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Nipples and Cock. But Jensen's Not Gay	By : cadi Category: Casts RPF > Supernatural Views: 2894 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Nipples and Cock. But Jensen's Not Gay
- 1
Jensen had thrown a party—three parties, actually. Not because he wanted to, but because they talked him into it; the cast and crew were very persuasive, often talking him in a direction where he began to believe the parties were his idea.
He was pretty sure he attended his own parties as an excuse to listen to the music he liked at the volume he liked. The food, the crowds, the after-wrap thrum of excitement that ran rampant in undertones, making panties wet and cocks hard—he could do without those. It seemed, however, to be the only time people didn't mind his unhealthy obsession for Journey. Jensen would put up with a lot to listen to some Perry.
There had been a lot of jokes at his expense when he had been caught singing along with Steve Perry. He had vowed to never drink with an uncomfortably large, and ultimately unfamiliar, crowd again. Not at the wrap parties, not anywhere. There had been a thing with a bullhorn, with his sound system blaring “Anyway you want it,” and him dancing in his ex’s bikini top, attempting to auction himself off to the higher bidder.
He at least knew that he could earn a quick $200. If he somehow found himself concussed and willing to slow-dance with another wardrobe consultant, that is. When the first WC had won him in the auction, they had slow-danced for an hour before he was forced to decline her offer of a rowdy night of leather pleasure. He had to request a new consultant after that as the rejected one had tried to sneak sequins into his wardrobe.
No more of that. No more of someone’s sequin-crazy, leather-lovin’ Aunt Bertha. He stayed sober, stayed watchful—stayed away from bullhorns and bikinis.
Most of the parties were spent in dim lighting and warm, stuffy air just perfect for disrobing. Tonight, though, Jensen had talked the crew into leaving two or three set lights on in the studio and leaving the bay doors open. They had loaded a procession of tables with food and booze. From where he stood at the edge, the party looked a success, even if he didn't know how to really enjoy the resulting chaos.
He always mistakenly thought a guy could get lost in a crowd this large, then remembered too late that getting lost was exactly the opposite of what happened. There was always someone somewhere wanting to drag him along—“you just have to meet this person, they’re fabulous, Jensen, really”—and he always felt a bit like a child who kicked and screamed to try and get their way.
Jensen stepped back further into the darkness that edged the crowd. He hid in a shadow, and maybe someone might later call him out as a coward if they noticed him, but what mattered was that he could hear the music—could feel it circle him in waves of crescendoing riffs. And in between songs he listened to conversations floating in the air.
“Do you…” said an indistinct voice.
“What the hell is this—“ another said.
“Dude, I’m never taking a dare from you again. These thongs ride.” That voice was distinctly male and Jensen laughed, shifted his stance and leaned against boxes of props.
The light spilled across the faces of the hundreds of people milling around and talking. Their voices were a cacophonic symphony, deafening if Jensen spent too much time tuning into them and too little time listening for the beat of Journey in the background.
It was always around this time of night, when the peak had been hit and the raucous laughter was too loud, that he was ready for an escape. As always, the attendees failed to help in any way. If any of the people who sidled up to him for a chat knew how to find their way out of his party, they weren't sharing.
Jensen watched in between songs. To him it seemed as though everyone else around him wanted to be in the middle; the center of attention. If he were out there, and he knew from the first and second party experiences, that they would think he was it—their key to a better part, their key to an internship. As soon as he was found out, he would be swept up into their carousel of “Jensen” this and “Jensen” that.
He would be spun, ridden and stopped. He would be dizzy with it, dizzy with the sea of colors and faces.
A blonde female extra touched his sleeve and he turned to face her, eyes unfocused.
#

Jared was drunk. Not tipsy-drunk, he had passed that an hour ago. He was flat out, stinking, falling down drunk. Which, Jared thought, was the only kind of drunk to be.

Everyone smiled at him and, he thought, probably wished he'd expose one of his nipples. He wasn’t certain how he knew, he just did. With the winks and the grins and women flipping their hair, the men flipping their fingers up at him—yeah, he felt certain.
If he did this, gave the crowd what they wanted, it wouldn’t be because he was drunk—it would be because he loved to please people. He was a goddamned people pleaser.
So he did it: he walked around with a beer in his left hand and his right clenching a fist into his t-shirt. The worn fabric rose high above his right nipple. His chest was bare, his ribs showing as he stretched to reveal his upper torso to the crowd.
He tried to wink a few times as he passed his fellow cast members, nodded at the crew members he occasionally stumbled into, smiled at those who noticed him (which was everyone, of course). He found he lost his balance with the winking. And some beer, he realized, when he had felt something warm and wet soak through his shirt. He could live with losing the balance, but he really disliked spilling his beer.
It wouldn't matter if he busted his ass. He had questioned the nipple-flashing, but he knew without a shred of doubt that it wouldn’t matter if he slipped, tripped, landed on his ass. Each and every person at the party would all still want to fuck him. Even the guys—especially the ones he thought he heard cough “idiot” into their fists, the poor bastards—wanted to fuck him.
What Jared wanted, though, was to find Jensen. His cast mate—his co-star, partner in crime, darkly handsome jack-off fantasy—would be lurking somewhere. Yeah, Jared waned to fuck Jensen. To dig his jagged, bitten nails into the cheeks of that ass, to bite his shoulder while he pounded into that round flesh. He'd have to find him. Now.
He tossed his half-empty cup of beer at someone and picked up another from the nearest table.
#

