FIC: Just Enough Rope (1/1)
May. 14th, 2007 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Just Enough Rope
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: JA/JDM
Warning: includes breathplay, knifeplay, d/s themes
A/N: In the same universe as No Hard Feelings, but can stand alone.
Hey. I'll be in LA soon. Want to try something new?
Jensen frowned at his cell phone. The text message was just pixels, stripping away any chance to read Jeff's intentions. He was probably wearing that grin that said Jeff knew exactly how cute he was and how much it let him get away with, but that didn't help explain what kind of 'something' Jeff meant. It could be anything from Jeff bringing over home-brewed absinthe and weed to--
To. Yeah. It had been months since the last time, and Jensen still couldn't smell sandalwood without getting hard. If Manilow was on his iPod and if he played it low while he jerked off, it was nobody's business but his own.
He needed something. His skin felt scrubbed raw and his muscles were wound too tight. He kept waking up at ass o'clock to pace the floor, restless. Smoking up didn't help. Drinking only got him hungover. He could've found somebody else, hit a club, but he didn't. He didn't, and he wasn't sure what that meant.
Yes, he typed, before he could think about it, and went to shower to keep from waiting by the phone for Jeff to reply.
*****
Do you trust me?
It wasn't what Jensen expected to see. He looked at the words, trying to puzzle them out, to read the emotion behind the lines. He'd been roaming his apartment naked for a while, but he felt it now, a vulnerability. Jeff didn't have the right to ask him that. Jensen hadn't made any promises, and this should've been the moment where he cut Jeff off clean. That'd be the smart thing to do.
His wrists ached in the shape of Jeff's fingers.
Blowing out a breath, Jensen typed again, yes. He hesitated for a long few minutes, his finger over the 'send' button. Put the phone down. Paced his house, flipped all the way through his tv channels, and checked his mail. The sun was going down before he picked the phone up again and pushed send fast, like tearing off a bandaid.
By the time he went to bed to pretend to sleep, Jeff still hadn't answered. Jensen put the phone in his silverware drawer and slammed it closed.
*****
Sleep took its time rolling in, between infomercials and evangelism for insomniacs. He woke up with the television off and alarm sharpening the witching hour quiet to a razor point.
There was someone else in his bedroom.
Jensen stiffened. Opening his eyes didn't help; there was cloth over them, blocking out the light. He tried to sit up, but his wrists were bound tight to his headboard. Adrenaline spiked through him. He drew in a breath, and there was suddenly a hand in his way, clamped hard and unforgiving over his mouth, muffling his voice to white noise. Big hands, gloved, leaving him breathing in sharp, smothered bursts through his nose. He tasted leather, felt their hand grip his jaw and squeeze once in warning. Fuck. Fuck.
Not a fangirl, then, not some woman trying to marry Dean instead of Eric Brady or whatever the fuck. Nobody he could reason with, nobody he could talk down. He jerked against the restraints again, trying to knock his headboard against the wall, but the guy had shoved something soft in the way.
The bed bent under new weight as the guy sat beside him. Jensen twisted, trying to drive his knees up into the bastard's stomach; they pulled away, and Jensen heard the characteristic snap of a switchblade opening. He froze, his heart pounding against his ribs, afraid to breathe. The guy's other hand rested against the center of his chest, something familiar in the steady weight of it.
"Easy," Jeff said, his voice a quiet rumble. "It's me."
Jensen felt his breath rush out, leaving him wired and shaky with useless tension. He heard Jeff close the blade and set it down on his nightstand. As soon as Jeff took his hand away, instead stroking Jensen's shivering side, Jensen snarled, "You fuck. You goddamn cunt, you scared the hell out of me, you-- how did you even get in?"
"You need better locks," Jeff murmured, unrepentant. "And that was the idea. What's your safeword?"
