoughts or images to add to the repertoire he already possesses.
He chokes “Jesus,” and wants to leave it at that, reaching down and pressing the heel of his hand to his cock. A muffled hiss escapes his lips, and he grinds up into his palm before pulling away like it’s been burned.
“Please, Jared. Even if you hadn’t told me, it was pretty evident from the moment Chad practically threw me in your lap that something was going on.” There’s another one of those short pauses that lets Jared imagine her somewhere, biting her lip and twirling her hair.
When she speaks again, her voice is sly and sing-song. “Plus, you talk in your sleep. Jensen, Jensen, Jensen. Oh, why’d you have to go and be that way, Jenny? You know I’m goin’ away, oh, please don’t you stray—”
“Like you’d know,” he cuts off her Chicago rendition, all at once feeling grumpy and irritable. He jerks a pair of jeans up his hips, wincing a bit when he tries to tug his zipper over the hard line of his erection.
“Hit a nerve, huh?” Sandy doesn’t sound all that apologetic, but then Jared knows she’s not trying to be. “Well, good. Because you know what I think and—”
“And I really like you too much to strangle you in your sleep, so don’t finish that sentence.” Jared walks over to the mirror and studies the bruised circles beneath his eyes. He heaves a sigh, raking a hand through his hair and messing it up even more. “So, this place you found.”
“Subtle.” But Sandy plays along, letting the subject change and telling Jared all about the “completely amazing bungalow in the hills” she’d happened upon while searching for an apartment.
“You just won’t believe it,” she’s chirping out while Jared brushes his teeth and rinses away the flavors of too much work and not enough sleep. “It’s fucking adorable and the rental lease is affordable and it has an amazing backyard so you can bring Sadie and Harley up whenever you’re ready.”
Jared’s sold then and there, and he’s yet to even see the place. The idea of having his babies back under the same roof as him…he spits out one last mouthful of toothpaste and wipes his grinning mouth. “Baby, you had me at fucking adorable.”
“Thought that’d do it. Are you dressed? Get dressed because I’m taking you over to look and meet the realtor. I’m on my way to you right now.”
Jared glances at the clock again. Tom had wanted to show him a couple places when he got off work, but his friend’s taste tended to run a little more extravagant than Jared’s wallet allowed. And then Tom would also probably want to hear all about filming. Like he hadn’t told Jared story after story of his own irritations during the filming of Smallville’s pilot until Jared could recite them in his sleep.
All of this has him agreeing to meet Sandy, and thirty minutes later they’re standing in front of a small white cottage in the middle of eastern Vancouver. Jared has admit that at first glance, the place looks pretty damn perfect. The yard’ll require an upkeep he’s not used to after years of hotels and apartment buildings, but he likes being outside. He can already see his dogs playing on the porch and running through the bushes in the back.
There’s a row of the small one-level homes, and a fancy enough apartment building next door to the one Jared and Sandy are admiring. He eyes the distance between his bungalow and the apartments, judging whether or not they’re too close. In the end, he figures he can just close the curtains at night.
“So.” In the kitchen an hour later, Sandy spreads her arms wide and does a little turn, heels clicking on the tile floor as the realtor finally brings her speech to a close. “Was I right, or was I right?”
“It’s the perfect size for a young couple,” the realtor jumps in to add, teeth flashing in the overhead lighting. “And if your television series does well, it’d be very easy to rewrite the lease for something more long term.”
Ignoring the woman’s mistake about the state of his and Sandy’s relationship, Jared runs his hand along the granite countertops and curls his fingers into a fist. He’s suddenly hit with the very real feeling of being unable to breathe, and looks up to find Sandy watching him expectantly.
This is…this is him throwing it all in. While living at Tom’s, he’s still a guest – no matter what Tom tries to say – and he can pack up and leave anytime he wants. This would be permanent, or semi-permanent at least, and while it’s definitely something he needs, he’s not so sure he’s ready to do all of this alone.