Jensen had been dragged to the center of the lot by someone named Shannon, Sharon, or maybe Lucy. She had told him her name—screamed it to him, actually—but he had only nodded at her and continued to listen to Steve sing about the streetlight people, living just to find emotion. That's me, he had thought, living just to find emotion.

Now he felt surrounded, felt as though the crowd was closing in on them. The parties were never his idea; the food, the lights, the booze, not his idea, but it was important that people have fun. But he—maybe he remembered enjoying them at first?
Maybe it was that he wanted to enjoy them. Maybe he let himself get talked into them because it was a ready-made excuse to get lost in a crowd, lost in some good music. He wasn't sure, not really, but this standing in the middle of everyone, being dragged to participate in conversation, hands clawing and pushing at him, was definitely not something he wanted.
He twisted to look around, to find an out. His arm ached underneath the blonde’s talons; he felt sure that his skin broke underneath them, puncture wounds he’d have to bandage later. When he finally resigned to an evening with her until she at least loosened her hold on him, his eyes wandered around the room and fell upon Jared. His co-star’s face broke out into a bright grin when he noticed Jensen’s eyes were on him, and Jared was tripping over his feet as he made his way towards Jensen.
#

Jared didn't know the name of the girl who fawned over Jensen but he thought it might be Megan. That couldn't be right, though, because his sister's name was Megan. Maybe it was Mandy. He didn't care. He cared about telling Jensen he wanted to push his cock into him…

"Hey, Jense--" Jared shouted, stumbling forward as he hailed him with an upraised arm. When he was within a foot of Jensen, he fell against the stockier man. His hands grabbed and held onto Jensen’s thick shoulders. He dragged himself up to look him in the eyes.
"Hey, Jensen, hey," he said. "I want to fuck you." His mouth felt sticky. He licked around his teeth and the insides of his cheeks. He worried for a moment that Jensen hadn’t understood him. Jensen only stared at him and Jared squinted one of his eyes closed and then switched to the other. He opened them both wide, letting them take turns, to try and focus on the stormy eyes in front of him.
Jensen's face was still. Jared tried to take a step back, releasing his hold on Jensen’s shoulders. It was good he did that, he thought, good he let go of the muscle. All of that meat under his fingers would just make him think of Jensen reaching for him, Jensen hot underneath him, Jensen’s cock bobbing in his face before thrusting into his...
Jared lost his balance. He lurched forward, and was steadied when Jensen grabbed his biceps, squeezed Jared’s arms until Jared righted himself. He reached up, crossed his arms to lay his hands on top Jensen’s hands.
The girl who had been talking to Jensen looked from one man to the other, to where they held each other. To where their eyes locked. She turned and walked away.
#

Before Jared had stumbled over, Jensen had worried over the extent to which he would go to find a way from the malaise. The blonde had bored him, just as much as the party itself did. This—Jared coming on to him—well, that was certainly new. Definitely not boring.

"You want to run that by me again, Jare?" His voice was gruff, thick from the strain of keeping the taller man up.
Jared looked at him, his eyes slits but his face broken with a wide, toothy grin. "I want to fuck you," he said again, managing to enunciate around the swell of his tongue. He let go of Jensen’s hands and rocked on his heels a little as he started to tug his shirt up again.
"Stop," Jensen said, stilling Jared's hand and rolling the shirt back down. "Stop showing off your nipples. You've probably been running around all night with those things showing and by the looks of it—“he made a point to look around them “—you’re weirding people out."
“You noticed my nipples, huh?” He tried to wink and tipped to the right a bit, falling against Jeffrey Dean Morgan.
“I’m supposed to play your dad, Jared,” Jeffrey called back to him, “not a part of your balancing act.”
Jared grabbed the crotch of his jeans and shook the fabric in Jeffrey’s direction.
“Way to focus on the important stuff,” Jensen muttered.
Instead of trying to wink again, Jared looked around them. "They want me.” He leaned against Jensen's chest to whisper in his ear. "They want to put me in their mouths. Hundreds of wet mouths hungry for my dick--"
"Okay, buddy," Jensen interrupted him, smiling at the faces turned to them in apparent interest. "Let's go protect you from the horde by putting you to bed." He snagged Jared's t-shirt by the bottom hem and led him to where his co-star’s trailer was parked.
#

