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FIC: Where the Baptized Drown (1/1)
Title: Where the Baptized Drown
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Pairing: CWRPS, JDM/JA
Disclaimer: Not real. Not character defamation. Just fiction.
Summary: Jensen's first night of hooking doesn't go quite as expected.
A/N: Rentboy fic, d/s themes.
ETA 8/24/07: The most awesome and wonderfulmona1347 has gone back and edited my unbetaed ass, so it's been edited to reflect her mad skills. Thank you!
Jensen got the order by e-mail. It was one of those free domains, like Christian said it would be. He touched the monitor of the laptop they'd given him, tracing the black and white lines of text. It didn't look like what it was. Then again, it wouldn't, would it? What part of this looked anything like what it is?
They said it was an honor. They didn't pick just anybody to serve. The money was good, the protections were better. He could call stop at any time. It would pay for everything he needed, in exchange for sex he probably would've had for free. God knew he wasn't a virgin or a choirboy, not anymore. Not for a very long time.
It was still a fucking escort service. Jensen would still be a fucking whore. His first call; he wouldn't be the first person to balk when it came down to the wire.
Exhaling, Jensen looked at Christian's rumpled bunk. It was empty, of course. Chris was out on a call. Jensen could've used a quick smack upside the head, Christian's teasing to ease the tightness in his throat. Chris had been doing this for years, and he was fine. He had regular patrons and enough money to quit. He did it for fun. It couldn't be that bad.
An anonymous bar in the business district. A loaded male client, a quick drink. The slut clothes were requested. The client might not even want to fuck him. Christian had said he had clients that just wanted somebody to talk to, to cook dinner, to sit at their feet. Maybe a massage. Something easy; they wouldn't throw him in deep water on his first call.
Yeah, right.
Jensen closed the laptop and grabbed his arsenal. Time to get ready for the first step down.
****
As it turned out, Jensen had walked past the bar dozens of times on his way to the El. It had been in vogue six months ago and now struggled to find its place. There were just enough cars parked out front to offer anonymity, but no velvet rope. Music and smoke poured through the door they'd shoved open.
If Jensen let himself hesitate outside the door, he'd never get inside. He pushed through it, the stiffness in his thighs and the heat of shame, and into the dim belly of the bar. Christian had told him to stride into a room like he owned it, that defiance got them hotter, and Jensen tried. The push of people nagged at him; what if there was a cop? What if somebody he knew was there?
The bar was like an oasis. Jensen slid between people to rest his hands on the glossy wood. He caught the eyes of the bartender and gave him a smile, one he knew was all teeth and invitation. "Hey. Shot of Jose?"
The bartender went to fill his order, turning his head to keep his eyes on Jensen and almost tripping over the rug behind the bar in the process. Jensen glanced at the mirror behind the bar and saw why. Nobody he knew would recognize him. It was more than the contacts; it was the eyeliner, the bitten mouth, the haircut, the tight shirt and the wrist cuff. He looked like somebody else and, perversely, it settled him.
This didn't have to touch him. This was a role, something he could put aside when it was finished. It made things simpler.
The bartender returned with the shot. Jensen tipped him well. He'd be a tightass customer, and it was better to make friends in case he had to work here again. Then he sipped his shot and waited, the golden burn crawling into his belly and loosening his spine. He could do this.
Time passed. Customers came and went. By the time somebody pressed in, leaning their elbows on the bar beside him, Jensen's first reaction was to shift over and give him room.
A lighter snapped to life at Jensen's side. Jensen twitched, looking automatically towards the noise, and saw the man beside him. Dark clothes, dark eyes, dark hair with gray starting in it. Long callused fingers cradling a cigarette, no wedding ring, stubble. The man gave him a lazy smile and held out the pack of cigarettes, silent invitation.
"I'm all right," Jensen said.
With a shrug, the man slid the cigarettes back into his jeans pocket. His shirt sleeve rode up, baring the edge of a tattoo. He had muscles that didn't look like they came from office work or coffee breaks. His voice was rough and devastating. "Suit yourself. You an art school student? My cousin's in costume design."
Tension swept down Jensen's spine. That was the code; this was his client? Christ, he could get people to suck him off without paying. Spinning his shot glass in place, Jensen said the rest of the code. "I was until I fell through a backdrop."
"Mm." The man drew on the end of his cigarette, smiling, then tapped his ash out and offered Jensen his other hand. "Jeff."
Jensen took his hand. There was strength in Jeff's grip, his paw of a hand wrapping Jensen's up. His thumb rested on the inside of Jensen's wrist.
"Jen," Jensen said, and cursed himself for not lying.
"Hi, Jen." Jeff squeezed once, gently. His thumb swept over Jensen's pulsepoint, a shock of contact, and was gone as Jeff dropped his hand. Turning to face Jensen, Jeff took another drag and let his eyes slide down. It was an honest look, assessing, like Jensen was some draft to be accepted or thrown in the trash.
Jensen should've expected it, but it pissed him off anyway. He matched Jeff's pose, letting him get a better look, and sipped his tequila. When Jeff was done, Jensen met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Finished?"
Jeff didn't twitch, watching Jensen through disgustingly thick lashes. His smile revealed nothing. "You're not going to make this easy."
"You want easy? Drive through Greektown. The red light district's that way." Jesus, what the hell was he saying? This was his first job. If he botched it, he was screwed. But Jeff's hand, his eyes... Jensen felt rattled now. He could call it. He should call it.
Jeff laughed, a startling bark of sound, and visibly relaxed. "They're not charging enough for you."
Jensen glanced quickly at the bartender, but no one was paying attention to them. Jeff's smile went wolfish, reading Jensen's discomfort in a heartbeat. Under the weight of Jeff's stare, Jensen felt naked. He knocked his tequila back, just to get a moment for breathing, then reached over and snagged Jeff's cigarette. It was one of the cheap kind, gas station cigarettes that scorched his lungs. He didn't smoke often, so the chemical rush lit his blood in his veins and made his head pound. The filter was still warm from Jeff's mouth.
"Thought you didn't want one," Jeff murmured.
With a shrug, Jensen breathed the smoke out. "Decided I'd rather have yours. So, since I've passed the test, what's your poison? Tequila, whiskey, scotch--"
Stretching out, Jeff laid a hand on Jensen's hip. It was a subtle move, but there was no mistaking when Jeff linked his finger in Jensen's beltloop and pulled their bodies close. Jensen could feel the heat of him through his jeans, the line of Jeff's hipbone, the unyielding weight of Jeff's hand cupping his hip. Jeff's thumb was shoved up under Jensen's shirt, resting on his stomach. Idly, Jeff stroked along the top of Jensen's waistband and searched his face.
Wow. Okay. This wasn't going to be a dinner and a movie appointment. Holding Jeff's stare, Jensen took the cigarette out of his mouth and offered it back. Jeff bent his head and took the filter between his lips; Jensen's fingertips brushed crisp stubble, soft mouth. He swallowed and put his hand on Jeff's chest. Muscle, warmth, heartbeat. Up close, Jeff smelled like smoke and soap. Jensen wanted to rub against him and carry that scent around on his skin for days. It was... worrying.
Jeff smirked. "You want to go somewhere quieter?"
"I don't know. You could be some kind of psycho."
"Guess you'll have to take that chance, cowboy," Jeff murmured. "I'm harmless. Mostly."
Yeah, mostly. Jensen let his hand drag down Jeff's chest, down his belly, stopping just short of the promised land. Jeff's eyes slitted, content as a big cat in the sun. When Jensen stepped back, Jeff let him go. As he threw a twenty on the bar, Jeff let Jensen get a look at the fifties in his wallet.