His mind lurched, abruptly shifting gears to follow Jeff. There were lights prickling behind Jensen's eyes, every breath rich and precious. Jeff's touch felt like more than it was, the lazy sweep of his hand tapering from Jensen's side to his hip, to the small of his back, to his ass. Twisted around as Jensen was, Jeff had full access. When Jensen tried to roll over, Jeff's other hand pressed hard against his knee, holding him in place as Jeff stroked down the valley of Jensen's ass. The leather gloves were unfamiliar, smooth and slightly wrong. Jensen felt his breath stutter in his throat as Jeff pressed against him; it burned, but it made Jensen's cock jerk. His skin was hot, too tight to hold him, throbbing where Jeff had touched him.
Stilling, Jeff said gently, "Hey." His hand came off Jensen's knee, and Jensen flinched, missing its weight. A moment later, the blindfold slid off. Jensen blinked, trying to make sense of the shadows, finding Jeff's face. Jeff smiled. "You with me, baby? We can--"
"Rand," Jensen said. His voice sounded thin and strange, desperate. He felt like he was underwater and drowning. "Jesus, don't stop, don't you fucking stop."
The smile slipped away from Jeff's mouth, lingering in his eyes. "If you can't say anything, knock on the headboard once. Twice to slow down."
When Jensen nodded jerkily, Jeff shifted, moving between Jensen's legs. His hands were firm, repositioning Jensen the way he wanted, no arguments. Jensen let him, rolling onto his back, spreading his legs and bending his knees, open and vulnerable. Jeff stroked the inside of his thigh, devouring him with a look and a slow, hot smile.
"There's my boy." Idly, Jeff played his fingertips over Jensen's hip, then took his cock in hand. Jensen bit his lip, then choked on a wordless sound as Jeff squeezed the base. "No. Every fucking noise you make is mine, and you're giving them to me. Understand?"
"Yes," Jensen managed.
Jeff's eyes crinkled at the corners as he curled his fingers around Jensen's cock and began to jerk him off in slow, deliberate pulls. Jensen shuddered, cursed and panted and dug his heels into the bed. In a few seconds, the leather was slick, gripping him and sliding like a mouth, wet noises a lewd punctuation to his ragged breathing. "Look at you," Jeff said softly, "all strung out already, fucking my hand. Flushed and spread open, so goddamn pretty, just waiting for my cock. Hell, maybe just my fingers. My mouth. You'd let me lick you open, wouldn't you? Slide my tongue in that tight ass and keep you right here, right like this, right where I want you--"
The noise that came out of Jensen's mouth was dangerously close to a whine. He wrapped his fingers in the headboard, trying not to scrabble, trying to hang on.
"Yeah," Jeff breathed, not stopping or speeding up, watching with hungry dark eyes, "keep making those noises for me, just like that. Just like that, baby, there you go, God, look at you shake for me. That's right."
"Jeff." The word was jerked out of him, raw and desperate. He could feel his balls tightening up, his body clenching in hard pulses in time with Jeff's hand. Jeff's thumb skimmed the head on the next devastating stroke, toying over the slit, and Jensen moaned. "Jeff--"
Jeff stopped. Stretching over him, Jeff pressed his free hand over Jensen's mouth, cutting his words off. Cutting his air off. Jensen drew in a sharp breath through his nose, and Jeff moved, cutting that off too. His expression didn't change, that same steady hunger, his eyes burning into Jensen. The ache in his lungs twined with the ache of his cock, hungers getting confused, wires getting crossed. Jensen made a muffled sound and lost air, felt the bite of fear as he realized Jeff wasn't moving his hand. He searched Jeff's face, and Jeff met it head on.
Just before fear bled into panic, Jeff took his hand back. Jensen sucked in air, a heaving gasp, and cried out as Jeff started stroking again. He saw sparks, felt them in his blood as the air filtered through him and he steadied again. He was horizontal, the room wasn't spinning, and Jeff was- Jeff was insane. Jeff was also stroking him, just right, just where he wanted it, and God. God. He was going to pass out if the handjob got any better.
Jesus. Jeff had asked him once if there was anything he wanted to try, asked if there was anything firmly out of bounds. When Jeff had mentioned breathplay, Jensen had called it within bounds and forgotten about it. If Jeff wanted to try it, whatever.
