Title: Pretty as a Picture
Genre: J2 AU
Word Count: 3600
Notes: Fair warning for underage sex and drinking, May/December hijinks, dubious consent, and jet-lagged self-indulgent writing.
Summary: Alright. So maybe Jared has a thing for the kid next door.
Pretty as a Picture
Jared sits on his porch stairs and leans backward, the riser above him digging into his elbows. A warm breeze dries the sweat on his forehead and neck, and the lawnmower pings a few feet away with the sound of metal cooling. He’s halfway through his first beer and already looking forward to the second when the neighbor’s back door slams shut. Jared’s not surprised to see Jensen heading in his direction. The kid hangs around him a lot, always on hand when Jared tinkers with his car or works on some minor repair to the outside of his house. He’s a good kid, funny and smart for his age, picks up on stuff pretty quickly. Jared doesn’t mind his company. Kinda likes it.
“Hey, you,” Jared says as Jensen approaches the fence and leans his forearms on the chain link. The way Jensen drags his eyes up along Jared’s stomach and across his chest before finding his face is fairly obvious, but Jared doesn’t call him out on it. He can still remember what it was like to be a teenaged boy, how the right pair of boxers and a stiff breeze had been more than enough to set him off back then.
“Hey,” Jensen says back and waves toward the partial six-pack sitting at Jared’s hip. “Can I get one of those offa you?”
Jared’s gaze ticks toward Jensen’s house, then to the empty covered car park.
“It’s alright,” Jensen says with a shrug, going for nonchalant. It’s cute. “They’re gone for the night.”
“All growed up, huh?”
“About time,” Jensen says.
Jared hisses a small laugh, drains his beer, twists the tops off of two more and saunters over to Jensen. “Don’t tell ‘em,” he says in a conspiratorial stage whisper as he hands one over to Jensen. “I don’t wanna be accused of contributing to your delinquency.”
“Not a word,” Jensen assures him seriously, and clinks the bottlenecks together. Jensen wraps his lips around the top of the bottle and now it’s Jared’s turn to try not to stare. He’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about it. The kid’s got a mouth that seems to be specifically designed to suck cock, with plush lips that look so soft and pliant, and his tongue, all pink and wet as it sneaks out to flick fast against the glass rim of the bottle before he tips it up.
Jensen drains half the bottle in two huge gulps, tries to hide his grimace by wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and that’s cute too. Jared tousles Jensen’s hair, trying to ignore the silky slip of it between his fingers, and Jensen bats his hand away and makes a face. A spray of freckles is scattered across Jensen’s nose and his cheekbones, somehow adorable and sexy all at the same time.
Jared can’t help but notice the way Jensen’s shot upward recently, and how his shoulders have grown broader, like they’re trying to catch up with his newfound height, accentuating his skinny hips and slender waist. His face is still baby smooth, though, and Jared bets the kid only has to shave once a week.
Jensen drinks his first beer down to the bottom and starts in an another as he prattles on, tongue getting looser, talking about his new summer job at Mr. Steven’s hardware store, and how he’s planning on saving up enough to buy that clunker that’s been sitting in a driveway a couple blocks away. The one with the ‘For Sale’ sign in the window.
“It sure is a fixer-upper,” Jared tells him.
“I’ve got time,” Jensen replies. “Still a while ‘til I can get my license. Hopefully I can get it running by then. Maybe you can help me?” He peeks at Jared through his lashes.
“First thing’s first. You don’t even know if the thing runs.”
This strikes Jensen as funny for some reason and he starts to giggle, which turns into a full-on belly laugh within seconds.
“Maybe I should cut you off,” Jared says, and makes a move to snatch the nearly empty bottle from Jensen’s hands. It turns out that the fucker's reflexes are still pretty much on point, however, and Jensen manages to dodge him, even if it overextends his reach and makes him take a few staggering steps back. His arms pinwheel for a second as he regains his balance, and after all of this his beer still hits the ground.
“Fuck,” Jensen says, looking down at the glass bottle with exaggerated blinks, then clamps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he says, muffled.
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Damn shame, though, to see a perfectly good beer wasted,” Jared teases.
“Wasted,” Jensen snickers, like it’s some kinda inside joke and Jared doesn’t know the punchline. “You wanna come over? I could make it up to you.”
It’s the juxtaposition that makes Jared hesitate--the small crack in Jensen’s voice and his innocent intention set against the backdrop of what could be seen as a crystal clear come on. But then Jensen’s walking toward his back door, tripping over his own feet a little and beckoning Jared with a wave of his hand.
