an agent of the random (riyku) wrote,
an agent of the random

fic: doll parts

alright. deep breath. this one's an anniversary! the 100th fic i've written for this fandom. you'd figure that after doing this a hundred times, i'd be less nervous. if anything, i'm more nervous than usual. goddamn. reckon it's fitting that it's probably the dirtiest thing i've ever written in this fandom. all hail the kink! long live the kink!

Title: doll parts
Genre: Jared/Jensen
Rating: nc-17
Word count: 2400
Notes: written for this here prompt over at the spn_masquerade. warning for porn stars and underage. it's not explicitly stated, but yeah, Jensen's young here. in this world, kiddie porn is legal.

Summary: There had been a time when Jared would fuck anyone he was handed. Now he gets to choose.

"Take your pick."

A dozen shiny photos are spread out on the table in front of Jared. He dismisses half of them outright, and his agent slides them back into his briefcase. There had been a time when Jared would fuck anyone he was handed. Now he gets to choose. It's in his contract.

"Virgins?" Jared asks, and his agent slips three more out of contention. Jared picks up the eight-by-ten on the left. Mottled blue and white backdrop. A smile because someone had told him to say cheese. Probably the kid's best Sunday shirt and clip-on tie. Pale cheeks and sun-tipped baby-blonde hair. Big, liquid eyes a clear shade of green. Freckles. A mouth that would look very pretty with Jared's come dripping from it. Jared could fuck him up so good.

The kid's folks hadn't even bothered to spring for a head shot. This is a school photo.

Jared's dick is chubbing up, going sticky. A full ten seconds pass, corner of the photo dug under Jared's thumbnail, before he allows himself to flip it over and learn himself a name.


No last name. That's how things work here.

"This one," Jared says, and there's nothing at all subtle about the way Jared adjusts his cock when he stands. He rolls the photo, careful to keep it as unwrinkled and unmarred as its subject.

"Tomorrow," his agent says, and gives him the address. One of the usual haunts. Jared's been there plenty of times.

"No fluffer on this one," Jared says as he leaves. "I'm gonna be the one to get him ready. On camera."


The preparations are rote, a ritual that Jared follows to the letter.

Oil treatment for his hair so it shines for the camera. He shaves and waxes, plucks any stray hair from his chest but leaves his pubes full and thick. Jared's aware of what his audience enjoys, how they like to be reminded that it's a fully grown man's thick cock splitting open a young boy's tender little virgin ass.

The cream he rubs into his skin smells like lemon gumdrops. All kids like candy.


They're in the producer's tree-lined backyard and the director is explaining the scene and Jared can't bring himself to pay attention. He'd gotten himself off twice this morning. Shoulda made it three.

Jensen's right there, perched on a tree-limb swing, fake plastic flower garland wrapped around the ropes, more of it made into a crown around Jensen's head. His eyes are downcast, the same color as the lush, thick grass under his toes. He can barely reach the ground.

Someone has strapped baby-white angel wings to his back and his tighty-whities are only a shade lighter than his skin. No snips or snails or puppy dog tails here. This boy is made of finer stuff. His cheeks are plump and soft, so is his pouty little mouth and not even Raphael could have dreamed up this picture of perfection.

The white pants Jared's wearing have been painted on him, about to cut him in half as his dick pushes into the front of them. Sweat is breaking out on his bare chest. "Give me a minute with him," he interrupts the director mid-sentence.

"I'll give you three." The guy turns, starts barking orders and the few people scattered around the yard begin to hoist their equipment. A couple of cameras. A boom mic. It's always a small crew.

Jared squats down in front of Jensen, tips the kid's chin up with two fingers. Sunlight is turning his cheekbones pink, making the star-scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose a darker shade. Jensen's eyes are full, nervous tears on the brink of spilling over, and Jared can't have that. He's never minded when they cry, but he wants the world to see how beautiful Jensen is first.

"They should have given you a halo," Jared tells him. "You deserve one. Not this cheap hippie knock-off." He touches the flower crown around Jensen's head, gets a small, watery smile for his effort.

