Word Count: 3300
Notes: Written for this prompt over at the spn_masquerade. Many thanks for the original requester for giving me an opportunity to indulge my size!kink.
Summary: Jared and Jensen spitroast Osric. That's it. That's the plot. (Or, for formality: Jared and Jensen have a secret, and they want Osric to find out about it.)
“Martial arts huh? What did you study?” Jensen’s sprawled in the round corner booth in the back, t-shirt and the ratty jeans he’d stolen from set out of place against the backdrop of linen tablecloths and gold-trimmed wine glasses. Osric had been worried, he hadn’t even packed a suit jacket for this particular trip, but Jared had assured him that it wouldn’t matter. They’re regulars.
“Korean for the discipline,” Osric says, although his slumped form makes it look like he’s lying. He could blame the wine, or the top shelf whiskey that had been brought out after and had gone down smooth as Kool-Aid, but mostly it’s the warm press of Jensen’s thigh against his, the chance to catch the occasional nudge of Jensen’s shoulder. “Then I studied Tae Kwon Do for a few years, made it all the way to brown belt before I got sick of all the kicking. I took it mostly for the flexibility, anyway.”
“Flexibility,” Jared repeats, and shares a look with Jensen. It’s fleeting, fast, and Osric might have missed it if he’d been capable of tearing his eyes away from Jared and Jensen for longer than a second at a time. As it stands, he isn’t. It doesn’t seem like they mind, though. They’re all smiles tonight, giving them away like candy, reminds Osric of a couple of indulgent older brothers taking their kid brother out for a night on the town.
“You wanna get outta here?” Jared asks, and he must have kicked Jensen, squeezed his leg or dug into his side, because Jensen’s thigh tightens against Osric’s and he jumps a little, his hand momentarily curling into a fist on the table before loosening.
“Your place?” Jensen says. He has a room at the Sutton, but everyone on set knows it’s just a technicality. Mostly he stays with Jared at his house, says it’s the only way to guarantee that Jared will routinely get to work on time, and anyhow, it saves their driver a trip.
Osric sways some when he gets to his feet, the change in altitude making the liquor hit him full on. Jared takes the opportunity to snag the knit hat from Osric’s head and cram it onto his own, and Jensen’s scuffs up his hair, tucks him in under his arm and steadies him, steers him toward the door, his hip bumping into Osric’s side with every step.
Jensen keeps him close while Jared hails a cab, tells Osric that it’s fine if they stay with them, early call-time in the morning and anyway, Jared makes the best coffee north of the Canadian border.
The ride home is short, and Osric wishes it was longer, likes getting shoehorned into the seat between the two of them, and likes it even better when Jared flings his arm over the back of the seat and across his shoulders, his knuckles against Jensen’s neck.
Jared’s place is homey, smaller than Osric had expected but still plenty enough room to spread out. They point him toward the living room, promise him water to push back the hangover and veer off to the kitchen. The long leather couch is inviting, but Osric kicks his shoes off and ambles around the room instead, walks off the buzz, peeks through the blinds to the big back yard, checks out the impressive stereo system and the high school basketball awards on the mantel. Eventually he circles around to the kitchen and stutters to a halt.
Three glasses are lined up on the counter and the tap is still running. That’s not the first thing that he sees, though. It’s not even the tenth. Jensen’s sitting on the counter, his ankles hooked around Jared’s thighs and his hands down the back of Jared’s pants, the rounded curve of the top of Jared’s ass on display. Jensen has his head tipped to the side, his face set in an expression of concentrated need as Jared grinds against him.
Osric should back out of the doorway, throw himself on the couch and pretend to sleep. He’s an actor, and might be able to pull it off, but the vague heat that had been burning under his skin all night flares up hot and immediate, then doubles when Jensen opens his eyes and fixes Osric with a steady gaze. Osric’s frozen, tied down by that stare, can’t even move as Jensen kisses Jared, open-mouthed and filthy deep, tugs on Jared’s bottom lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and flushed, watching Osric the entire time.
“Looks like we have an audience,” Jensen says, loud enough for both of them to hear, a low, rumbling stage whisper.
