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

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fic: Tell Me

Title:  Tell Me
Genre:  J2  HS AU
Word Count: 1,800 give or take a fraction
Rating:  NC17
Notes:  A small continuation to Crush.  For dugindeep.  Sweetheart, you asked for this when it was still summer, and now it's almost winter.  This thing turned finicky on me, but here you are. Pardon the schmoop.  Not beta'd and I'm about to get on a plane.  I'll fix what needs fixing it when I get where I'm going (edited: all fixed, but feel free to point out something I missed).  My one-sided love affair with Siken is still alive and strong.

Summary:  Jensen sneaks out.  It's a good thing that Jared is always willing to let him in.

Tell Me

Jensen taps two fingers on the glass of Jared’s bedroom window. He’s already soaked to the bone. Rain pelts him in sheets, and the gutter on Jared’s apartment building is overflowing, a miniature waterfall aimed straight for the back of Jensen’s neck.

He knocks again, a little louder this time, and tries to pry the window open, frigid fingers slipping on the wet window frame. The blinds finally flick, two of Jared’s long fingers parting them, followed by the click of the lock and the low scrape of the window opening.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Jensen says as he scampers through.

“Jesus. Jensen.” Jared runs a hand through his tangled hair, one eye still closed and the other barely squinted open. A t-shirt hangs on his tall frame, the neck of it stretched out, and his boxers cling crookedly to his hips. There’s a twist to his mouth, like he’s trying not to smile, and his face is puffy, wrinkled from his pillow. He looks grumpy and put out, like he might be considering kicking Jensen back into the rain. He’s still the most gorgeous thing Jensen has ever seen.

“You coulda called,” Jared tells him. His voice is pitched in a deep whisper, hoarse with sleep and sexy as hell.

“And ruin the element of surprise?” Admittedly, Jensen’s cocksure attitude is dampened some by the sound of his teeth knocking together, the drip of his flattened hair into his eyes, and the way he’s trying to rub the circulation back into his hands.

Jared loses the battle and grins at him. Even after all this time, it’s still staggering. Jensen wonders, not for the first time, if he’ll ever get used to it. If there will ever come a day when Jared’s smile will stop making his stomach tighten and his heart scramble to keep up.

Jared steps in close, dodges Jensen’s mouth and instead nips at his earlobe, and Jensen finds himself shivering for a whole new list of reasons. “You’re dripping on my floor,” Jared says, his breath tickling along Jensen’s neck, warming him from the inside out.

Breaking away, Jared starts digging through his closet. He winces and stills when a shoe thumps to the floor, his head cocked toward the hallway, listening for signs of movement from his father, but the low drone of the television in the other room continues without a hitch. A sweatshirt hits Jensen in the chest, followed a second later by a pair of shorts.

Jared climbs into his rumpled bed, propping himself into the corner of the wall, not bothering to hide his stare as Jensen’s wet clothes land in a heap on the floor. “To what do I owe this honor?” Jared asks, a sarcastic little tilt to his mouth and a dark, teasing glint in his eyes.

Jensen chuckles. Jared’s shorts end well below his knees, and he decides to skip the sweatshirt entirely. “I have a history test tomorrow. Thought you could help me study.”

“You didn’t bring your book,” Jared observes. “Try again.”

Climbing into bed and fitting himself between Jared’s long legs, his cold back to Jared’s warm chest, Jensen says, “Homecoming game’s in two weeks. I was wondering if you were gonna come watch me.”

“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Two strikes, Jensen.” Jared buries his feet beneath Jensen’s legs, his wriggling toes tickling the skin on the back of Jensen’s knees. Jensen wraps his hand around Jared’s leg to still him, thumbs small circles on the soft skin on the inside of Jared’s ankle.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jensen admits. “And I wanted to see you.”

“There it is.” Jared says. His lips brush the soft spot behind Jensen’s ear when he speaks.

“Yeah, well.” Jensen lets his eyes wander around Jared’s room. The place still looks like he’s moving in: blank walls and very little else, nothing to clutter his desk or the top of his dresser, his shelf is sparsely filled: slim books of poetry, a few biographies, classics. It makes Jensen uneasy, like Jared is somehow impermanent. He wants to get Jared something to put on his walls, a picture or perhaps a poster. Maybe buy him a goldfish. Something low maintenance.

The thought dissolves when Jared starts playing with the cuff of Jensen’s shorts, a habit that Jensen now quickly recognizes as pent-up nervousness. He tilts his head backward, aiming for a kiss and only able to catch the corner of Jared’s mouth. “What is it?” he urges.

“Why me?” Jared asks. “You could be with anyone. The Homecoming queen. Hell, the Homecoming king. So why me?”

Jensen teases his way past an answer. “Because you were hard to get.”

“Maybe I didn’t know how to get gotten,” Jared replies, pitching his voice a little deeper. His hand smooths down the slippery material of Jensen’s shorts and roams to the inside of Jensen’s thigh, toying with the inseam.

