Peacock

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25238320.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Additional Tags: Dom Jensen Ackles, Top Jensen Ackles, Sub Jared Padalecki, Bottom
Jared Padalecki, Top Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Age Difference, Power
Imbalance, Grooming, Barebacking, Orgasm Control, Cock Warming,
Edgeplay, Sex Toys, Cock Cages, Bondage, Kink Negotiation, pre-
discussed consent, Cuckolding, Recreational Drug Use, Spanking,
Sounding, Safeword Use, Collars, Possessive Jensen Ackles, Happy
Ending
Language: English
Series: Part 19 of spn kink bingo 2020, Part 2 of Paradise Birds
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2020
Stats: Published: 2020-07-13 Words: 6,182 Chapters: 1/1
 Peacock
by hellhoundsprey

Summary

Jensen underestimates his feelings.

2020 kink bingo square 24: kink negotiation

Notes

This is a sequel to “Canary”.

See the end of the work for more notes

High school dating was fucking awkward on too many levels.

Sure, the thrill of ‘we’re in this together’ and ‘my parents are gonna kill me if they find out’
on both sides was doing its part. First touches in the dark, too-quick, too-rough, and nobody
knew what they were even doing. What they wanted.

Jared is beyond relieved that this phase of his life is over.

“When’re you coming back, Daddy?”

Jared hears Jensen over the phone: “Jeff,” and Jeff laughs all throat, no decency.

Sing-song of, “He misses you,” and Jared blinks up in time with the phone angling down,
towards him.

Jared swallows saliva and drowsiness around the weight of Jeff’s soft cock and gets his head
petted, his hair ruffled.

The dreamy tint to Jeff’s eyes confirms that, yeah, he looks pretty cute right now. Nothing’s
good enough for Jensen.

“Another two hours, maybe. If I’m lucky,” and Jensen Ackles sounds truly, heartbreakingly
sorry. “Jesus, you let him sleep at all? Give the kid some carbs and a nap, for God’s sake, he
looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jared always gets a different kind of woozy when Jensen makes a fuss about him like that.

“Eh, he’s fine.” Phone to Jared’s face. “Tell Daddy how you’re doin’, sweetheart.”

Jared’s positive reply is understandably muffled, but he catches a glimpse of Jensen’s

disgruntled face how it peers down at an angle that would deface most, but never this man.

His beard is fucking gorgeous.

Jensen grumbles, “Stop calling me that,” and the phone disappears out of Jared’s line of
sight. Jared sighs, quietly, relaxed. Flexes his neck, his back. Maybe Jensen’s right. Maybe a
nap wouldn’t be so bad.

Jared’s lost his understanding of time a hot while ago, but the week must be about to finish
up—Jensen’s always busiest on weekends; appointments and events and phone calls at odd
hours.

“Nap,” hears Jared, and Jeff’s bored, “Yeah, yeah,” and Jensen presumably hangs up on him,
then, because Jeff murmurs, “Prick,” and tosses his phone away.

It’s a lazy effort to keep Jeff’s dick in his mouth through Jeff stretch-stirring like a cat. Earns
him a sigh, a sweet thumb to his cheek.
“C’mon, kitten, let’s get you some actual calories.”

Jeff Morgan’s farm sits innocently and comfortably in the middle of nowhere, far in the
outskirts. Nobody around for miles. Jared’s not yet inquired about Jensen’s strict rule of not
leaving the main house, and at this point, he’s too chicken to ask.

Seated at the bar in Jeff’s kitchen, chewing away on some day-old pizza, Jared’s mind is
pleasantly empty. It’s been a while since Jensen last came over—a day? Two?

Jeff shoves a reusable tumbler towards him, taking a bite of the leftover feast as well. Wants
to know, “Shower? Nap?” and Jared thinks he shrugs, if anything. Jeff sweet-grins. “Both,
then.”

They’re familiar with each other at this point. Jared can’t tell if he’s achieved anything with
that. It’s temporary, he’s made that clear from the get-go, and Jeff had agreed, of course,
yeah. Considering that it’s one of the essential conditions about this entire thing of theirs, of
course, that ‘yes’ doesn’t mean shit.

Jeff can be gentle if he chooses to. Can be cruel, too, in a shade Jared’s never seen before on
anyone, not even with Jensen going all in. And he holds back, still, in that department;
Jared’s aware of that.

Jeff means it when he urges you to eat, sleep, hydrate, breathe. Means it, too, when he tells
you to close your eyes, let me.

