Chapter Text
Jensen grits his teeth. He groans—lets go of his dick, deflates back into his bed. Jesus. Jesus, he hates it.
“Fine,” he growls, but even if he… Well, he’ll try anyway. Maybe today.
Josh is watching TV in his room on the other side of the wall and Jensen takes a deep, uneven breath before he directs his hand between his legs once more. The ceiling fan works relentlessly, quietly. The buzz of insects and heat from outside permeates the walls. The windows.
Eyes closed, he rubs through the pubes around the root of his cock. Jensen’s stomach turns but he presses on. His dick twitches numbly on his lower belly, sloppy with precome, and yet no amount of jerking it will do.
Jensen’s fingers slide…lower.
Over the puffy folds of skin, through the slickness of where he can…yeah. His legs part further. Jensen swallows and presses one finger inside. The stretch is good. Better with two.
Jensen hums and beds his cheek in his pillow. He’s so wet down there that there are awkward squelching sounds right away, and he feels his cheeks flaming harder. His already-hard nipples tingle and there are goosebumps, and yet…
Knuckles-deep, pumping, Jensen’s body refuses to let him get his release. Again.
The next morning at school, he is this close to question the nurse. Maybe boys like him just don’t orgasm, period. But he could do it—at least until puberty really started to fuck him over. Jensen slouches further in his chair and stares at the blackboard. His oversized jeans and hoodie hang off his frame and Mom gave his hair a troubled look in the car, but Jensen couldn’t care less. What is worse than getting weird boners twenty-four-seven? Getting them and not managing to get it out of your system. Okay, even worse: with every passing week, Jensen notices his dick progressively refuses to stay or even get hard…in favor of that other part. Yeah, that one’s working just fucking fine, apparently.
Jensen finds himself drifting off more and more, no matter if he’s in class or on the basketball court or in his room. His mind just mellows out and reminds him that he’s actually horny out of his mind, and boy, it’s not picky with the mental images it entices him with. Jensen’s had to escape to the restroom for Steven’s freaking mom wearing too short of a skirt when she was picking him up after practice.
Jensen fumbles with a pen, spins it. Class might have started but it’s not like he can focus. Almost a month since he last managed to nut. That can’t be healthy. Yeah…yeah, he’ll man up and ask Maggie a few questions during lunch.
A nudge to his arm. Jensen blinks. Looks to his right.
In the midst of the chaos of their class getting up and gathering their shit, there is a guy, apparently occupying the desk at Jensen’s right. Jensen hasn’t seen him before.
“Hey—can I borrow a pen, please?”
“Uh—yeah. Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The guy accepts the pen. He gives Jensen a careful smile. Jensen politely smiles back.
Jensen doesn’t mean to stare but he might be, judging by how the new guy looks down at him. From above. Because fuck, is he tall.
“Uh—you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, totally.”
Jensen half-clears his throat and gets up. Together with everyone else, they migrate to the chemistry lab. The guy sits with Jensen again, and… It’s not the first time Jensen’s parts reacted to another boy, but this time, it’s… God, it’s stupid. Stop it.
Jensen hears himself babbling, “Are you new or something?” and the boy turns to him with surprise, and then he giggles, because—well, he must have been introduced while Jensen was in la-la land.
“Jared,” he says, and extends his hand for Jensen to shake it. “Nice to meet you.” His hair falls into his eyes and there are dimples deep in his cheeks as he smiles, not asshole-ish at all. Jensen subtly wipes his hand on his jeans before he shakes that hand. Fuck, he’s gooey. Like running a fever. “What’s your name?”
“Jensen.”
“‘Jensen’—cool. Nice to meet you.”
Jensen smiles politely and his junk throbs stupid. His thighs squirm closed under the desk. Jared’s long and lean and has a deep tan going on, like he’s been kept outside all summer. Slightly-too-big clothes, just like Jensen. Looks better on him, though.
Jensen forgets about his nurse plans over lunch with the new kid. People throw Jared curious glances but Jared avoids eye contact. His broad, skinny shoulders curl in like he’s trying to appear smaller. His backpack is old and saggy. His hands are…ridiculously big.
Lunch is dissatisfactory. Jared’s face drops when his brain catches up with the fact that he’s already polished his plate and there won’t be any more. Jensen smirks. He has pity and shoves Mom’s sandwiches Jared’s way. Jared looks at him like Jensen’s offered him a kidney transplant instead.
“I—you can’t.”
“Just eat it. I’m not even hungry.”