They headed for the door. Jensen remembered to press close against Jeff as they walked, all maddening friction and wicked smile. As they left the bar, the thick August heat swept over Jensen's skin. It seemed cool compared to pressing against Jeff. Jensen turned to face Jeff, walking backwards down the sidewalk. "I know a place we can go. You're buying."
"Lead on," Jeff said. He let Jensen walk ahead of him, his eyes on the way the clothes accentuated Jensen's body. What the hell; Jensen played it up, working the roll in his hips that these boots gave him. He could work Jeff; he was a guy, and Jensen knew how to mold them in the palm of his hand.
They reached the corner. Grabbing onto Jeff, Jensen flagged down a cab and rattled off an address. There were safehouses for this sort of thing. The cab smelled sour and sweaty; Jensen slid across the leather seat onto the far side. Once there, he spread his thighs and rested his elbows on his knees, letting Jeff see the merchandise. All the better to distract him.
Jeff leaned back against the car door, not bothering to hide his frank appraisal or his arousal. From the bulge, he was proportional. Aside from a contented hum, Jeff was quiet.
Headlights lit up the backseat and bled away. They headed for the lakeshore, fighting Saturday night traffic. Jensen relaxed a little, posing against the window. Glancing at the cabbie, he let his voice drop to an intimate near whisper. "I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby."
Resting his head against the car window, Jeff 'hmm'ed softly. Then he reached out, curling light fingers around Jensen's calf. With a tug, he urged Jensen's leg into his lap, spreading his thighs open wider. Jensen rebalanced himself, but not before nearly sliding off the slick seat. From Jeff's quirked eyebrow, he hadn't missed the slip.
"That so?" Jeff asked. "You think I need taking care of?"
Jensen wanted to close his legs. He wanted to slide up straighter. He kept on smiling, instead. "I think you need somebody like me."
Jeff flashed a dark smile. "I don't doubt it." His fingers slid along the inside seam of Jensen's jeans, slipping up his calf to his thigh. "Tell me what you want."
Strange question, but okay. "I want to suck you, hear you growl. And then I'm going to make you shake, make you come so damn hard you see stars."
"Good answer." Jeff touched higher, higher. Jensen sucked in a shallow breath, glancing at the cabbie who so far hadn't noticed-- and then there were fingers on his chin, pulling his attention firmly back. "Look at me. Keep looking. All right?"
Jensen blinked. Jeff didn't sound angry; it was a simple order, expected to be obeyed. He nodded.
Releasing Jensen's chin, Jeff stroked his jaw. "Good boy. I'm going to fuck you wide open, Jensen."
Hunger jolted down to Jensen's marrow, making him shiver. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled lazily, passing it off. "Your cash, your call. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't cheat yourself out of the full package, you know?"
"I wouldn't dream of it." Glancing at Jensen's arms, Jeff tugged on the leather wristband. "And if I want to tie you up?"
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Trying not to let his eyes slide away, Jensen managed to smirk. "That's extra. But yeah. You can tie me up--I'll call you sir. Play right and I might even mean it."
This time, Jeff's smile was more of a hungry baring of his teeth. "You'll mean it." Spreading his fingers, he cupped the inside of Jensen's thigh in one big hand. His fingertips dug suddenly in, bruising, and Jensen drew in a shocked breath before he could help it. That seemed to satisfy Jeff; he gentled, rubbing circles over the place he'd gripped. "So they sent me a pretty little slut to play with."
The cabbie met Jensen's eyes in the rearview and slid away again. Jensen's face burned.
Fear and want mingled in the pit of Jensen's stomach as he met Jeff's eyes. He wanted Jeff's hands on him, wanted that rough voice breaking over him in waves. Instead he tilted his chin up and said, "Who's playing?"
"Oh, we're going to be. Don't you ever doubt it." The predatory grin touched Jeff's eyes, all trace of play gone.
If they weren't in a cab, Jensen would've gone on Jeff's lap and distracted him to get his hands back on the reins. As it was, he had to settle for managing to say a steady, "We're here," as the cab pulled up to the safehouse.
Jeff followed him out, sliding a bill to the cabbie. Jensen took a moment to breathe in the open air. It settled him, quieting his nerves and the hot echo of Jeff's hand on his thigh. He could do this. So Jeff wanted a little slap and tickle. Whatever. Jensen had agreed to bondage when he signed his contract. Hell, that was what the cuff was for in the first place. It would be no different than letting his last date strap him to the headboard with neckties. A little moaning, a little "oh master", they'd be set.
As Jeff straightened, assessing the hotel with a quick look, Jensen murmured, "There's a another entrance. They know me here."
"Don't want to walk through the lobby with your face all flushed?" Jeff drawled. "Seems a shame."
"They're not paying. You are." Tilting his head towards the service door, Jensen said, "It's this way."
They went in. The service entrance had been done up in red and black, candles on the walls and thick velvet carpets. It made Jensen want to bury his face in his hands. He swiped the access card, jabbed the up button and started to pull back. He didn't even make it a step; Jeff was there, long lean body against his back. Jeff made a rough sound and pressed his palms to the wall, caging Jensen in his arms, pinning him.
"Are you afraid, Jensen?" Jeff's breath was hot on the back of his neck.
Jensen scoffed. "No."
"Liar." Lowering his head, Jeff rubbed his rough jaw against Jensen. It stung like hell. "But that's all right. I know what to do with boys who lie."
"I--" Jensen moved back against Jeff, letting his spine roll like liquid, rubbing against the hard line of Jeff's hips in subtle little shifts of his body. "I'm not lying. And you couldn't scare a fucking kitten."
"You'll learn." With a soft noise, Jeff mouthed at his nape and rumbled. "Just can't wait to ride my cock, can you?"
The elevator opened with a soft bell, surreal against everything Jensen was being dragged towards. It took him a minute to recognize that he ought to move. Jeff's hands moved to his hips, steering him into the elevator and pushing him against the back wall. The mirrored wall. He could see them pressed together, the way his pupils were blown and the hunger in Jeff's eyes that said he knew it.
The lurch of the elevator rising still wasn't as dizzying as the throb of blood through Jensen's veins. He held on to the rail, running through the list of things to do: strip, lapdance, blow... it was hard to think with Jeff this close, heat radiating into Jensen's back.
Jeff kissed the back of his neck, oddly tender. Jensen went to grind back against him, but Jeff cradled his hips and forced them still. He thumbed Jensen's hipbones through his jeans, rubbing in slow circles.
Penthouse floor. The elevator door opened on the other side, Jensen's side, and he nearly fell into the room on his damn face. Jeff grabbed him, hard enough to hurt, and spun him. The world tilted, and Jensen's back hit the wall hard. Jeff pressed him there, a silent warning to be still, then started roughly undoing Jensen's shirt.
Jensen gasped out a laugh, reaching out to tug Jeff's shirt out of his pants. "Easy, tiger. Easy. You want me to - I can do this like - slower." Jeff's skin was distracting. "This can be slower."
Jeff smirked, tilting his head, but he took a step back. Jerking his shirt the rest of the way out of his jeans, Jeff turned to consider what lay past the foyer. Then he nodded and prowled into the closest room, disappearing through the doorway.
Okay. Now would be a good time to breathe. Jesus, Christian hadn't warned him that it would so intense. Maybe that was just Jeff. Jensen wouldn't doubt it.
Slowly, Jensen pushed himself off the wall and after Jeff. He told himself he was being temptingly reserved, maybe teasingly defiant. It was more like waving the red flag to see what Jeff might do.
He knew these rooms. He'd trained in them. They were designed to fuck in , wide furniture at hip height, mirrored windows. Jeff had found the room with one huge leather chair and a bottle of champagne. There was a cushion at the foot of the chair, an array of toys on the wall. The floor was padded enough to kneel on for hours at a time. Jensen wasn't a huge fan of it.