With a mental shrug, Jared decides to take him up on the offer, circling around to the side yard, out his gate and in through Jensen’s. The kid sure as hell is entertaining right now, and he doesn’t have anything else going on. He finds the discarded beer bottle at the halfway mark and lobs it back into his yard, then follows Jensen into his house.
“How do you feel about rum?” Jensen asks when they make it into the kitchen. He’s crouched in front of a low corner cabinet, twirling a built-in lazy susan to the clink of glass bottles. His cargo shorts have slipped down a fraction and his shirt has ridden up, and Jared starts to think that the four beers he’s had have gone straight to his head, because he wants to touch Jensen, find out how warm and soft that spot of exposed skin would feel beneath his fingers.
Jensen cranes his neck to look at Jared, waiting for an answer and his eyes are glazed over, incredibly bright.
“Do you have any Coke?” Jared asks.
“Yeah,” Jensen answers and stands up too quick, wobbles a little and Jared reaches out to steady him with a hand on the back of his neck and another on his shoulder.
It might be Jared’s imagination, but he swears he feels Jensen shiver slightly beneath his touch. Either that or maybe Jared’s the one shaking, and that can’t be right, he’s the adult here for fuck’s sake, the one who should be able to hold both his booze and his goddamn libido in check. They regard each other for a long moment, the air in the room getting thicker by the second, then Jensen licks his lips, opens his mouth like he wants to speak, only the words are stuck on his tongue.
Jared’s a breath away from kissing him right then, sliding his tongue between those gorgeous, spit-shined lips and licking Jensen wide open.
“Coke,” Jensen says in the knick of time, breaking free.
Jared sets to work finding glasses and filling them with ice, and yeah, okay, his hands are shaking and his throat feels a little tight and his dick is starting to perk up and take notice of this evening’s turn of events. He fixes their drinks, clunks the glasses together soundly and tries a small sip. Jensen takes a large gulp with the typical enthusiasm of the young and inexperienced, smacks his lips together and makes a contented noise.
“Tastes like an ice cream sundae,” he says with an appreciative frown, slurring slightly. He grabs the bottle and leads Jared to the living room.
Jensen wants to watch the newest X-Men flick and Jared’s indifferent, and they settle onto the couch. By the time Jared’s figured out which one is Magneto and that he and Xavier are definitely fucking, Jensen’s slid into the center of the couch.
The living room windows are open and a chilly breeze billows the curtains. “It’s cold,” Jensen says, trying to right himself from the slouch he’s slipped into, only to list far to the side and land against Jared, his shoulder notched into Jared’s side and his arm falling across Jared’s leg. “I think I’m tipsy,” he says, surprised, like the idea just occurred to him.
“I think you’re drunk,” Jared counters.
“I think you’re right.” Jensen sorta melts against him, all the muscles in his body going lax and his head falling against Jared’s chest. “You’re warm.”
Jared should really get Jensen to move, set him up straight and back on his side of the sofa, but the kid’s right. The room’s cold and it’s warm in all the places where they’re pressed together, and there’s something comfortable about the way Jensen’s snugged in tight along his side, all easy and trusting.
Jensen starts playing with the fringe around the hole in the knee of Jared’s jeans, twisting it between his thumb and first finger. Jared’s lost track of the movie, gives up entirely and frees his arm from beneath Jensen to wrap it around Jensen’s shoulders. He lets his hand fall to Jensen’s hair and starts absently running his fingers through it.
It’s like every goddamn movie cliche in the world when Jensen shifts in closer and looks up at him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his smile beatific. It kinda wrecks Jared. A familiar ache builds way down low and Jared’s dick starts to thicken, pressing against the front of his jeans. He curls his fingers into Jensen’s hair and gives it a gentle tug.
When Jared speaks, his voice sounds very far away. “Has anyone ever kissed you?”
He can feel Jensen tense along his side, and Jared tries to soothe him, tracing the shell of Jensen’s ear with his little finger and smiling, slow and relaxed.
“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Once, but I don’t think it really counted.”
“It didn’t?” Jared asks.
“We were playing some game.” Jensen’s blushing, face turning a hot shade of pink but he continues, “It was with a girl and I didn’t even really like her. I dunno. I don’t think it counts unless you kinda like the person, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Jared says, then kisses Jensen. He keeps it light, innocent, barely a brush of lips before moving away and gauging Jensen’s reaction. He’s frozen, eyes closed, his lashes very dark against the hollows beneath his eyes. Pretty as a picture, this boy. Jared kisses him again, then a third time, lingering longer with each press of his mouth on Jensen’s, opening a little to trap Jensen’s bottom lip between his. Jared covers Jensen’s cheek with one hand, learning the shape of his cheekbone and Jensen’s lips part with a small gasp. Jared can taste his breath, heady with rum and sweet from the soda. It’s perfect and Jared wants more, thumbs at Jensen’s jaw and kisses him again, his tongue pushing past Jensen’s lips. Jensen hesitates for just an instant, one quick little flick of his tongue against Jared’s before it pulls back, and Jared goes deeper, licks against Jensen’s teeth and the ridges along the roof of his mouth.
