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Entry tags:
Football Star (Jared/Jensen) NC17
Title: Football Star
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2820
Summary: Jared and Jensen meet up after the charity soccer game. They're both a little keyed up.
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smpc and I think I took the 'porn' part of this to heart a bit too much. I don't write RPS all that often, but couldn't resist this time.
Jensen’s phone buzzes in his hand again and he glances down, momentarily pausing in his conversation with the charity soccer game organizers. He’s still buzzing too, coming down from the adrenaline and starting to feel the exhaustion, muscles just beginning to ache. He’d tried to leave 30 minutes ago but there were people who wanted to thank him and clap his shoulder and laugh about the “show you put on out there” and Jensen’s not even sure what they mean. He’s not used to putting on a show on his own, usually he’s got a partner to play off of. He thinks he did okay, but he’s not absolutely sure and there’s only a few people he trusts to tell him the truth and they’re not here.
He texts back a few words, says his goodbyes. No time to shower and he’s not going across the street dressed like this in shorts and knee socks and so sweaty his jersey is nearly transparent.
“Heading out now, see you at your place,” the text says and he breathes a sigh of relief, hops in the waiting car.
He scans social media on the drive, finds videos of himself running down the field clutching the ball, tackling Aleks and – shit, did he really toss that guy out of the way to make the score? There are a few videos of Jared too, smiling with fans, making faces for the Riverdale kids. Tahmoh and Aleks made it over in time to catch the last fight and Jensen’s suddenly sorry that he didn’t. They made the decision together, who would do what, but it stings a little anyway. Everything’s harder now, now that they know there’s an end in sight to this part of their lives. Jensen hasn’t been sleeping well; it keeps creeping into his thoughts, how things will be after.
They arrive at the same time, bumping shoulders as he unlocks the door.
“Whoa,” Jared says when they’re inside, grabs Jensen by one arm and holds him at arm’s length while his eyes roam from head to toe. “Look at you, football star,” he teases, white teeth and dimples and his fingers warm on Jensen’s bare arm.
Jensen tries to shrug him off, but Jared hangs on. “Saw some videos of you makin’ up your own rules,” Jared goes on, and Jensen looks at him, searching for criticism.
Jared knows him, better than anyone. “They loved it,” he goes on, “You made that the most entertaining charity game they’ve ever had.”
The anxiety balled up in his stomach eases; Jared trails his fingers slowly down Jensen’s arm, raising goosebumps there. “And you looked like a fucking football star doing it.”
“Yeah?”
Jared’s eyes are hot. He’s sweaty, smells like the gym, too much testosterone and beer. Jensen sways a little closer.
“I wanna fuck a football star,” Jared says, and his voice is rough from shouting all night, pitched extra low. He sounds nothing like the bouncy oversized puppy of a costar he is on set or on stage or in public. Jensen shivers.
“Or be fucked by one, I don’t care,” Jared goes on, “Just want my hands on you.”
“Wrestle you for it,” Jensen answers, because his body still feels too alive, stupid lizard brain still stuck on win win conquer conquer and his own hands almost as eager to fight as they are to fuck.
“Oh hell yes,” Jared growls, and it’s clear he’s in the same state, hours spent watching other men fight and unable to let off steam. They like doing this; even before they were fucking, they wanted to wrestle all the time, get their hands on each other and give in to their need to get physical. Some of their costars get it, one way or another. Some have joined in; others are put off by the way they throw themselves into it, letting it get rough. Jared likes a little pain; they both do.
“Winner tops or winner bottoms?” Jared asks as he slips out of his overshirt and strips his tight black tee shirt over his head. Jensen’s eyes linger on his sweat streaked chest and stomach, the muscles that ripple there as he moves and the deep cuts of his hipbones. They like to joke that both of them are winners either way, switching is an unspoken way of keeping this balance they’ve got, but Jensen doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“Winner tops,” he says, and Jared gets it, smirking and nodding.
Jensen pulls his own damp jersey over his head, bends to unlace his shoes while Jared kicks off his sneakers. They learned a long time ago that bare feet go a long way to avoiding actual injury so they can go at each other without worrying. He starts to pull off his socks too, but Jared stills his hand.