Jared insists, “I’ll pay you back,” and Jensen finds it in himself to scoff, raise a brow at the guy. He’s been nibbling on his cardboard-y protein bar for the past five minutes and his stomach is in so much disinterest it might just get up and leave the table. Jared can obviously use the carbs more than him. Seems like his growth spurts go into different areas than Jensen’s.
It’s warm out (of course it is) and Jared mumbles about if Jensen doesn’t want to take off his hoodie or something? And Jensen tells him, “Nah,” and that he’s good, and he sweats like a motherfucker. It’s not like he’s even growing tits he’d have to hide, but…better safe than sorry. Might just be a question of time.
Jared blabbers about the move, his mom, his stepdad. Their dogs, and does Jensen’s family have dogs, too? One big brother, like Jensen. One small sister, like Jensen.
Jared’s in constant movement, a nervous fiddle to all of him. Stringy and lean and peach fuzz on his arms and upper lip, and his lashes curl cute and his hair is kinda long, and Jensen thinks…God. God, it’s not his fault. Fucking hormones.
Jared follows Jensen around like a puppy. Must be hard to be the new guy. Jensen’s spent all of his life here and not even he fits in anymore. Maybe that’s what draws Jared in. Seems like a shy guy. School band, theater club kinda kid. Jensen doesn’t get annoyed by the mindless blabber. The less he has to talk himself, the better.
After class, outside, Jared sort of just falls back on the stairs, and Jensen turns to frown at him, finds him—smiling like he’s embarrassed, clutching his backpack straps over his chicken chest.
“I’m, uh—Mom’s on a job interview until six and we kinda haven’t put me on the school bus list yet, so…”
Jensen simply tells him, “No,” and beckons Jared to follow. Judging by the awkward footfall behind Jensen, Jared complies.
A weak, “But,” which Jensen cuts off. Jared doesn’t try again.
Mom gives them a questioning look but she takes to company like fish to water. The ride home is spent with Jared getting questioned in the passenger seat, with Jensen, smug in the back. He’s almost a little sorry. Jared looks cute when flustered, though.
Back home, Mom hollers, “You boys better take care of your homework now, Jensen Ross,” and Jensen rolls his eyes and tells her yeah, yeah, and he’s slipped his hoodie off before he knows it. He hangs it with the jackets in the hallway and finds Jared—staring. Jensen looks down his body and, thankfully, no sign of tits. For now. Just sweat stains. Big ones.
“My room’s upstairs,” mumbles Jensen, and his face goes warm again because Jared’s just adorable, nods and fiddles his shoes off and his socks are mismatched. Of course they are.
Upstairs. Jensen’s a tidy momma’s boy. Gonna do you good in college, she says, and as Jared closes the door behind him with both of them inside, Jensen’s brain dilutes all over again. He’s got his backpack clutched in front of him and his dick stirs softly, but mostly, he…
“I’ll, uh… Lemme put on a fresh shirt. Make yourself comfortable. Be right with you.”
Jensen turns and hears Jared obliging behind his back, the shuffle of his socked feet on Jensen’s carpeted bedroom floor. Jensen’s ears feel fire-hot and he forces his breath steady, forces his mind out of the gutter. Fuck, get a grip, Ackles. You’re worse than Stacy Freizer during prom last year.
Jensen’s desk chair creaks under Jared’s weight. Zipper, notes. Jensen blinks down at his dresser and remembers that, oh, yeah; plucks one drawer open to get a new shirt. Takes off the old, wet one and replaces it. Smoothes it down his stomach. Fuck. He’s so wet and sensitive even the seam of his boxer briefs is too much.
Jensen tosses the shirt into his laundry basket. Begins, “Do you wanna…” and turns to face Jared, who sits hunched in Jensen’s chair. Who’s lowered the blinds because the sunlight is right in your face in this room at this hour, and he… Damn, the way he’s looking at Jensen. Like all Jensen would have to do is ask.
Jensen swallows. His hand ghosts towards his crotch but he can tell he’s not sporting an obvious stiffy. Jensen shrugs.
“Uh… Should we…? You wanna start with, uhm…?”
“I keep thinking I’m imagining it,” says Jared, soft. “But you’re really looking at me like that, aren’t you? I mean…tell me if I’m wrong.”
Jensen exhales in a stutter. Pinches his shirt over his navel and mumbles so low that Jared has to ask him to repeat it. “You’re—not,” manages Jensen. Fuck, even his mouth feels hot. “Not imagining. No. Uh… You can… If you wanna leave, I…”
Jared stands up. Jensen’s lips pulse with blood.
