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Roleplay	By : AlishaV Category: Individual Celebrities > Jensen Ackles Views: 3739 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Supernatural characters, nor do I know Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. This is total fiction, on which I make absolutely no money. (Sad but true.)

Chapter List
- 1-Roleplay
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 1
- 2
“This is fucking retarded.” Jensen threw the script as far from him as possible – which was actually only about two feet seeing as how it was a light sheaf of stapled paper. The pages fluttered lazily to the carpet in a very unsatisfying way, so Jensen slammed his sneakered feet onto the pine coffee table instead. Better sound effect. He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “I’d say they’re taking a left turn with the show,” he said, quoting Sera Gamble. “A left turn right into freakin’ la-la land.” He stabbed a finger in Jared’s direction. “No, not la-la land, ‘cause we always live there. Into Queer As Folk la-la land.” Another finger stab. “And I for one didn’t sign up for this shit.”
Jared shrugged and leaned back against the tiny kitchen counter. “Yeah. Okay. But you didn’t ‘not’ sign up for it, either,” he said, sounding way too calm about the whole thing. He smiled around his beer bottle. “I mean, we didn’t think to write a no guy on guy clause into our contract, so...” Then he had the audacity to laugh, his cheeks dimpling up in that sunshiny way of his, like it was the biggest joke in the world.
That pissed Jensen off even more. It wasn’t a joke. In three days they had to...ugh. “Of course we didn’t think to write a no ‘guy on guy’ clause into the damned contract,” he growled. “We play brothers for fuck’s sake.” He took a slug of his own beer before mumbling, “Straight brothers, thank you very much.”
“Guess Lucifer’s not quite as black and white as the Winchesters.” Jared laughed again. The dick. “Look,” he said, taking the four steps necessary to snag a seat on the couch next to Jensen. “She’s just trying to give the fans what they want.”
Jensen snorted, not even bothering to dignify that with a response. Stupid fangirls. Stupid slash addicts. Stupid fucking writers.
“It’ll be two – maybe three – episodes. Tops.” Jared nudged Jensen’s shoulder with his own. “It’s not like we have to fuck or anything, Jen. We’re talking a little kiss. A little grab. No big deal.” Jensen’s brows punched down even lower making big lines in his forehead. Jared reached up one of his ridiculously long, fine-fingered hands to scrub at the wrinkles. “Time to consider Botox, my man,” he said. “You’re no longer the hot new thang with the purdy, purdy mouth. Gotta start taking care of your looks.”
He managed to keep a straight face as he said it. Barely. But when – after a long incredulous second had passed – Jensen punched him a good one in the ribs saying, “Get the fuck off me! I’ll ‘purdy mouth’ you, ya prick!” Jared could no longer contain his hilarity.
“Yeah, ya will,” he got out between guffaws. “You’re gonna ‘purdy mouth’ me all over the damn place.”
Jensen’s face turned apoplectic. No sense of ha-ha in that boy at all. Jared just laughed harder. He laughed until he was sick with it, until white lights played peek-a-boo in his peripheral vision due to lack of oxygen. And all the while Jensen sat there glowering and red-faced. Too funny.
“Oh, fuck this!” Jensen spat, grabbing his coat. “And fuck you. Grow the hell up, Jay.”
“Gay’s the new sexy, Jen.” Snort. Snigger. “Everyone says so.”
No response from the guy with the ‘purdy mouth’ except for the slamming of the screen door.
Knowing Jensen could still hear him – his trailer was made of tinfoil, as far as sound was concerned – Jared hollered, “If Heath and Jake could do it, so can we!”
***
“Too bad you’re no Jake Gyllenhaal,” Jensen muttered, taking his position against the bedroom wall, arms held out and down, like they’d be in the scene. This was it – the rehearsal he’d been dreading for the last forty-eight hours. But since no humongous natural disaster had occurred to save him – Thanks for nothing, God – here he was.
The season five climax had Dean chained up and at Lucifer’s apparently libidinous mercy – with Sam playing the devil, of course. Gotta give those fangirls what they want.
Fucking retarded is what it was.