Jared turns around but stays within the frame of Jensen’s legs, fingers restless on Jensen’s thighs. “Fucking finally,” he says. Jensen reaches around him, slides a hand into the front of Jared’s jeans and starts to work his cock, and Osric’s not sure if he’s seen anything so fucking hot in his life. Jared gasps, leans his back against Jensen’s chest and bucks his hips forward. “Now you know our dirty little secret.”
“It’s not dirty,” Osric says, and it comes out as a hoarse croak, his tongue thick and his mouth dry.
“It could be,” Jensen teases, “if you wanted it to.”
“I didn’t know you were gay,” Osric says stupidly, although that’s hardly the point. Not that he’s entirely sure of the point, or even if there should be a point in the first place. He only knows that Jared’s staring at his crotch and licking his lips, and that he’s getting harder by the second, and he’s never spent a lot of time realistically thinking about what it might be like to have a guy’s cock in his mouth, or up his ass, but all of that is changing, really goddamn fast.
“This is Hollywood,” Jared explains, breathy, and it’s a miracle the guy can talk at all with the way that Jensen’s hand is starting to speed up. “Everyone’s at least a little bit gay.” Jensen squeezes his thighs along Jared’s hips and it pushes a quiet moan out of him. Jared goes on, “Besides, have you seen this guy?” He reaches back and palms at the back of Jensen’s head, shoves his fingers through his hair and makes a mess out of Jensen’s soft spikes.
“Yeah,” Osric admits. “I’ve seen both of you.”
“Then get on in here,” Jensen commands, giving Jared a playful push away. He holds his hand out, and Osric can see the wet gleam on his fingers, damp and slick with Jared’s precome. Osric stumbles forward, feels like a kid with the way his stockinged feet thump across the floor. He’s never felt so young, so inexperienced, and that feeling only doubles as Jared pulls him in, curls his arms around Osric’s shoulders, scuffs his knuckles through his hair and positions him between them.
It’s like standing between two mountains. Even when he straightens up and stands tall, the top of his head barely manages to come up to Jensen’s chin, and he can hardly make eye contact with Jared’s shoulders. He takes Jensen by the wrist, brushes his lips against his fingers with a tentative flick of his tongue, eager to learn what Jared tastes like. Jensen slides from the counter but still braces himself against it, licking his lips and watching Osric very closely. Jared’s pressed all along him from behind, swaying a little like he’s leading some sorta slow dance, his hips rubbing a steady rhythm against the small of Osric’s back.
“Wanna show us how flexible you are?” Jared whispers into Osric’s ear, then chuckles as he grabs a handful of Osric’s ass, causes a shiver to course through him from head to toe.
Jared runs hot, and Osric’s starting to sweat in all the places they’re touching, his shirt twisting and sticking uncomfortably to his skin the more Jared moves against him. And maybe Jared can read his mind, because he knots his fist in it and pulls it tight, traces the shape of Osric’s nipple with a thumbnail, obvious and embarrassingly hard. Jared pauses for a moment to let Jensen do the same before drawing the shirt up and over his head and then ditching his own. It doesn’t cool Osric off, though, only makes him warmer, Jared’s skin hot against his back, Jensen’s gaze raking across his chest as he idly skims the backs of his fingers along Osric’s collarbone, light touches up the side of his neck and along the cut of his jaw. It’s as if Jensen’s putting him under inspection, checking him out and deciding whether or not he wants to keep him.
Osric doesn’t mind. Judging from the obscene bulge in the front of Jensen’s pants and the tiny jabs of his hips, he’s passing the test.
“Don’t worry,” Jared tells him, speaking softly into Osric’s ear and trailing his hands up and down his upper arms to reassure him. “Jensen’s a good teacher, showed me everything I know.”
It clicks into place, all at once. Jared’s larger than life in every conceivable way, has always been the one to take center stage, but Osric pays attention. He observes. It’s subtle, the way Jared defers to Jensen, how he clams up during interviews the moment that Jensen opens his mouth, always so quick to agree with him. It’s in the thousand little ways Jared takes all his cues from Jensen both onset and off, perfectly in tune, how they always walk in step, mirror each other’s gestures, move the same.
