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

fic: Mercy

Title: Mercy
Genre: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1900
Notes: Warnings for serial killing and sibling incest. Written for salt_burn_porn and juice817's prompt and do no harm. Huge, huge thanks for blackrabbit42 for having my back on this one.

Summary: There's nothing Jensen wouldn't do for his brother.

"I need one."

Jensen's bent at the waist, arms propped on their kitchen counter while he watches the slow revolution of his microwave supper in an insomniac daze. On the other side of the window, the day is waking up with a strange pink glow. Red sky at morning skitters across Jensen's mind and he's trying to think of the second part of the rhyme as he says, "Grab me the orange juice."

Jared does, takes a swig straight from the bottle before handing it over. He's still wearing his cotton-candy pink hospital scrubs with ICU stamped on the breast pocket. The rotation has been tough for him. People pay too much attention in that unit. Jensen's stomping grounds would be better suited to him--two floors below where they keep the lost causes.

"Did you hear me? I need one," Jared repeats and Jensen's heard that tone before. Dozens of times from dope-sick junkies begging for a hit of dilaudid, morphine, a prescription for oxy because they just hurt so bad. He's been hearing it from Jared since they were young, whenever Jared wanted the last ice-pop, a comic book, that doggie in the window.

"It's only been three weeks," Jensen tells him. "This'll be the ninth time. Four more and we'll have to move." There are rules that must be followed, not only for Jared's safety but his as well. Accomplice is not a pretty word.

"You're sick of these four walls anyway." Jared backs Jensen into the corner, a smile on his face that says he's already won. The counter bites at Jensen's spine as Jared crowds in close, kitten-licks at Jensen's mouth until Jensen opens up for him, the taste of Jared's tongue bright and acidic as it curls around his own.

"We could go to Boston," Jensen says as Jared shoves up Jensen's t-shirt to suck on his nipple, work it between his teeth until it's hard and aching. "The summers down here suck."

Jared kneels, hums against Jensen's stomach, worms his tongue into Jensen's belly button. Jensen's gone so hard so fast that his head is spinning with it. The bulge of his cock is obvious in his pale green scrub pants, precome bleeding through thin cotton. Jared mouths at it, draws it out and waits for Jensen's frustrated groan before he curls his fingers around Jensen's waistband and pulls, catches the tip of Jensen's cock between his lips and laps at the slit. It's warm and wet and so familiar, the snug pressure of Jared's mouth around his cock, every one of his muffled groans and the slope of his neck as he gradually sucks further and further down.

"C'mon, now," Jensen breathes, and traces the shape of himself through Jared's cheek, feels the slick hardness of his teeth, the ridges at the top of his mouth. Jensen had fucked the gag reflex straight out of Jared during the summer of the kid's thirteenth year, and makes good use of the lack now, fists sunk in Jared's hair as he slams home. Jensen's thighs tremble and his lungs deflate and Jared's can't breathe either, his mouth stuffed full and his nose smashed against Jensen's lower stomach.

Jensen's stamina isn't anywhere near what it should be, not with Jared swallowing so desperately around him and the way he keeps his eyes glued to Jensen's face, the stretch of his sweet pink mouth around Jensen's cock. Some vague part of Jensen recognizes the manipulation, Jared's logical, eye-for-an-eye mentality. But it can't rightly be called manipulation when Jensen had already given in before Jared had even dropped to his knees, long minutes before he shudders and groans and shoots down Jared's throat.

"Room five-seventeen," Jensen says, grappling with the counter to keep himself upright. His microwave supper probably needs a geiger counter by now. "End-stage kidney failure. No one's come to see 'em for weeks."

Falling backward to rest on his haunches, Jared says, "DNR?" He's wearing a wet spot of his own that runs from his crotch down his thigh.

"Of course. I wouldn't waste your time. It's a private room, too." He falls into Jared's lap and kisses him. Keeps on kissing him until he's licked Jared's mouth clean of his taste and Jared's cock goes hard again.

Jensen would do anything for him. They both know it.


When Jensen was twelve and Jared was eight, Jensen caught his kid brother burning ants with a magnifying glass.

He moved up to bigger and better but in a hundred ways has remained the same kid who would crawl into Jensen's bed and couldn't sleep unless his ear was pressed to Jensen's stomach. He'd liked to hear the gurgle. Still likes it.

Jensen's done his research. There's no cure that won't leave Jared a phantom of the person he is now, that won't make it so that Jensen can only see him during visiting hours once a week. A room without Jared in it isn't a room where Jensen wants to be, and if that makes Jensen as sick as his brother, so be it.

The only solution is mitigation and management. Years of day work and night school. Jared had graduated at the top of his class and Jensen not all that far behind him.

When he was a kid, Jared had wanted to be an astronaut. Now he's a nurse. His patients adore him. It'll do.