Jared makes his way across the room to Jensen by the dresser and Jensen says, “I’m—we don’t have to,” but then Jared is with him and meets him mouth-first, and then they’re wrapping their arms around each other and God, fuck… Yes… Yes, this…!
“You’re so hot,” is the first thing Jared says, once he can. Once he’s got Jensen tucked up against his face and they’re sharing air. He’s firm as all hell under Jensen’s hands, against Jensen’s body—protruding bones and the impatient jab of his erection against Jensen’s hip, and Jensen gasps. His lashes flutter and Jared kisses him again, licks into him with artless, too-wet swipes of his big tongue, and he’s sweating, too. His heat bleeds through his shirt into Jensen’s hands and Jared ruts their dicks together before he stops. Before he gives Jensen a surprised look and Jensen can just huff and try not to cry.
“I’m… It doesn’t get hard lately, I dunno. I’m a carrier. I just don’t think the front end’s supposed to work anymore…”
“A—what?”
Jensen repeats, “Carrier?” and then Jared is grabbing his ass, hard, over his jeans, feels him out, spreads his cheeks and that—oh, fuck, Jensen’s knees buckle. “I, I have—if it grosses you out, we don’t have to…!”
“You’ve got what?” breathes Jared, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, and Jensen kisses him because that’s easier than spelling it out. (Everything is.)
Jensen Ross doesn’t stop Jared from opening his belt for him. Doesn’t interfere with his zipper coming undone, the top button being popped.
Jensen Ross passingly remembers to lock the fucking door, now.
“Seriously? Are you kidding?”
Jensen gulps, “No,” and squirms his ass back against the dresser. His arms are draped around Jared’s neck and Jared yanks his jeans and underwear down and Jensen is surprised with how okay he is with that. How he is nervous, sure, but not—writhing in bone-deep discomfort. Maybe Jared won’t…freak out?
Jared spends one, big stare between their bodies (on Jensen’s) before he crowds right back in. Pushes the tent in his jeans against Jensen’s pubes and rubs from Jensen’s hips to his ass, cups it with both of his big, bony paws. Kissing. Sucking at Jensen’s mouth.
Jensen Ross swallows a belly-deep groan for those fingers slipping in and down. Through the slick that rode all the way up to Jensen’s asshole and they push right between his lips, back and forth over his entrance and Jensen fastens his hold on the guy, he fucking claws into that t-shirt.
Breathless, “Fuck, please, pleasepleaseplease,” and then Jared does, and Jensen tucks his forehead against the side of Jared’s neck and just—shudders on it.
He’s tried toys. He’s tried his own fingers and heating lube and household objects he probably shouldn’t have used, but none of it ever felt—like this. Someone else’s. Jared’s.
Jared’s screwing him with two rough-padded fingers straight away and blurts, “Fuck,” against Jensen’s neck, into Jensen’s hairline. He’s just cramming them in there without finesse, just for the sake of it. There’s plenty of wet and when he gets stuck, he just turns his wrist and pushes on, and Jensen’s got boy-knuckles riding his taint within zero point something. Trembles on them; and when did he hike up his leg and tuck it against Jared’s side? “Fuck, oh my God—does it hurt? Am I hurting you? You’re so damn wet, oh my God, I can hear it…!”
“I’m, n-no.” Jensen’s eyes roll. He grunts for a third finger. Fuck, it’s tight. Shouldn’t feel that good. “Shit—fuck me. Fuck, get your dick in me…”
Quiet, “What?” and then, steadier, “Yeah?” and Jensen nods with his lip between his teeth, lets Jared see his face, his approval. Jared gasps and then gasps again when Jensen goes to town on his zipper and belt for him.
Jensen’s turn to gasp. To groan.
Jared whimpers, “Sorry,” because he’s Jensen’s age and yet already bigger than the toy Jensen had gotten very frustrated with and abandoned to the back of his bedside drawer—he’s fucking thick, too, silky and veiny and uncut. As Jensen strokes him, the foreskin peels back just enough to give a glimpse of a fat, drippy crown. Nobody still in high school should have a dick like that. Nobody ever, period.
Jensen gawps up at Jared’s face for once. “Can we? Do you want to…?” The rest of it is forgotten somewhere around the mean grind of Jared’s knuckles against Jensen’s entrance. The testing, deep flex of his too-thick fingers. Jensen moans, helpless. Keeps stroking Jared; presses him where he wants him.