Jensen notches two fingers under Osric’s chin and tips it upward. “We’ll make it good for you. Promise.” He circles around until he’s behind Osric, says to Jared, “You sure could bounce a dime off that thing.”
There’s a slap of skin on skin and Jared jumps forward, shoves against Osric until he’s leaning on the counter. He rests his forehead on its surface, cool and smooth on his overheated skin. Behind him, Jared makes a noise, a muffled groan as he tugs Osric’s pants down, lets them fall to his ankles. Another muffled sound and Osric chances a backward glance to find Jensen stuffing two fingers into Jared’s mouth, fucking them in and out, getting them wet.
Someone kicks at his feet, spreads him wide open, puts him on display, cock dangling hard and heavy between his legs, the sensitive skin along the crack of his ass exposed to the cool air. A breath later, someone’s fingers circle his hole, tap at his rim, and Osric has this crazy thought, like they’re knocking on his door, then has the even crazier urge to tell them to come on in.
“Spit on him. We need him wetter. He’s so fucking tight.” And that’s Jensen, speaking in his deep, gravelly Dean voice, and Osric knows that it’s going to be hard to hold still on set tomorrow, the next day, the rest of the goddamn week.
He gets spread further open and he can feel the warm fan of Jared’s breath on his ass before the guy spits. Osric feels the rough scrape of Jared’s stubble down there and then something else, something soft and warm and a little squirmy, and it’s a second before he realizes it’s Jared’s tongue, Jared’s fucking tongue pressed firmly against his hole, lapping at him, gathering up the spit and shoving it inside. It’s intense, intrusive, so filthy and hot and Osric jumps, jerks forward on auto-pilot, almost tries to climb up on the counter, but Jared’s gets him by the waist, huge hands nearly spanning his entire middle, holding him in place.
“Not so fast,” Jared says, and prods at Osric’s hole with his finger, teasing and testing, pushes past his rim and Osric lets out a long groan at the full, stretching sensation, has to bury his face in the crook of his elbow. There’s the snick of a bottle cap and something slicker than spit drips onto his rim, and now Jared’s really giving it to him, fucking his finger in and out, deeper each time, sloppy wet slapping sounds that Osric should find embarrassing except that he can hardly think, barely remember to breathe.
The stretch intensifies, doubles, morphs into a slow burn that makes Osric’s toes curl against the floor, makes him bite the inside of his arm.
“That’s both of us,” Jensen says with a quick little stab of his finger, deeper than before, and it triggers something, a white hot bolt of sensation that blanks out thought, shoots stars across his vision and leaves him gasping. Osric arches his back, the curve of his spine making his ass tip up, and whether he’s trying to angle closer or further away is anyone’s guess at this point. He sure as hell doesn’t know.
“‘Atta boy,” Jared says around a chuckle. “You like that? Show us how much you like that.”
Their fingers become still inside of him and it’s a full five seconds before Osric figures it out, wriggles his hips in a little experimental circle then fucks himself down on their hands, his eyes screwed closed, bottom lip bitten between his teeth in concentration.
“I think he likes it a lot,” Jensen says. “But I think he’d like your cock a lot more.” His voice is breathy and amped-up, and Osric wonders what Jared is doing to him back there to make him sound that way, but at once their fingers disappear, leave him hitching his hips against nothing.
Another snick of the bottle and something clatters to the floor, and Jared asks, “Are you ready?”
Osric offers a feeble half-nod, but Jared’s already steering his hips, pulling him close to slip his cock along the crack of his ass, fingers splayed on his cheeks to push them together, slick him up even more. His heart is a racket in his ears and the nudge of Jared’s cock against his rim is downright torturous, and he’s about to tell Jared to get on with it, quit fucking around when Jared does, drills inside of him with a massive thrust. It huge, a burn that seems to pound with his heartbeat, punches all the air out of his lungs. His mouth goes slack and his eyes fly open, wide and surprised and he gets a face full of Jensen’s dick.
Jensen’s lost his shirt at some point and his skin is shiny with sweat, flushed deep pink from his chest straight up the tips of his ears. His pants are unhooked, crooked on his hips and open in a wide vee. He has his cock out and is jerking it slowly, thick and curved and damp at the tip.