There are some days when Jensen can't watch. This is one of the days when he needs to.

Jared's changed into the pale green scrubs he keeps in his locker. Six and a half feet don't blend in easy. This helps. He's calm in a way that he rarely is, carefully loading a syringe with insulin and tucking it into his pocket.

"You've got twenty at least," Jensen tells him, bending Jared down to touch their foreheads together. For a minute they simply breathe. Sync up. Then Jared kisses the side of his neck, pats his cheek, palm gentle and dry on Jensen's heated skin.

Nothing nervous about it. Nothing strung out as he circles his patient's bed and snaps on a set of latex gloves. It's Jensen whose sight has become blurry, blood louder than a freight train in his ears, whose lungs feel like the air has been spiked with tear gas.

A gold band is loose on the patient's ring finger, worn thin with age and held on with an arthritic knuckle. Her hand is small, completely engulfed in Jared's. He smoothes back her wispy white hair and whispers something into her ear, smiles down at her when he straightens up, looking like a protective angel with bloodstained wings. His fingers are capable, movements almost habitual as he uncaps the syringe and feeds the insulin into her IV.

The tenderness is what gets to Jensen. Every single time. Jared's light touch to the pulse in her throat, the warmth in his eyes as he waits for the heartbeat to slow. The very real way he loves her for a few moments. He falls in love with all of them for a little while.

The monitor shows the pulse dropping. Jared should be moving, get the fuck out of the scene of the crime. Instead, he lingers, mouth open to mirror his patient's, tapping out the slowing rhythm of her heartbeat on the linoleum floor.

"Jared," Jensen hisses. It doesn't do any good. It's as if he's in a trance. Ten more seconds and alarms will be going off. Jensen dashes in the room, grabs Jared by the wrist and takes off, his brother a dead weight on the end of his arm, feet like cement and making noises like he's talking in his sleep.

That's why it takes two of them. That's why it's always been just two of them.

Heart in his throat, Jensen leads Jared in a steady march toward the stairwell as a shrill alarm sounds and footsteps begin to rush down the hall. "You with me?"

Jared snaps to, catches up with Jensen and they take the stairs two at a time. "I'm always with you."

They bust through the door to the garage at the same time, the smell of tire rubber, exhaust and old cigarettes scouring into Jensen's throat. "That was cutting it close, kid." Jensen says, rummages in his pocket for a pack of smokes and walks toward a dark corner. It's one of their secret spots. A place where the cameras don't reach. "You were out of it." Jensen takes a long drag, exhales nice and slow.

Jared steals the cigarette from between his lips, sucks down a drag and flicks it, sending a shower of sparks across the concrete. He pulls Jensen flush against his chest, gets his tongue down Jensen's throat and his hand down Jensen's pants and doesn't give him the chance to bitch about wasting a cigarette.

"What did you say to her?" Jensen asks when Jared turns his attention to his jaw, the ticklish spot below his ear, his fist working faster and faster on Jensen's cock.

"I called her 'grandmother.' I told her that all the pain was going to go away." Jared backs off to look at Jensen, and fuck he's beautiful like this. Flushed and happy and so incredibly alive. He spins Jensen, plants Jensen's face against rough cinder block and forces Jensen's pants down until they catch on his thighs.

It's hot, thick pressure as Jared rides the crease of Jensen's ass, anticipation like lead in Jensen's stomach and Jared's hands are up under his shirt, fingers starfished around the small of his back, thumbs notched into the dip of his spine. There's nothing gentle about it when Jared fucks into him, splits him wide open with an abrupt thrust of his hips, bottoms out and it feels like gravity has gone haywire. Nothing short of pure relief as Jared pulls out a fraction and slides home again, steals Jensen's breath as neatly as he's stolen his heart, every cell in his body and all the spaces in between them.

Jared fucks him sloppy, fast enough that it borders on brutal and Jensen takes every shuddery, teeth-clicking jab, moves with him. Jensen tries to muffle his moans and fails, the sound of them echoing off of the walls along with the rapid slap of skin-on-skin. Jared shoves two fingers into Jensen's mouth, wraps his other hand around his cock and Jensen comes at the first rough tug. Splatters the wall and his shoes. Jared follows a few seconds later, tips forward and gives Jensen the bulk of his weight. It's alright. Jensen's always gonna be able to carry him.

When Jared pulls out, Jensen bears down, doesn't like the sensation of Jared's spunk trickling out of his ass, wants to keep it all inside. He turns in the circle of Jared's arms and holds him close for the longest time, waits for his heartbeat to slow and his vision to crystallize.

"Will you do it for me?" Jensen asks. "Would you, when it comes right down to it?"

Jared's gaze is serious, steady on his. "Why do you even need to ask?"


Thanks for reading!

Tags: fic: j2, rated: nc-17
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.