Jeff peered out the window, considering the street below. Then he nodded and dropped into the chair, leaning back into it with a lazy smile. He motioned to Jensen. "Go ahead. Take it off. I want to see what I'm buying."
Okay. This was more like it. Smoothing his clothes with a smirk, Jensen pushed himself off the doorframe and went to stand in front of Jeff. He thought of the porniest damn song he knew and moved to that beat, hips and hands and body. "You like to watch?" he teased, fingering the hem of his shirt. "That's not very nice."
Jeff's hand slid down, tracing the outline of his hard cock. "No one said I was nice, darlin'. Now strip. Touch yourself for me."
The shiver rippled down Jensen's back, pleasant and slow. He tilted his chin up, defiant, and began to peel the shirt down. He knew what it looked like, black fabric giving way to tan skin, the flicker of a nipple ring .
"Well, well. What other surprises have you got for me?" Jeff asked. He'd found Jensen's tempo, rubbing his cock in time with Jensen's hips.
"That'd be telling." Sliding his fingertips over the tight bud of his nipple, Jensen smirked. "Worth it yet?"
"Not half bad, so far."
Jensen laughed. "Not half bad, my ass." He slid the shirt up and off, letting his fingers trail to the zipper of his jeans. He touched himself through it, growling low in his throat. "I'm going to make you scream."
"You're pretty damn sure of yourself." Almost idly, Jeff thumbed the button of his jeans open and let the zipper slide down. Jensen damn near lost tempo, watching the slow slide of metal teeth. Then Jeff could slide a hand in, tugging his cock out, stroking it lightly. It was a gorgeous cock, red and wet and thick. "Still haven't seen much from you."
"Same to you." Jensen unzipped, sliding the jeans down inch by torturous inch. "All that talk about what you're gonna do, and you're sitting there like it's a stripclub and you can't touch the dancers."
Slowing, Jeff considered him from a new angle. "Careful, there."
Jensen snorted. "Scared of me, baby? Maybe you need training wheels."
"And maybe I'm waiting to see if you got something worth touching. I mean, what I want to do to you is going to cost a lot of money. Maybe I want to make sure you're worth it." Jeff smiled like a shark, thumb sliding over his cock, rubbing the pre-come around the head. His other hand eased into his pocket, and Jensen heard the telltale crinkle of a condom wrapper.
Jensen watched, hungry as hell, wanting to suck the taste right off Jeff's fingers. It was a mindtrip; this was the part where he was supposed to beg, to show he was worthy. Fuck it. Either he was to the guy's taste or he wasn't. He toed out of his boots (no good getting caught up in his jeans and tripping on his face) and pushed the jeans past his hips, touching his belly, his hipbone, circling the base of his cock. He tugged the nipple ring with his other hand and let his head drop back, hissing softly as the burn jerked through him. "I'm worth it," he said throatily. "Fuck you."
When he brought his head back up, Jeff was standing in front of him, in his space. "So I see." His finger flicked the piercing, other hand sliding up to curl around Jensen's neck.
Jensen eased his head away, ignoring the little curl of reluctance in his belly. He pressed his hands to Jeff's skin, fingers spread to touch as much of him as he could. He stroked Jeff down, following the lean lines of him, studying, hungry. Then he reached out, unbuttoning, undoing Jeff a little at a time. "Let me," he purred. "Let me touch you."
Jeff's hands returned to his neck, sliding along the corded muscle, pressing him down. "You really think you've got the reins? Knees. Now. Put that cocksucker mouth to good use ."
Jensen's body purred. He bit the inside of his cheek against the need to bitch and took hold of Jeff's hips. He explored for a moment, fingertips and senses, latex and sweat and the faint wet sound as he touched Jeff through the condom, Jeff's quiet satisfied rumble. Jeff's hands stayed on his neck, a hot and steady weight. Jensen looked at Jeff through his eyelashes and went down.
He hadn't expected so much heat. Jensen slid down farther, until he knew Jeff could feel the head of his cock nudging at his throat.
"Fuck yeah. Take it like a good little slut," Jeff purred, fingers tightening on Jensen's neck, pressing himself deeper.
Jensen choked, tilting his head back. He expected to be doing his grocery list right about now, but Jeff's eyes burned him. He felt naked, already gagging on it and still wanting more, Jeff's big hand like a brand around his neck. He swallowed, pain fighting with pleasure, and took it, centering on the growls that spilled out of Jeff's throat.
Jeff pulled back a little, settling into a steady rhythm, fucking into Jensen's mouth over and over. Watching. "You want to be good, don't you. Yeah, you can take more. That's right. Just," a shudder crept through Jeff, and his grip tightened, "just open up for me."
Jensen's dick throbbed hard. He gripped Jeff's hips, kneading at him, and tried to open his throat. He wanted this to be over. He never wanted it to stop.
With a groan, Jeff stroked Jensen's throat with his thumb and his wide cockhead. "That's right. I can feel you taking it. Spread your legs, let me see you."
The jolt nearly made Jensen choke. He hesitated, but Jeff just pushed in again, wouldn't let him stop. He huffed in a quick few breaths through his nose, then shifted his thighs apart.
Almost lazily, Jeff reached out and nudged his foot against Jensen's knee. "Wider."
All Jensen's blood went crashing to his face and cock. He could stop, but-- no. That wasn't even really an option. He spread as far as he could go, pushing his muscles until they stretched and burned. His cock leaked pre-come, and Jeff saw, he had to have, Jesus, could this get worse? He just wanted, he couldn't, it was too much.
Small breaths through his nose. The edges of his vision went red and pulsing. He felt dizzy, tried to concentrate on watching his teeth.
"Well, look at you getting all wet for me." Jeff's hand was a collar, the pad of his thumb resting against Jensen's Adam's apple. "You swallow now, or I'll make you lick it up off the floor."
Something like a whimper came from Jensen's chest. He swallowed, but not fast enough to keep the sound to himself.
Jeff made a guttural noise, his eyes going heavy-lidded. Then his hand came up to cup Jensen's cheek, easing him off. The head of Jeff's cock dragged over his tongue, heavy and deliberate. Jensen tipped his head back, kept his jaw loose, expecting Jeff to shove himself back in to the hilt. Instead, Jeff slid out, the head resting against Jensen's lips.
All right, fine. Jensen darted his tongue out, flicking over the ridge.
A low hiss left Jeff, rushed and honest. He thumbed Jensen's cheek, then traced around the head of his cock to touch Jensen's mouth. Jensen's lips felt sore, stretched wide, but the heat in Jeff's eyes kept him still.
"That what you needed?" Jeff asked. "You need that pretty mouth fucked to settle you down?"
Jensen nearly flinched. Asshole, he thought wildly, trying to keep his expression bland. Prick. Control freak bastard. Just fucking get off and let me out of here.
Jeff's laugh startled him. Still touching Jensen's mouth, Jeff slid all the way out. He played the pads of his fingers over Jensen's lips, parting them, pressing inside. Grudgingly, Jensen opened for him. Jeff smiled, two fingers slipping onto Jensen's tongue. He tasted like coffee and smoke, latex and ink. "Aww, sweetheart. You gonna glare at me now?"
Jensen's jaw ached to bite. He closed his mouth, sucked on Jeff's fingers, started to--
"No. Don't close your eyes." Slowly, Jeff fucked his fingers into Jensen's mouth. "You go on and fight me. It's not my fault you're hard. Pretty cockslut, aren't you? Bet you're just aching for it, tight little ass clenching for my dick."
Jensen made a noise, half-growl and half-whine.
