Genre: J2 AU
Disclaimer: I think we can all agree on a complete lack of plausibility on this one.
Notes: Written for a round of salt_burn_porn from flawlessglitch 's prompt lets just lay here and be lazy, baby, drive me crazy. I tilted my head and closed one eye, and this is what came out. lily, you rocked it so hard. Thanks a ton.
Summary: There's something about the underground music scene that pulls Jared right in. He's not the only one.
'The goal is elevation.'
“I’m here for devotion,” Jared told the guy standing guard at the door.
It was early or late, depending on how you looked at it. The streets were still clogged with cars, even at this hour, rolling tires making spattering noises on the wet pavement.
Jared could hear a deep bass line and a quick drumbeat coming from the building in front of him. It was soft, low, little more than an underline to the outside noise. Even still, it populated his veins, amped up his heartbeat, made his head spin.
“The stairs on your left,” the guy said, opening the door for Jared. “Welcome to the show.”
The building was cavernous, most of a city block big. The shadowy bones of some dried up furniture store barely visible in the gloom. Jared headed toward the basement. The music became louder with each step down the stairs, the sound bouncing off the cinderblock walls. The stairway led to a large basement, with a short stage constructed off the cuff standing at the back, the band bare-chested and sweating behind their instruments.
The air was hot down here, humid and tinged with sweat. Palpable. A layer of smoke hung close to the pipe covered ceiling. It was crowded, filled to overflowing with people, a tangled mess of arms and legs in the pit.
Jared worked his way into the center, the close and rhythmic movement of people rolling against his body, front and back. He surrendered, let himself be pushed and pulled, a sweat breaking out on his skin and a warm sensation spreading out way down low in his stomach.
It wasn’t as good as sex, but it sure as hell pulled a goddamn close second.
It used to be that shows like this were a dime a dozen, but at some point the scene had changed. People started coming into the pit with bad attitudes and razor blades and calling themselves hardcore. There were a lot of reasons, Jared thought, like folks had seen Fight Club one too many times or something. Brad Pitt and Eddie Norton turning pain into a thing that was movie popular. Most old school had gone underground, in this case literally. Jared found out about them from friend of a friend and all that, different places every weekend, and he liked it that way. Liked the idea of a scavenger hunt.
He took an elbow to the side, snarled against the short flash of pain. Jared got knocked sideways and then found his feet again. He smiled.
It wasn’t the pain. Most people couldn’t understand that. Sure, Jared had taken on his fair share of black eyes and busted lips, funny looks from the folks he worked with come Monday morning. It sorta came with the territory. But it was never about the pain. It was about knowing that when you fell there would be someone right there to pick you up and toss you back in. It was about release and faith and the bell-clear knowledge that you were in a room full of people who had your back.
The folks in front got louder as someone rolled onto the low stage and stood up in one fluid move. It was Jensen. Jared recognized him right away, had seen him around in the scene from time to time, hung out with him maybe once or twice, and thought about him a hell of a lot more than that. Jensen scanned the crowd, hands curled in fists by his sides, ripped up jeans puddled into boots that were only half laced to the top.
Jared was easily half a head taller than anyone else in the place, and Jensen picked him out of the crowd immediately. Jensen held him there for a second, his eyes wide and lit bright like streetlamps. He nodded once, offered up a lunatic grin in Jared’s direction and then he dove in, somersaulted forward.
Jared’s heart jumped into his throat. A decade of watching people do this and it still sent a shock through him. Jensen tumbled out of view for a second only to come out on top, dozens of hands holding him high, more raised and ready to grab a hold and keep him floating.
There it was, that moment. Jared saw it written plain as day on Jensen’s face and in his body. That instant when he simply let go. Trusted. Jared could see when Jensen gave in, laid back lazy as he started to ride it out. Every muscle in his body seemed to go slack, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Arms out to his sides and legs helter skelter on top of the crowd. It looked like Jensen was at peace, and at some basic, cellular level, Jared got it. He understood perfectly.
But something that good couldn’t last forever. Some kid took Jensen’s boot to the face and the next thing Jared knew, a bunch of people were toppling to the floor with Jensen right along with them.
Jared fought his way over, and Jensen met him half way. “Great ride,” he yelled at Jared over the music.
“You okay?” Jared asked, eyeing the screwed up angle of his shoulder.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Jensen said.
“Yeah. Say that again in five minutes when the buzz wears off. C’mon.”
Jared rushed him toward the back door, followed him up a set of concrete steps into the alleyway behind the building.
“Hey. Didn’t they film the Exorcist around here?” Jensen asked, his voice shaky. His teeth clanked together, chattering. Maybe from pain or maybe from the cold. Probably from adrenaline.
Jared laughed. It did look like a horror movie set—wet brick walls and dark. Steam rising up from a grate in the pavement. “Nah,” he answered. “Other side of town.”
He carefully peeled Jensen’s leather jacket from his back, hissing a little when he exposed his shoulder. The angle was all wrong, clearly crooked beneath the thin t-shirt Jensen had on. “Does it hurt?”
Jensen bit his bottom lip. Christ, but that mouth was almost too pretty to be attached to a guy. “A little, yeah.”