That wasn't taking into account this, this unraveling, trying to hold onto boundaries that kept sliding. He felt like he was coming apart.
"What're you-" Jensen wheezed, "what the fuck are you doing to me?"
Jeff gave him that maddening smile and reached for his pocket, pulling out the packet of lube. He opened it, wetting his fingers to the point that lube dripped on the sheets and the gloves were shiny-black. His other hand kept going, rhythm faltering just enough to make Jensen's back arch and his breathing sharpen. He wouldn't whine, goddamn it.
"This," Jeff said, and bent down. He pushed Jensen's balls up and out of the way, slippery fingers rubbing and dripping on the space behind them, as Jeff's mouth fastened on his hole. It was clumsy, Jeff's fingers pressing a lazy rhythm against his perineum, his mouth eating at Jensen's ass in open, messy kisses.
Scattered, blown wide open, Jensen closed his eyes and held on. Jeff stroked his cock in haphazard passes, too chaotic to pull through into an orgasm even as Jeff sucked and licked at him. He could feel himself opening, spasming, his cock leaking on his belly and his thoughts spinning down to more, yes, Jeff.
Finally, when Jensen was down to whimpering and trying to grind into whatever Jeff would give him, Jeff hummed and slid two fingers in. Spread Jensen open, while he was still jerking and keening low in his throat, and slipped his clever tongue between his fingers. Body drawing tight, Jensen drew in a hard breath, and lost it again in a whining rush as Jeff stopped. Fucking stopped. Removed his hand from Jensen's cock and rubbed his belly in slow, easy circles.
"I," Jensen ground out, "you, no, you fucking prick, you can't. You can't."
Jeff gave him a single warning look. Then he used that voice, the demon voice, gravel and whiskey and sheer threat. "I'm going to be here for days, Jen. Days that you're on hiatus. You really want to push me?"
He could stop this. Stop, and go jerk off in the bathroom, and-- goddamn it, and he didn't want to. Putting his head back, Jensen muttered, "Gonna put me over your knee, daddy?"
Slowly, Jeff bent his fingers and rubbed. Stretched. "Aw, honey. You think I don't see the way you look at my belt?" Despite himself, Jensen shuddered, and Jeff smirked. "Yeah. I know you, boy. You need somebody to take you in hand. A few minutes and I could get you to thank me for every one."
Jensen tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. Probably because his attention jerked to Jeff's belt. His stomach muscles were trembling under Jeff's hand. Shifting his knees further apart, he said raggedly, "That's good. It's good, Jeff, I want--" Jeff's fingers hit just right on the next pass, and Jensen lost his breath in a whoosh. Whimpered and took a minute before continuing, because Jeff was grinding his fingers against the prostate. He needed to come, tension burning in his thighs and in his cock, a steady too-full beat. When he went off, Jesus, he was going to die. "Want you, want your cock, want it to burn when you push in, want to feel it. I know you're hard, just take it." The next breath hitched and hurt his throat, and Jeff just kept-- "It'll be good, I'll be good, whatever you want. It's yours, I'm, please."
With a grinding, ragged noise, Jeff moved. Took his fingers away, and Jensen hung between breaths, bereft, raw. Then Jeff's zipper rasped open, his jeans shoved down, and Jeff grabbed his legs to pull them around Jeff's hips. Jensen groaned and shoved against him, trying to pull Jeff closer. Jeff touched his face, his mouth, fingers light and slick with Jensen's own precome; Jensen licked at him, hungry for anything to keep himself from babbling, and Jeff made a quiet tearing sound. Then his hand came down, covered Jensen's mouth, stole his breath.
Jeff pushed himself in, barely past the rim. Nothing could keep back the sound Jensen made against Jeff's hand. Jeff watched his face, not breathing himself as he eased in, not stopping, pressing deep until Jensen felt like he could taste him. His cock was throbbing in time with Jeff's pulse. Everywhere; Jesus, he was everywhere, his scent, his touch, his heat plastered all over Jensen's skin. He was drowning. His head pounded from lack of air, his chest hitching, but he didn't fight Jeff's hand. It was nothing he could change, nothing he wanted to.