Together, they try to make it work standing up against the dresser. When that turns out to be useless, they haul Jensen’s ass atop the dresser. Jensen needs both hands to steady himself with his knees drawn up, and they both stare—down, where Jared fumbles with one hand on his dick just below the head and the other spreading Jensen’s lips. The angle is weird and Jensen is tight and he whines in frustration just before it catches. Just before Jared figures it out and pops the tip inside.
Jensen yelps and slaps his hand across his own mouth in shock. He stares at Jared, who stares at him—they both wait for Jensen’s siblings or mom to come running, but there’s silence, and silent it stays. Jared is making a face like it hurts for him, too, and he’s working his hips but it’s not going anywhere, just a shift of skin in his own hand, probably.
Jensen removes his hand so Jared can nuzzle up to him and kiss him, all carefully. Eyes closed and Jensen feels—everything. Grunts when Jared pushes on. Shit, it hurts. Might be too big after all.
Jared murmurs, “You ever…?” and Jensen shakes his head no, and Jared’s eyes go a little wider, his mouth a little thinner. “Is…this okay? Or?”
“Maybe…maybe if we lay down, it…! Ouch, fuckfuckfuck, slow—!”
“Sorry, sorry…!”
Jensen huffs, cups the sore, empty-again spot. Down on the bed, awkward shuffle. Jensen ends up on all fours with Jared behind him. Another fumble before Jared’s stretching him out all over again, and Jensen groans, overwhelmed. He grabs his only-somewhat chubbed dick, holds it aside. Sees: Jared’s knuckles. Jared’s fingers, wrapped around the long pole of his cock. His heavy, big balls.
Jared sighs, “Fuck,” and Jensen bites his lip. Not exactly better in this position, but a little less strained. Jared gets one knee on the bed to rock into Jensen easier. Half an inch at a time pumps in and out of Jensen’s cunt. Tugs at his lips. Makes him feel every bump and vein of Jared’s thick, raw cock. “Fuck, you feel so good… You feel so fucking good inside…”
Jensen huffs and reaches behind himself to spread his ass, lessen the drag. Jared groans immediately, presses deeper despite all the worries. Jensen’s gut ties up with envy—he’s never gonna be able to have sex like Jared. But every clumsy push of Jared’s cockhead into the sensitive, swollen walls of his insides help ease the anxiety.
“This okay? You feelin’ good?” Jensen would have replied but Jared’s reaching for and grabbing Jensen’s dick now. He squeezes, a helpless tease—Jensen groans, clenches up. It’s not like it used to be but it’s…good. “Fuck… Can I move? Can I put it in all the way, Jen? You gon’ let me?”
Jensen blurts, “Fuck,” and digs his fingers deeper next to his hole, really works to pry it into compliance. Jared’s let go of his dick and curls that hand around Jensen’s hip instead to get himself something to work against, and it works—he’s stroking most of his dick through the too-small clutch of Jensen’s cunt, and the first time he hits what must be the rock bottom of Jensen’s detested carrier parts, Jensen fucking… Oh, fuck, that’s deep. It’s really, really deep.
And Jared hasn’t even bottomed out yet.
“You’re so wet. It’s all pink…! I’m turning you inside out, aren’t I…? Does it hurt? I don’t wanna hurt you, man…”
“I’m—i-it’s good… It’s okay; don’t stop,” and Jensen flushes deeper with how his voice stumbles and breaks across the words. Feels his body accommodating, slowly but surely, making the ride easier. Letting Jared rut away. Fuck, there are those sick noises again…
Jared whines. The hand on Jensen’s junk kneads him relentlessly, beautifully. “I’m so close already…”
“’S okay… Fuck, just do it in me…”
“Y-You’re—sure?”
Jensen slurs, “Uh-huh,” because fuck it, they’re already past safety. He’ll just get a plan B tomorrow and that’s that… Oh, well, that’s apparently all permission Jared needed.
Jared keeps his voice down but there’s still those puppy-sounds, those little labored grunts of him getting knocked around by pleasure. He’s speeding up to a quick, selfish flurry for several beats that leave Jensen gasping, before Jensen swears he can feel him growing even fatter, and finally—pulsing. Flexing deep and plenty, like he, too, hasn’t come in ages.