They had made it outside the perimeter of the crowd before Jensen felt a tap on his back. When he turned around to answer, Jared fell against him. Jared crushed his mouth to Jensen's and held it there, locking them into a dry, tight-lipped kiss. They both staggered from the weight of Jared’s lunge until Jensen pushed Jared off of him. Pushed him away until he felt there was enough room between them to catch his breath.

Jared absentmindedly rubbed at his chest where Jensen had pushed him. Jensen’s eyes focused on Jared, saw the way Jared’s hip cocked to one side, saw the movement of Jared’s hand rubbing slow circles over his chest. Jensen felt—he wasn't sure what he felt. He wasn't sure whether or not he liked that, not knowing. He did feel, though, the urge to pull Jared back to him, to find the taste of him underneath the brine of sour beer.
He tugged on Jared's shirt and propelled him into motion, stepping beside him so they could walk next to each other. He didn't want to think about Jared behind him. The hard kiss was in his head, the feel of Jared against him spread warm through him, into the places Jared had touched him.
There was no way he’d let Jared stay behind him. His newly-found traitor of a mind might fantasize beyond a kiss, and no—there wouldn’t be any of that.
A trip to Jared's trailer, Jensen told himself, would take longer than if he just let him crash at his trailer. It was closer and—he snatched the back of Jared's shirt when Jared tripped over a stray rock and stumbled forward—easier. To take Jared to what was most convenient would be much easier, much safer.
Five minutes of stumbling and cursing and grabbing at t-shirts later, they made it to Jensen's trailer. He propped Jared against the short stair railing, waited to see if Jared would fall. Jensen pulled his keys from his pocket, shaking them over his palm to find the right one. Jared staggered and leaned over the side of the railing, his left cheek pressing against Jensen’s ass. Jensen propped him back up with one hand and let go when Jared sagged against the side of the trailer.
Jensen fumbled with the keys, turning each one in the dim light. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he found the right key and inserted it into the lock. The door gave beneath the twist of the knob.
He dragged Jared up and directed him to step in front of him, pointed towards the stairs that lead into his trailer.
"Come on, pal, get inside."
"This isn't my trailer," Jared said, his forehead wrinkled with obvious confusion. He leaned forward to peer inside the dark den in front of them. Jensen stepped up behind him, anticipating Jared moving inside but, instead, Jared leaned forward further and pressed his ass into Jared’s crotch.
"No, it's mine.” Jensen maneuvered away from Jared’s ass as he felt a familiar tightening beneath his jeans. He was sure if Jared was sober he wouldn’t be doing this. He wasn’t embarrassed—he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious—but he wasn’t embarrassed. Not much, anyway. "It was closer."
"Oh," Jared said, his head turned back to Jensen. "Well, don't look at my ass…" he trailed off mid-sentence. He watched Jensen's face while Jensen watched Jared’s display of a sloppy leer.
"Unless you want to," Jared finished.
"I won't," Jensen said, fighting the urge to look. "What I mean to say is that I don't. Want to."
He looked anyway.
Jared smiled and leaned forward again. He twisted his stance, purposely grinding back into Jensen’s crotch before grabbing the insides of the trailer threshold. He launched himself up the stairs.
"Piece of cake," he said, turning to look back at Jensen over his left shoulder. A smug, self-satisfied look crossed his features before he fell forward and landed on his face.
"Shit." Jensen jumped into the trailer behind Jared and found him sprawled face down in the carpet. He wrapped his arms underneath Jared's chest, gripping his own wrists as he yanked up and back. Jared shoved suddenly upward, throwing the two of them off balance. They crashed backward against the wall.
#

Jared smiled at the way Jensen fit against him. The way they were pressed together, standing back to front against the wall, Jared could feel the hard body behind him. He turned to stand face to face with Jensen, to face those broad shoulders, those narrow hips. The beer in him still affected a sway, still blurred his vision. Two Jensen's looked back at him but he felt around until his hand landed on the solid one.