Expression shifting, Jeff moved his fingers, hooking them behind Jensen's teeth. It wasn't comfortable. Caught like a fish on a hook, Jensen stared up at him. Something in his head chanted call it, call it, go home, but words locked in his throat.
Jeff eyed him, assessing, then pulled his fingers free. Wiping his hand on his jeans, Jeff gestured at the chair and ordered, "Lean over the arm."
Hesitation kept Jensen on his knees. He started, "Jeff..."
"Do it or get out."
All Jensen's breath went out like he'd been punched. He stared at Jeff, who continued looking down at him with that damned neutral expression. A switch had been thrown in Jensen's chest on this job. Slowly, Jensen pushed himself off his knees and went to the chair. Jeff didn't follow, watching him move. It was unnerving.
Pressing his hands to the chair's other arm, Jensen bent down. He felt every inch of space in the room, the full expanse of the window and the people outside, the weight of Jeff's eyes on his back. The room seemed colder. He glanced up through his eyelashes and caught sight of the ice bucket, his reflection distorted in its curved side. It was easier to close his eyes.
Seconds ticked by. Something was wrong; he'd screwed up somewhere. Swallowing, Jensen moved his feet further apart and tilted his hips up. Cool air kissed his ass, and he tightened, a pulse rippling through him in slow waves.
Then hot hands came down on his ass, thumbs pressing in and spreading him open. Jensen barely swallowed a yelp, his hands sliding on the other arm of the chair.
"Keep still." Jeff kneaded him, pushing wider until it burned. "Your hands don't move again. Understand me?"
Breath hitching in his throat, Jensen nodded.
"What was that?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, Jeff."
"Try again."
Jensen debated on opening his eyes to see Jeff's face, but he didn't want to see his own. "Yes, sir."
"You don't mean that yet." One of Jeff's thumbs pressed against his hole and rubbed. Jensen felt his thighs shake and locked his knees to stop it. "I ought to keep you right here for a while. See if I can make you beg. It wouldn't take you long."
"Your dollar." The words came out shaky. "Take your time. I could buy a home theatre."
"Mm." Sounding amused, Jeff sank the tip of his thumb in. No lube; the burn stole Jensen's air. "No, I think you'll be making the call. You want lube, this'll take a very long while. Or you can work yourself back on my cock right now with spit and no prep."
"Getting sick of me already?"
"No." Deeper, deeper, the width of Jeff's thumb wasn't enough. "Your call. Tell me how you want it. It's the only choice you get."
God. Jensen shivered, spine arching with the pent-up need to be fucked. He couldn't take another few hours of this. He wanted to go home. He was screwed up, strung out, lost in his head, but he needed the money. He couldn't afford to piss off his first client.
Breathing out, Jensen said in a rush, "Spit, no prep. Just fuck me."
For a moment, Jeff was still. Then his thumb was just gone, leaving Jensen hollow. He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching, and flinched when he heard Jeff spit in his hand. There was a quick, wet sound, and then something broad and hot pressed against Jensen's hole.
Jeff's fingers curled around his hips, pressing in, tugging him back when Jensen hesitated. "Come on. Fuck yourself back on my cock."
Jensen shifted, slick palms sliding on the chair, and tried to press back. Nothing yielded. He bit his lip and tried again. That time, he felt the head push him wide open. Shuddering, he pushed into the burn and it caught inside him. He was shaking, he could feel himself sweating.
"Yeah." Jeff's voice was a filthy drag of sound down Jensen's spine. "Take what you want."
Another push back, harder this time. Red lit behind Jensen's eyes, and he made a wordless sound. It was, oh, he was right there, and...
And he made himself move, made himself take it all in one thrust. Jeff snarled. Jensen was trembling; he was pressed up on his toes, and he didn't remember doing it. Sweat dripped in his eyes, stinging. He was panting.
Jeff's hand stroked his ribs, his side, long easy strokes. "That's right," he murmured. "Fucking knew it."
Jensen opened his mouth to growl and heard himself whine, instead. It got louder when Jeff put a hand on his hips and moved him, rocked him in place, hurting noises spilling from his mouth. He could feel his cock bumping against his belly, smearing on his skin and spurting faster as Jeff burned him inside out.
When Jeff pushed back inside, snagging on the prostate and going deep deep deep, Jensen cried out. He couldn't even -- he angled his hips and shoved back. It seared, rubbing deep. Jeff's nails dragged up his ribs, down his belly, curled around his cock.
"Oh," Jensen said, surprised, the word jerked out of him. Then Jeff rubbed his thumb over the head, rough as hell, and pushed into him again. His voice seemed small. "Oh, oh, oh fuck."
"Give it up, boy. Not going to stop until you paint my fucking hand." Jeff squeezed him, fucked up into him, pressed his thumbnail into the slit. "Come on my dick-"
Digging his nails into the chair, Jensen jerked back into Jeff, tightened down to fight it and lost. Orgasm hit him like a brick to the back of the head, snapping his spine back. It hurt to come, and he came long and loud, barely hearing himself yell. Jeff didn't care, grabbed his hips, pulled him back into three more vicious thrusts. Then Jeff dug his fingernails in, just holding on, his hands like iron as he came, buried balls-deep.
Jensen hung on, relearning how to breathe. He kept shivering, last spasms that went straight to his dick. It occurred to him that he ought to open his eyes.
Finally, Jeff let go of his hip. One big hand rubbed over Jensen's stomach as he slid out, making Jensen groan. There was a wet slap as Jeff pitched the condom. "Sweetheart, you need to let go of the chair."
"Hnngh." Dropping his head forward, Jensen cleared his throat and tried again. "'kay. Minute. Bye."
With a quiet laugh, Jeff touched him, steadied him, pulled him up. Slinging Jensen's arm over his shoulders, Jeff said, "Yeah, you're not going anywhere but bed. C'mon."
"What? No." Shaking his head to clear it, Jensen said, "No, I'm okay. I've got to go home - back to the - yeah."
"I bought you for the night. Therefore, you're not going anywhere."
Oh. Great. Jensen winced but subsided. "Sorry. Got my contracts mixed up."
"I'll bet."
By the time they reached the bedroom, Jensen was steadier. Jeff didn't let him go, walked him to the room's huge bed and put him down on the edge. When Jeff stepped back to look at him, Jensen remembered Jeff was still in his clothes. Hell, still in his shoes.
"So." Trying for a come-hither smile, Jensen reached out to unbutton the rest of Jeff's clothes. "C'mere."
Smoothly, Jeff caught his wrists. Jensen felt the bite of tension, but Jeff only raised them to his mouth and kissed each one over the pulse. "In a minute. I need to shower."
"We could conserve water."
"We could," Jeff agreed. "But you're going to wait out here for a few minutes. Catch your breath. I promise I'll be right back."
"I'm okay," Jensen said automatically.
"Better than okay." Kissing the back of his knuckles, Jeff let go and bent to grab Jensen's knees. He swung them up, tipping Jensen over onto the bed. "Stay put."
Jensen blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because I said so." Grinning at the face Jensen made, Jeff patted his thigh. He lingered a moment longer than necessary and added, "Take it easy."
Oh. Awkward, Jensen said, "Thanks," but Jeff had already let go and headed for the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and a moment later the shower started.
He closed his eyes.
******
When Jensen woke, there was light spilling through the blinds. He rolled over to find the bed empty. Someone had dragged the cover over him while he slept. There was a pot of coffee on the desk, a stack of bills under a single mug; Jesus, had Jeff tipped him? Nobody mentioned the tipping policy for whores.
There was a note with the money, scrawled in a messy hand: you did good. Shifting in bed, Jensen touched his aching hole and hissed; he'd be feeling that for days.
He wished he minded more.