“Yeah, that too.” Jensen says, and swallows hard. It’s a cop-out and he knows it, but anything else he could say sounds absurd in his head and would sound even more ridiculous spoken out loud. Besides, Jensen’s sure that the words would get scrambled if he tried, end up coming out all wrong. Jared’s good at this kinda stuff. He always says what he means. He’s good at all the things that Jensen isn’t.

Jensen doesn’t have the right kind of answer, so he kisses Jared instead, arches his back, shoulders pressed to Jared’s firm chest, the skin of Jensen’s neck drawn tight from the stretch. He tangles a hand in Jared’s hair and pulls him in, keeps him there through a kiss that’s hot and wet, made sloppy and somehow all that much better by the awkward angle.

A sound comes from Jared, something that lands half-way between surprised and satisfied, a quiet little hum that runs a jolt down Jensen’s spine. Jared licks into Jensen’s mouth, slides his tongue along Jensen’s bottom lip and dives back in, tasting and teasing. Jensen tangles his hand tighter in Jared’s hair, gives it a twisting little yank just because he knows how much Jared likes it.

Jared breaks the kiss on a hiss, laughs low and nips at the back of Jensen’s neck to let him know that two can play at that game, then kisses the sting away. Squirming, Jensen digs his heels into the tangle of blankets and tries to push himself closer to Jared, wants more than anything to be able to occupy the same space, find somehow to get under Jared’s skin in the same way that Jared is already under his.

Jared pulls him in snug with a hand spanned on Jensen’s stomach, the other mapping a slow path along Jensen’s inner thigh, rucking his shorts up and squeezing. Jared’s hips move in small, mindless jabs, his thighs tightening along Jensen’s hips, and Jensen can now feel the shape of his cock. Hard and getting harder, a heated and insistent line pressing into the small of Jensen’s back. Jared’s breath is getting rough and ragged, falling warm and moist on the skin of Jensen’s neck.

He lets his head tip backward onto Jared’s shoulder as Jared scrapes his nails along his lower stomach, shoving at Jensen’s shorts and freeing his cock. Jensen’s mouth falls open on a moan when Jared grips just right, strokes slowly down to the root and back up again, stuttering and dry.

“Shhh,” Jared quiets him, small laughter hidden inside of the noise. He continues, more than a little breathless. “Getting caught right now would be a very bad thing.” Jared takes his hand back, laughs again as Jensen’s hips hitch up like they’re trying to follow. “C’mon,’ he says, shoving two fingers into Jensen’s mouth and working them in and out, curling them around Jensen’s tongue.

Jensen sucks, bites at the pads of Jared’s fingers and moves down to lick at the wide palm of Jared’s hand. Tastes salt and his own precome and feels electrified by it.

“Better,” Jared says, and grips Jensen’s cock again. Jared works him quicker, spit slicking the way. He presses his thumb to the slit and Jensen’s loses it, curls his fingers into the mess of Jared’s bed and thrusts into Jared’s hand.

Jensen bites down hard on his bottom lip, trapping the groans he wants to make as his orgasm builds fast and crashes through him, spunk spilling over Jared’s hand and pooling in the hollow of Jensen’s stomach.  It makes Jensen's legs weak, his whole body suddenly lazy and weighed down.

Jensen wants to turn over, to see the beautiful flush on Jared’s face that he knows is there, wants to slide down the length of Jared’s body and set his mouth to every inch of skin he can find. But Jared slings an arm across Jensen’s chest, holding him snug. He sucks at the crook of Jensen’s neck in a way that’s sure to leave a mark, fingers digging into the rounded muscle of Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen can feel the slide of Jared’s cock against his ass, the hot swell of it. His nerves respond to the high whimper that Jared lets loose as he comes, making him dizzy and lightheaded if the two are somehow attached. Jensen thinks that maybe they are.

Jared topples them over, a solid presence all along Jensen’s back, kicking at the blankets and threading his shaking fingers through Jensen’s hair. The sliver of space between them is damp and sticky, but Jensen can’t find it in himself to care.

“Tell me,” Jensen starts, only to close his eyes and allow the half-formed idea to run astray. He burrows down, sleepy and content. Jensen wants to wake up every morning this way, with Jared’s lips on the back of his neck and his hand spread warm and broad on his stomach. Wake up with the smell of Jared on his skin, the trace taste of him in his mouth. He buries his face in the crook of Jared’s arm, curses himself for this sort of fairy tale thinking and wonders what it is about Jared that brings it out in the open.

Jared nudges him, fits their hips together just so, lines their legs up and rubs at Jensen’s feet with his own. “You wandered off.”

“Tell me,” Jensen tries again. “Tell me we’ll never get used to this.”


Thanks for reading.
Tags: crush 'verse, fic: j2, rated: nc-17
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