He leaned in and grinned. "This is good," he said and he bent to Jensen's throat. His tongue slicked his lips and he pressed them, moist, against Jensen’s skin. He breathed him in, tasted the tang of sweat and smelled the heady spice that was all Jensen. He pressed his lips firmly against the pulse that beat rapidly under the tan skin of Jensen’s neck.
#

Jensen twisted his head and grabbed where Jared's arms straddled him on the wall. What was he allowing to happen? This isn’t really what he had in mind when he decided to bring Jared here. Was it? Did he want this? He swung out from beneath Jared and walked the seven steps that put him in the middle of the trailer.

"We're like brothers--" Jared said as he sagged back against the paneled wall behind him. “Brothers… do things. Together.” Jensen watched him arch his body away from the faux-wood, sliding one of his hands down his chest, down his stomach. Watched as Jared tucked his fingers under the waist of his jeans, underneath the buckle of his "Texans Do it Better" belt and let them rest there as he grinned back at Jensen. "Like the show." He reached out to Jensen who, despite the distance between them, stepped back.
"Brothers don't do what you're suggesting," Jensen said. He meant to take another step away but Jared’s eyes flashed and Jensen’s feet moved him forward instead.
#

"Sure they do," and Jared grinned, teeth flashing. "They just don't admit it." And he laughed at the expression on the twin Jensen's faces. And then he laughed harder because he was really drunk, really horny and on the verge of really desperate. If Jensen wasn't going to play, he might as well find a place to do it himself. Or go back to the party and find himself an extra who wouldn’t be on the set the following week.

Jared's arm dropped to his side and he straightened. The door was to his left and that was the way to the person—or persons, he thought, amused with himself—who was going to suck him off.
He had only made it one rocky foot away from the wall when Jensen moved—faster than Jared's inebriated mind could follow—to push him back against the wall.
"You don't want to do this," Jensen growled.
"Sure, I do," Jared said, his eyes wide and his cheeky grin slipping into a hard line. "I can leave whenever I want.” He flashed Jensen a wicked grin. “Do whatever I want."
"No," Jensen said and he yanked Jared against him into a kiss. Their teeth gnashed and Jared's mouth parted in response to Jensen's tongue. Jensen’s mouth ripped at Jared’s, rough and demanding, teasing a moan out from somewhere in the region of Jared’s stomach before pulling away.
"You don't want this," Jensen said again. Jared could see his eyes had turned dark, his face hard. The change was visible—evident when Jensen pressed himself harder against Jared.
Jared tilted his chin up in drunken defiance—it had to be the alcohol as he would never have challenged Jensen when sober. "Yes, I do," he said and lifted his hips to Jensen's.
#

Something snapped inside of Jensen. It beat at his chest and spread until it hummed everywhere. It was fierce, primal, and it broke from his throat as he wrenched at Jared's wrists, twisting them until Jared's body turned against his. He pushed Jared, arms now pinned above his head, until he fell flat against the wall.

This wasn’t like him. He didn’t make it with guys. Yet here was this drunk punk, sheets above sheets to the wind, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to fuck his way into that inebriation. To force his way so deep inside that he swam in a haze with him.
#

Jared’s face pressed painfully into the faux-wood paneling of the trailer. He winced when his face was pinched between two panels but, he realized, he started to laugh anyway. He laughed because he hadn’t had a drink in at least forty-five minutes. He laughed because some part of his brain was sobering. He laughed because it was Jensen behind him, fighting for control, yet wanting to fuck him. Fuck him as much as Jared wanted to fuck him back. All the evidence he needed pressed against him.

The length of Jensen’s cock protruded in a tight bulge behind those jeans; it strained to be free of the denim, pushed hard against Jared’s ass. Jensen groped for Jared’s hands and squeezed them. He lifted them back and slapped them against the wall. The shock of it stung Jared’s palms. He could feel the reverberation of the slap travel into his forearms, his elbows, ride high into his shoulders where Jensen’s forehead lay pressed against him.
Jared still laughed.
#

He didn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. One more twitch of those hips and he’d come undone. Jensen let go of Jared’s hands—not sorry that he may have hurt Jared, not sorry to let go, but eager to explore how far he could take this—before Jared stopped him; before he stopped himself.