“Leave ‘em on,” he says, and Jensen looks up in surprise. Jared blushes a little, bites his lip, a flash of adorable little boy in the midst of 6’4” dangerous looking grown man. “I like ‘em,” he admits with a shrug, and it runs through Jensen like a physical thing, makes his dick try to harden through the jock strap he’s not used to wearing.
He straightens up with a nod, lets Jared look at him for a minute before they start. He should feel stupid, soccer shorts and knee socks and nothing else, but there’s no doubt that Jared likes what he sees.
“3, 2,” Jared starts, the way they do this always, and then they’re on each other, grappling for a hold and smashing their bodies together, the silence of the room filled with grunts and groans as someone gets a momentary handhold. They’re slippery already, and know each other’s moves, and for a while neither can find an advantage. It doesn’t matter, it feels so good to let go, to not have to worry about hurting anyone or breaking rules or entertaining anybody. Jensen can feel Jared’s strength in every movement, the long lean body firm as rock, unyielding against his own.
He gets a lucky break finally and manages to get Jared on the floor; the tumble knocks the wind out of him momentarily and Jensen straddles him, gets one arm in a good hold so Jared has to strain against it.
“Tap out,” Jensen rasps, breathless himself, and for a split second he thinks he’s going to win. His muscles are all fatigued from the game though, adrenaline only taking him so far, and next thing he knows Jared breaks free and turns the tables, flipping Jensen over and landing on top of him. He’s half on his stomach and half on his side and Jared’s got one of his giant arms across Jensen’s throat while the other yanks Jensen’s other arm behind his back. Jared uses his size then, puts his full weight on Jensen to pin him as he pulls up with the arm around his throat, Jensen’s back arching with the strain. Jensen kicks with his feet, but he can’t get enough leverage to push Jared off; his pinned arm burns with the stretch, the sensation intensifying into pain as Jared presses down harder. He’s got one hand wrapped around Jared’s forearm trying to pull him off but he knows that’s fruitless from this position, and as he digs his fingers in trying to cause some pain himself, Jared pulls up harder, until Jensen’s wheezing.
“Tap out,” Jared growls in his ear, but Jensen fights it a minute longer, acutely aware of the bulge of Jared’s muscles under his fingers, the sheer size of the man on top of him, the way he’s held down and helpless. He can smell Jared, his nose trapped close to Jared’s armpit where the scent of him is so strong it makes Jensen’s head swim. He can feel Jared’s dick through his jeans, hard against Jensen’s lower back.
“Jensen,” Jared says, low, presses his hips down and pulls his arm up so the pain runs hot through Jensen and he gives in with a groan, loosens his grip on Jared’s forearm and taps him there.
Jared lets go instantly, rolls to the side breathing hard.
“You okay?”
They always ask.
“Yeah,” Jensen assures him, “I’m good,” though it comes out a harsh rasp. He stays on his belly, winces as the arm that was wrenched behind his back falls to his side. His body is on fire, every muscle strained and overworked but somehow the adrenaline is pumping hot again. He shudders, waiting.
“How do you want me?” he asks finally.
That knocks Jared out of his hesitation; he rolls Jensen to his back and crawls over him, leaning in to bring their mouths together. It’s not a tender kiss; that’s not what either of them want. Jared takes his mouth like he owns it, like it’s a victory plunder. Jared pins his hands beside his head, though Jensen’s not going anywhere. When they break to catch their breath, Jared just sits up still straddling his hips, stares down at him with hungry eyes. His long hair hangs over his face, and Jared shakes his head impatiently. Droplets of sweat fly, splattering Jensen’s chest, his chin. He snakes his tongue out and laps some up, relishing the salty musky taste, and Jared groans on top of him.
“Christ,” he swears, leans down and kisses Jensen again.
They’re still on the floor. Jensen’s back hurts from it, but he’ll do it here tonight, if that’s what Jared wants.
“Bedroom?” Jared asks, then he’s pulling Jensen up and they’re shuffling there together. Jensen’s legs are shaky. He sits down hard on the bed and watches while Jared grabs the lube and unbuckles his belt. He makes a show of it, pulling the leather through slowly, popping the snap. Jensen licks his lips. Jared goes faster then, zipper and shorts and jeans slipped over slim hips and kicked away.