Jensen’s definitely shaking, small tremors that Jared can feel all along his own body, and Jared sits back. “Did it count?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Jensen whispers quietly, like he’s sharing a secret. “It really did.”
“Good. I like you too,” Jared says, just as quiet.
Jared shifts them so that they’re facing each other, gets off on how malleable Jensen is right now, how simple it is to get him to go where he wants him. Jensen has a leg crooked against the back of the couch, his hands in a loose clasp in his lap. Jared touches Jensen’s ankle, the thin skin on his instep and slowly works his way up, fingernails catching on the fine hair that covers Jensen’s lower legs. Jensen giggles, then pulls up short, like he’s not sure if he should laugh.
“It’s okay,” Jared says. “You’re allowed to have fun. You’re also allowed to touch me.” He pulls Jensen closer by his wrists and places Jensen’s hands on his waist.
Jensen curls his fingers into Jared’s shirt. “Can I?” he asks.
Even though he’s not too sure what Jensen’s asking, Jared’s response is immediate. “Yes. Whatever you want.”
Leaning in, Jensen buries his face in the crook of Jared’s neck and nuzzles at his collarbone as he shoves his hands under Jared’s shirt and spreads them wide over Jared’s ribs.
“Warm. God. You’re so warm,” Jensen slurs, his mouth finding Jared's neck and latching on with suckling small kisses.
Jared repays him in kind, pulling Jensen’s shirt over his head, smoothing his hands down the dip of Jensen’s spine and back up along the ridges of his ribs. Jensen’s recent growth spurt has left him wirey, not a lot meat on his bones to spare, and Jared wonders what he’ll look like a few years from now, when all his soft curves give way to hard angles.
“Here,” Jared says with a shrug to dislodge Jensen’s mouth from his neck. “Let me see you.”
Jensen backs off, topples against the side of the sofa and immediately crosses his arms in front of his chest, shoulders hunched forward as if he’s trying to collapse in on himself.
An icicle worms its way into Jared’s stomach. “Are you alright?” he asks.
Jensen flicks his fingers at Jared. “It’s just,” he starts. “You’re so hot. Ripped, and I--”
Jared cuts him off. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
“Absolutely. I wanna--”
Jared doesn’t get to finish the thought. Jensen reaches out and pulls Jared to him, and now it’s Jensen’s turn to control the kiss. He’s a quick study, sliding his tongue over Jared’s in strong, desperate swipes, forcing Jared’s jaw wider. Jensen’s hips jab up beneath him and Jared can feel his dick, a hard ridge trapped between them and he struggles to regain his balance. He plants one hand on the arm of the couch and reaches with the other to rub at Jensen’s cock. The heat of it bleeds through to Jared’s palm, Jensen’s shorts pulled taut around the length of it.
Jared sits back on his haunches. The sofa is nothing but awkward, and he wishes they were back at his place, and more specifically in his bed, where he could lay Jensen out and take his time, learn what would make Jensen moan and what would make him smile, make him fall apart then put him back together so he could do it all over again.
“I wanna see more of you,” Jared says, finally, and opens the button of Jensen’s shorts with a quick snap of his fingers.
Jensen looks down in a way that’s almost demure, but lifts his hips to help Jared ease his shorts off. His cock slaps against his stomach when it’s finally freed and Jared pulls in a quick breath in surprise. The kid’s hung, cock thick and swollen, arching up toward his belly button, shiny and wet at the tip. Jared’s pulse amps up at the sight of it and his breath catches in his throat, his own cock growing harder still.
“Do you trust me?” Jared asks as he hooks a thumb at the back of Jensen’s knee, draws his leg up and drops a kiss on Jensen’s ankle.
Licking his lips, Jensen offers a tiny nod. Jared takes a cushion and shoves it under Jensen’s hips, then pushes Jensen’s thighs wide. Jensen really is beautiful like this, splayed out and pliant, a dark flush spread down his neck and across his chest, small nipples peaked and his cock leaving wet tracks on his skin.
Slowly, Jared trails his finger along the silky skin behind Jensen’s balls, watching Jensen’s cock jump in response to his touch. He circles Jensen’s hole then taps at it, the muscle drawing tight then releasing under his finger.
“Do you want it?” Jared says. “Fuck, Jensen, tell me you want it.”