Jensen was eager to find out what lay beneath Jared’s shirt and dirty jeans.
His hands slid down Jared’s arms, tightening over toned muscle. Not as toned, not as strong, as he was, Jensen knew from being on set with him. Close, but not exactly. Soft, but not like so many of his pliable, disposable women.
Jensen slid his hands up the length of Jared’s arms, followed them to his shoulders, to where his neck stretched. He took a moment to trace the length of that long neck with the sides of his thumbs.
Jared muffled a moan with the wall and Jensen felt Jared’s hips thrust against the wood. Felt the beginning of a war inside Jared as the other man tried to grind his erection against the wall and simultaneously shift his ass closer to Jensen. He let his hands fall to Jared’s shoulder blades and spread his fingers as wide as he could to take in the feel of bone and muscle beneath the shirt. He leaned in and pressed his face there, tested the feel of his cheek against the hollow between Jared’s shoulder blades.
Jared’s shirt smelled of beer and sweat. Grit clung to it, a result of multiple hits to the ground. Jensen leaned back to study the shirt and, gripping the hem, tore into it, watched it rip apart. He braced himself as Jared jumped, snapping his head back to look at Jensen.
“That was my favorite shirt,” he said, not really sounding upset.
Jensen palmed Jared’s face and pushed it back against the wall. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
He skimmed the palms of his hands along the tanned back in front of him. His calloused hands were rough against the soft flesh of Jared’s back, caused a ripple of goose pimples to erupt. Jensen wanted to know what the warm skin felt like against his own. He let go of Jared long enough to lift his own shirt up over his head. He pressed his chest to Jared’s back, marveling at how the skin met. The goosed flesh tickled across his skin, flitted over, and hardened, his nipples.
Jensen groaned the moment the sensation hit the pit of his stomach. It felt like someone had reached in, grabbed hold of his cock and tugged. The need to bury himself inside of something—a hand, a mouth, whatever—fought through him and he struggled with the button of his jeans. He yanked on the zipper and let the denim drop to his ankles. An expanse of tanned thigh appeared, a small mound of dark hair curled around his dick.
He paused, his fingers already inside the waistband of Jared’s jeans. The strain of keeping himself in control strangled his voice into a hoarse whisper. “I’ve never done this,” he said.
Jared turned his head to look at Jensen. His eyes looked bleary. “Me either,” he managed. His voice croaked out like a bullfrog’s, but it sounded like sin to Jensen.
“I imagine,” Jared continued, “that it’s a bit like fucking a woman. Prep, stick, pump.”
“If you think all it takes is a little ‘prep, stick, pump,’ then no wonder you’re here with me,” Jensen replied as he grabbed his cock, knelt, and slid it between Jared’s thighs. He stood on the tips of his toes so he could reach high enough to slide his cock across Jared’s balls; slide across the base of Jared’s dick.
His legs shook violently at the strained motions. There must be special leg muscles that gay men have, he thought, that allowed them to fuck against a wall like this. Or maybe it was that foreplay wasn’t standing up, just the sex.
He adjusted his position—anything to keep his legs from folding—and leaned against Jared again, just let the throb of his cock pulse against Jared’s ass. An urgent need to move built up inside of him. It felt as though he would explode if he didn’t move, didn’t slip into something velvety warm. He started to move to his own pulsing, started to grind himself against Jared’s ass—shift away, grind, shift away, grind.
He discarded the idea of freeing Jared from his jeans and reached, instead, to pinch Jared’s nipples. Jensen’s cock jumped as Jared’s breath hitched and the combination of the two provoked such a breathtaking sweetness that Jensen closed his eyes to savor the feeling. His hips began to thrust harder against Jared, aiming for a sweet little heaven in the form of the valley between Jared’s ass cheeks. It seemed to have been created special, just for him—to cup the hardness of him.
Jared coughed and interrupted Jensen’s self-hypnotic thrusting. “I think you’re forgetting someone,” Jared said.
“Hmm?” Jensen asked. He opened his eyes to find Jared staring at him over his shoulder. The eyes staring back at him weren’t bleary from alcohol anymore. Jensen liked that, liked knowing that he had an effect on Jared that sobered him enough from the alcohol to know who he was with—a Jensen-effect that intoxicated Jared with lust. Especially since Jared had a similar affect on him. “I never forget anyone.”
Jensen reached up to palm Jared’s face again but Jared preempted and put his face to the wall for him. He felt the sweetness of Jared’s ass pushing back into him again and he almost lost it, almost started to rock back into the hypnotic thrust against the worn jeans. But he heard the click of a buckle being snapped back and the hiss of a zipper being tugged down. He was struck by how erotic the sound could be. It wasn’t the act but the promise behind the act.
Jensen reached an arm around to tear Jared’s hands away. He wanted to do it himself, wanted to undress him, to let Jared let him undress him. The loose fabric fell as soon as Jared’s hands were removed and Jensen’s own hand dove to reach inside the cotton boxers. It was warm there, so warm; warmer still when he ducked his hand, avoiding the demanding cock, and cupped Jared’s balls in his hand. He squeezed and Jared’s hips jerked.
Jensen groaned in response to the pressure that drummed a throbbing beat in his own balls. He could feel pre-come release and cool, slide off the head of his cock. It pooled where his skin grazed Jared’s ass.
#

“Fuck,” Jared said. It was more of a gasp. “Fuck.”

