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

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fic: Feeling is First

Title: Feeling is First
Rating: NC17
Genre: J2 AU
W/C: ~1,600
Warnings: This sort of doubles as a summary, too. Hooker!Jensen, blindfold kink, a smattering of D/s and a cherry on top.
Notes: Written for salt_burn_porn  with kiwiana 's awesome prompt yours for the taking. Endless thanks to the lightning fast flawlessglitch , who graciously wrangled with my interesting interpretation of the English language, and whose generosity knows no bounds. Snagged the title from ee cummings.
Disclaimer: I think we can all agree on a complete lack of plausibility here.



Jensen arched his back, knees digging into the expensive hotel carpet as he kneeled and spread his thighs inches wider. A trail of water from his shower-wet hair ran down his scalp and slid its way down the back of his neck. He rolled his head to the side at the tickle as he leaned back further. He felt the pop of his spine and the way his shoulders burned with the stretch.

It always started like this: pick up the key from the hotel desk, along with an envelope. Money first, a dark red scarf, slick and silky, and a slip of paper, always with the same writing. Blue ink. Slanted script.

A shower. Put this on. Wait for me.

Jensen thought about whether it was the same blindfold each time, laundered and pressed at some point in between, or if it was a fresh one, the others all kept like some kind of trophy. Not that it mattered. He was only curious.

Jensen wondered what it was going to be like tonight. Maybe it would be like the last time, two weeks ago on the nose. The man had walked in, the determined march of footsteps fair warning for his mood. He’d urged Jensen forward, face first into the rug, fibers prickling into his forehead as the man slammed into him, drove Jensen crazy with a hand that caught and tugged in his hair, the other gripping his hip so hard he'd had bruises for days.

And if Jensen had later pressed his fingers to those bruises and smiled to himself at the sting...well, no one had to know about that.

But maybe it would be different. Some nights the guy would walk right past where Jensen kneeled in waiting to sit in one of the upholstered chairs behind him. And all Jensen had to go by was the sound of ice dancing in a glass and breaking through the quiet. If the guy wanted to sit there and pay more than most people would see in two weeks for two hours of watching Jensen breathe, then Jensen wasn't going to complain. He'd done a hell of a lot more for a hell of a lot less.

One last quick check of the blindfold, fingers pulling at the knot to make sure that it was tight. Sure, he could shift it, fold it a bit differently over his eyes to let a little light through. He wouldn’t, though. No cheating.

At the sound of the key entering the lock, Jensen leaned back again, gripping his ankles tight, tilted his head backward and rode out the wave of adrenaline that shot through his body. His heartbeat amped up double-time.

The familiar smell of cologne hit Jensen first, followed by the muted thump of footsteps coming closer. Jensen suppressed a shiver when a hand pushed through his damp hair, nails absently scratching at his scalp. A light brush of expensive fabric as the man’s leg moved against Jensen’s bare shoulder.

A finger traced Jensen’s lips, slipped past them and pried between his teeth, and Jensen opened up, his tongue tracing the ridges of fingerprints, sucking down the taste. A little salty. He took his finger back and sighed, like he could finally breathe again as he moved past Jensen.

Jensen’s hyperaware senses picked up on the soft sound of rustling clothes, followed by the clink of ice and the sweet scent of good scotch splashing into a glass. He felt eyes boring into his back, a warmth pooling down low as he struggled not to squirm. Instead, he closed his eyes behind the blindfold and waited.

“Jared,” the man said without preamble, and his voice was deep, hoarse. It seemed unused. He cleared his throat, tried again. “My name is Jared.”

Jensen wrapped his mouth around the name without making a sound. He could have been lying, but Jensen didn’t think so. “Jensen,” he replied. An eye for an eye, so to speak. It made him feel more exposed than being sightlessly spread out for display without even a stitch of clothing to cover him.

Jensen had a set of rules. It was a necessity with the type of life he’d bought into. He’d just broken one. A big one, and he knew it. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The man—Jared, Jensen mentally redefined him—only hummed quietly from behind. “The bed. On your back. Hands on the headboard. Don’t move them.”

Jensen did as commanded. Hours spent blindfolded in this room had made it as familiar as anywhere else. Three steps forward and one to the left and his knees bumped against the mattress. He settled on his back, legs bent and hands gripping the rail of the headboard.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room and Jared’s breath quickened, hissing and ill-contained.