Jensen's lips are soft and pliant when Jared thumbs at them, presses against their puffy fullness, all gummy with a thick, clear gloss. Jared almost rubs it off. At least no one had pancaked over his freckles. This kind of beauty shouldn't be covered up. "Are you afraid?"

A momentary chin-wibble. A deep breath, lanky-boy ribs poking against cream colored skin. Jared straightens Jensen's flower garland and kisses his temple, gives him a smile that says he's Jensen's best friend. He's also the guy with a dick that has its own insurance policy, and who's a few short minutes away from fucking the virgin right out of him.

"Do you know what's about to happen?"

"Of course I do," Jensen says. He shrugs and it ruffles his feathers. "There's no such thing as being a kid anymore." His voice is thin and wavering and has the cadence of something overheard and memorized. Jared's heart beats faster because of it.

Jared nods. "So beautiful, and smart, too. Can I let you in on a secret?" He leans in, and so does Jensen. The kid smells so good, like fresh skin and soap and Jared has to touch him, has to wrap his hands around Jensen's thighs, touch cornsilk, downy hair. "You don't have to be afraid. You're an angel. I'm just some stupid devil. You're stronger than me."

The lie feels sticky on Jared's tongue as he walks away. Never mind that. They don't pay him to teach theology to someone may or may not be a teenager yet.

The director hands him an apple and Jared chuckles. "If this is called what I think it's called..."

With a small nudge to the small of Jared's back, the guy calls out, "Forbidden Fruit, scene one."

The plot is half-assed, and Jared's never been sure why they bother with it. That's not what the audience is after. He starts off at a saunter, takes a bite of the apple and chews slowly. The camera operator is a fuzzy figure in his peripheral vision, following alongside him. Jared has eyes for one thing only, and it's currently swaying lazy on the swing, flower crown gone crooked again, fake feathers rustling in the breeze.

Jensen's eyes are wide, staring at the camera although someone had to have told him not to. His mouth is open, innocently sultry without trying to be, spare bird-chest moving fast. Jared might be playing the devil, but he's the one up to his neck in temptation, a few inches away from drowning in it.

An extra swing in his hips, Jared walks a circuit around him, draws a serpent-like line up the back of Jensen's spine with one light fingertip that the camera can't see. That one's for him. Circling around to stand in front of Jensen, he takes another small bite of the apple and drops it. Doesn't swallow. Bends over, sure to arch his ass up, and caresses Jensen's jaw, digs his fingers into smooth baby-fat cheeks until Jensen opens up for him. Jared kisses him, pushes half-chewed bits of apple into Jensen's mouth.

"Sweet, isn't it?" Jared says, all sibilant sounds.

Jensen chews, swallows and doesn't answer.

"Not as sweet as you." Jared drops to his knees. He runs his hand up the front of Jensen's underwear and Jensen's thighs jump, draw closed on instinct. His tiny wings shake, and Jared's white-knuckled against the need to pick Jensen up and shove the kid right down on his dick, no prep, no nothing. Has to remind himself that he's a professional.

Instead, he eases Jensen's waistband down, tucks it behind his sac, puts his pretty pink cock and balls on display and noses at them. The peach fuzz is a little thicker here, still fine and wispy and the scent of him is drug-like. Clean boy-smell like a spike in Jared's vein, a rush he can't get anywhere else as he puts his mouth on Jensen's dick.

Maybe it's nerves or simple pre-pubescent physiology, but Jensen doesn't get hard in Jared's mouth. Not a twitch. Not a sound. That doesn't stop Jared from sucking, lapping, planting his nose against Jensen's stomach, slopping his thin dick up with his spit. This boy tastes like heaven, pushes muffled cockslut groans out of Jared and he has to rub his palm against his dick to shove back the insistent, needy ache.

Light as the feathers strapped to his back, Jensen's weight like air in Jared's arms, no effort to straighten and carry him a few steps. Jensen slings his arms around Jared's neck, primly crosses his ankles. They're thoughtless, little nothing movements. They're everything.

Jensen blinks against the sun when Jared lays him down on his back in the grass, won't look as Jared strips him of his underwear and pushes at his own pants until they catch on the meat of his thighs. He doesn't close his legs or wrap his arms around his chest like so many of the others have.