Jared gets his hair shampooed, surrounded by marble and golden faucets. Gets Jeff humming
songs he hasn’t heard before and nearly falls asleep right then and there, seated in the shower
with Jeff’s unholy fingers scrubbing his scalp cleaner than clean.

He’s not sure how he makes it into the bedroom, even with Jeff’s help. Feels like he’s out
prior to his face hitting the pillows, and, God, he apparently really needed that.

So easy to drift on sex and caffeine. On the dance of hands and skins and being told to stay
quiet, don’t move, hold this, do that, yeah that’s it, doing so good.

Jared’s throat wants to groan before he recognizes why—before that familiar pain-stretch
settles in and he stirs, all reflex. He’s still in bed because his hands slide across cotton sheets,
and it’s semi-dark behind his closed eyes maybe because it’s either night and they turned a
light on or the sun’s about to set.

A hand to his forehead tips his head back and his mouth opens for the familiar pattern. The
cock up his ass bottoms out with a last, satisfied push and Jared doesn’t shudder for the
second barreling straight past his tonsils but the familiar, heavy sigh behind him.

Jensen.

“Fuck, you’re so open.”

“Been busy,” admits Jeff from above, and Jared’s throat works in a swallow that can’t
happen, can happen even less with Jensen’s hand wrapping around his throat and bearing
down, like a pinch, a reminder, before it travels south; heel of palm one rough drift across one
of the barbells and Jared would groan if he had the physical capacity.

Jensen kisses him behind his ear, hugs him from behind as he grinds his balls up against
Jared’s taint. Jensen’s still in his clothes while Jared’s in nothing but goosebumps.

“You sleep okay?” to Jared’s pinked ear, and Jared barely-nods despite the constraints, and
Jensen understands. He always does. Hums, “Good,” and Jared, he might as well still be
dreaming.

Jeff and him exchange a secret hands-caught-in-the-cookie-jar moment as Jensen hauls

Jared’s bag into the teeny-tiny trunk of his ride. (“It’s a sports car, not a fucking suburban
mom van, shut up.”)

Jared breaks with, “Thanks, Mr. Morgan,” and they hug, hard.

“Should be me thanking you, kid,” and Jensen snorts somewhere behind them. Quiet,
personal, “You’re awesome. Thank you,” and Jared pats Jeff’s back extra for that.

“You two break my heart, you really do, but we’ve got a table at seven, Jared, so…”

Jared tells Jeff, “Thank you,” again, and, “Good night.”

“I’ll try not to cry too much,” jokes Jeff, and Jared lets that hand linger on his waist until he’s
out of reach entirely to round the car and get in.

Jensen supplies, “Have a good one, old man,” and Jeff smiles bright with both his middle
fingers up.

Car doors slam. Jensen starts the engine.

Murmurs, “Fucking prick,” but Jared swears there’s the shadow of a smile on that face,
somewhere under the Ray-Bans.

Ackles reverses them off Jeff’s driveway and has them headed city-wards sooner than later.
That hand finds Jared’s knee as soon as they’re out of sight, though.

“You okay?” A squeeze, and Jared’s hand is already blanketing Jensen’s. “You had a good
time, yeah?”

“’M fine,” replies Jared. God, he’ll have to get used to talking again, won’t he?

“Just ‘fine’?”

“Amazing,” laughs Jared, embarrassed.

Jensen turns his hand so they can hold onto each other for real.

Steals a side-eye for Jared, back to his side, his passenger seat, and Jared heats with the
intimacy of it. Of being back where he belongs. With whom he belongs.

“If you lie to me, Jared, I’m gonna cry.”

“It was awesome. Real fun.”

“He treated you okay, right? Even when I wasn’t there?”

Jared half-jokes, “He’s an angel,” and adds, for good measure, “It was perfect. Just like you
said it would be.”

Jensen grumbles, “Yeah. I said that, didn’t I,” and Jared leans in on the next red light, free
hand to Jensen’s cheek to turn him until he can kiss him on the mouth.

One, two. Nose to nose, and thankfully, Jensen’s face eventually relaxes for that.

Jared reminds him, “It was your idea,” and Jensen admits, “I know.”

Hesitation. “You regret it?”

Immediate, “No.” Further, “No, I just,” and Jensen sets the car back into motion while Jared
remains plastered to his side, and there’s no complaint. “I didn’t expect it to, kinda…fuck me
up. But that’s my dumb issues, not yours. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, I really do,” he says,
and Jared does believe him.