With a frustrated noise Jared stood, the heat from his skin and the smell of him combined into an almost tangible thing as he leaned over Jensen, settled beside him, palm running down Jensen’s ribs then up again, his cock a heavy weight against Jensen’s hip.

Jensen bit down forcefully on his lip, fighting to contain a moan. He was hard, almost painfully hard, his dick arching hot and wet against his belly. The need was right there. To reach out, to touch, to wrap his legs around Jared’s waist and pull him right in. But that wasn’t part of the deal.

Jared’s fingers were back at his lips again and Jensen opened immediately, taking two in his mouth and sliding his tongue between them. The heavy taste of precome. The air from Jared’s lungs fell moist on his neck. “Sometimes I wonder,” he said and then stopped. He sounded unsure. Hesitant.

Jared pulled his fingers from Jensen’s mouth and trailed his hand down the center of Jensen’s chest. Lower still to rub his palm over Jensen’s cock, and Jensen couldn’t stop the noise that came from his throat. He sunk his hips lower into the mattress, tried not to move.

A quick shift and Jared slid atop him, a tangle of legs, their cocks sliding together in a way that set Jensen on fire. “I wonder,” Jared repeated, his lips against Jensen’s jaw and his hips moving in a maddeningly slow roll. “Do you think of me? Sometimes?”

Jensen felt like he was falling, a slow, insistent tumble away from control, and his tingling hands gripped the rail tighter. Something was different here, different from all the other times, a new kind of charge filling the air surrounding them. Closer. More intimate. “Yeah,” he answered. “Always.”

Jared bit his shoulder, made a noise low in his throat that sounded like a growl, rocking his hips down hard, sweat and precome a sticky mess between them. With a sudden movement, Jared leaned back, restless fingers sliding along Jensen’s crease. Jensen’s skin vibrated with the sound of Jared’s low chuckle as he easily slipped two fingers inside of him. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.”

“Please,” Jensen said, heels digging into the mattress as he worked himself on Jared’s fingers, trying to make more out of the infuriating slip slide. “Please.” He was begging and it didn’t make sense. Nothing really did.

Jared urged his legs wider. He fitted himself between them, the blunt pressure of Jared’s cock teasing against his sensitive skin. So close.

Jensen canted his hips, forcing him closer. The air left his lungs in a whoosh as Jared slid in, just a little and not nearly enough. He could feel the tremble of Jared’s arms as Jared sunk into him, panting breaths painting the skin on Jensen’s neck. “Tell me,” Jared said again, his voice pitched a little higher, wound up.

“You,” Jensen whispered. “I want you.”

“Then I’m yours.”

Taking a chance, Jensen pushed up blindly and pressed his lips to the corner of Jared’s open mouth. Their first kiss, and something seemed to break loose in Jared. He pulled his hips back, Jensen’s rim burning and stretching against the head of his cock before he slammed back in fast. Jensen’s skin was on fire as Jared’s hips slapped into him repeatedly, and fuck, Jensen just wanted to see him. Needed it more than anything.

“Jensen.” The sound of his name sent him spiraling closer to the edge and Jensen clenched his muscles around Jared. “Let go,” Jared said.

Jensen immediately released the rail, his hands finding Jared’s face. He pulled him down for a kiss, tongue fucking into Jared’s mouth, running along the slick surface of his teeth, feeling the smoothness of his gums, swallowing the taste of Jared’s tongue as it slid along his own.

He tangled his fingers in Jared’s hair, pulled and kept him close as Jared lost his rhythm, hips moving erratically in shallow thrusts. Jared broke the kiss, whispered harshly into Jensen’s ear. “Come for me.”

It was instantaneous, a white light bursting behind the blackness of his closed eyes. His cock pulsed hot between them, legs locking down like a vice around Jared’s waist. Jared swallowed his escaped groan with another kiss.

Jared slammed into him, once, twice, bottomed out and bit hard on Jensen’s lower lip, his own orgasm coursing through him after a matter of seconds.

Jensen came down minutes later. Jared was still inside of him, his thumb tracing a lazy line along his lips. With shaky fingers, Jensen felt him peel up the blindfold to reveal his still-closed eyes.

“Open up,” Jared said between deep, panting breaths. “Let me see.”

Jensen blinked away his blurry vision to stare up at Jared, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Jesus, he was beautiful. Unexpectedly, heart wrenchingly beautiful.

Jared looked down at him with a small, almost shy smile. “Green,” he said. “Your eyes are green. I’ve always wondered.”

~fin~



Thanks for reading.

Tags: challenge, fic: j2, pwp, rated: nc-17
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