“Hey, screw you,” Jared said, setting a butter knife down on the dresser and rolling his shoulders. He’d practised the possession scene half a dozen times now and his shoulders were killing him. It was hard to maintain that kind of obvious muscle strain for any real length of time. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to manage it at all. “I’m not Jake, you are.”
Jensen sputtered. “Screw you! I’m the blond—”
“Yeah,” Jared interrupted, pulling his tee shirt over his head. “But you’re also the short guy and clearly the bottom.” He tossed the shirt aside and stepped closer. “’Cause, hello,” he said, pointing to his naked chest, “the Devil, remember?”
“I’m not short you’re just a freak of nature,” Jensen said as his eyes flicked over Jared’s toned torso. It was kinda weird how big Jared had gotten since the show started – Jensen had watched Padalecki transform from a boy to a man in just a few short years.
Jared took another step forward, which brought him right into Jensen’s personal space. Jensen found himself face to face with Jared’s collarbone. A really big, really buff man, he silently acknowledged. “And I’m so not your bottom,” he said, before considering how stupid that would sound out loud.
Jared threw back his head and laughed and Jensen admired the strong, tan column of his friend’s throat. What? No he didn’t. The strong, tan column? WTF? “Let’s just get it over with,” Jensen snapped, his hands clenching into fists.
“You know,” Jared said as he glanced down at Jensen’s white knuckles. “It might be better if I actually did tie you up.” His eyes rose again, suddenly serious. “Make it easier to do the scene...maybe. I think I’ve got some bungees in the garage.” They were rehearsing at Jared’s house – they always did, since he was the only one to actually have a house in Vancouver.
For a split-second, Jensen honestly didn’t know what to say. Where the hell had that come from? What was Jared suggesting? Did he think Jensen was gonna freak out or something? Christ, he may not like having to tongue wrestle with a guy, but Jensen was a goddamned professional! He certainly didn’t need to be tied down to do his job! “I think I can manage,” he said, his tone right pissed off. “Just fucking go already, Jared.”
Jared shrugged and licked his lips. “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “Sorry, man. Don’t snap my head off.” He licked his lips again and then just stood there shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking nothing like the bad-ass character he was supposed to portray.
Jensen’s eyes narrowed as he suddenly ‘got’ it. For all his laughing and his teasing Jared was just as uncomfortable with this as Jensen was. Sonofabitch. A grin stole across his face. ‘C’mon Jay,” he purred. “It’s no big deal right? A little kiss, a little grab...” Jared winced at the quote and Jensen grinned even wider. “Suck it up, buttercup.”
Jared nodded. “Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled, as he swiped a hand through his shaggy hair. “You’re right,” he said again. Then he turned and walked a few steps away before dropping his head and sucking in a deep breath. It was a technique he often used to focus.
Another breath.
Jensen watched Jared’s broad shoulders rise, ribs expanding, muscles gleaming in the late afternoon sun. A few seconds later, his entire mien changed. Even though he still faced away from Jensen, Jared’s strong young body radiated power all of a sudden – power and an angry arrogance. And wow. Padalecki had turned into some kind of great actor for Jensen to be able to read all that just from the flexing muscles of his bare back.
When Jared turned back around malice glinted in his narrowed eyes.
Jensen gulped and threw on Dean’s infamous sneer like a warm, protective cloak. He could do this – as Dean Winchester he could do anything. “It’s never gonna happen, you bastard!” he said, his voice much too low and raspy. Have to work on that.
Jared smiled, making his dimples appear. But the smile was nothing like his normal, the-world-is-just-so-darn-wonderful grin. This smile was vicious and cruel and...sexy as fuck. Jensen gritted his teeth. No it wasn’t sexy as fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?
Jared walked – stalked – closer until he towered over Jensen, his hot, bare chest brushing Jensen’s own denim clad torso. It was no problem at all to get into Dean’s panicked headspace. The gulping, close to hyperventilating breaths he took weren’t even feigned.
The sun chose that moment to duck behind a cloud and the room darkened dramatically as Jared leaned down and rubbed his cheek over Jensen’s hair. Jensen – as Dean – was supposed to jerk away; which was good because he’d already done that.