Author:
nilchancePairing: CWRPS, JDM/JA
Disclaimer: Not real. Not character defamation. Just fiction.
Summary: Jensen's first night of hooking doesn't go quite as expected.
A/N: Rentboy fic, d/s themes.
ETA 8/24/07: The most awesome and wonderful
mona1347 has gone back and edited my unbetaed ass, so it's been edited to reflect her mad skills. Thank you!Jensen got the order by e-mail. It was one of those free domains, like Christian said it would be. He touched the monitor of the laptop they'd given him, tracing the black and white lines of text. It didn't look like what it was. Then again, it wouldn't, would it? What part of this looked anything like what it is?
They said it was an honor. They didn't pick just anybody to serve. The money was good, the protections were better. He could call stop at any time. It would pay for everything he needed, in exchange for sex he probably would've had for free. God knew he wasn't a virgin or a choirboy, not anymore. Not for a very long time.
It was still a fucking escort service. Jensen would still be a fucking whore. His first call; he wouldn't be the first person to balk when it came down to the wire.
Exhaling, Jensen looked at Christian's rumpled bunk. It was empty, of course. Chris was out on a call. Jensen could've used a quick smack upside the head, Christian's teasing to ease the tightness in his throat. Chris had been doing this for years, and he was fine. He had regular patrons and enough money to quit. He did it for fun. It couldn't be that bad.
An anonymous bar in the business district. A loaded male client, a quick drink. The slut clothes were requested. The client might not even want to fuck him. Christian had said he had clients that just wanted somebody to talk to, to cook dinner, to sit at their feet. Maybe a massage. Something easy; they wouldn't throw him in deep water on his first call.
Yeah, right.
Jensen closed the laptop and grabbed his arsenal. Time to get ready for the first step down.
****
As it turned out, Jensen had walked past the bar dozens of times on his way to the El. It had been in vogue six months ago and now struggled to find its place. There were just enough cars parked out front to offer anonymity, but no velvet rope. Music and smoke poured through the door they'd shoved open.
If Jensen let himself hesitate outside the door, he'd never get inside. He pushed through it, the stiffness in his thighs and the heat of shame, and into the dim belly of the bar. Christian had told him to stride into a room like he owned it, that defiance got them hotter, and Jensen tried. The push of people nagged at him; what if there was a cop? What if somebody he knew was there?
The bar was like an oasis. Jensen slid between people to rest his hands on the glossy wood. He caught the eyes of the bartender and gave him a smile, one he knew was all teeth and invitation. "Hey. Shot of Jose?"
The bartender went to fill his order, turning his head to keep his eyes on Jensen and almost tripping over the rug behind the bar in the process. Jensen glanced at the mirror behind the bar and saw why. Nobody he knew would recognize him. It was more than the contacts; it was the eyeliner, the bitten mouth, the haircut, the tight shirt and the wrist cuff. He looked like somebody else and, perversely, it settled him.
This didn't have to touch him. This was a role, something he could put aside when it was finished. It made things simpler.
The bartender returned with the shot. Jensen tipped him well. He'd be a tightass customer, and it was better to make friends in case he had to work here again. Then he sipped his shot and waited, the golden burn crawling into his belly and loosening his spine. He could do this.
Time passed. Customers came and went. By the time somebody pressed in, leaning their elbows on the bar beside him, Jensen's first reaction was to shift over and give him room.
A lighter snapped to life at Jensen's side. Jensen twitched, looking automatically towards the noise, and saw the man beside him. Dark clothes, dark eyes, dark hair with gray starting in it. Long callused fingers cradling a cigarette, no wedding ring, stubble. The man gave him a lazy smile and held out the pack of cigarettes, silent invitation.
"I'm all right," Jensen said.
With a shrug, the man slid the cigarettes back into his jeans pocket. His shirt sleeve rode up, baring the edge of a tattoo. He had muscles that didn't look like they came from office work or coffee breaks. His voice was rough and devastating. "Suit yourself. You an art school student? My cousin's in costume design."
Tension swept down Jensen's spine. That was the code; this was his client? Christ, he could get people to suck him off without paying. Spinning his shot glass in place, Jensen said the rest of the code. "I was until I fell through a backdrop."
"Mm." The man drew on the end of his cigarette, smiling, then tapped his ash out and offered Jensen his other hand. "Jeff."
Jensen took his hand. There was strength in Jeff's grip, his paw of a hand wrapping Jensen's up. His thumb rested on the inside of Jensen's wrist.
"Jen," Jensen said, and cursed himself for not lying.
"Hi, Jen." Jeff squeezed once, gently. His thumb swept over Jensen's pulsepoint, a shock of contact, and was gone as Jeff dropped his hand. Turning to face Jensen, Jeff took another drag and let his eyes slide down. It was an honest look, assessing, like Jensen was some draft to be accepted or thrown in the trash.
Jensen should've expected it, but it pissed him off anyway. He matched Jeff's pose, letting him get a better look, and sipped his tequila. When Jeff was done, Jensen met his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Finished?"
Jeff didn't twitch, watching Jensen through disgustingly thick lashes. His smile revealed nothing. "You're not going to make this easy."
"You want easy? Drive through Greektown. The red light district's that way." Jesus, what the hell was he saying? This was his first job. If he botched it, he was screwed. But Jeff's hand, his eyes... Jensen felt rattled now. He could call it. He should call it.
Jeff laughed, a startling bark of sound, and visibly relaxed. "They're not charging enough for you."
Jensen glanced quickly at the bartender, but no one was paying attention to them. Jeff's smile went wolfish, reading Jensen's discomfort in a heartbeat. Under the weight of Jeff's stare, Jensen felt naked. He knocked his tequila back, just to get a moment for breathing, then reached over and snagged Jeff's cigarette. It was one of the cheap kind, gas station cigarettes that scorched his lungs. He didn't smoke often, so the chemical rush lit his blood in his veins and made his head pound. The filter was still warm from Jeff's mouth.
"Thought you didn't want one," Jeff murmured.
With a shrug, Jensen breathed the smoke out. "Decided I'd rather have yours. So, since I've passed the test, what's your poison? Tequila, whiskey, scotch--"
Stretching out, Jeff laid a hand on Jensen's hip. It was a subtle move, but there was no mistaking when Jeff linked his finger in Jensen's beltloop and pulled their bodies close. Jensen could feel the heat of him through his jeans, the line of Jeff's hipbone, the unyielding weight of Jeff's hand cupping his hip. Jeff's thumb was shoved up under Jensen's shirt, resting on his stomach. Idly, Jeff stroked along the top of Jensen's waistband and searched his face.
Wow. Okay. This wasn't going to be a dinner and a movie appointment. Holding Jeff's stare, Jensen took the cigarette out of his mouth and offered it back. Jeff bent his head and took the filter between his lips; Jensen's fingertips brushed crisp stubble, soft mouth. He swallowed and put his hand on Jeff's chest. Muscle, warmth, heartbeat. Up close, Jeff smelled like smoke and soap. Jensen wanted to rub against him and carry that scent around on his skin for days. It was... worrying.
Jeff smirked. "You want to go somewhere quieter?"
"I don't know. You could be some kind of psycho."
"Guess you'll have to take that chance, cowboy," Jeff murmured. "I'm harmless. Mostly."
Yeah, mostly. Jensen let his hand drag down Jeff's chest, down his belly, stopping just short of the promised land. Jeff's eyes slitted, content as a big cat in the sun. When Jensen stepped back, Jeff let him go. As he threw a twenty on the bar, Jeff let Jensen get a look at the fifties in his wallet.