“He’s big, isn’t he?” Jensen says to him, and there’s pride in the look he gives Jared. “Feels so fucking good, yeah? The first time he fucked me, I couldn’t sit right for days.”
Jared pulls out almost all the way, stretching Osric’s rim with the flared head of his cock, then jams back in again, hard enough to propel Osric forward. Jensen’s gaze is cast downward, fixed on Jared’s cock as he drills into Osric’s ass, his own hand picking up speed, matching Jared’s rhythm. A thick dribble of precome leaks out of the tip and Jensen catches it on his thumb, rubs it on Osric’s bottom lip, then pries it past his teeth, rubbing along his tongue.
It doesn’t taste like much, vaguely chemical from the lube, but Osric sucks on it anyway, scrapes his teeth along the pad of Jensen’s thumb and bears down as Jared starts to fuck him in earnest, long, hard thrusts that make Osric’s cock slap against his stomach, cause his knees to lock in place.
“Looks like Jensen’s lonely over there,” Jared says, pausing between every couple of words for gasping, panting breaths. “Can’t have that, can we?” He paws at the back of Osric’s head, tangles his fingers in his short hair, urges him toward Jensen’s crotch.
Osric’s happy to play along, opens his mouth and lets Jensen feed him his cock, rubbing the head of it all over Osric’s lips before stuffing it inside. It’s bitter, salty like sweat, and he tries to relax his jaw, because he might not know much but he knows that teeth are bad news. He makes a tight seal with his lips and moans when Jared changes up the angle behind him, speeding up then speeding up some more. Jensen seems to like that, throws his head back, white knuckles the counter, and starts moving his hips in shallow little hitches, so Osric hums again.
He’s stuffed full, feels them everywhere. Jensen’s so thick and heavy in his mouth and Jared’s so deep inside his ass that it hardly takes anything at all, the barest stimulation, only the lightest brush of Jared’s fingers on his cock to make him come, shoot so hard he feels it hit his chest, spatter all over Jensen’s feet and onto the floor.
Jared’s slamming into him, harder and harder, grabs him by the hips and yanks him up until his toes can hardly reach the floor, pulling Osric down on his cock then forcing Jensen further down his throat and Osric’s helpless, grappling at Jensen’s thighs, his hips, anything he can get his hands on. Jensen’s got his timing down, matches his thrusts to Jared’s and Osric shouldn’t be surprised that they’re so good at this, that they have each other’s timing down so perfectly.
Osric’s jaw aches like it’s about to come unhinged, his chin is filthy with spit, he hasn’t taken a full breath in about a year and it seems like Jensen’s dick is growing harder still, thicker. Jensen’s stomach muscles are pulling tight and his thighs shudder under Osric’s hands and it sounds like he’s trying to grunt out some sorta warning, but Osric’s come this far and he wants to see it through. He gives up, goes boneless and lets Jared fuck him far down on Jensen’s cock, as far as he can go, gagging around it. Jensen pulses in his mouth, pulls back just as Osric starts to feel like he’s about to drown, swallowing some and sputtering out even more, thick strings of come that stick to his mouth and his chin.
Jared drives into him, once, twice, lifts Osric clear off of the floor, picks him up like he’s nothing, lighter than air, stumbles forward and smashes his face against Jensen’s stomach. He bottoms out and stays there, grinds dirty against him, his hipbones digging into Osric’s ass and fingers clenched so tight around his hips that it’s sure to leave a mark.
“Holy shit,” Jared says, and it sounds like he’s talking through a smile as he lowers Osric, plants his feet on solid ground again, still buried balls deep.
“Are you ready to go again?” Jared’s hands are soothing on his back, thumbs digging into his shoulders. He starts rutting into Osric’s ass once more, slow, sated thrusts but he’s already getting thicker again, growing rigid.
Osric’s legs shake, his ass feels used and raw, his throat burns, he can feel Jared’s come, sticky on his balls and dripping down his thighs, and he wants to do it all over again. Can’t wait. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
“Good,” Jensen says, a wicked edge to his smile. “Now turn around.”
Thanks for reading!