Jared naked never fails to make Jensen’s mouth water. The effect is even more striking when he’s sweat-damp and horny, muscular body pumped up and his cock the same, all of him ready for Jensen.
“Lie back,” Jared orders, and Jensen does. Jared teases, tongues at his nipples until they’re stiff and aching, bites at his stomach and nips at his thighs. Finally he mouths over Jensen’s crotch through his shorts, teasing at his trapped erection, and Jensen moans.
“Ohfuck,” Jared swears, because he must have forgotten that Jensen was just playing soccer and couldn’t have his junk swinging around and getting in the way. He yanks Jensen’s shorts and SAXX off and then leers down at him. “Oh we’re keepin’ this on,” Jared says and Jensen groans a protest. It’s too damn tight, too confining, when he desperately wants his dick to be free.
Jared slips both hands under the elastic bands on the sides and pulls them out, lets them snap back against Jensen’s skin. It stings and he yelps in surprise; Jared does it again, looking as pleased as a little kid who’s discovered how a new toy works. He pulls the elastic waistband out in the middle too, lets it smack against Jensen’s stomach dangerously close to the tip of his swollen cock trapped beneath.
“Oh this is too good,” Jared says, rubbing over the bulge. “Like a chastity belt kinda, isn’t it? Bet you can’t come with this on, can you?”
Jensen has no idea, but he does know that Jared’s fingers on his compressed junk are making him feel insane. His hips jump, but Jared snaps the straps again and squeezes him through the thick cotton just a little too hard.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures, “I’ll get you there.” But he doesn’t seem in any hurry to do that. Instead he grabs Jensen by the hips and rolls him over, pulling his knees up under him and pushing him to his elbows. Jensen’s bare ass is in the air, totally exposed, even as the jock strap keeps the rest of him covered.
“Shit,” Jared growls, and then his big hand comes down on Jensen’s ass.
They do this from time to time; Jensen likes it. So does Jared. But this time feels different. He feels a thousand times more exposed with this thing on than if he was actually naked, like the elastic straps below his cheeks are just a frame for his ass. Jared’s smacks move from cheek to cheek, setting Jensen’s skin on fire. He can feel himself flush all over, imagines the rest of him as red as his ass must be.
“Let’s open you up,” Jared says behind him, and instead of Jared’s familiar big finger he uses one of the toys in the nightstand. Jensen flinches; he doesn’t like it as much, likes the warmth of Jared’s fingers in him, the feeling of Jared inside him. Jared smacks him and shushes him, forces the hard plastic inside him. It’s slippery with lube, slides in too fast and Jensen’s acutely aware of every inch, of what it must look like going into him. He flushes hot again, gooseflesh prickling along his thighs and down his arms. Jared goes deep, feels like way too deep, and Jensen’s stomach bottoms out, ache spreading through all of him. His arms are shaking, sweat trickling down his forearms as he tries to keep them from giving out. He can smell himself, rank and too long without a shower, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes from how hard he’s biting his lip trying to stifle the whimpers that want to come out.
“Stop holding out on me,” Jared says, “Give it up.” Jared’s using the toy that’s curved just so, pushing it in far enough now that it’s sparking against that spot inside and then grinding it against him mercilessly. With his other hand, he snaps the elastic straps below Jensen's cheeks until it burns, so Jensen's acutely aware of the fact that he's still wearing the damn thing. He smacks Jensen’s ass from time to time, then kneads at the flaming skin, making the pain go deeper even as the pleasure is spreading through Jensen from deep inside, waves of it rolling through his belly, down his thighs, his balls aching and his cock throbbing, leaking and swelling as much as it can where it’s trapped between his thighs. He can feel the constant throb everywhere, in his nipples, in his ass where Jared is splitting him open, his whole body trembling with it.