Because Tom’s great and Jared loves him, but Tom has Mike and an entire cast and crew of his own to look after. Soon Sandy will leave and go back to California, and Chad’s in North Carolina and his family’s back in Texas. It’ll be Just Jared all over again.
And maybe that’s exactly why he needs to do this.
“How soon can I move in?” he asks, answering Sandy’s widening grin with one of his own.
♥ ♥ ♥
“To Jared Padalecki, homeowner extraordinaire.” Tom lifts his beer in a solemn salute that’s ruined when a fly buzzes by and lands on his nose. He swats, managing to miss his own face while still killing the intrusive insect.“Motherfucker…who picked this place again?”
Mike makes a face and grabs for Tom’s drink. “It has ambiance, bitch.”
“It has mold,” Jensen supplies, voice as dry as the Sahara during a heat wave. His eyes meet Jared’s from across the table, lidded and lazy as he sips from his own drink. When he pulls the glass back, Jared can’t help but watch as Jensen sucks his bottom lip in his mouth, tasting the phantom drops on his own tongue before tearing his gaze away.
He barely hears whatever Tom says next, too busy staring down into bottle of Molson and trying to ignore the pounding of his pulse in his ears. It’s just not fucking fair that Jensen’s even here. And yeah, okay, Jared had known he would be. But…Tom mentioning it hours ago when it had all still been a somewhat vague thing to deal with was a completely different story than being seated across a fucking table from Jensen while the asshole seduced everything in the place by breathing.
They’d been at the bar for all of a half hour, and Jared’s already lost track of the number of different waitresses that have come over to check on them. He’d like to chalk it up to Tom’s popularity, or even Mike’s, but it hadn’t been Mike or Tommy who’d been subjected to the cool wind of fluttering lashes or flirtatious pink pouts.
What makes it even worse is that Jensen isn’t encouraging it or anything, so Jared can’t even blame the fucker. Instead, Jensen’s just…sitting there; sprawled out and obscene in a pair of faded jeans and a white dobby that fits and enhances his skin-tone and holy hell, when had Jared become such a fucking girl?
He isn’t aware he’s muttering under his breath until Tom nudges him in the ribs, sending him a weird look while Mike snorts and waves the waitress over for another round. After checking to see that it’s not one of those waitresses, Jared puffs out his cheeks and sends his bangs flying before glancing over at Jensen again.
His co-star is watching him from under his lashes, expression unreadable, and for a long moment Jared’s nearly overcome by the sheer fucking need to know what Jensen’s thinking. He’s had enough to drink that he’s not above asking, either – fuck if Tom or Mike are there – but just as he’s opening his mouth, there’s a breeze by his left ear and then a cinnamon-sweet smell seconds before plump lips press up against his own.
He’s got a handful of curves before he realizes what’s going on, and then Sandy pulls back and grins at him. “Sorry I’m late,” she purrs, dropping another kiss smack in the middle of the cleft in his chin before wiggling her brows and turning to greet the others. Jared’s not sure where to put his hands, finally settling on her hips as he moves and adjusts her on his lap.
“Jared mentioned you were coming to visit,” Tom’s saying amicably, and Jared blinks, focusing on the flat line of Jensen’s lips as his co-star stares unabashedly at them both. There’s a little ping of satisfaction deep in Jared’s belly, and it spreads out low and warm through his skin as he grips Sandy just that much tighter. Jensen doesn’t look away, but the corners of his mouth lift in an almost imperceptible smile. It’s anything but reassuring.
Jared hears the others talking, feels Sandy laughing against him, but everything’s centered on him and Jensen. He almost jumps out of his skin with the first brush of Jensen’s foot against his own, and his eyes widen a bit as Jensen’s crinkle at the corners.
He’s fucking flirting with me, Jared realizes in dazed amazement. He’s not sure why he’s surprised, except that the Jensen he knows…that Jensen would never bother with something he didn’t think was a sure bet, and Jared’s made it more than clear, more than once, that anything like that is over and done with.