Jeff had him. It was crazy, probably stupid, but... Jeff had him.
Stroking his cheek, Jeff smiled and took his hand back. Jensen looked at the ceiling, breathing in hard gasps, trying to find the ground. He was shaking. Jeff was there, covering him, sliding his hand up to cup Jensen's cheek. "There you go," he murmured, and rocked his hips. Jensen made a strangled sound, digging his heels into Jeff's back.
Apparently that was cue enough. Jeff moved, long deep thrusts, his pupils blown and feral. He didn't say anything, words traded for growling moans and the ragged in-out of his breathing. His stomach rubbed against Jensen's cock, every thrust raking the right way, and somewhere distant Jensen heard his moans shifting to a babble of half-words, then a continuous keening. And god, it was-- he was going-- he needed to--
Jeff covered his mouth again, just as the pleasure sharpened to near pain, choking him off at the end of a breath. Then his other hand slid down, wrapped around his cock. Jeff pushed deep, stroking Jensen's cock once, twice, and it all splintered. Jensen came apart, silent, felt Jeff take his hand back. Then he sucked in air, caught another hard stroke of Jeff's cock and cried out, clenching around Jeff as his vision dimmed on the edges, shuddering through every spurt of his cock.
With a guttural noise, Jeff shoved into him a few more times and spilled deep and hot inside him, catching himself on the headboard. Jensen stared up at him, gutted, still trying to catch his breath. His eyes were wet, vision fracturing, so he closed them and kept right on shaking.
After a few moments, he felt Jeff's hands on his wrists. The ties came loose, and Jensen tried to roll away. Jeff caught him, wrapped him up, cupping the nape of his neck and murmuring, "Hey, shh. Shh. We're done. You did good, Jen, you did so good."
"Shut up," Jensen bit off, and buried his face against Jeff's shoulder.
Jeff laughed roughly, grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around them both. "Yeah, baby. Okay."
Author:
nilchanceRating: NC-17
Pairing: JA/JDM
Warning: includes breathplay, knifeplay, d/s themes
A/N: In the same universe as No Hard Feelings, but can stand alone.
Hey. I'll be in LA soon. Want to try something new?
Jensen frowned at his cell phone. The text message was just pixels, stripping away any chance to read Jeff's intentions. He was probably wearing that grin that said Jeff knew exactly how cute he was and how much it let him get away with, but that didn't help explain what kind of 'something' Jeff meant. It could be anything from Jeff bringing over home-brewed absinthe and weed to--
To. Yeah. It had been months since the last time, and Jensen still couldn't smell sandalwood without getting hard. If Manilow was on his iPod and if he played it low while he jerked off, it was nobody's business but his own.
He needed something. His skin felt scrubbed raw and his muscles were wound too tight. He kept waking up at ass o'clock to pace the floor, restless. Smoking up didn't help. Drinking only got him hungover. He could've found somebody else, hit a club, but he didn't. He didn't, and he wasn't sure what that meant.
Yes, he typed, before he could think about it, and went to shower to keep from waiting by the phone for Jeff to reply.
*****
Do you trust me?
It wasn't what Jensen expected to see. He looked at the words, trying to puzzle them out, to read the emotion behind the lines. He'd been roaming his apartment naked for a while, but he felt it now, a vulnerability. Jeff didn't have the right to ask him that. Jensen hadn't made any promises, and this should've been the moment where he cut Jeff off clean. That'd be the smart thing to do.
His wrists ached in the shape of Jeff's fingers.
Blowing out a breath, Jensen typed again, yes. He hesitated for a long few minutes, his finger over the 'send' button. Put the phone down. Paced his house, flipped all the way through his tv channels, and checked his mail. The sun was going down before he picked the phone up again and pushed send fast, like tearing off a bandaid.
By the time he went to bed to pretend to sleep, Jeff still hadn't answered. Jensen put the phone in his silverware drawer and slammed it closed.