They headed for the door. Jensen remembered to press close against Jeff as they walked, all maddening friction and wicked smile. As they left the bar, the thick August heat swept over Jensen's skin. It seemed cool compared to pressing against Jeff. Jensen turned to face Jeff, walking backwards down the sidewalk. "I know a place we can go. You're buying."
"Lead on," Jeff said. He let Jensen walk ahead of him, his eyes on the way the clothes accentuated Jensen's body. What the hell; Jensen played it up, working the roll in his hips that these boots gave him. He could work Jeff; he was a guy, and Jensen knew how to mold them in the palm of his hand.
They reached the corner. Grabbing onto Jeff, Jensen flagged down a cab and rattled off an address. There were safehouses for this sort of thing. The cab smelled sour and sweaty; Jensen slid across the leather seat onto the far side. Once there, he spread his thighs and rested his elbows on his knees, letting Jeff see the merchandise. All the better to distract him.
Jeff leaned back against the car door, not bothering to hide his frank appraisal or his arousal. From the bulge, he was proportional. Aside from a contented hum, Jeff was quiet.
Headlights lit up the backseat and bled away. They headed for the lakeshore, fighting Saturday night traffic. Jensen relaxed a little, posing against the window. Glancing at the cabbie, he let his voice drop to an intimate near whisper. "I'm gonna take such good care of you, baby."
Resting his head against the car window, Jeff 'hmm'ed softly. Then he reached out, curling light fingers around Jensen's calf. With a tug, he urged Jensen's leg into his lap, spreading his thighs open wider. Jensen rebalanced himself, but not before nearly sliding off the slick seat. From Jeff's quirked eyebrow, he hadn't missed the slip.
"That so?" Jeff asked. "You think I need taking care of?"
Jensen wanted to close his legs. He wanted to slide up straighter. He kept on smiling, instead. "I think you need somebody like me."
Jeff flashed a dark smile. "I don't doubt it." His fingers slid along the inside seam of Jensen's jeans, slipping up his calf to his thigh. "Tell me what you want."
Strange question, but okay. "I want to suck you, hear you growl. And then I'm going to make you shake, make you come so damn hard you see stars."
"Good answer." Jeff touched higher, higher. Jensen sucked in a shallow breath, glancing at the cabbie who so far hadn't noticed-- and then there were fingers on his chin, pulling his attention firmly back. "Look at me. Keep looking. All right?"
Jensen blinked. Jeff didn't sound angry; it was a simple order, expected to be obeyed. He nodded.
Releasing Jensen's chin, Jeff stroked his jaw. "Good boy. I'm going to fuck you wide open, Jensen."
Hunger jolted down to Jensen's marrow, making him shiver. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled lazily, passing it off. "Your cash, your call. I'll do whatever you want. Just don't cheat yourself out of the full package, you know?"
"I wouldn't dream of it." Glancing at Jensen's arms, Jeff tugged on the leather wristband. "And if I want to tie you up?"
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Trying not to let his eyes slide away, Jensen managed to smirk. "That's extra. But yeah. You can tie me up--I'll call you sir. Play right and I might even mean it."
This time, Jeff's smile was more of a hungry baring of his teeth. "You'll mean it." Spreading his fingers, he cupped the inside of Jensen's thigh in one big hand. His fingertips dug suddenly in, bruising, and Jensen drew in a shocked breath before he could help it. That seemed to satisfy Jeff; he gentled, rubbing circles over the place he'd gripped. "So they sent me a pretty little slut to play with."
The cabbie met Jensen's eyes in the rearview and slid away again. Jensen's face burned.
Fear and want mingled in the pit of Jensen's stomach as he met Jeff's eyes. He wanted Jeff's hands on him, wanted that rough voice breaking over him in waves. Instead he tilted his chin up and said, "Who's playing?"
"Oh, we're going to be. Don't you ever doubt it." The predatory grin touched Jeff's eyes, all trace of play gone.
If they weren't in a cab, Jensen would've gone on Jeff's lap and distracted him to get his hands back on the reins. As it was, he had to settle for managing to say a steady, "We're here," as the cab pulled up to the safehouse.
Jeff followed him out, sliding a bill to the cabbie. Jensen took a moment to breathe in the open air. It settled him, quieting his nerves and the hot echo of Jeff's hand on his thigh. He could do this. So Jeff wanted a little slap and tickle. Whatever. Jensen had agreed to bondage when he signed his contract. Hell, that was what the cuff was for in the first place. It would be no different than letting his last date strap him to the headboard with neckties. A little moaning, a little "oh master", they'd be set.
As Jeff straightened, assessing the hotel with a quick look, Jensen murmured, "There's a another entrance. They know me here."
"Don't want to walk through the lobby with your face all flushed?" Jeff drawled. "Seems a shame."
"They're not paying. You are." Tilting his head towards the service door, Jensen said, "It's this way."
They went in. The service entrance had been done up in red and black, candles on the walls and thick velvet carpets. It made Jensen want to bury his face in his hands. He swiped the access card, jabbed the up button and started to pull back. He didn't even make it a step; Jeff was there, long lean body against his back. Jeff made a rough sound and pressed his palms to the wall, caging Jensen in his arms, pinning him.
"Are you afraid, Jensen?" Jeff's breath was hot on the back of his neck.
Jensen scoffed. "No."
"Liar." Lowering his head, Jeff rubbed his rough jaw against Jensen. It stung like hell. "But that's all right. I know what to do with boys who lie."
"I--" Jensen moved back against Jeff, letting his spine roll like liquid, rubbing against the hard line of Jeff's hips in subtle little shifts of his body. "I'm not lying. And you couldn't scare a fucking kitten."
"You'll learn." With a soft noise, Jeff mouthed at his nape and rumbled. "Just can't wait to ride my cock, can you?"
The elevator opened with a soft bell, surreal against everything Jensen was being dragged towards. It took him a minute to recognize that he ought to move. Jeff's hands moved to his hips, steering him into the elevator and pushing him against the back wall. The mirrored wall. He could see them pressed together, the way his pupils were blown and the hunger in Jeff's eyes that said he knew it.
The lurch of the elevator rising still wasn't as dizzying as the throb of blood through Jensen's veins. He held on to the rail, running through the list of things to do: strip, lapdance, blow... it was hard to think with Jeff this close, heat radiating into Jensen's back.
Jeff kissed the back of his neck, oddly tender. Jensen went to grind back against him, but Jeff cradled his hips and forced them still. He thumbed Jensen's hipbones through his jeans, rubbing in slow circles.
Penthouse floor. The elevator door opened on the other side, Jensen's side, and he nearly fell into the room on his damn face. Jeff grabbed him, hard enough to hurt, and spun him. The world tilted, and Jensen's back hit the wall hard. Jeff pressed him there, a silent warning to be still, then started roughly undoing Jensen's shirt.
Jensen gasped out a laugh, reaching out to tug Jeff's shirt out of his pants. "Easy, tiger. Easy. You want me to - I can do this like - slower." Jeff's skin was distracting. "This can be slower."
Jeff smirked, tilting his head, but he took a step back. Jerking his shirt the rest of the way out of his jeans, Jeff turned to consider what lay past the foyer. Then he nodded and prowled into the closest room, disappearing through the doorway.
Okay. Now would be a good time to breathe. Jesus, Christian hadn't warned him that it would so intense. Maybe that was just Jeff. Jensen wouldn't doubt it.
Slowly, Jensen pushed himself off the wall and after Jeff. He told himself he was being temptingly reserved, maybe teasingly defiant. It was more like waving the red flag to see what Jeff might do.
He knew these rooms. He'd trained in them. They were designed to fuck in , wide furniture at hip height, mirrored windows. Jeff had found the room with one huge leather chair and a bottle of champagne. There was a cushion at the foot of the chair, an array of toys on the wall. The floor was padded enough to kneel on for hours at a time. Jensen wasn't a huge fan of it.