“God, yeah. Please,” Jensen says, then proves it. He shifts his hips up and lets his legs fall even wider, pushing against the teasing pressure of Jared’s finger.
It makes Jared lose track of gravity and his heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. He pries two fingers between Jensen’s lips and between his clenched teeth. “C’mon,” Jared hisses as he works them in and out, “get me wet.”
Jensen does as he’s told, sucking on Jared’s fingers and nipping at the tips of them, tangling his tongue around one and then the other. Jared drags his hand down the center of Jensen’s chest, leaving a wet path behind.
He pushes one finger past Jensen’s rim, barely breaching him, twisting his wrist and shoving Jensen’s spit inside. It’s still too dry, the resistance too much, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Jensen. He pulls out and spits on his hand, rubs it along the crack of Jensen’s ass and presses in again, slicker this time and a little deeper.
“Oh, god. Fuck,” Jensen says. Warmth radiates off of him, a deeper, searing heat surrounding Jared’s finger and he works it in and out, further and further each time. Jensen clutches at the cushions and his hips jump up as his orgasm hits fast, come painting his stomach in thick streaks. Jensen’s mouth goes slack and a long, drawn out moan tumbles out of him, his ass clenching around Jared’s fingers. Jensen throws an arm over his face. “Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.
“Don’t be,” Jared has managed to stave off his own orgasm, but it was a close thing. “You’re so fucking tight. Feel so good,” Jared moans, withdraws to gather some of Jensen’s spunk onto his fingers to slick them up. He sinks into Jensen again, punching another long, low groan out of him, and Jensen starts to writhe, hips pushing down into the cushion and up again, his toes curling. Jared adds another finger, mesmerized by the feel of Jensen around him, the stretch and give of his body, how his rim has gone swollen, the skin shiny and darkened.
He’s the first person to touch Jensen like this, the first one to ever see his pupils blow open, eating up the green of them with want. The only one to ever know the way Jensen restlessly shifts his hips, the sinewy muscles in his thighs clenching as he fights to urge to draw his legs closed. The thought almost sends Jared over the edge, speeding again toward orgasm, his cock an urgent, confined throb in his pants and his balls drawing up toward his body. Jared groans and tips forward, nips and licks at Jensen’s lower belly, finding the splatters of spunk cooling on Jensen’s taut skin. Jensen’s cock nudges at his jaw, the flesh hot and sticky, already starting to grow fully hard again. He wants Jensen, so badly, wants to lick and suck and taste every inch of him. More than anything, he wants inside, to split Jensen wide open and feel the push and pull of Jensen’s ass around his cock, make Jensen shiver and squirm and beg.
The need to get off is an immediate thing. He keeps two fingers buried inside of Jensen and sits back, fumbling one-handed with the button and zipper of his jeans, and shoves them crookedly past his hips. He never stops moving his fingers, rocking his hand into Jensen quicker and quicker, matching his motion to the needy shift of Jensen’s hips.
“Think you can do it again?” Jared says as he takes himself in hand, squeezing hard and running his fist from the base of his cock to his tip.
“Can I touch myself?” Jensen asks, and he sounds shy, the tone of his voice a contrast to the insistent rolling of his hips.
“Oh fuck, yeah. Please.”
Jensen rubs his hand across his belly, smearing come on his palm and grabs his cock. He starts off slow then quickens to match his pace to Jared’s.
“Jared,” Jensen says, “I want you to...” His breath comes in harsh gasps. He’s close again. So close. He reaches down and touches Jared’s arm, holding Jared’s fingers in place. “Do you wanna fuck me?”
It’s so curious, the question sounding so innocent despite the subject, and it’s the end of Jared. He comes with a hoarse shout, spilling over his own fist and across Jensen, streaks of come dripping on Jensen’s cock. He falls forward, black spots darkening his vision and seeks out Jensen’s mouth for a sloppy, wet kiss.
Jensen’s knuckles bump against Jared’s stomach in an increasing rhythm as they bite and suck at each other’s mouths. Their limbs are set in a tangle, feet bumping. Keeps his fingers inside of Jensen, lazily stroking in and out. Jensen whines against Jared’s mouth, his body growing stiff and still as he comes again, a fresh wave of hot come slicking their skin.
Jared’s head rests on Jensen’s chest, the slowing sound of his heart very loud. Jared draws a circle around Jensen’s nipple with a thumbnail, his muscles feeling sluggish and slow to respond.
Jensen stirs beneath him, and when he speaks his voice is fucked out and raw. Jared likes the sound of it, immediately addictive. “You didn’t answer,” Jensen says. “Do you wanna?”