Jared changes in the car while they drive. Jensen ties his tie for him once they’re in the
parking lot, standing outside the restaurant. He yanks off one price tag to stuff it into his own
pockets instead and gives one last comb through Jared’s hair.

“Gorgeous,” he assesses, and Jared’s beaming from within a place he’s got a strong feeling
nobody but Jensen is ever gonna reach.

“Was that your favorite part?”

Jared nods while he makes a point out of chewing his current bite for as long as he can so he
doesn’t have to speak again too soon.

Jensen hums. He’s forgotten about his steak several lines of dialogue ago. Is stuck
somewhere between undressing Jared with his eyes and his words, has his hands interlaced in
front of his mouth, got his elbows on the table. The entire restaurant can hear his gears
turning, and Jared waves for a refill to his water out of sheer nervousness.

He smiles politely up at the personnel, wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin he’s learned to
unfold over his lap. Clears his throat, because, Lord, Jensen would tan his ass black and blue,
but he wants to play footsie with him so badly right now.
Just touch him, feel him; anything.

“Jared.”

“Hm?”

“Jared,” repeats Jensen, and Jared silences himself on a mouthful of water. “You think your
folks would forgive me if I kept you away from home for just one more night?”

Jared’s smile curls wider along the rim of his glass.

He extends his arm so his hands is within Jensen’s reach—has it grabbed and held
immediately, and he murmurs, “I mean, I’m old enough to decide those things by myself,
y’know,” and by the way Jensen’s looking at him you’d think they’ve been apart for weeks.
Like there’s no fresh memory of Jensen’s DNA lingering in several of Jared’s orifices. “I’ll
text ’em, okay?”

Jensen nods, all reverent.

“You’re too cute. Stop it.”

Jensen regrets, “I can’t help it,” and gets a second hand on Jared’s, has it cupped and cradled
and frowns down at it because he’s still thinking. He always is.

Jared chuckles. “What?”

“Nothin’,” says Jensen who’s usually such a much, much better liar.

“You wanna keep that up?”

Jared admits, “No.”

“But you enjoyed it.” Jensen sniffles. Has his palm clamped high on Jared’s thigh and chokes
the steering wheel out with the other. He drives fast; probably a little too fast. Blow always
makes his world seem slower, he says. “If that’s what you want, you know I’m open for it,
right? We can do whatever you like best.”

“It was fun, but I like it better how we do it.”

Jensen inquires, “How we do what, Jared?” and Jared sinks a little deeper into the seat.

“The orgasm thing.”

“What is it you like better about how we manage your ‘orgasm thing’?” and that’s that certain
tone, and Jared’s dick lurches helplessly against the fly of his dress pants.

“Uh.” He clears his throat. “I like that you don’t let me come.”

“Why?”
“’Cause then it’s just you, and.” Jared’s brain short-circuits for the straight-forward push of
fingers between his legs—how it wrestles behind-under his balls and he shuffles his ass
further forward to grant Jensen the required access. “And, you just use me, and. I like that.”

“Makes you happy when I use you?”

Jared nods with his lashes fluttering.

“Words, Jay.”

“Yes. Yeah.”

“Jeff used you too, didn’t he? Wasn’t that fun, too?”

Jared murmurs, “It’s different when I know I get to come,” under the invasive rubs between
his ass cheeks. Jensen should probably focus more on the road, but Jared’s not gonna risk
questioning his driving skills with a hand this close to his balls.

“How?”

“I dunno, uh…looser? Laid-back? I dunno—not as tense, not as…”

“Not as intense,” finished Jensen for him, and Jared nods again before he remembers.

Croaks, “Yeah,” and imagines Jensen’s mouth quirking with something like satisfaction.

“Heard you came pretty intense, though.”

Okay…not satisfaction.

“He had a fucking…personal mission or something. To dry me out. It’s his thing,” Jared
explains, dismissive on purpose, like it’s no big deal, like yeah sure I came like a dozen times
a day for seven days straight but eh y’know. “Like, he’s—crazy for that stuff. That’s why I
agreed. But with us, it’s—different, Jen.” No reply from Jensen. “You know it is.”

Jensen’s nostrils flare with his tense sigh.

Jared throws a dopey grin. Jensen’s still dry-rubbing him like he’s maybe forgotten he’s even
doing it. Like this is just another way of holding hands.

Finally, grumbled: “Did he suck you off?”