Jeff peered out the window, considering the street below. Then he nodded and dropped into the chair, leaning back into it with a lazy smile. He motioned to Jensen. "Go ahead. Take it off. I want to see what I'm buying."
Okay. This was more like it. Smoothing his clothes with a smirk, Jensen pushed himself off the doorframe and went to stand in front of Jeff. He thought of the porniest damn song he knew and moved to that beat, hips and hands and body. "You like to watch?" he teased, fingering the hem of his shirt. "That's not very nice."
Jeff's hand slid down, tracing the outline of his hard cock. "No one said I was nice, darlin'. Now strip. Touch yourself for me."
The shiver rippled down Jensen's back, pleasant and slow. He tilted his chin up, defiant, and began to peel the shirt down. He knew what it looked like, black fabric giving way to tan skin, the flicker of a nipple ring .
"Well, well. What other surprises have you got for me?" Jeff asked. He'd found Jensen's tempo, rubbing his cock in time with Jensen's hips.
"That'd be telling." Sliding his fingertips over the tight bud of his nipple, Jensen smirked. "Worth it yet?"
"Not half bad, so far."
Jensen laughed. "Not half bad, my ass." He slid the shirt up and off, letting his fingers trail to the zipper of his jeans. He touched himself through it, growling low in his throat. "I'm going to make you scream."
"You're pretty damn sure of yourself." Almost idly, Jeff thumbed the button of his jeans open and let the zipper slide down. Jensen damn near lost tempo, watching the slow slide of metal teeth. Then Jeff could slide a hand in, tugging his cock out, stroking it lightly. It was a gorgeous cock, red and wet and thick. "Still haven't seen much from you."
"Same to you." Jensen unzipped, sliding the jeans down inch by torturous inch. "All that talk about what you're gonna do, and you're sitting there like it's a stripclub and you can't touch the dancers."
Slowing, Jeff considered him from a new angle. "Careful, there."
Jensen snorted. "Scared of me, baby? Maybe you need training wheels."
"And maybe I'm waiting to see if you got something worth touching. I mean, what I want to do to you is going to cost a lot of money. Maybe I want to make sure you're worth it." Jeff smiled like a shark, thumb sliding over his cock, rubbing the pre-come around the head. His other hand eased into his pocket, and Jensen heard the telltale crinkle of a condom wrapper.
Jensen watched, hungry as hell, wanting to suck the taste right off Jeff's fingers. It was a mindtrip; this was the part where he was supposed to beg, to show he was worthy. Fuck it. Either he was to the guy's taste or he wasn't. He toed out of his boots (no good getting caught up in his jeans and tripping on his face) and pushed the jeans past his hips, touching his belly, his hipbone, circling the base of his cock. He tugged the nipple ring with his other hand and let his head drop back, hissing softly as the burn jerked through him. "I'm worth it," he said throatily. "Fuck you."
When he brought his head back up, Jeff was standing in front of him, in his space. "So I see." His finger flicked the piercing, other hand sliding up to curl around Jensen's neck.
Jensen eased his head away, ignoring the little curl of reluctance in his belly. He pressed his hands to Jeff's skin, fingers spread to touch as much of him as he could. He stroked Jeff down, following the lean lines of him, studying, hungry. Then he reached out, unbuttoning, undoing Jeff a little at a time. "Let me," he purred. "Let me touch you."
Jeff's hands returned to his neck, sliding along the corded muscle, pressing him down. "You really think you've got the reins? Knees. Now. Put that cocksucker mouth to good use ."
Jensen's body purred. He bit the inside of his cheek against the need to bitch and took hold of Jeff's hips. He explored for a moment, fingertips and senses, latex and sweat and the faint wet sound as he touched Jeff through the condom, Jeff's quiet satisfied rumble. Jeff's hands stayed on his neck, a hot and steady weight. Jensen looked at Jeff through his eyelashes and went down.
He hadn't expected so much heat. Jensen slid down farther, until he knew Jeff could feel the head of his cock nudging at his throat.
"Fuck yeah. Take it like a good little slut," Jeff purred, fingers tightening on Jensen's neck, pressing himself deeper.
Jensen choked, tilting his head back. He expected to be doing his grocery list right about now, but Jeff's eyes burned him. He felt naked, already gagging on it and still wanting more, Jeff's big hand like a brand around his neck. He swallowed, pain fighting with pleasure, and took it, centering on the growls that spilled out of Jeff's throat.
Jeff pulled back a little, settling into a steady rhythm, fucking into Jensen's mouth over and over. Watching. "You want to be good, don't you. Yeah, you can take more. That's right. Just," a shudder crept through Jeff, and his grip tightened, "just open up for me."
Jensen's dick throbbed hard. He gripped Jeff's hips, kneading at him, and tried to open his throat. He wanted this to be over. He never wanted it to stop.
With a groan, Jeff stroked Jensen's throat with his thumb and his wide cockhead. "That's right. I can feel you taking it. Spread your legs, let me see you."
The jolt nearly made Jensen choke. He hesitated, but Jeff just pushed in again, wouldn't let him stop. He huffed in a quick few breaths through his nose, then shifted his thighs apart.
Almost lazily, Jeff reached out and nudged his foot against Jensen's knee. "Wider."
All Jensen's blood went crashing to his face and cock. He could stop, but-- no. That wasn't even really an option. He spread as far as he could go, pushing his muscles until they stretched and burned. His cock leaked pre-come, and Jeff saw, he had to have, Jesus, could this get worse? He just wanted, he couldn't, it was too much.
Small breaths through his nose. The edges of his vision went red and pulsing. He felt dizzy, tried to concentrate on watching his teeth.
"Well, look at you getting all wet for me." Jeff's hand was a collar, the pad of his thumb resting against Jensen's Adam's apple. "You swallow now, or I'll make you lick it up off the floor."
Something like a whimper came from Jensen's chest. He swallowed, but not fast enough to keep the sound to himself.
Jeff made a guttural noise, his eyes going heavy-lidded. Then his hand came up to cup Jensen's cheek, easing him off. The head of Jeff's cock dragged over his tongue, heavy and deliberate. Jensen tipped his head back, kept his jaw loose, expecting Jeff to shove himself back in to the hilt. Instead, Jeff slid out, the head resting against Jensen's lips.
All right, fine. Jensen darted his tongue out, flicking over the ridge.
A low hiss left Jeff, rushed and honest. He thumbed Jensen's cheek, then traced around the head of his cock to touch Jensen's mouth. Jensen's lips felt sore, stretched wide, but the heat in Jeff's eyes kept him still.
"That what you needed?" Jeff asked. "You need that pretty mouth fucked to settle you down?"
Jensen nearly flinched. Asshole, he thought wildly, trying to keep his expression bland. Prick. Control freak bastard. Just fucking get off and let me out of here.
Jeff's laugh startled him. Still touching Jensen's mouth, Jeff slid all the way out. He played the pads of his fingers over Jensen's lips, parting them, pressing inside. Grudgingly, Jensen opened for him. Jeff smiled, two fingers slipping onto Jensen's tongue. He tasted like coffee and smoke, latex and ink. "Aww, sweetheart. You gonna glare at me now?"
Jensen's jaw ached to bite. He closed his mouth, sucked on Jeff's fingers, started to--
"No. Don't close your eyes." Slowly, Jeff fucked his fingers into Jensen's mouth. "You go on and fight me. It's not my fault you're hard. Pretty cockslut, aren't you? Bet you're just aching for it, tight little ass clenching for my dick."
Jensen made a noise, half-growl and half-whine.