Jared – No. Lucifer. Get into character, damn it! Lucifer chuckled and grabbed a fistful of Dean’s short hair, tugging his face up. His index finger skimmed across Dean’s bottom lip. “Oh, but it is,” he said. “It is going to happen.”
Jensen knew what came next and his muscles tensed, making the wrench on his neck much more painful than it had to be as Jared yanked his head hard to the side and ran the silky-wet flat of his tongue up Jensen’s throat. And, fuck, Jensen was so not springing a hard-on. He wasn’t.
“You can’t fight destiny, Dean,” Lucifer whispered, his breath hot in Dean’s ear. Then he bit down on Dean’s earlobe – which wasn’t in the fucking script at all. Damn Padalecki and his improvisation! Jensen was definitely hyperventilating now. “Just let Michael in,” the devil encouraged, his voice sugar-sweet seduction in Jensen’s ear. “We’ll fight. The world will end...or not.” Then he laughed – but it wasn’t Lucifer’s dark, sensual chuckle, it was Jared’s ‘whoops-I-fucked-up’ snigger. “Shit. Sorry. I forgot the knife on the dresser,” he said. “Hang on.”
Jensen sagged against the wall and tried to get his breathing under control without being way obvious about it. His cheeks were so hot it felt like he had a third-degree sunburn. “Jesus. Get a grip,” he hissed to himself.
“Hmm?” Jared asked, as he turned back around from retrieving the butter knife. His cheeks were red too, Jensen was interested to note. The blush also covered his throat and was, even now, creeping down his chest.
Was this fucking him over as hard as it was fucking Jensen over? God, Jensen hoped so. Lame to be the only one entirely flipped out here. “Nothing,” Jensen said. “‘C’mon, let’s just finish this.” Please, God, let’s just finish this. Jensen was ignoring the fact that they still had to film the scene tomorrow. He couldn’t deal with that thought right now. Right now, it was all about: ‘Get er done and then get drunk as fast as possible.
Jared’s cheeks turned even redder. “Umm, okay. Wanna go from the top?”
“Fuck no,” Jensen rasped.
Jared shrugged and moved into position in front of Jensen once more. This time Jensen got an up close and personal view of Jared’s transformation from guy-next-door to sex-on-two-legs. Jensen gasped as Jared surged up against him and his cock, which until that moment had contented itself with semi-hardness sprang instantly and fully erect.
God, kill me now, Jensen prayed. Please. Right now would be great.
“You can’t fight destiny,” Jared – Lucifer! – whispered once more as he set his teeth against Jensen’s throat and bit down.   Not in the script either, asshole! Fuck!! Jensen’s back arched, quite against his will, and his hips jerked against Jared’s. Which was when he discovered that Jared was sporting his own huge, unscripted hard-on. A weird sound, somewhere between a whimper and a cough, came from deep in Jared’s throat as he thrust back, grinding into Jensen’s stomach.
And they both ignored that, too. Masters of denial is what they were. Still, Jensen was panting as he said his next line. Couldn’t seem to help himself. “Watch me.”
Jared’s head came up. His eyes, less than an inch away, were all midnight-black pupil, with hardly even a rim of hazel left. “Alastair tells me torture isn’t very effective on you.” The knife rose to trace Jensen’s cheekbone, and, yeah, he knew it was just a butter knife but the cold caress still made him shudder. Jared trailed the blade along Jensen’s clenched jaw and then dipped lower to circle his Adam’s apple. In the script, he nicks Dean’s skin at this point and a bead of blood trickles into Jensen’s collar. Jared followed the imaginary bead down until he hit the first button on Jensen’s shirt.
For the show, they’d use CGI to have him popping off Dean’s buttons with a long, big bladed bowie. For now, Jensen was wearing snap buttons on an old denim work shirt. The knife slipped below the snap and a casual flick of Jared’s wrist had it popping open. Good thing Jared only wielded a butter knife, ‘cause Jensen’s chest was heaving so hard he’d have stabbed his own stupid self on a bowie.
“He said you were a tough guy – that before you broke, you’d actually come to enjoy the pain,” Jared went on, his voice thick and deep, with just a hint of Texas drawl in it. Not good. He was losing the character.