Jensen moans into the sheets in frustration. Jared’s locked, his fist wrung tight around Jensen’s cock and his hips flush with Jensen’s ass; he’s holding his breath. Keeps coming, and Jensen’s cunt throbs around him, wrings him dry—Jensen grabs behind himself again, splits his fingers around where Jared is spearing him open. How is it not leaking? Jensen’s body feels too tiny to hold all of what Jared is giving him.
There, finally: as Jared pulls back, knocks back in. A blurt of wet escapes and drools down Jensen’s taint. Jensen groans, fascinated. Overwhelmed, still. That Jared would… That anyone would…!
Jared mumbles, “Oh my God,” on top of Jensen, weak and just as mesmerized by the sight as Jensen is by the sensation. Oh, fuck, how it must look…! “That was…! How are you so—freaking amazing? Can I…? Hey, can we? Let me see your face. You okay? Can I do anything?”
Jensen’s shirt is wet with his sweat yet again. It glues to his back as he turns around, but what is even more uncomfortable is—the heavy flood of Jared’s come down his crack, into the sheets. The weird stickiness and warmth and Jared’s dick kisses right back at his entrance while Jared’s mouth does the same to Jensen’s face up top. They sigh into the kiss. Jensen rubs at Jared’s neck, his cheek. Studies his face, the droplets of sweat, the healthy flush of his skin. The redness of his mouth; the dark beauty spots next to his nose, his chin.
“I could blow you,” Jared says in-between kisses. His still-hard dick slides through the mess it made, from Jensen’s asshole all the way to the root of his cock. Hands-free. “Let me make you feel good. I wanna make you come as well. Yeah? Can I?”
Jensen moans, “Fuck,” and drops his head into the sheets, gets his cheek kissed, his neck. Into the neckline of his shirt and he shudders, gets Jared pushing his shirt up for him. A testing, teasing suck to a nipple and Jensen’s knees draw up in instinct, and he pulses another dribble of Jared’s load out of himself on accident. Fuck, he wants it. All of it. “I…I really don’t know if it’ll work, but…”
“I wanna try.”
“…Yeah. Okay.”
Jared scoots down. Jensen huffs, keeps his hands on Jared’s head—in his hair. Around his ear.
Jared says, “I’ll be careful,” and then Jensen feels—something. Distant, and that might be Jared, running his tongue along the soft spine of his cock. Yeah, there: a probing press just below the tip, and Jensen’s brows draw together and his cunt flexes with the stimulation, but…barely anything. His fucking nipple felt more…and better. “Like this? You like that?”
Jensen huffs again, noncommittal. Maybe if Jared keeps going. If they get him hard somehow and everything is more intense… Oh.
Oh, Jared’s thumb pets his labia.
Jensen utters, “Fuck,” and twitches, deep down. Jared’s mouth is warm and soft on him, and it’s not bad, not at all, but it’s a weak comparison to what the simple drag of his thumb is doing to Jensen. Not even edging inside or anything, just petting around…! Fuck, Jensen’s swollen everywhere, so much blood in the tissue…
“Should I finger you? Yeah?” and Jensen might nod or something because Jared’s thumb screws right in, albeit careful. He takes Jensen’s dick in his mouth while he does and suckles at the tip with intention, and—Jensen’s stomach clenches. Ah, fuck. Fuck, that’s better.
“Yeah, keep going… Fuck, more… Give me more, come on…!”
Jared, bless him, does.
Middle and ring and that’s good, that’s fucking good all right. Jensen chases the clumsy strokes until Jared gets confident enough and gives him three, gives it to him firmer. Really stretches him out all over again and fuck that’s good, and Jensen’s cock twitches in Jared’s mouth because it wants to get some blood to itself, wants to flush and grow and fuck into the cute back of Jared’s throat. The longer Jared fingers him, the less Jensen can mourn the imbalance of his blood flow. Fuck, if Jared just…!
“C-can you…fuck me again? Maybe?”
Jared’s on top of him so fast, he might have just waited for the permission.
Jensen moans into Jared’s mouth as he is being filled all over again with Jared blanketing him and rubbing from Jensen’s chest down to his belly, back and forth. Jensen spreads his legs and bends his knees and curls his arms around Jared’s shoulders again, boxes him in. Keeps him where he needs him. God, they’re both soaked with sweat.
Jared is just as hard as earlier. Just as big. The creamy mess of his come makes it easier. Wetter.
Breathy, quiet, “Like this?” while he gives Jensen long, quickening strokes, root to tip. He kisses into Jensen’s mouth and Jensen nods, thankful to be muffled—because holy shit, he has no idea how nobody’s knocked on the door and demanded an explanation yet.