He wanted Jensen to touch him. He wanted him to touch him there--to grab his dick in one hand and fist him while the other wrapped around and just held on for the ride. But his legs wouldn’t hold forever. The strength he normally possessed had been replaced with alcohol-saturated weakness.
“We need to move,” he said. His hand fell from the wall and snaked behind him, searching blindly to where Jensen was pressed against him. He found Jensen, found Jensen’s cock. And then it was in his hand and he loved the softness of it, loved how he could feel the veins pulse with energy.
“My bed,” he heard Jensen say around a groan.
Jared pushed back from the wall—Jensen grunted his approval—and, more clumsily than drunkenly, stepped out of his jeans. He let go of the cock in his hand and turned to face Jensen. What he saw on that face filled him with yearning, made his body jerk and twinge with want. He dropped to his knees. It could have been the beer, but he didn’t really feel that drunk anymore. This intoxication he was feeling was of something more, something lustful. Something entirely Jensen.
A magnificent dick stared him in the face. It wasn’t long, which made Jared smirk, but the lack of length was made up by girth. That girth, Jared felt sure, would most likely be fucking him in ten minutes or less. If it were up to him, then definitely less.
The width was nothing as glorious as the curve of it—a splendid form that turned up. It nearly touched Jensen’s stomach and looked as though it had when Jared noticed a glistening trail near Jensen’s navel.
Jared touched it, stroked the length of it, watched as Jensen’s abs tightened when his fingers wrapped around it. The pad of this thumb lightly pushed into the base of the head and Jensen thrust into Jared’s fist.
“Ah, shit, Jared,” Jensen said. Jared looked up at him through the thick bangs that crossed his brow. Jensen was looking down at him, down at his hand and then into his eyes. But his eyes closed when Jared moved and pulled Jensen’s cock toward his mouth. His tongue stretched out, hesitant, to lick pre-come from the head. He ran the taste around his mouth, across his teeth. It wasn’t unpleasant. Wasn’t much of anything, really. Better than beer.
Jensen thrust himself into Jared’s hand again.
Jared eyed the size of the cock in front of him. He opened and closed his mouth, experimenting, and then brushed his lips across the tip. Jensen exhaled a gust of breath at the near-contact, the eagerness sounded like a whimper and compelled Jared further.
There was no hesitancy when Jared moved forward this time; it wasn’t a brush, no tentative movements. He pressed his lips there, parted them enough that his tongue could dip into the slit, lick it free of pre-come, leaving it glistening with his saliva. Jared like that. Liked that his mouth had been there. Liked how he wanted to taste more, to fill himself with it.
He opened his mouth, still hesitant over the fit, and brushed the head past his lips, teeth. No more than three inches, he guessed, but he knew that was all right. Knew it was all right when his lips settled over his teeth, knew it when his tongue involuntarily moved and Jensen’s cock jumped inside his mouth. He inhaled as much he could, then exhaled. On the next inhale he slowly drew Jensen from his mouth. He let his lips catch on the sides of the head, exhaled as he swallowed more cock.
Jensen’s hands wrapped and clenched in Jared’s hair. He felt the fingers pull when Jensen tried to push himself further into his mouth. Jared’s hands shifted; one hand splayed out over Jensen’s bare ass, the other worked itself around the base of Jensen’s cock. They were caught in the rhythm—inhale, up, exhale, down—of Jared’s sucking. It was the two of them and nothing else but sucking cock and getting sucked.
#

Jensen had never felt this before. He’d had plenty of blow jobs, plenty of offers for blow jobs, but this—Jared’s mouth around his dick—was more than he had expected. It wasn’t supposed to be this good, feel this good, right? But it was Jared. It was Jared’s mouth around his cock, Jared who was squeezing his balls and making his knees weak. Did he care? No. If getting his dick sucked off by a dude made him gay, Jensen thought as he thrust himself wildly into Jared’s hot, slick mouth, then he’d be gay for Jared. If this was what gay felt like, then he was a fuckin’ queer.