Hasn’t he?
Which is why it’s probably not his best idea when he shifts his foot, not pulling away but moving closer when Jensen’s starts to stroke. He’s caught up in warm memories now, of San Antonio and promises and lazy nights of fucking and being fucked until he can’t think of anything but making those sharp green eyes go sweet-soft again.
It takes him a minute before he realizes the table is silent, and looks up to see Sandy watching him with narrowed eyes. Tom looks confused and Mike’s trying to catch peanuts in his mouth with his eyes closed. Jared starts to pull his foot back, clearing his throat awkwardly, but Jensen slides both feet up and traps Jared’s between them.
Jensen’s not even looking at him so he completely misses the “what the fuck?” face that Jared’s perfected over the past few days on set. Instead, he’s staring straight at Sandy with a dangerous twist to his lips.
“Sandy,” Jensen drawls, and Jared’s immediately on edge and alert. He’s only heard Jensen use that tone on one other person, and Jared doesn’t care if Jensen doesn’t like Chad…he’ll be damned if he'll let him be rude to Sandy. But Jensen’s still talking, looking back and forth between them with speculative eyes. “How long have you two been together?”
Sandy gives a small, mysterious smile. “Not long.”
Jensen’s jaw twitches. “Met the family yet?”
Jared doesn’t miss the subtle provocation there and grinds down hard on Jensen’s foot with the heel of his boot, glaring when Jensen hisses and pulls back. “She’s lived with me for three months,” he says coolly, taking careful note of the gleam that enters Jensen’s eyes. He doesn’t offer anything more, letting Jensen draw his own conclusions as his heart beats a rapid tattoo in his breast.
“Well, that’s cozy,” Jensen says, leaning back and taking a long sip of beer. When he speaks again, his voice is a little bit thick, and not with alcohol. “Guess I’ll be going…gotta be in early tomorrow for pick-ups.”
Jared’s already moving to reach out, apologize, and has to physically restrain himself with fingers digging deep into Sandy’s waist as he clenches his jaw and watches Jensen say goodbye to the others.
“So,” Tom says brightly, a few minutes after Jensen disappears through the front doors. “Where’d you end up moving to, anyway?”
Jared forces himself to smile and forget that spark of betrayal he’d glimpsed deep in Jensen’s eyes.
♥ ♥ ♥
Sandy drops him off at the bungalow, kissing him on the cheek and telling him to “buck up and be a man about it.” Which, Jared pouts, is easy for her to say. She’s a chick and she can sulk and flounce around all she wants and no one’s gonna call her out on it or beat her up in a dark alley.
Life’s a bitch.
He fumbles with the key to the backdoor, more than half-drunk and vision swimming in and out of focus. He drops the key when a cricket chirps behind him, and knocks his head against the window ledge when he bends to pick it back up.
“Son of a bitch!”
He’s stomping around the porch, hissing obsenities and giving inanimate objects the finger when he hears the soft snick of a lighter and smells smoke. Of course, there’s nothing particularly odd about that, at least until he hears, “Jared?”
And he’d really thought the night couldn’t get worse.
He squeezes his eyes shut, briefly supporting himself against the wall before turning and finding Jensen’s eyes in the moonlight. He’s only slightly relieved to glimpse the shock mirrored on Jensen’s face, but relief takes a flying leap when his eyes snag on the paper thin drawstring pants clinging to Jensen’s hips.
Jared’s not thinking about the bare expanse of Jensen’s chest. He just isn’t.
Jensen’s staring at him, cigarette burning from his mouth, and Jared’s lips curl into a shaky sneer as he eyes the apartment building behind his co-star. He doesn’t have to be sober or a genius to figure this one out. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Jensen’s apparently put two and two together as well, because the surprise coloring his features is slowly melting into understanding, and even something bordering smugness. He settles back against the wall, foot propped up against brick as he takes another long drag on the cigarette.