It's not gonna be fancy this first time. No pornstar moves. Jared's not gonna twist and turn him, fuck him from every angle and then do it all over again upside down. Jared's already too dangerously close, his cock leaking precome, hard and thick and pulsing while he places a kiss on Jensen's knee and pushes out of his pants. He holds his hand out and someone off-camera gives him a palm full of lube. Movie magic.

The crew falls away from Jared's awareness. The sky could fucking drop down on top of him and he'd pay it no attention. He's got Jensen's legs snugged up to his chest, tight little circle of flesh exposed to daylight, getting more and more shiny with lube from Jared's fingers.

Jared's lightheaded, completely mindfucked. This is the first time anyone has rubbed Jensen's sweet pink hole, gotten it all slick and ready, gotten Jensen used to a hand there. Jared is the first one to slide past the resistance, feel that searing heat Jensen keeps locked inside, feel him clench and grip Jared's finger, so tight it seems like Jensen's trying to pull him further inside. He's the first to see Jensen's pinched expression smooth out as Jared works more slick into his body. Such an expressive young face, everything writ large across it. It's saying, No, this isn't as bad as he thought it might have been. No, maybe this isn't so bad at all.

Two fingers working him open, and Jensen seems a little lost now too, sucking on his puffy bottom lip. Pale as porcelain, arms and legs at crooked angles like forgotten doll parts. Jared's never gonna forget, wants to buy the kid a fucking kitten. Can't get over the contrast his tanned, over-grown hand makes against the round firmness of Jensen's ass, how easily his hands eclipse whole sections of Jensen's body. His upper arms, his ankles, his waist.

The kid is so malleable, flips willingly onto all fours, grass still clinging to his back, those motherfucking angel wings. Jared rears up on his knees and rides the crack of Jensen's ass for a few thrusts, leaves slick snail trails in the dip of Jensen's spine, the front of Jared's thighs up against the backs of Jensen's. It's a point of reference, both for himself and for anyone who's going to eventually be following along at home, shows off exactly how far up there his dick is gonna reach, how his six and a half feet easily engulfs Jensen's much smaller frame.

The sun is bright, birds are calling out to each other, Jared's bones have turned to liquid and this little boy blue isn't a virgin anymore.

This isn't supposed to be a speakie. Afterward, they'll have to edit out Jared's hissed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," and the director's warning to keep it together, don't lean over the kid so far, that's it, that's good. Jared tries to think of anything else, focus on the tune-up he needs for his car. His accountant who Jared suspects is robbing him blind. Think about the grass stains he's getting on his knees and that just makes him circle back around to the stains on Jensen's from Jared's hard drives home.

Jensen's so fucking tight on his cock, bearing down on him, hands in small fists in the grass. A gallon of lube isn't enough to make Jared's dick an easy fit into the snugness of Jensen's ass, and Jared thinks he's never been this hard for anyone, looked this huge drilling into a slender body, never felt anyone's rim give and stretch around him this sweetly. He reaches under Jensen, plants a hand on Jensen's belly and thinks he can feel himself when he fucks in all the way, knows he feels Jensen shiver and gasp and still not say a word.

Then he's pulling out quick, squeezing the base of his cock to buy himself a few more seconds. He wants to fill Jensen up with his load, fuck him through it until it's leaking out of him, maybe fuck him sloppy all over again. The money's in the money shot, though, so he flips Jensen over with enough force to snap the strap on one of his wings.

There's a metaphor in there somewhere, but Jared doesn't have much time to think on it, towering over Jensen and screwing his own hand down on his dick. Pulse after pulse of spunk lands on Jensen's chest, his throat, one particularly thick shot lands on his plush mouth and Jared falls forward, recklessly close to crushing Jensen under his weight.

Jensen doesn't shy away. He's looking directly at Jared, a hard and defiant stare as he curls his tongue out, picks up Jared's come on the tip of it and swallows.

It hits Jared hard. Immediately, he knows he's hooked. Mouth close to Jensen's ear, he says, "Smile pretty for the camera. You're gonna be a superstar."


Tags: fic: j2, spn_masquerade
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