“Couple times, yeah.”

“Typical.” Jensen withdraws his hand, puts that one on the steering wheel as well. He barely-
shakes his head and Jared straightens himself in his seat. “I tell him not to spoil you fucking
rotten, the one thing I ask of him, and he…! Great. Just great.”

Quietly, Jared tries, “You’ve sucked me off before.”

Jensen barks, “That’s not the point!” and balks immediately after—surprised himself,
apparently, that he raised his voice, and he didn’t mean to, of course he didn’t.

Jared keeps his eyes on the man. Sees him going through varying degrees of anger within the
blink of an eye, sees him smoothing himself down, taming himself.

“I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I’m acting like a, a fucking—three-year-old right now, Jared Tristan!” and Jensen’s
voice hitches to frantic speed and height, and his eyes dart towards Jared, back and forth. “I,
we can do that, if you want. Whenever you want, you know that, right?”

“Jen—”

“No, look, I need you to tell me you understand what I’m telling you, okay?!”

Jared says, “I get it,” and Jensen barks,

“Good, all right! Okay.”

Quiet.

“Are you really sure you don’t want—”

Jared utters, “Apple,” and can literally see the shock taking over Jensen’s entire face.

The car swerves to their right and Jensen breaks erratically enough for them to be bounced
back-forth between their safety belts and seats.

Someone behind them honks, but it takes a moment and then some for Jensen to be present
enough to activate the warning light.

Quiet, until Jensen’s truthful, “I’m sorry,” and Jared feels pale himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you?”

“I yelled at you.”

“No, you weren’t listening.”

Jared turns to his side to face him better and Jensen mirrors that, but Jared keeps his hands to
himself, and Jensen takes a note of that, too. Doesn’t try to invade any further space, doesn’t
even attempt to brush that one strand of his own hair back into place.

Jared considers him, worried.

“Is it the coke, or…?”

“Slightly, maybe, but. Just, you know—I’m, this is—”

“Calm down.”

“Sorry, fuck.” Jensen rubs his hand over his face. Massages his eyes in strict pinches. “Fuck,
I’m so sorry.”

“The entire thing was your idea…”

“I know, I know…”

“Does it, like, upset you? That I was with someone else, or?” Jared frowns. “Or what
exactly?”

“I’m fucking worried that you liked it better with him and are simply too fucking nice to say
it to my goddamn face. Fucking stupid, but, God, Jared…”

“I told you, that’s not how I feel at all.”

“I know, baby, I know…”

“You say I’m a liar?”

“’Course not, no…”

“I wouldn’t have done anything with anyone if you hadn’t said it’s, like, this big-ass fantasy
of yours. I’m fine just seeing you, nobody but you,” and Jensen looks so devastated Jared
would reach out for him, hug him, touch him, anything, but he doesn’t. “I’m—you make me
feel really stupid right now. Like I’m the bad guy.”

“Nothin’ you did was wrong, baby,” and it’s Jensen who begins to move in on him, now, but
Jared flinches backwards just enough for him to get the message, keep himself in line. “I’m
—fucking scared. I didn’t know this shit would hit me like it did. I didn’t know it would be
such a big deal—that it’d be a deal, period! I mean, I’ve—I told you, I’ve been in open
relationships before, like, really open, and it felt fine, but.” A pause.

Jared’s heart thuds weakly into the underside of his jaw.

Jensen admits, “It’s different with you, I guess,” and it’s a fragile little thing, and Jensen
looks for approval right after; big, scared eyes, and Jared doesn’t even want to know into
what proportions the coke blows all of this inside of Jensen’s brain.

“Can you, like, try to believe me?”

Jensen nods. “’Course I believe you.”

“Good.”
Jared reaches for Jensen’s hand now, and their fingers interlace immediately, violently.
White-knuckled on Jensen’s part and Jared squeezes right back.

“Last week was fun and all, because it turned me on that it’d turn you on, but I—I want
nobody but you, okay?” and the words feel too big in his chest, his throat, but Jensen nods
and looks like he’s about to cry. Jared feels too old. “I like what we do together, and nothing’s
gonna change that.”

Jensen counters, surprised, “You mean that.”

“I mean it.”

“Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”

Jared mutters, “Can we do this when you’re, uh—‘clearer’…?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Jensen sniffles on cue. Clears his throat and hisses, “Shit,” and runs his hand
through his hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s a bad habit. I should stop.”