“Just couldn’t stay away?” The words are soft and mocking, and send a shiver racing down Jared’s spine. And it has nothing to do with the questionable Canadian weather.
He opens his mouth to snap something witty back, but then Jensen shifts and Jared’s hopelessly staring at flat nipples and trying not to remember the feel of them between his lips. “How did I not know you lived here?” he blurts out, sounding and feeling dumb and light-headed.
Jensen blows out a ring of smoke, eyes glowing in the pale light. “Didn’t ask?”
“Aren’t you fucking freezing?” Jared asks despite himself, fingers itching to go and walk over Jensen’s chest, explore for gooseflesh. “It’s fucking freezing, and you’re naked.”
“Too drunk to be cold,” Jensen murmurs, flicking ash on the ground and dropping the butt to stomp it out with his shoe. “And I’m not naked, dude.”
“You’re indecent, s’what you are,” Jared answers, dragging a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. “I’m…leaving now.”
“Okay.” Jensen doesn’t make a move and neither does Jared.
“And don’t fuckin’ follow me.”
Jensen smirks and holds up both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Jay.”
“Jared,” he corrects with a growl, turning and shoving his key into the lock and yanking the door open. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jay.”
He slams the door before Jensen can reply, and slides down the solid length, dropping his head in his hands. He’s living next door to Jensen. Soap operas didn’t get much better than this, although if Jensen suddenly joined the Mafia and got knocked up by someone’s evil twin then Jared was gonna have to rethink that.
“I am so drunk,” he says out loud to no one, hearing the words echo in the nearly empty room.
Drunk or not, he manages to get to his bedroom without knocking over anything or falling ass over elbows for anymore hotshot television heartthrobs, which Jared always counts as a success.
He doesn’t bother with the lamp, letting the moon light his path from door to bed as he drags his clothes off and falls back on a familiar mattress, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. The place is so big, but he figures it’ll all feel better once he’s got Sadie and Harley running around and getting into trouble. They’ve been back in Texas for so long now that he’s a little worried about the change to their routine, but not enough to give up their company.
And that’s the problem all around. He’s just…fucking lonely. He can admit it now, here, in the dark of some strange new place. He’s been fucking lonely for so damn long, and he’d thought...with Jensen, he’d thought…for a minute…
“Stupid,” he mutters, tucking his arm beneath his head and stretching his legs. He can’t change what’s been fucked up to hell and back; he knows that, despite what Sandy or the lame romance novels his sister reads say. But the thing is, he misses being friends with Jensen as much as he misses the other stuff. And the other stuff he misses a lot. A lot.
Of course, he and Jensen were never really friends in the first place.
He’s about to reach over and call Tom, hell…Chad even, and see if maybe one of them can distract him from this weirdass melancholy bullshit, but then he makes the mistake of looking up and out the window.
He hadn’t noticed it before when the realtor had taken him through, too distracted by the siren’s song of a five-jet steam shower in the master bathroom, but you can see right into one of the lower apartments from his bedroom window.
Just then Jensen walks past, dragging his pants down his hips and gifting Jared with a heartstopping view of bare ass and curved back, and Jared can’t help but think that Life has a pretty fucking screwed up sense of humor.
It’s dark in his room so Jensen can’t see him - at least Jared’s pretty sure about that, Oh God - so he doesn’t make himself stop watching as Jensen strolls around getting ready for bed. He checks his lower back in a mirror, prodding at a purpling bruise Jared thinks maybe came from their sparring scene early on in the Pilot, when Sam had flipped Dean onto his back and proven his strength and endurance to Big Brother.
Jared can admit to getting a bit of a rush during that moment; he’d had his hands all over Jensen and vice versa, and Jensen had been so fucking close…right up in Jared’s face with that cocky Dean grin and challenging Jensen eyes, and Jared had done a little method acting
He sees Jensen react to touching the mark, a slow shudder racking his body as he bites his lip, and Jared’s got his hand on his dick before he takes another breath. Soft strokes at first, just toying with himself as he replays that moment over and over in his head. Somehow, it turns into the scene from last week on the bridge, and the first real confrontation between the Winchester brothers.