Jensen opened his mouth to say so, but then Jared popped the next three buttons in rapid-fire succession and the words dried up on his tongue. Jared spread the lapels of Jensen’s shirt and stroked the knife in a hard line up the center of his chest. When the blade reached his pecs, it circled left to tease his nipple. Jensen’s palms smacked the wall as he struggled to hold position. Then the knife figure-eighted to play over his right nipple. Jensen moaned. Damn it all to hell, he moaned. And wait a minute, wasn’t there supposed to be dialogue here? Was it his line?
Jared’s cock was a hot exclamation point burning into Jensen’s belly. Jensen was so hard, himself, he could feel pre-come soaking through his underwear to make a big wet spot on his jeans. And fuck! Whose line was it anyway?
“Now,” Jared purred, bending a bit to lick at Jensen’s collarbone. “While Alastair is good – I’m really so much better.” So it wasn’t Jensen’s line after all. Halleluiah. Jared’s mouth licked and sucked...and bit. He was leaving marks – unexplainable marks.
The knife moved lower. It dropped to Jensen’s crotch and traced the outline of his cock while, at the same time, Jared’s teeth latched onto Jensen’s glass-sharp left nipple. Jensen cried out, his hands rising to clench in Jared’s hair – whether to tug his friend away, or pull him closer...who could say?
But then Jensen remembered that he was supposed to be chained up still, so he punched the wall instead. Not that anything else was going according to script. I mean, sure the lines were right, but this was the WB not freakin’ HBO. No knives on cocks allowed.
Jensen should stop this. Shouldn’t he? Fuck Jared had a talented mouth.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
“I figure he just didn’t hit on quite the right technique for you, Dean,” Jared went on. “Couldn’t find the one thing that would truly break you.” He gave Jensen’s nipple one more ball-clenching bite before standing upright once more. “But I think you and I both know what that ‘thing’ is, don’t we, gorgeous?”   His big hands rose to trap Jensen’s face as he said it, the knife clattering to the floor.
Gorgeous? Lucifer wasn’t supposed to call Dean gorgeous. Now they were adlibbing?
“How long do you think you’ll be able to hold out with your baby brother’s cock reaming your tight little ass, Dean?” Jared asked in his natural, husky Texas drawl. “How long until the guilt and the pleasure make you go fucking insane?”
Forget adlibbing. Jared was just making shit up now. Really dirty shit which was going to make Jensen go insane with pleasure if he couldn’t get himself back under control. And, Jesus H. Christ! did Jared kiss his mother with that mouth?
Jensen sucked in a Jared soaked breath and attempted to pull his mind out of his cock. So, okay. They weren’t on script at all anymore. Jared had lost complete control of his accent – and, it would seem, his mind.
And yet, Jensen knew this was exactly how the scene was supposed to play. The tension and eroticism were dead on. So he had a choice to make – right now – because unwilling Dean was about to turn into more than willing Michael.
Ah, Christ, they’d already gone so far. Way too fucking far. May as well keep going.
Jensen’s decision had nothing to do with the fact that he found himself desperate to know what Jared tasted like. Desperate to know how his lips would move against his own. How his tongue would feel. Seriously. Nothing.
Jared leaned away to ask, “Do you want me to say Michael’s lines?” The words were Padalecki, but the face was pure Lucifer. Cocky and beautiful. Jeez, how had Jensen never realized how freakin’ beautiful his co-star was? Maybe those fangirls weren’t quite so stupid after all.
Jared’s tongue – shockingly pink – slicked along his lower lip. Jensen would bet good money the bastard knew how sexy that was.   One eyebrow rose as he waited for Jensen’s answer. Crap. What was the question again? Oh, yeah. Michael’s lines.
Michael was supposed to be talking in Dean’s head. Cutting a deal. Fucked if Jensen could remember what exactly the deal was supposed to be though – something about a short time trade and a promise that Dean’s life would go back to normal if Michael won. And if he didn’t then nothing really mattered anyway, right?
“No,” Jensen said, his gaze riveted to Jared’s mouth as his tongue teased across his lower lip for the second damn time. “Never mind. Just go already.”