Jared tells him, “You don’t mean that,” and Jensen peeks at him, guilty. Jared smiles to ease
the mood. “’Sides, it’s kinda hot.”

Caught off guard, Jensen laughs.

“No, really. It gets you all wound up. An’ you don’t do it, like, every day, so, yeah; I don’t
mind.”

“And here I thought I was the bad influence.”

“Not gonna lie: you are,” mocks Jared, but his momentum loses itself somewhere between
Jensen leaning in and their lips touching. He’s pretty fine with that.

Jensen makes out with him until he forgets where they are. Until that, when he opens his eyes
and it’s dark because it’s the middle of the night and they’re in Jensen’s car, on the side of the
highway, it’s all a surprise. Takes a moment to slide back into reality, into being aware of
Jensen’s weight blanketing him—his warmth, the firm fabric of his suit, the comfort of his
cologne and shampoo and face products. That thumb playing with his earlobe, the shy
beginnings of what Jared is determined to groom into actual sideburns one glorious day.

Jensen himself is comfortable enough that his pupils have swollen slightly beyond that
pinprick-state.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

Jared nods his head.

Jensen smiles, relieved.

“Okay.”

They had gone back to Jensen’s place on the third date, the third, neither later nor sooner.
Jensen’s tactful like that—a fact which would surprise the poor fellow who had to take a piss
next to the stall Jared got his ass fingered in after Spiderman: Homecoming. Things
deteriorated quickly from there. They hadn’t even fucked in Jensen’s bed until one week in.

Jared’s boyfriend harbors an extensive fondness towards basically every surface you
wouldn’t suspect was suitable for someone to be tied to, let alone for two grown adults to
perform various grades of public nuisances upon.

Jared Tristan Padalecki can’t quite bear to glance into the general direction of any public
toilet for slightly different reasons than your usual health hazard concerned citizen.

“Oomph,” is more of a reactionary sound than an actual word, but Jared sure as shit couldn’t
articulate the difference right now.

Gets his dress pants yanked open and they drop to his feet immediately, leave him bare and
wet and Jensen’s crowded him up against the wall despite being on his knees, both hands on
Jared’s thighs now and he dives right in, nose up against Jared’s taint. Jared gasps, stupid,
hips tilting out without needing more incentive than that fat tongue lapping at him where he’s
still so so fucking sore, over where he’s been quietly panicking because, God, it’s not
supposed to stay this soft, this open, it surely can’t be supposed to be like that.

Hands in Jensen’s hair and those eyes keep him fixed from underneath the ignored, swollen
line of his cock, and Jensen helps him detangling one foot from the pool of fabric so he can
put it atop Jensen’s shoulder instead, spread himself more available, and, holy shit.

Jared’s head tips backwards. “Fuck…”

Jensen’s addition to the conversation consists of him licking Jared’s ass out hard and loud
enough for the long-forgotten good-Christian-boy side of Jared to make him wanna cross
himself.

But, alas, long-forgotten. “Fuck me—fuck, Jen, fuck me—!”

Jensen makes him yelp on nothing but two fingers and spit.

Makes him grind down on them, too.

Slurs, “Yeah?” and Jared nods frantic, spit-heavy around the corner of his mouth and with his
eyes heavily shut. “Fuck, we ruined that pussy good, didn’t we?”

Jared nods again, slightly wetter at the tip of his cock.

“Don’t even need my fingers, do you? Could slide it in just like that,” and there’s a mean
twist-and-punch to Jared’s sweet spot and he flinches, whole-body, in Jensen’s steel-grip
around his leg.

His dick blurts plenty, considering the circumstances.

Jensen blows air over the his slit and catches him trembling goosebumps over his mostly-
empty balls.

Eyes to Jared, darker than the unlit bedroom.

“Gonna take care of this first, though.”

Jensen’s left hand folds around the tight weight of Jared’s balls, and the primal fear sector of
Jared’s brain twitches alive; unfailingly.

Legitimately, too.

Jensen sits back on his haunches and pulls. Has Jared swallowing spit and fucks his fingers in
one more time, two, before he retracts those, smears the mess against the inside of Jared’s
thigh. Licks his beautiful (beautiful) lip and stares up at him like he’s looking for something
(or found it).

The hand on Jared’s balls performs tight milking motions that, in nearly every other context,
would probably (definitely) feel amazing.

Jared forces himself to stay still. Let Jensen take what he wants.

Finally, Jensen inquires, “You want me to go get it?” and God, it’s not been as long as Jared
would like since he gave such an enthusiastic, “Yes.”