Why it’d been necessary for Dean to shove his little brother up against the wooden beams and practically maul him then and there, Jared doesn’t know. It hadn’t seemed so homoerotic when he’d originally read the script, but then Jensen had come in and every last fucking moment between Sam and Dean now felt underscored with tension and not the brotherly kind they were shooting for.
He brings his free hand across his belly, sliding under toward his back and finding the raised patch of tender flesh that had connected with the bridge when Jensen had gotten particularly inspired during the last take, nearly lifting Jared off his feet and slamming him into the fucking thing. He can’t bite back the moan that escapes as he drags the tip of his finger over it, squeezing his cock and twisting at the same time.
Jensen’s doing push-ups now, and Jared just thinks he could’ve lived a hundred years without knowing that Jensen Ackles works out naked in his bedroom at night. All that rippling, bruised skin is like an all-you-can-eat platter for Jared’s fantasies, and he bucks his hips into his fist and closes his eyes as a new scene shapes up in his mind:
Jensen’s sprawled out on the bed, hands lifted and spread to each end, fingers curled around the headboard posts. Knees bent, feet flat on the mattress. Those smug green eyes are half-mast and nearly melting, and Jared takes a second to appreciate the flush highlighting Jensen’s features before bending his head and mouthing a fading bruise high on Jensen’s thigh.
“Jesus.” Jensen sucks in sharply, voice thick and guttural as he rocks his hips up against Jared’s mouth. “Jay…please…”
It’s not until he hears it that Jared realizes that it’s exactly what he wants. Jensen, open and vulnerable and – Christ - begging him. Not for sex or work or any other kind of favor, just…for Jared.
In his mind’s eye his tongue finds another unidentified sore spot just above Jensen’s right knee, and he licks the reddened flesh as Jensen keens and cusses under him. “Tell me,” Jared says, whispers, eyes locked on Jensen’s face as he draws the tip of his tongue up higher.
Jensen muffles a groan and bites down on his lip. “Please.”
Jared pulls back, circles Jensen’s cock with a loose grip that he knows too damn well hurts more than it relieves. “Tell me,” he says again, harder this time, and his heart is thundering in his ears. Jensen’s staring up at him, expression still defiant underneath the need and lust coloring his features.
“Fuck me.” It’s a soft murmur, accompanied by the rolling of hips, and Jared growls low in his throat as he feels himself respond. Those sexy-dirty lips curve triumphantly, heavy-lidded eyes near slits. “Do it, Jay. Fuck my ass.”
It’s not exactly what he wanted, but he’s not gonna turn it down, either.
“You want me to fuck you?” he growls, raising up on both hands, face hovering just above Jensen’s. Jensen’s tongue flicks out to wet his mouth, and Jared licks his own in response, enjoying the way Jensen’s eyes go dark and needy.
“Fuck, yeah.” Jensen cants his hips, rubbing his dick along Jared’s lower belly. Jared sucks in a breath, muscles tensing. He’s got those legs spread and over his shoulders before either one of them can blink, and then he’s sliding home in one long, hot thrust.
It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t use lube, that Jensen’s so fucking tight this shouldn’t even be possible, because none of it’s real. He recognizes that as much as he recognizes the feel of his own fingers around his dick, milking shuddering burst after burst as he splashes across his belly and groans out loud.
It’s all too easy to imagine Jensen there with him, whispering filthy encouragements in his ear as Jared trembles against him, lost in the feel of tight ass around his dick and hard muscle beneath his hands. He rides out every wringing pulse, each one burning hotter than the last against his skin.
When he opens his eyes again, Jensen’s asleep in his own bed and none the wiser. Jared rolls over without care of messing the sheets, muffling a curse in the pillows and unsure if he wants to thank Sandy or strangle her.