Jensen never makes a conscious decision to stop stifling himself, it just happens, his mouth falling open in rough pants and letting out the most embarrassing of sounds. He can feel his thighs shaking violently, his whole body thrumming with a heady mix of exhaustion and the need to come. Jared rewards him for it, the toy clattering to the floor as Jared slicks up his own dick and replaces it, pumping his hips desperately against Jensen’s flaming ass. Jensen’s swimming in the last of the adrenaline and the sweet bliss of surrender, exhaustion overtaking him until he doesn’t have to care anymore, doesn’t have to perform or please or entertain or worry, just give himself over to Jared. There’s pain in multiple places but it’s all melting into the pleasure Jared’s giving him, and it’s over way too soon, Jared shouting and shoving in deep as he comes.
It’s not the stereotypical passing out that people like to write about, but Jensen’s flat on his back when he has his next conscious thought. Jared’s leaning over him, tugging the jock strap down over his hips. He whimpers when his dick is finally free, but he’s so tired, feels so spent.
“Don’t think I can,” he mumbles, but Jared shushes him.
“I got ya, I got ya,” he says. He wraps his giant hand around Jensen’s erection and strokes just the way Jensen likes it, and Jensen tosses his head on the pillow, moans with it. He still doesn’t think he can actually climax, it just feels like too much work for a body that’s been through so much tonight, but then Jared pushes his legs apart and holds one of them up in the air by an ankle and Jensen sees through bleary eyes that he still has those goddamn knee socks on. It looks so ridiculous, so decadent, that on the next downstroke he gasps weakly and comes, Jared crooning praises as he pumps him through it.
He feels the bed shift as Jared gets up, but he can’t move, not if his life depended on it.
“Shower?” Jared asks, but Jensen shakes his head.
“Can’t.”
He hears Jared’s amused chuckle, then wakes up only a little to a warm washcloth running over him and Jared gently taking off his socks. Jared kisses him softly, runs the washcloth over his face gently.
“Football star,” Jared says fondly, and trails a finger over Jensen’s cheek.
There’s something in that gesture that Jensen knows mirrors the worry he feels about how this will be once things change, but he’s too tired to think about that now.
He sleeps well that night.
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2820
Summary: Jared and Jensen meet up after the charity soccer game. They're both a little keyed up.
A/N: Written for
smpc and I think I took the 'porn' part of this to heart a bit too much. I don't write RPS all that often, but couldn't resist this time.Jensen’s phone buzzes in his hand again and he glances down, momentarily pausing in his conversation with the charity soccer game organizers. He’s still buzzing too, coming down from the adrenaline and starting to feel the exhaustion, muscles just beginning to ache. He’d tried to leave 30 minutes ago but there were people who wanted to thank him and clap his shoulder and laugh about the “show you put on out there” and Jensen’s not even sure what they mean. He’s not used to putting on a show on his own, usually he’s got a partner to play off of. He thinks he did okay, but he’s not absolutely sure and there’s only a few people he trusts to tell him the truth and they’re not here.
He texts back a few words, says his goodbyes. No time to shower and he’s not going across the street dressed like this in shorts and knee socks and so sweaty his jersey is nearly transparent.
“Heading out now, see you at your place,” the text says and he breathes a sigh of relief, hops in the waiting car.
He scans social media on the drive, finds videos of himself running down the field clutching the ball, tackling Aleks and – shit, did he really toss that guy out of the way to make the score? There are a few videos of Jared too, smiling with fans, making faces for the Riverdale kids. Tahmoh and Aleks made it over in time to catch the last fight and Jensen’s suddenly sorry that he didn’t. They made the decision together, who would do what, but it stings a little anyway. Everything’s harder now, now that they know there’s an end in sight to this part of their lives. Jensen hasn’t been sleeping well; it keeps creeping into his thoughts, how things will be after.
They arrive at the same time, bumping shoulders as he unlocks the door.
“Whoa,” Jared says when they’re inside, grabs Jensen by one arm and holds him at arm’s length while his eyes roam from head to toe. “Look at you, football star,” he teases, white teeth and dimples and his fingers warm on Jensen’s bare arm.
Jensen tries to shrug him off, but Jared hangs on. “Saw some videos of you makin’ up your own rules,” Jared goes on, and Jensen looks at him, searching for criticism.
Jared knows him, better than anyone. “They loved it,” he goes on, “You made that the most entertaining charity game they’ve ever had.”