*****
Sleep took its time rolling in, between infomercials and evangelism for insomniacs. He woke up with the television off and alarm sharpening the witching hour quiet to a razor point.
There was someone else in his bedroom.
Jensen stiffened. Opening his eyes didn't help; there was cloth over them, blocking out the light. He tried to sit up, but his wrists were bound tight to his headboard. Adrenaline spiked through him. He drew in a breath, and there was suddenly a hand in his way, clamped hard and unforgiving over his mouth, muffling his voice to white noise. Big hands, gloved, leaving him breathing in sharp, smothered bursts through his nose. He tasted leather, felt their hand grip his jaw and squeeze once in warning. Fuck. Fuck.
Not a fangirl, then, not some woman trying to marry Dean instead of Eric Brady or whatever the fuck. Nobody he could reason with, nobody he could talk down. He jerked against the restraints again, trying to knock his headboard against the wall, but the guy had shoved something soft in the way.
The bed bent under new weight as the guy sat beside him. Jensen twisted, trying to drive his knees up into the bastard's stomach; they pulled away, and Jensen heard the characteristic snap of a switchblade opening. He froze, his heart pounding against his ribs, afraid to breathe. The guy's other hand rested against the center of his chest, something familiar in the steady weight of it.
"Easy," Jeff said, his voice a quiet rumble. "It's me."
Jensen felt his breath rush out, leaving him wired and shaky with useless tension. He heard Jeff close the blade and set it down on his nightstand. As soon as Jeff took his hand away, instead stroking Jensen's shivering side, Jensen snarled, "You fuck. You goddamn cunt, you scared the hell out of me, you-- how did you even get in?"
"You need better locks," Jeff murmured, unrepentant. "And that was the idea. What's your safeword?"
His mind lurched, abruptly shifting gears to follow Jeff. There were lights prickling behind Jensen's eyes, every breath rich and precious. Jeff's touch felt like more than it was, the lazy sweep of his hand tapering from Jensen's side to his hip, to the small of his back, to his ass. Twisted around as Jensen was, Jeff had full access. When Jensen tried to roll over, Jeff's other hand pressed hard against his knee, holding him in place as Jeff stroked down the valley of Jensen's ass. The leather gloves were unfamiliar, smooth and slightly wrong. Jensen felt his breath stutter in his throat as Jeff pressed against him; it burned, but it made Jensen's cock jerk. His skin was hot, too tight to hold him, throbbing where Jeff had touched him.
Stilling, Jeff said gently, "Hey." His hand came off Jensen's knee, and Jensen flinched, missing its weight. A moment later, the blindfold slid off. Jensen blinked, trying to make sense of the shadows, finding Jeff's face. Jeff smiled. "You with me, baby? We can--"
"Rand," Jensen said. His voice sounded thin and strange, desperate. He felt like he was underwater and drowning. "Jesus, don't stop, don't you fucking stop."
The smile slipped away from Jeff's mouth, lingering in his eyes. "If you can't say anything, knock on the headboard once. Twice to slow down."
When Jensen nodded jerkily, Jeff shifted, moving between Jensen's legs. His hands were firm, repositioning Jensen the way he wanted, no arguments. Jensen let him, rolling onto his back, spreading his legs and bending his knees, open and vulnerable. Jeff stroked the inside of his thigh, devouring him with a look and a slow, hot smile.
"There's my boy." Idly, Jeff played his fingertips over Jensen's hip, then took his cock in hand. Jensen bit his lip, then choked on a wordless sound as Jeff squeezed the base. "No. Every fucking noise you make is mine, and you're giving them to me. Understand?"
"Yes," Jensen managed.
Jeff's eyes crinkled at the corners as he curled his fingers around Jensen's cock and began to jerk him off in slow, deliberate pulls. Jensen shuddered, cursed and panted and dug his heels into the bed. In a few seconds, the leather was slick, gripping him and sliding like a mouth, wet noises a lewd punctuation to his ragged breathing. "Look at you," Jeff said softly, "all strung out already, fucking my hand. Flushed and spread open, so goddamn pretty, just waiting for my cock. Hell, maybe just my fingers. My mouth. You'd let me lick you open, wouldn't you? Slide my tongue in that tight ass and keep you right here, right like this, right where I want you--"
The noise that came out of Jensen's mouth was dangerously close to a whine. He wrapped his fingers in the headboard, trying not to scrabble, trying to hang on.