Jensen raises to a stand and French-kisses Jared’s mouth before he lets go of his sack for
good. Jared sinks back against the wall, both hands on Jensen’s chest, breathless.

Jensen murmurs, “On the bed, c’mon,” like, out of all things, he has to remind himself.

They move. Jared hasn’t made it past the first half of his dress shirt by the time Jensen’s
crawling over him, pushes him down with one decisive hand on his shoulder.

More kisses. Jared’s fingers lose interest in the too-many buttons and help Jensen shouldering
out of his jacket instead. Switch to unbuttoning his shirt for him, after, and Jensen sniffles,
wipes his nose with the back of his hand because God he’s probably done another bump, and
Jared shouldn’t get this hot for it.

Jensen’s stamina is a blessing and a curse as is, but add in coke to the mix and Jared’s assured
to be very much taken apart.

That fascinating dance between slurred and laser-focused. Jensen’s limbs, his expression,
even the droplets of sweat on his forehead. The silent language of his lashes, his eyebrows—
set so strictly, unmoving, ethereal.
Up on his knees between Jared’s spread legs, Jensen fumbles with the cock cage, and Jared
huffs, excited—and, well, worried, because he’s still so fucking hard and he’s been trying to
get it down with thoughts alone but his efforts turn out to be very much challenged by the
current situation.

Jensen doesn’t talk much when he’s like this. When his brain’s gotta catch up on how to use
his big boy words and he’s still doing fine because his dick’s right there to guide his hand.

Jared gets his thighs elbowed apart and thus lets his knees fall outwards; all open and
vulnerable and it’s fucking scary on some deeper level, but this is Jensen, and nothing Jensen
does to him is dangerous per se.

Jared trusts like that. Learned like that.

He grunts, surprised, at the flat-handed slap to the inside of his thigh, just shy of his balls, and
he grabs the back of his knees to pull them impossibly wider, really stretch his adductors.

Clamps, and Jared hadn’t noticed those before, but Jensen attaches them to his sack,
efficiently, quickly, snap snap and Jared reels, is glad he’s holding onto his legs because oh
Lord, oh fuck, that fucking hurts.

Jensen adds the next set to his nipples, and Jared presses his mouth thin in sheer
concentration.

“Hurts?”

Jared presses, “Yeah,” and clamps his mouth shut right back under that violent slap to his left
tit.

“Good.”

The clamps come off a couple times while Jensen keeps spanking his nipples. Jensen’s quick
and nonchalant about re-attaching them, though, and Jared gasps under the fucking sting,
under the barbells pressing from the inside while the clamps clutch up from the outside, and
if Jensen had dished out just one more, he would have sobbed.

But Jensen doesn’t; rubs his now hot palms up Jared’s sweaty breastbone and curls them
around his throat—fastens the collar, here, and leans in to kiss him dirty, wet.

Jared already feels dissected.

“You gonna play with these while I go fetch the rope, all right?”

Jared whines, but nods. “Yeah.”

“Good boy.”

Jared nods again, gets one last kiss. Drags his hands up to his chest and plucks, like Jensen
would do it, steady and slow and he shudders his breath, feels a tear rolling down his cheek
and fuck, he’s still not entirely soft.
He pulls as hard as it feels safe with the piercings—which ain’t a lot.

Fortunately, Jensen rejoins him soon. Has rid himself of his shoes and socks—not his slacks,
not his almost-open shirt—and climbs right back to where he belongs. Pulls and folds Jared’s
limbs like he desires and adds inch after inch of slick, black rope; matte and mean and it’s
exquisite, like it bonds to Jared’s skin and fuses and doesn’t let him go.

Jensen’s brought a spreader bar, too, and Jared’s back to full mast by the time he’s restrained
entirely—knees force-parted and hands behind his back. He is pulled into a slight arch that
tells him Jensen’s gonna re-bind him after he’s done with his cock but that—since he went
through the trouble of putting him into it in the first place—he’ll keep him in this position for
a while.

“Someone’s not getting with the program,” tuts Jensen, and leaves Jared on the bed for
another stroll to the faithful dresser in the corner of the room.

Jared hums somewhere between pleasure and pain for that familiar clink of metal and plastic.

Shuts his eyes and swallows, breathes.

He hears Jensen snapping some gloves over his hands. Of him trailing back to the bed; the
clatter of that box on the sheets, open, and he browses, silently. Picks one.