The anxiety balled up in his stomach eases; Jared trails his fingers slowly down Jensen’s arm, raising goosebumps there. “And you looked like a fucking football star doing it.”
“Yeah?”
Jared’s eyes are hot. He’s sweaty, smells like the gym, too much testosterone and beer. Jensen sways a little closer.
“I wanna fuck a football star,” Jared says, and his voice is rough from shouting all night, pitched extra low. He sounds nothing like the bouncy oversized puppy of a costar he is on set or on stage or in public. Jensen shivers.
“Or be fucked by one, I don’t care,” Jared goes on, “Just want my hands on you.”
“Wrestle you for it,” Jensen answers, because his body still feels too alive, stupid lizard brain still stuck on win win conquer conquer and his own hands almost as eager to fight as they are to fuck.
“Oh hell yes,” Jared growls, and it’s clear he’s in the same state, hours spent watching other men fight and unable to let off steam. They like doing this; even before they were fucking, they wanted to wrestle all the time, get their hands on each other and give in to their need to get physical. Some of their costars get it, one way or another. Some have joined in; others are put off by the way they throw themselves into it, letting it get rough. Jared likes a little pain; they both do.
“Winner tops or winner bottoms?” Jared asks as he slips out of his overshirt and strips his tight black tee shirt over his head. Jensen’s eyes linger on his sweat streaked chest and stomach, the muscles that ripple there as he moves and the deep cuts of his hipbones. They like to joke that both of them are winners either way, switching is an unspoken way of keeping this balance they’ve got, but Jensen doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“Winner tops,” he says, and Jared gets it, smirking and nodding.
Jensen pulls his own damp jersey over his head, bends to unlace his shoes while Jared kicks off his sneakers. They learned a long time ago that bare feet go a long way to avoiding actual injury so they can go at each other without worrying. He starts to pull off his socks too, but Jared stills his hand.
“Leave ‘em on,” he says, and Jensen looks up in surprise. Jared blushes a little, bites his lip, a flash of adorable little boy in the midst of 6’4” dangerous looking grown man. “I like ‘em,” he admits with a shrug, and it runs through Jensen like a physical thing, makes his dick try to harden through the jock strap he’s not used to wearing.
He straightens up with a nod, lets Jared look at him for a minute before they start. He should feel stupid, soccer shorts and knee socks and nothing else, but there’s no doubt that Jared likes what he sees.
“3, 2,” Jared starts, the way they do this always, and then they’re on each other, grappling for a hold and smashing their bodies together, the silence of the room filled with grunts and groans as someone gets a momentary handhold. They’re slippery already, and know each other’s moves, and for a while neither can find an advantage. It doesn’t matter, it feels so good to let go, to not have to worry about hurting anyone or breaking rules or entertaining anybody. Jensen can feel Jared’s strength in every movement, the long lean body firm as rock, unyielding against his own.
He gets a lucky break finally and manages to get Jared on the floor; the tumble knocks the wind out of him momentarily and Jensen straddles him, gets one arm in a good hold so Jared has to strain against it.
“Tap out,” Jensen rasps, breathless himself, and for a split second he thinks he’s going to win. His muscles are all fatigued from the game though, adrenaline only taking him so far, and next thing he knows Jared breaks free and turns the tables, flipping Jensen over and landing on top of him. He’s half on his stomach and half on his side and Jared’s got one of his giant arms across Jensen’s throat while the other yanks Jensen’s other arm behind his back. Jared uses his size then, puts his full weight on Jensen to pin him as he pulls up with the arm around his throat, Jensen’s back arching with the strain. Jensen kicks with his feet, but he can’t get enough leverage to push Jared off; his pinned arm burns with the stretch, the sensation intensifying into pain as Jared presses down harder. He’s got one hand wrapped around Jared’s forearm trying to pull him off but he knows that’s fruitless from this position, and as he digs his fingers in trying to cause some pain himself, Jared pulls up harder, until Jensen’s wheezing.
“Tap out,” Jared growls in his ear, but Jensen fights it a minute longer, acutely aware of the bulge of Jared’s muscles under his fingers, the sheer size of the man on top of him, the way he’s held down and helpless. He can smell Jared, his nose trapped close to Jared’s armpit where the scent of him is so strong it makes Jensen’s head swim. He can feel Jared’s dick through his jeans, hard against Jensen’s lower back.