Jensen’s body tensed, tightened, underneath Jared’s administration. At the same time he could feel his legs growing weaker. They needed to move, Jared had been right about that.
“My bed,” he managed to say again. “Oh, God, my bed.” Jared pulled on his cock with a glorious twist of his head. Jensen looked down to find Jared was watching him. If they didn’t stop right now, didn’t find somewhere for him to lean, then Jensen was going to fall on top of Jared. With his luck he’d probably break that magnificent jaw. He couldn’t let that happen. There was that mouth attached to that jaw. That jaw allowed the sucking to happen.
He yanked Jared’s hair. Not hard enough for teeth to bare down, but hard enough to stop him. “Too fast,” he said, gruff and curt. “Bed. Go. Now.”
Jared nodded, too slack-jawed to speak. Jensen offered Jared his arms to help him stand and, when Jared managed to right himself, Jensen finally noticed how hard Jared had become. Their eyes met and Jensen wrapped a hand around the back of Jared’s neck. He pulled him against his body, pulled until their cocks pressed against their bellies.
Jensen kissed Jared. He tasted himself in Jared’s mouth, tongued the inside of Jared’s cheeks to trace everywhere his cock had been. He had never done that before, never kissed someone after they went down on him. The idea had always disgusted him. But with Jared he couldn’t seem to get enough. He ran his fingers through the hair at Jared’s nape, bit his bottom lip in order to distract from his other hand where it slipped between them and was now pulling on Jared’s cock.
He was probably too rough, too fast, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. Not right now. He let go of Jared—too soon for either of them, probably—and grabbed the other man’s hand instead. He led the way to his bed, bypassing the kitchenette, bypassing the pile of dirty clothes. And when they got there, he pushed Jared in front of him, let him stumble backward unaccompanied onto his bed. He knelt at the foot of it, not bothering with the pleasantries of head teasing or mouth stretching.
Jared’s cock was longer than his own. There was no way he was going to be able to swallow it all down, but it fit well enough. Every little thing he remembered from the blow jobs he received was going to have to go into this. Every little thing he remembered fuckin’ loving was going to have to be copied for the cock that stood erect in front of him.
Without pause, Jensen rolled his tongue along the bottom of the Jared’s cock, reveled in the way Jared’s hips bucked each time he paused and sucked on the head. He grabbed the base of it with one hand while the other tried to keep Jared’s hips from bucking. His mouth sucked and pulled up, his hand followed. His mouth slid down, his hand followed. He wasn’t sure if that was exactly the way it was done, exactly the way he remembered, but Jared responded in a way that pleased Jensen and that was enough; especially when Jared started to pant and squirm and half-form Jensen’s name.
“Jense, Jense, Jense.” As if he was a broken record. But with each play of his name the pitch rose and the bucking grew more wild. Even a novice cock sucker like Jensen knew enough to stop before it was all over.
He took his mouth off of Jared’s cock and Jared lifted his head to look up at him. He looked offended which, Jensen knew, was exactly how he felt a few moments before in the living area of the trailer.
“I don’t know what to do next,” Jensen admitted.
“We would have gotten to that if you hadn’t stopped,” Jared said with more of a snarl than he probably meant.
“No, I mean, what to do next,” Jensen said. “I’ve never fucked a guy in the ass, have you? Aren’t there rules or something?”
Jared stared at him, open mouthed. “Short of, like, ‘don’t forget the lube,’ I think we’re okay.”
“Lube.” Jensen’s face paled.
“I don’t know about you, Jensen, but I’m not getting fucked in the ass without lube. It’s bad enough there’s never been anything going up it before, but—“
“I get the picture,” Jensen said. No lube meant no fucking. No fucking meant the rest of the night would be blow-job’s until they grew tired of it or each other—which, Jensen thought, wouldn’t be bad but not what he wanted.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t have lube but I think I have some lotion.” He looked around the sides of his bed and lunged for a bottle of Jergens. He held it up for Jared to inspect. “Think this will work?”
“I don’t see why not,” Jared said. The hunger had never left his eyes but it sparked brighter as he watched Jensen uncap the lotion and pour some into his palm. “Your lotion, your fuck.”
“You sure,” asked Jensen, not really caring to hear the answer as he slathered the cold lotion over his cock. “Fuck. Cold. God damn but that feels good.” He fisted his cock in his hand and rocked into it a couple of times.
He looked at Jared, looked at Jared watching him fuck his own hand, and motioned for him to turn over. When he did and that bare ass was in the air, Jensen nearly fucked himself to the sight Then Jared propped it in the air, offered it to Jensen, and Jensen grabbed the lotion again.
He filled his hands with the stuff, though he wasn’t sure how much he needed to use, and he started to work it into Jared’s ass. He avoided the puckered lips of Jared’s asshole but knew that just lotion on him wasn’t going to be enough. He was going to need to lube inside Jared too. It was either lube it or leave it and Jensen didn’t really want to go this far, do this much, without at least getting what he really wanted.
If he were experienced in these matters, he would have carefully stretched Jared out, working oiled fingers in and out of his ass. But he wasn’t and neither was Jared. He spread the lotion as much as he dared over the rim of Jared’s ass.
He took position behind Jared’s ass and looked down at the flesh beneath. It spread for him, begged for him. He wanted nothing more than to plunge. His hand squeezed his cock, just behind the head of it, and placed it at the edge of Jared’s ass. Jared froze and Jensen could feel it. He let go of his cock, though it remained hovering there, as if on the precipice, and he rubbed circles into Jared’s back, hips and thighs with his hands. He rubbed his way to Jared’s cock and fisted his palm around it. His hand moved, squeezing up, sliding back, and Jared’s body jerked back into Jensen’s cock.
#

“Oh fuck,” Jensen said. His hand stilled, Jared’s cock still within it.