Spray of disinfectant. Pump of lube.

“He did any of this shit with you, huh?”

Jared mumbles his negation. Can’t think much beyond the violence in the air, beyond the
harsh smells of latex, of alcohol.

A gentle middle finger-thumb pinch to the root of his cock, just to somewhat steady it.

Jensen murmurs, “They don’t know what you need, do they?” and sets the cold metal tip of
the sound right to the slit of Jared’s dick. “Breathe, babe.”

Jared swallows. Inhales, exhales—thin, secretive, but Jensen notices anyway.

Jensen pushes inside.

Jared feels his urethra parting around the bulged tip of the metal rod, feels himself clenching
with his entire body around this foreign intrusion.

Jensen slides the rod in deep before he pumps it back out.

And back inside.

“So fucking pretty like this.”

Jared’s thighs strain in their bondage. His knees are spread so far that he couldn’t roll over if
he tried.
Jared breathes very, very carefully.

“You think you can keep this in? Just for a bit,” and maybe that’s it all the way, because god
it’s deep, and there’s the flat rounded base, too wide to slip in on accident, and Jensen thumbs
down on it and Jared’s cock ticks, warningly, too stuffed to do anything.

Jared’s sweating his balls off. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Color?”

Jared thinks he says, “Green,” because Jensen hums like he’s pleased and gets a strip of tape
to wrap over his glans, another to secure it for good.

Jared’s trembling head to toe as he watches Jensen’s mouth pressing one warm kiss to the
now plastic-wrapped head of his cock.

Jensen’s drenched in sweat, too.

Fuck, it’s a lot.

Jensen stretches himself out next to Jared, one hand roaming over the pulled-taut line of his
torso, his protruding ribs, down his taint, the wet open of his asshole, and back up.

Jared’s reduced to panting like a dog. Getting his mouth licked into, eventually, nursed on
and used and he’s gonna go cross-eyed. Will Jensen make him beg?

“I… I need…”

Jensen tells him, “I know,” and detaches one of the clamps from Jared’s nipples and Jared
shudder-sighs, because he knows.

Gets those cruel fingers milking at him in place of the clamp and whimpers against Jensen’s
slick-warm teeth, the steady, slow fuck of his tongue.

Is told, “I wanna fill you some more,” and clenches as if on cue. “Can I?”

Jared stammers his consent.

It doesn’t matter that he’s not in any position to make any sort of coherent decision, because
that’s how he always is when it’s about Jensen.

Jensen slips out of bed and between Jared’s legs, and Jared doesn’t see what toy exactly it is,
but the push inside gives him an idea. His breath hitches and Jensen shushes him accordingly;
one hand to his lower belly while the other works the dildo further up his guts, aided by
ridiculous amounts of lube and Jensen’s determination.

Jensen flicks the vibrations on once the fake cock is nestled nice and snug; the flared base dry
and pulsing over the desperate clench of Jared’s hole, the thick knot just inside keeping it
locked in place.
It’s big enough to feel suffocating.

Jensen reattaches the clamp to his nipple as he knees his way up Jared’s body, and Jared’s got
enough mental capacity to moan between that and Jensen feeding his cock into his mouth.

Jensen’s knees and hands surround him and he swallows, desperate, while Jensen groans in
bliss, in the relief of finally getting his cock inside something, one way or the other.

Jensen keeps his hips locked, balls-deep, until Jared gags violently. Until he struggles against
his body’s instincts and bucks, and the tears flow wildly at this point, and Jensen lets up on
him then, lets him gulp air and bubble up spit. Smears it back behind his teeth with a salty-
rough thumb and Jared breathes wet through his nose, hollows his cheeks for Jensen being
kind enough to stick with shallow thrusts into the velvet inside of his cheek for a moment.

Jared splutters, warm-thick mess of snot from his nose and all. Jensen wipes at that,
generously, lovingly.

“You good?” asks Jensen. Gets Jared nodding, something, and dips his cock back down, all
the way. Fucks the slick line of Jared’s throat in languid, full strokes that have Jared’s lungs
burning, his ass phantom-milking at the lifeless toy.

The thick, heavy weight of it buzzes away happily at his still-tender insides, and he notices
too late that the tape around his glans begins to peel off.

Lost its stickiness, apparently, thanks to Jared’s dick fucking drooling with precome around
the sound.

He thrashes as far as he can in his bondage and Jensen’s confused, until he isn’t.