A smirk to rival any Dean could produce curled Jared’s lip. “Okey dokey,” he said, his hands tightening on Jensen’s face as he closed in for the kill.
‘Okey dokey?’ Jensen thought. ‘Okey-fuckin’-dokey? What the fuck kind of thing was that to say?’
Then he couldn’t think at all anymore because Jared was...raping his mouth. Girls didn’t kiss like this. Girls were soft. Soft little tongues, soft little lips, gentle, accepting kisses. This kiss was hard, and rough, and as far from gentle as Jensen could imagine. He had a split second where he just froze. But that was okay, Dean was supposed to do that. All good. Then Michael came in to play. God bless Michael – an angel as arrogant and cocksure as Lucifer was. An angel who knew exactly how to bring the devil to his knees.
An image of Jared falling to his knees in front of him flashed through Jensen’s mind and a moan tore itself from his throat. Now Jensen could twist his hands in Jared’s hair, because even massive steel chains weren’t enough to keep an archangel down.
So that’s what Jensen did: he took two big fistfuls of his friend’s sweat-damp, silk-brown hair, slung his leg around his friend’s hard, lean hip and shoved his tongue down his friend’s open and willing throat. It was Jared’s turn to moan. Jensen’s hips rolled at the wanton sound.
“Jen, God I want—”
Instead of finishing the sentence, Jared grabbed Jensen’s ass and hauled him up until his feet no longer touched the floor. Jensen practically felt obliged to wrap his other leg around Jared’s hips and get a good, long grind in. And it was a good grind. A freakin’ great grind. Jensen could tell Jared thought so too, by the way his friend kind of lost his shit and began moaning and shuddering and saying stuff like, “Fuck me. Feels so good. Oh, Jesus, Jen... Oh, fuck. I can’t—”
“Name’s Michael,” Jensen reminded, using his fistful of hair to twist Jared’s head far to the side. With no preamble whatsoever, he thrust his tongue deep into Jared’s ear while grinding even harder against the billy bat trapped in his friend’s pants.
One of Jared’s palms smacked into the back of Jensen’s skull, keeping him pinned there. Meaning that now Jared was holding Jensen’s entire weight up with only one arm. Fucking behemoth. Goddamned sexy is what that was.
“Again,” Jared gasped. “God, do that again.”
Since Jensen wasn’t sure whether Jared meant the cock-grind or the ear-fuck, he did both again. Something garbled and utterly incoherent fell from Jared’s mouth. A smile played across Jensen’s lips. He’d felt the power shift when he’d ‘become’ Michael. Knew Jared was close to coming unglued. And for some reason – never mind why – Jensen really wanted to see that, so he pulled his tongue out of Jared’s ear and nibbled his way back to his friend’s kiss swollen mouth. When he got there, he bit Jared’s bottom lip – hard. Jared’s breath hissed between his teeth in what sounded suspiciously like a choked off sob.
“Is it war you’re looking for, Luce, or love,” Jensen asked. “’ I’m confused, brother.”
Somehow, Jared remembered what he was supposed to say next. “Michael,” he breathed. His lust blown eyes fluttered open to spear Jensen with a look of such dazed longing Jensen’s heart actually skipped a beat and then had to race to catch up. “I’ve missed you.”
“And I you,” Jensen said, before crushing his mouth against his co-star’s.   Jared latched onto his tongue like a man possessed, his kiss so hungry, so damned primal, Jensen was quickly forced to give up any semblance of control. He just opened his mouth wider and gave in to the assault. It was fan-friggin’-tastic.
“Fuck first, then fight.” Jared gasped out the end line between passionate, frenzied kisses as he fell backward, across the bed, with Jensen’s legs still wrapped tight around his waist.
In the show, they were supposed to have been magically transported to some kind of kinky angelic boudoir...which was why they’d been rehearsing in the bedroom in the first place. And Jared’s line was actually supposed to be, ‘Love first, then war.’ But both Jensen and Jared knew, ‘Fuck first, then fight’ was the way it really should be said; if there was no such thing as PG ratings and TV sensors, that is.
Sooo.... That was that. The scene was over.
Finished.
Finito.
Funny how neither of them were leaping apart or anything.
TBC
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