“Jensen,” Jared says, low, presses his hips down and pulls his arm up so the pain runs hot through Jensen and he gives in with a groan, loosens his grip on Jared’s forearm and taps him there.
Jared lets go instantly, rolls to the side breathing hard.
“You okay?”
They always ask.
“Yeah,” Jensen assures him, “I’m good,” though it comes out a harsh rasp. He stays on his belly, winces as the arm that was wrenched behind his back falls to his side. His body is on fire, every muscle strained and overworked but somehow the adrenaline is pumping hot again. He shudders, waiting.
“How do you want me?” he asks finally.
That knocks Jared out of his hesitation; he rolls Jensen to his back and crawls over him, leaning in to bring their mouths together. It’s not a tender kiss; that’s not what either of them want. Jared takes his mouth like he owns it, like it’s a victory plunder. Jared pins his hands beside his head, though Jensen’s not going anywhere. When they break to catch their breath, Jared just sits up still straddling his hips, stares down at him with hungry eyes. His long hair hangs over his face, and Jared shakes his head impatiently. Droplets of sweat fly, splattering Jensen’s chest, his chin. He snakes his tongue out and laps some up, relishing the salty musky taste, and Jared groans on top of him.
“Christ,” he swears, leans down and kisses Jensen again.
They’re still on the floor. Jensen’s back hurts from it, but he’ll do it here tonight, if that’s what Jared wants.
“Bedroom?” Jared asks, then he’s pulling Jensen up and they’re shuffling there together. Jensen’s legs are shaky. He sits down hard on the bed and watches while Jared grabs the lube and unbuckles his belt. He makes a show of it, pulling the leather through slowly, popping the snap. Jensen licks his lips. Jared goes faster then, zipper and shorts and jeans slipped over slim hips and kicked away.
Jared naked never fails to make Jensen’s mouth water. The effect is even more striking when he’s sweat-damp and horny, muscular body pumped up and his cock the same, all of him ready for Jensen.
“Lie back,” Jared orders, and Jensen does. Jared teases, tongues at his nipples until they’re stiff and aching, bites at his stomach and nips at his thighs. Finally he mouths over Jensen’s crotch through his shorts, teasing at his trapped erection, and Jensen moans.
“Ohfuck,” Jared swears, because he must have forgotten that Jensen was just playing soccer and couldn’t have his junk swinging around and getting in the way. He yanks Jensen’s shorts and SAXX off and then leers down at him. “Oh we’re keepin’ this on,” Jared says and Jensen groans a protest. It’s too damn tight, too confining, when he desperately wants his dick to be free.
Jared slips both hands under the elastic bands on the sides and pulls them out, lets them snap back against Jensen’s skin. It stings and he yelps in surprise; Jared does it again, looking as pleased as a little kid who’s discovered how a new toy works. He pulls the elastic waistband out in the middle too, lets it smack against Jensen’s stomach dangerously close to the tip of his swollen cock trapped beneath.
“Oh this is too good,” Jared says, rubbing over the bulge. “Like a chastity belt kinda, isn’t it? Bet you can’t come with this on, can you?”
Jensen has no idea, but he does know that Jared’s fingers on his compressed junk are making him feel insane. His hips jump, but Jared snaps the straps again and squeezes him through the thick cotton just a little too hard.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures, “I’ll get you there.” But he doesn’t seem in any hurry to do that. Instead he grabs Jensen by the hips and rolls him over, pulling his knees up under him and pushing him to his elbows. Jensen’s bare ass is in the air, totally exposed, even as the jock strap keeps the rest of him covered.
“Shit,” Jared growls, and then his big hand comes down on Jensen’s ass.
They do this from time to time; Jensen likes it. So does Jared. But this time feels different. He feels a thousand times more exposed with this thing on than if he was actually naked, like the elastic straps below his cheeks are just a frame for his ass. Jared’s smacks move from cheek to cheek, setting Jensen’s skin on fire. He can feel himself flush all over, imagines the rest of him as red as his ass must be.