"Yeah," Jeff breathed, not stopping or speeding up, watching with hungry dark eyes, "keep making those noises for me, just like that. Just like that, baby, there you go, God, look at you shake for me. That's right."
"Jeff." The word was jerked out of him, raw and desperate. He could feel his balls tightening up, his body clenching in hard pulses in time with Jeff's hand. Jeff's thumb skimmed the head on the next devastating stroke, toying over the slit, and Jensen moaned. "Jeff--"
Jeff stopped. Stretching over him, Jeff pressed his free hand over Jensen's mouth, cutting his words off. Cutting his air off. Jensen drew in a sharp breath through his nose, and Jeff moved, cutting that off too. His expression didn't change, that same steady hunger, his eyes burning into Jensen. The ache in his lungs twined with the ache of his cock, hungers getting confused, wires getting crossed. Jensen made a muffled sound and lost air, felt the bite of fear as he realized Jeff wasn't moving his hand. He searched Jeff's face, and Jeff met it head on.
Just before fear bled into panic, Jeff took his hand back. Jensen sucked in air, a heaving gasp, and cried out as Jeff started stroking again. He saw sparks, felt them in his blood as the air filtered through him and he steadied again. He was horizontal, the room wasn't spinning, and Jeff was- Jeff was insane. Jeff was also stroking him, just right, just where he wanted it, and God. God. He was going to pass out if the handjob got any better.
Jesus. Jeff had asked him once if there was anything he wanted to try, asked if there was anything firmly out of bounds. When Jeff had mentioned breathplay, Jensen had called it within bounds and forgotten about it. If Jeff wanted to try it, whatever.
That wasn't taking into account this, this unraveling, trying to hold onto boundaries that kept sliding. He felt like he was coming apart.
"What're you-" Jensen wheezed, "what the fuck are you doing to me?"
Jeff gave him that maddening smile and reached for his pocket, pulling out the packet of lube. He opened it, wetting his fingers to the point that lube dripped on the sheets and the gloves were shiny-black. His other hand kept going, rhythm faltering just enough to make Jensen's back arch and his breathing sharpen. He wouldn't whine, goddamn it.
"This," Jeff said, and bent down. He pushed Jensen's balls up and out of the way, slippery fingers rubbing and dripping on the space behind them, as Jeff's mouth fastened on his hole. It was clumsy, Jeff's fingers pressing a lazy rhythm against his perineum, his mouth eating at Jensen's ass in open, messy kisses.
Scattered, blown wide open, Jensen closed his eyes and held on. Jeff stroked his cock in haphazard passes, too chaotic to pull through into an orgasm even as Jeff sucked and licked at him. He could feel himself opening, spasming, his cock leaking on his belly and his thoughts spinning down to more, yes, Jeff.
Finally, when Jensen was down to whimpering and trying to grind into whatever Jeff would give him, Jeff hummed and slid two fingers in. Spread Jensen open, while he was still jerking and keening low in his throat, and slipped his clever tongue between his fingers. Body drawing tight, Jensen drew in a hard breath, and lost it again in a whining rush as Jeff stopped. Fucking stopped. Removed his hand from Jensen's cock and rubbed his belly in slow, easy circles.
"I," Jensen ground out, "you, no, you fucking prick, you can't. You can't."
Jeff gave him a single warning look. Then he used that voice, the demon voice, gravel and whiskey and sheer threat. "I'm going to be here for days, Jen. Days that you're on hiatus. You really want to push me?"
He could stop this. Stop, and go jerk off in the bathroom, and-- goddamn it, and he didn't want to. Putting his head back, Jensen muttered, "Gonna put me over your knee, daddy?"