“Shit,” Jared cried out, tensing beneath Jensen while the head of Jensen’s cock breached centimeters into his ass. “Fuck, fuck.”
Jensen moved.
“No, you dumb fuck—don’t move.” Jared tried to take deep breaths while Jensen tried to stay still. Jared knew it was probably difficult; he could feel Jensen throbbing just outside of him but there was a cock impaling his ass.
Jensen let go of Jared’s cock and Jared could feel it turn softer under the pain. Not completely limp but enough. That was all right. For right now that was all right.
“Okay,” Jared said. “Okay. Go slow.” And he tried to relax, tried not to tense as Jensen maneuvered and pushed.
He could feel his body give away. There was still a ridiculous amount of pain but there was also the sensation of being filled. An average, but thick cock, was pushing into him, rocking into him. He could feel every move within him, could feel it reverberate inside of him. Jensen would thrust and Jared’s body opened to him. Jensen would pull back and Jared’s body would close and clamp around the parting cock.
If he thought of it that way—if he focused on the movement—he didn’t feel the pain as much. Jensen was fucking his ass—going slow, pushing and pulling tenderly so as not to hurt him. That was really kind but, once his body relaxed to the movement, it wasn’t doing much for Jared.
“Go deeper,” Jared heard himself say and Jensen didn’t question him.
The feel of Jensen’s pubic hair scratching his ass didn’t phase Jared in the least. He probably wouldn’t even remember it. But having all of Jensen’s cock inside of him, feeling it pulse inside of him, he’d fucking always remember that.
“Now go harder,” he said, knowing he meant it.
#

Jensen grunted in approval and pulled back, almost completely withdrawing. There was nothing to compare to this. Even if he lived to fuck a dozen dude’s asses—which he wouldn’t because, hello, so not gay except for Jared—Jared’s was the first. Only. Jared’s was the only.

The small cheeks squeezed around his cock as he pushed into them. His hands gripped Jared’s hips, his fingers dug and felt the flesh meet bone, and he thrust his cock deep into Jared’s ass. The clap of skin meeting skin thundered and mingled with their moans.
He leaned over Jared, caught Jared’s cock into his hand and found it had grown hard again. Harder than it had been. He remembered the feel of it in his mouth, the taste of it in his mouth. The memory threw his thrusts into overdrive.
His hand readjusted around Jared’s cock and matched the pounding rhythm of his cock in Jared’s ass. In, out, up, down—it was a frenzy of fist and hips. Sweat beaded over their bodies, their mouths opened wide in heavy gasps of air. In, out, up, down.
#

Soon they both panted with the effort, both reached one hand out for support. Jared pushed back toward Jensen, aching but wanting Jensen further inside of him. His head hung down. Low enough, sometimes, that he would try to open his eyes to watch Jensen’s hand around his cock. It was something, watching his dick disappear in and out of Jensen’s hand, knowing that Jensen’s cock was disappearing in and out of his ass.

He could feel it, his balls lifting from the strain, lifting from the stroke of Jensen’s hand. It was going to be soon. He started to rock his hips, matching as best he could to Jensen’s movements, fucking Jensen with his ass, fucking himself in Jensen’s hand. It was there. It was boiling and rising and it was there.
“Fuck, Jense—“ Jared managed. “So close. I’m so fucking close.” He felt Jensen start to slow down but his thrusts were harder. “No, no—go faster, go faster, you prick.”
He braced himself as best he could as he pushed back harder, faster. He forced Jensen to the speed he needed and fucked himself like that. He fucked Jensen like that.
#

“Jared,” Jensen said. “Oh—“ and he felt himself start to shudder. Felt his balls tighten. Felt his cock tighten. And he stilled.

Jared’s ass squeezed him and held. He tried to fuck Jared’s cock with his hand as fast as he could. A furious pumping that made his hips move despite trying to hold still.
It only took one twitch of Jared—one large twitch of his hand—and Jensen started bucking again. He rammed his cock as deep as it would go, as hard as he could, into Jared’s ass. When Jared screamed, Jensen moaned. When Jared pushed, Jensen pumped. And when Jared came on his hand, Jensen came in Jared’s ass.
- 1
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Nipples and Cock. But Jensen's Not Gay