“Let’s open you up,” Jared says behind him, and instead of Jared’s familiar big finger he uses one of the toys in the nightstand. Jensen flinches; he doesn’t like it as much, likes the warmth of Jared’s fingers in him, the feeling of Jared inside him. Jared smacks him and shushes him, forces the hard plastic inside him. It’s slippery with lube, slides in too fast and Jensen’s acutely aware of every inch, of what it must look like going into him. He flushes hot again, gooseflesh prickling along his thighs and down his arms. Jared goes deep, feels like way too deep, and Jensen’s stomach bottoms out, ache spreading through all of him. His arms are shaking, sweat trickling down his forearms as he tries to keep them from giving out. He can smell himself, rank and too long without a shower, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes from how hard he’s biting his lip trying to stifle the whimpers that want to come out.
“Stop holding out on me,” Jared says, “Give it up.” Jared’s using the toy that’s curved just so, pushing it in far enough now that it’s sparking against that spot inside and then grinding it against him mercilessly. With his other hand, he snaps the elastic straps below Jensen's cheeks until it burns, so Jensen's acutely aware of the fact that he's still wearing the damn thing. He smacks Jensen’s ass from time to time, then kneads at the flaming skin, making the pain go deeper even as the pleasure is spreading through Jensen from deep inside, waves of it rolling through his belly, down his thighs, his balls aching and his cock throbbing, leaking and swelling as much as it can where it’s trapped between his thighs. He can feel the constant throb everywhere, in his nipples, in his ass where Jared is splitting him open, his whole body trembling with it.
Jensen never makes a conscious decision to stop stifling himself, it just happens, his mouth falling open in rough pants and letting out the most embarrassing of sounds. He can feel his thighs shaking violently, his whole body thrumming with a heady mix of exhaustion and the need to come. Jared rewards him for it, the toy clattering to the floor as Jared slicks up his own dick and replaces it, pumping his hips desperately against Jensen’s flaming ass. Jensen’s swimming in the last of the adrenaline and the sweet bliss of surrender, exhaustion overtaking him until he doesn’t have to care anymore, doesn’t have to perform or please or entertain or worry, just give himself over to Jared. There’s pain in multiple places but it’s all melting into the pleasure Jared’s giving him, and it’s over way too soon, Jared shouting and shoving in deep as he comes.
It’s not the stereotypical passing out that people like to write about, but Jensen’s flat on his back when he has his next conscious thought. Jared’s leaning over him, tugging the jock strap down over his hips. He whimpers when his dick is finally free, but he’s so tired, feels so spent.
“Don’t think I can,” he mumbles, but Jared shushes him.
“I got ya, I got ya,” he says. He wraps his giant hand around Jensen’s erection and strokes just the way Jensen likes it, and Jensen tosses his head on the pillow, moans with it. He still doesn’t think he can actually climax, it just feels like too much work for a body that’s been through so much tonight, but then Jared pushes his legs apart and holds one of them up in the air by an ankle and Jensen sees through bleary eyes that he still has those goddamn knee socks on. It looks so ridiculous, so decadent, that on the next downstroke he gasps weakly and comes, Jared crooning praises as he pumps him through it.
He feels the bed shift as Jared gets up, but he can’t move, not if his life depended on it.
“Shower?” Jared asks, but Jensen shakes his head.
“Can’t.”
He hears Jared’s amused chuckle, then wakes up only a little to a warm washcloth running over him and Jared gently taking off his socks. Jared kisses him softly, runs the washcloth over his face gently.
“Football star,” Jared says fondly, and trails a finger over Jensen’s cheek.
There’s something in that gesture that Jensen knows mirrors the worry he feels about how this will be once things change, but he’s too tired to think about that now.
He sleeps well that night.
no subject
I think the best part is Jensen’s angsty wondering how things will change once the show ends. You got me right in the feels with that!
no subject
This was deliciously rough (I will certainly think differently whenever they talk about wrestling with each other from now on :D ) while still gentle at the end, and very sexy - who knew knee socks on a man could be that.
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"Jared naked never fails to make Jensen’s mouth water. The effect is even more striking when he’s sweat-damp and horny, muscular body pumped up and his cock the same, all of him ready for Jensen."
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💗
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