With the initial pressure gone, Jared can focus better, it seems. Can put actual thought into what he’s doing, studies Jensen’s reactions. Jensen feels him switching between movements but, honestly, with a huge dick like that, he can’t exactly miss.
Jensen’s brain fogs in that good, hot way. Where his eyes want to close and his spine wants to push straight and his dick—no, something deeper—flexes. Jared’s giving him a deep, consistent pounding now that knocks where Jensen’s already run out of space, where the tissue is soft and giving. Jensen moans. Gets his nipple tugged at; his cock.
“Fuck, keep—like that, just like that…”
“Yeah? Fuck, yeah?”
Jensen slurs, “Uh-huh,” and gets his lip licked, gets his mouth huffed into. Jared’s nose grinds against his own, digs into his cheek. Jensen can’t think. He just holds on and lets Jared slop into where it feels so, so fucking good.
“Gonna come, Jen? Wanna come with me?”
Jensen swallows a whine. Gives a shaky, desperate nod.
It’s…very different from what he remembers.
Mainly because it starts lower and builds slower, but it sweeps him in and under just as good, if not better—Jared must feel it too because he groans and screws his hips more pointedly, right into that good spot all the way inside. His cock truly digs into Jensen, like it wants to push even further into his body, and Jensen covers his mouth to sob and then he comes: a shock-quick squirt of wet from his semi-hard cock and his pussy wrings tight, wrings hot and perfect around the too-fat stretch of Jared’s cock that keeps relentlessly working through the clutching tremors. Jared’s lips press over Jensen’s knuckles and Jensen feels (and hears) him grunt as he comes again; that satisfying, powerful throb and push of his cock as it empties.
Jared doesn’t stay still. Squirms and shoves and pumps his hips, and he refocuses and speeds up when Jensen puts his hand from his mouth to his dick instead. Happy to be able to kiss Jensen again, apparently, and Jensen feels a hand layering over his own on the wet grip he’s got on his own cock; the hardest it’s been in weeks, even if softening quickly. Jensen wrings the last drops out and Jared pauses the kiss just to lift himself a bit and look between them—finds the watery, cloudy smears of Jensen’s come and groans, and Jensen swears he feels Jared’s dick throbbing for it, too.
“Fuck… You’re so perfect. How? Oh my God… Was that good? Did I do good?”
Jensen kisses him as a response. He can’t exactly talk right now, anyway.
~
“I’ll just get a plan B. Don’t worry about it.”
The tips of Jared’s ears are scarlet. He peers up at Jensen’s face with a guilty little-boy face. Jensen scoffs and finishes wiping himself. He balls up the tissue and throws it with the others. More come seeps out of him right away.
He groans, flattens himself out on his (ruined) bed. Jensen rubs his face with both hands and sighs.
From his right: “…Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I need a fucking shower anyway.”
“Uh, yeah, you might.”
Jensen elbows Jared. Grins at him, and Jared’s mouth curls cute. He’s on his side, head on his hand. His right hand reaches down the line of Jensen’s body and feels where Jensen spreads his legs for him. Jensen watches Jared’s face with a knowing smile. Jared’s eyes are glazed. His soft dick is pressed up against Jensen’s hip.
“…Wow.”
“Right?” Jensen bites his lip. Keeps watching Jared’s dreamy expression. “You can touch. It doesn’t hurt.”
Under the soft guidance of Jensen’s own fingers, Jared does. His brows lift a bit before they draw together and up. He hums, “Fuck,” and adds another. Curls them deep. Feels where he made Jensen all soft and puffy. Through the sticky remains of his own load, kept safe and deep. Jensen presses his palm over the back of Jared’s hand to keep him where he is. To show him it’s okay.
Jensen cups and turns Jared’s face with his other hand to get himself another gentle, savoring kiss. Their tongues push soft and wet between their mouths. Jensen feels Jared’s pleased sigh vibrating through his entire body, tucked up safe to Jensen’s side in Jensen’s tiny-ass bed. Jensen’s boring, gray bed sheets.
Jared’s hand keeps moving. His come and Jensen’s juices squelch between his fingers and Jensen snickers; feels Jared’s dick stirring against his hip. Jared sighs sweet. Lets Jensen rub around his throat, across his chest. His nipples.
Jared slurs, “Fuck,” and, “I can’t,” and tomorrow, he’ll ask if Jensen would like to go out with him, and Jensen will roll his eyes and give him a dumb smile and tell him yes.