Slowly, Jeff bent his fingers and rubbed. Stretched. "Aw, honey. You think I don't see the way you look at my belt?" Despite himself, Jensen shuddered, and Jeff smirked. "Yeah. I know you, boy. You need somebody to take you in hand. A few minutes and I could get you to thank me for every one."
Jensen tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. Probably because his attention jerked to Jeff's belt. His stomach muscles were trembling under Jeff's hand. Shifting his knees further apart, he said raggedly, "That's good. It's good, Jeff, I want--" Jeff's fingers hit just right on the next pass, and Jensen lost his breath in a whoosh. Whimpered and took a minute before continuing, because Jeff was grinding his fingers against the prostate. He needed to come, tension burning in his thighs and in his cock, a steady too-full beat. When he went off, Jesus, he was going to die. "Want you, want your cock, want it to burn when you push in, want to feel it. I know you're hard, just take it." The next breath hitched and hurt his throat, and Jeff just kept-- "It'll be good, I'll be good, whatever you want. It's yours, I'm, please."
With a grinding, ragged noise, Jeff moved. Took his fingers away, and Jensen hung between breaths, bereft, raw. Then Jeff's zipper rasped open, his jeans shoved down, and Jeff grabbed his legs to pull them around Jeff's hips. Jensen groaned and shoved against him, trying to pull Jeff closer. Jeff touched his face, his mouth, fingers light and slick with Jensen's own precome; Jensen licked at him, hungry for anything to keep himself from babbling, and Jeff made a quiet tearing sound. Then his hand came down, covered Jensen's mouth, stole his breath.
Jeff pushed himself in, barely past the rim. Nothing could keep back the sound Jensen made against Jeff's hand. Jeff watched his face, not breathing himself as he eased in, not stopping, pressing deep until Jensen felt like he could taste him. His cock was throbbing in time with Jeff's pulse. Everywhere; Jesus, he was everywhere, his scent, his touch, his heat plastered all over Jensen's skin. He was drowning. His head pounded from lack of air, his chest hitching, but he didn't fight Jeff's hand. It was nothing he could change, nothing he wanted to.
Jeff had him. It was crazy, probably stupid, but... Jeff had him.
Stroking his cheek, Jeff smiled and took his hand back. Jensen looked at the ceiling, breathing in hard gasps, trying to find the ground. He was shaking. Jeff was there, covering him, sliding his hand up to cup Jensen's cheek. "There you go," he murmured, and rocked his hips. Jensen made a strangled sound, digging his heels into Jeff's back.
Apparently that was cue enough. Jeff moved, long deep thrusts, his pupils blown and feral. He didn't say anything, words traded for growling moans and the ragged in-out of his breathing. His stomach rubbed against Jensen's cock, every thrust raking the right way, and somewhere distant Jensen heard his moans shifting to a babble of half-words, then a continuous keening. And god, it was-- he was going-- he needed to--
Jeff covered his mouth again, just as the pleasure sharpened to near pain, choking him off at the end of a breath. Then his other hand slid down, wrapped around his cock. Jeff pushed deep, stroking Jensen's cock once, twice, and it all splintered. Jensen came apart, silent, felt Jeff take his hand back. Then he sucked in air, caught another hard stroke of Jeff's cock and cried out, clenching around Jeff as his vision dimmed on the edges, shuddering through every spurt of his cock.
With a guttural noise, Jeff shoved into him a few more times and spilled deep and hot inside him, catching himself on the headboard. Jensen stared up at him, gutted, still trying to catch his breath. His eyes were wet, vision fracturing, so he closed them and kept right on shaking.
After a few moments, he felt Jeff's hands on his wrists. The ties came loose, and Jensen tried to roll away. Jeff caught him, wrapped him up, cupping the nape of his neck and murmuring, "Hey, shh. Shh. We're done. You did good, Jen, you did so good."
"Shut up," Jensen bit off, and buried his face against Jeff's shoulder.
Jeff laughed roughly, grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around them both. "Yeah, baby. Okay."
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Date: 2007-05-14 10:01 pm (UTC)