Expression shifting, Jeff moved his fingers, hooking them behind Jensen's teeth. It wasn't comfortable. Caught like a fish on a hook, Jensen stared up at him. Something in his head chanted call it, call it, go home, but words locked in his throat.
Jeff eyed him, assessing, then pulled his fingers free. Wiping his hand on his jeans, Jeff gestured at the chair and ordered, "Lean over the arm."
Hesitation kept Jensen on his knees. He started, "Jeff..."
"Do it or get out."
All Jensen's breath went out like he'd been punched. He stared at Jeff, who continued looking down at him with that damned neutral expression. A switch had been thrown in Jensen's chest on this job. Slowly, Jensen pushed himself off his knees and went to the chair. Jeff didn't follow, watching him move. It was unnerving.
Pressing his hands to the chair's other arm, Jensen bent down. He felt every inch of space in the room, the full expanse of the window and the people outside, the weight of Jeff's eyes on his back. The room seemed colder. He glanced up through his eyelashes and caught sight of the ice bucket, his reflection distorted in its curved side. It was easier to close his eyes.
Seconds ticked by. Something was wrong; he'd screwed up somewhere. Swallowing, Jensen moved his feet further apart and tilted his hips up. Cool air kissed his ass, and he tightened, a pulse rippling through him in slow waves.
Then hot hands came down on his ass, thumbs pressing in and spreading him open. Jensen barely swallowed a yelp, his hands sliding on the other arm of the chair.
"Keep still." Jeff kneaded him, pushing wider until it burned. "Your hands don't move again. Understand me?"
Breath hitching in his throat, Jensen nodded.
"What was that?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, Jeff."
"Try again."
Jensen debated on opening his eyes to see Jeff's face, but he didn't want to see his own. "Yes, sir."
"You don't mean that yet." One of Jeff's thumbs pressed against his hole and rubbed. Jensen felt his thighs shake and locked his knees to stop it. "I ought to keep you right here for a while. See if I can make you beg. It wouldn't take you long."
"Your dollar." The words came out shaky. "Take your time. I could buy a home theatre."
"Mm." Sounding amused, Jeff sank the tip of his thumb in. No lube; the burn stole Jensen's air. "No, I think you'll be making the call. You want lube, this'll take a very long while. Or you can work yourself back on my cock right now with spit and no prep."
"Getting sick of me already?"
"No." Deeper, deeper, the width of Jeff's thumb wasn't enough. "Your call. Tell me how you want it. It's the only choice you get."
God. Jensen shivered, spine arching with the pent-up need to be fucked. He couldn't take another few hours of this. He wanted to go home. He was screwed up, strung out, lost in his head, but he needed the money. He couldn't afford to piss off his first client.
Breathing out, Jensen said in a rush, "Spit, no prep. Just fuck me."
For a moment, Jeff was still. Then his thumb was just gone, leaving Jensen hollow. He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching, and flinched when he heard Jeff spit in his hand. There was a quick, wet sound, and then something broad and hot pressed against Jensen's hole.
Jeff's fingers curled around his hips, pressing in, tugging him back when Jensen hesitated. "Come on. Fuck yourself back on my cock."
Jensen shifted, slick palms sliding on the chair, and tried to press back. Nothing yielded. He bit his lip and tried again. That time, he felt the head push him wide open. Shuddering, he pushed into the burn and it caught inside him. He was shaking, he could feel himself sweating.
"Yeah." Jeff's voice was a filthy drag of sound down Jensen's spine. "Take what you want."
Another push back, harder this time. Red lit behind Jensen's eyes, and he made a wordless sound. It was, oh, he was right there, and...
And he made himself move, made himself take it all in one thrust. Jeff snarled. Jensen was trembling; he was pressed up on his toes, and he didn't remember doing it. Sweat dripped in his eyes, stinging. He was panting.
Jeff's hand stroked his ribs, his side, long easy strokes. "That's right," he murmured. "Fucking knew it."
Jensen opened his mouth to growl and heard himself whine, instead. It got louder when Jeff put a hand on his hips and moved him, rocked him in place, hurting noises spilling from his mouth. He could feel his cock bumping against his belly, smearing on his skin and spurting faster as Jeff burned him inside out.
When Jeff pushed back inside, snagging on the prostate and going deep deep deep, Jensen cried out. He couldn't even -- he angled his hips and shoved back. It seared, rubbing deep. Jeff's nails dragged up his ribs, down his belly, curled around his cock.
"Oh," Jensen said, surprised, the word jerked out of him. Then Jeff rubbed his thumb over the head, rough as hell, and pushed into him again. His voice seemed small. "Oh, oh, oh fuck."
"Give it up, boy. Not going to stop until you paint my fucking hand." Jeff squeezed him, fucked up into him, pressed his thumbnail into the slit. "Come on my dick-"
Digging his nails into the chair, Jensen jerked back into Jeff, tightened down to fight it and lost. Orgasm hit him like a brick to the back of the head, snapping his spine back. It hurt to come, and he came long and loud, barely hearing himself yell. Jeff didn't care, grabbed his hips, pulled him back into three more vicious thrusts. Then Jeff dug his fingernails in, just holding on, his hands like iron as he came, buried balls-deep.
Jensen hung on, relearning how to breathe. He kept shivering, last spasms that went straight to his dick. It occurred to him that he ought to open his eyes.
Finally, Jeff let go of his hip. One big hand rubbed over Jensen's stomach as he slid out, making Jensen groan. There was a wet slap as Jeff pitched the condom. "Sweetheart, you need to let go of the chair."
"Hnngh." Dropping his head forward, Jensen cleared his throat and tried again. "'kay. Minute. Bye."
With a quiet laugh, Jeff touched him, steadied him, pulled him up. Slinging Jensen's arm over his shoulders, Jeff said, "Yeah, you're not going anywhere but bed. C'mon."
"What? No." Shaking his head to clear it, Jensen said, "No, I'm okay. I've got to go home - back to the - yeah."
"I bought you for the night. Therefore, you're not going anywhere."
Oh. Great. Jensen winced but subsided. "Sorry. Got my contracts mixed up."
"I'll bet."
By the time they reached the bedroom, Jensen was steadier. Jeff didn't let him go, walked him to the room's huge bed and put him down on the edge. When Jeff stepped back to look at him, Jensen remembered Jeff was still in his clothes. Hell, still in his shoes.
"So." Trying for a come-hither smile, Jensen reached out to unbutton the rest of Jeff's clothes. "C'mere."
Smoothly, Jeff caught his wrists. Jensen felt the bite of tension, but Jeff only raised them to his mouth and kissed each one over the pulse. "In a minute. I need to shower."
"We could conserve water."
"We could," Jeff agreed. "But you're going to wait out here for a few minutes. Catch your breath. I promise I'll be right back."
"I'm okay," Jensen said automatically.
"Better than okay." Kissing the back of his knuckles, Jeff let go and bent to grab Jensen's knees. He swung them up, tipping Jensen over onto the bed. "Stay put."
Jensen blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because I said so." Grinning at the face Jensen made, Jeff patted his thigh. He lingered a moment longer than necessary and added, "Take it easy."
Oh. Awkward, Jensen said, "Thanks," but Jeff had already let go and headed for the bathroom. The door closed behind him, and a moment later the shower started.
He closed his eyes.
******
When Jensen woke, there was light spilling through the blinds. He rolled over to find the bed empty. Someone had dragged the cover over him while he slept. There was a pot of coffee on the desk, a stack of bills under a single mug; Jesus, had Jeff tipped him? Nobody mentioned the tipping policy for whores.
There was a note with the money, scrawled in a messy hand: you did good. Shifting in bed, Jensen touched his aching hole and hissed; he'd be feeling that for days.
He wished he minded more.
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