“Alright. Do you trust me?” Jared asked.
“Of course.” Jensen’s answer was instantaneous. Not a lick of hesitation to be found. Jared was dizzy with it.
He steered Jensen against a brick wall face first, the warmth from Jensen’s skin bleeding through his shirt and onto Jared’s palms. Jared crowded in close, chest pressing against Jensen’s back to keep him still and steady. “You’re outta joint,” he said, and Jensen shivered beneath him. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second. You ready?”
“As I'll ever be,” Jensen said, his voice wound up tight.
Jared put pressure on the shoulder, circled his wrist with a loose grasp and began to draw Jensen’s arm up. “Here we go.”
He lifted Jensen’s arm higher, there was a satisfying pop and Jensen’s whole body flinched. “Fuck,” he gasped, slamming his fist against the wall.
“You good?” Jared had his hands on Jensen’s back, still so close, couldn’t stand to stop touching him.
Jensen took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Another one. He planted his forehead on the bricks. “Great, actually. What are you? Some kinda field medic?”
“Recreationally, yeah.” Jared barked a nervous laugh. “Can you walk?”
Jensen took his time answering. Jared could feel him rolling his shoulders, feel the movement of the muscles in his back, the subtle tilt of his hips. A drop of sweat followed Jensen’s hairline down along his temple, and Jared wanted to taste it. Jared’s breath came fast, fanned out in white clouds against the back Jensen’s neck. He was half hard and sure that Jensen could feel it. “Sure,” Jensen said finally, “I can walk. But I don’t think I want to.”
Jensen moved then, arched his back just so, hips shifting into Jared’s. It was unmistakably intentional.
The music that drifted from inside started playing second fiddle to Jared’s heartbeat, its quick pounding loud in his ears. His skin felt two sizes too small as Jensen pushed against him, his ass rubbing along the front of Jared’s jeans. Up and down, slow. Too slow. Jared’s hands landed on Jensen’s hips, gripped tight as he rocked into Jensen with a moan. His lips found the back of Jensen’s neck, the short hair tickling his nose. Jared sucked down the sweaty taste of Jensen’s skin, rolling it around in his mouth.
There was a moment of doubt when Jensen seemed to shrug him off and spun around, his lips open and slack, his expression almost surprised. But then Jensen was yanking him in, thumbs hooked under Jared’s jaw. His mouth was open and hot against Jared’s when he licked in, tongues twisting in a crazy slow slide.
Jared shoved a thigh between Jensen’s legs, and Jensen made a needy noise, the sound vibrating between them. Jared broke the kiss, and Jensen slung one arm around his neck, tongue darting out along his bottom lip, grinding his hips along Jared’s.
Jensen’s skin was pale in the darkness, a slick of sweat painted his forehead. His eyes were closed, a small line between his eyebrows, and he looked flawless, absolutely flawless.
“Can I?” Jared whispered, an urgency working its way into him. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for, only knew that he needed to feel Jensen, taste him, touch him everywhere.
Jensen nodded, and Jared dropped down in front of him, wet pavement soaking through the knees of his pants. He pushed Jensen’s shirt up, trailed his mouth along the skin there, feeling the tremor of Jensen’s muscles beneath his lips.
Jensen was hard, pressing against his jeans, hips moving in short bursts as Jared kissed his way lower. He planted a hand in Jared’s hair when Jared unhooked his belt, mouth running a tease along the fabric of his shorts.
“Jared,” Jensen said, pleading.
Jared chuckled low, shoved at Jensen’s shorts and palmed his dick. He ran his lips along the underside and sucked down the tip. The heady taste slammed into his mouth and Jared couldn’t help but moan. Jensen was hot, a heavy, perfect weight on his tongue. Jared swirled his tongue around the head, a slight, gentle graze of his teeth and sucked him down hard.
Jensen grunted above him, a quick exhale of air, and Jared looked up. Jensen had his head tipped down. He looked high, completely gone, mouth wide open, and eyes slammed shut. His upper back pressed flush to the brick wall, and his hips jutting out at an obscene angle.
Jensen moved his hips a little, tiny shallow thrusts. Jared plastered a hand to his stomach, hummed as Jensen started to roll his hips harder, more insistently. He took it, held on and let Jensen move inside his mouth.
The fist in Jared’s hair tightened, and Jared only took him down further, swallowed around the feeling of Jensen’s dick hitting the back of his throat and then Jensen was coming. Thick, hot as hell and choking, spilling past his lips in a mess of spit and come, and Jared just rode it out.
“Shit,” Jensen panted as Jared staggered to his feet. “Fuck. Damn.”
“You’ve got a dirty mouth, you know that?” Jared said, palming his own cock. Jesus, he was hard. He ached with it.
Jensen swiped a thumb along Jared’s messy bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth. Drew it back out with a pop. He pulled Jared in for a quick, dirty kiss, his hand sneaking down to squeeze Jared’s dick. “That buzz?” Jensen said, still a little breathless.
Jensen shot him a cocky grin. “It hasn’t worn off yet.”
Thanks for reading.