Until he’s leaning back just in time to watch the metal rod slipping out of Jared’s cock for
good, and he laughs, truly amused. Amazed, maybe, too.

“Would you look at that. I think someone wants me to try harder, huh?”

Feels like Jensen skips two sizes of the sound kit and Jared makes the kind of weird animal
noise Jensen’s neighbors should be calling the cops for (but maybe they’re used to it, maybe
they’ve known him longer than Jared).

Stutters his hips and sobs freely, broken, loud enough for Jensen to tell him, endearing but
firm, “Shut the fuck up,” as he secures the contraption with considerably more tape, tops if
off with a condom. Standard-size is slowly but surely getting too small on Jared and it snaps
mean around his choked-off cock—and the line of it hangs heavy with the added massive
internal weight, dips down to kiss his navel and throbs pained, aborted.

Jensen dips his head down to suck Jared’s balls into his mouth, one after the other after
removing the cursed clamps, and his fingers press down on the fat base of the toy lodged
deep into Jared’s ass in-synch, and it’s all too fucking much.

“A-apple, apple, Jen, fuck, I—”

“Got you, I got you; ass or cock?”

“C-cock, ffffuck, please—”

“Just a second, I got you, hold on.”

Jensen’s always so blessedly fast when the situation calls for it. Has Jared safe and on his side
with the toys plucked out and off and resting by their feet. The rope comes off last and
Jensen’s already cradling him at that point, keeps telling him he’s got him, it’s alright, and
yeah, he is, and yeah, it is.

Jared clings like a monkey; legs and arms. Allows his head and back to be stroked, allows for
Jensen to curl around him just as tight.

After a while, once it feels safe: “Okay?”

Jared croaks, “Yeah.”

“You hurt?”

“Don’t think so, no.”

“Water?”

“Yeah, jus’—another minute, please?”

“’Course. ’Course, babe.”

So Jensen rocks him just another minute, or maybe even two.

“You look so fucking beautiful.”

Jensen looks up at him like he’s either about to nut or propose. Both, maybe.

Jared slams his hips down with emphasis, just to make Jensen gasp, make grabby-hands for
his face—which he gets, of course.

Jensen always gets it all.

Morning-sour kisses, too-wet. And, yeah, there it is:

“Fuck, I love you. I love you.”

Jared tries the words, “I love you, too,” for the first time, over the incessant burn of his heart,
the swell in his throat.

They cuddle extra-long after Jensen’s loaded him up. Until Jared thinks his bladder is gonna
shred itself, until brunch outgrows lunch. Jared’s butterfly-dizzy. Gets so many kisses that he
feels pruney for the lack of a better metaphor.
Jensen says, for the millionth time, “I love you so much it hurts,” and Jared grinds their faces
together because, yeah, God.

Hard same.

They fuck again in the shower. Jensen pries him into some more or less spontaneous
watersport action but Jared decides he doesn’t enjoy it too much. He gets his cage put back
on, after, finally, once he’s dry and perfumed and Jensen’s gave him a fancy blow-out,
because apparently, there’s absolutely nothing Jensen Ackles is incapable of.

Jensen takes him to a French-feeling kinda place for a late lunch consisting of nothing but
breakfast foods. Jensen orders a bottle of champagne, and nobody questions Jared’s age; not
with him devouring unhealthy amounts of eggs while dressed head-to-toe in too-crisp Marc
Jacobs.

They hold hands in public. It’s nothing new.

On top of the table, here, as well; with Jensen rubbing his thumb over the thick knuckle of
Jared’s ring finger.

They’re both tipsy and stuffed with good food, and the sun is out, and the whole place buzzes
with laughter and gentle piano and the overwhelming scent of fresh flowers.

Jensen’s simply been smiling at him in silence for the past few minutes.

Jared couldn’t find any words if he tried.

Eventually, and it’s busy around them so Jared can’t hear the words right at first, but it dawns
on him that, yeah, Jensen just said, “I’d love to meet your parents someday,” and he adds,
“Only if that’s all right with you, of course,” because Jared’s probably been gawking at him
like he said something stupid, and he feels his face heating up, and he shuffles that
impossible bit farther towards his boyfriend despite the table dividing them.

“You—yeah? You want that? Really?”

Jensen smiles like a million dollars. “They’ll hate me, but that’s okay,” and Jared wants to
kiss him, so he does.
End Notes

Memo to myself: I will NOT write more of them after this because that will only end in PAIN
and they deserve HAPPINESS.

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