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nilchanceTitle: Game
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: PG-13
a/n: Same 'verse as Serendipity. Jensen can't sleep.
When Jensen was 16, he closed his teeth around an owner's dick. Nearly bit it straight through.
It wasn't worth it. Not because of the places he went after that, the long ugly stretch of years between that night and finding Jared. He survived those times, and he can block them out. No, the price was in the fact that the owners never touched him, after. They never came to him at night with seeking hands. He was left alone.
They went to Jared. And they made Jensen watch.
****
After Jeff pitches him out of the bed, Jensen spends a few minutes in the hallway, calming himself down. He bites ridges into his fist, jittering with adrenaline. Stupid. He'd been so ready, but of course Jeff knew his history. Of course he said no.
There's going to be a price, sooner or later. He knows that. He just can't see where it's coming from.
Jensen creeps back to the guest room, where Jared tosses under the sheets. Jared's sleep is always shallow, the knots in his muscles so tight Jensen can see them. So Jensen straddles his hips, rubs and grinds and wrestles the tension out of Jared's body until his own muscles are screaming. Jared shoves his face into the pillow to keep quiet, his body rolling under Jensen's hands. It probably looks like sex, but they're both too goddamn tired for that anyway.
Finally, Jared subsides, his breath fading to quiet rhythm. Jensen scoots back so he doesn't disturb him, his back resting against the bedframe, his eyes on the door.
It's a long night.
The clock reads 4 when Jensen eases out of bed again, moving carefully to keep from jarring him awake. Jared grumbles a complaint, his hand kneading the blanket beside him where Jensen should be. Where he would be, if he had more sense than paranoia.
He feels like something's moving under his skin, pulling at him, keeping him on edge. He runs his hands over his face, scrubs at the rough stubble and sweat, and thinks. Part of him wants to stay with Jared, stand watch, but the house is silent. It's a good time to go look at their exits. In case.
They're a long way from land, and it's probably stupid to even try, but...
He pads out into the hallway. His senses feel like they've been cranked up high, every creak of the stairs wrenching him tighter. There's no sound from Jeff's room. As Jensen eases down to the first floor, he glances into the living room; Ever and Zach are on the fold-out couch, their bodies tangled up, Zach's face burrowed into the long hair at Ever's nape. Neither of them move.
On their way in, Jensen noticed there was no security system in place, but he checks again for his peace of mind. The knives are out in the kitchen and the doors open quietly. Ever inhales sharply when she hears the door, then mutters and buries her face in the pillow again.
Jensen slips out into the dark. The moonlight is blinding after months of city nights, the stars like a net above his head. The house is surrounded by cool stone and sand, and his bare feet sink in. It feels good. The water gouges at the shore, spitting foam at his feet as he goes along the edges of the house.
There are escape routes, and he catalogs them as he walks, but most of them hinge on 'ifs'. If the boat is out, if they can figure out how to start it. If there's no opposition. If the weather is calm. If they don't get lost on the way home. If they can figure out where else to go. It's almost worse than not seeing any exits at all.
There's trees by the house, shade, an overgrown garden that looks feral at night. It reminds Jensen of the jungle legends about plants that eat people. He gives it wide berth. There's nothing else to see out here, but the house is silent, and he doesn't want to go in and stare at the ceiling until morning.
He walks circles around the house, widening until the tide washes over his feet. He steps away from it, doesn't want to get messy, but he lets the ocean chase him from a safer distance.
Over the sound of the water, he doesn't hear it coming. There's just a shadow there, at his hand. He freezes, and the most disreputable dog he's ever seen splashes past him. Brown dog, shaggy and rangy, huge; it bounds forward, spins and stares at him, tail wagging.
"Hi," Jensen says, before it can bark. Jesus, don't let it bark. "Um. I didn't see you."
The dog tilts its head, like words mean anything, and gives a doggy grin. Then it cuts a path through the water, spraying sand and mud as it circles back around him. It (he) shoves under Jensen's hand, and it's big enough that Jensen can thump its back without bending down. It tolerates that for a few seconds before veering away again.
Despite himself, Jensen smiles. "Oh, Jared's going to love you."
The dog makes the pre-bark sound, chest deep, and bends its enormous head to retrieve a branch to bring to Jensen. When Jensen takes it, it trots back a few steps and braces for the throw.
"Oh. You want...?" Jensen glances at the branch. "You're gonna bark, aren't you."
If the dog could roll its eyes, this one would. It lowers its chin to the sand, looking for a moment more wolf than dog. Which it can't be. A wolf in the islands? And where the hell was it hiding, anyway?
The dog makes an impatient noise.
"Fine. Fine. Here." Jensen throws the branch. It's not a great throw, his muscles worn down from this last assignment, but the dog darts after it and tumbles in the sand. It seems gratuitous, but the dog's tail goes wild as it noses around for the stick and brings it back to Jensen. It's polite about letting Jensen have it back, and Jensen tentatively pats the top of its broad head. Keen eyes follow his hand. Smart eyes.
Shaking himself, Jensen throws again. And again. The dog retrieves, anticipating, more predator than Fido. It never barks, and it never loses patience. It's goddamn eerie, but Jensen smiles anyway.
After a while, he realizes he isn't sure how long he's been throwing, but the dog is drenched and he has sand in the hems of his borrowed pants. The sky is lighter, too.
"Jared," Jensen mutters, and gives the branch a last toss. "Sorry, guy."
The dog settles in with its prize, watching Jensen go under brows too heavy for any dog Jensen's ever seen.
Jensen tears up sand getting back to the house, and guilt kicks in when he sees that the lights are on inside. He shakes off the worst of the sand and comes in.
Ever looks over her shoulder from her position at the coffeemaker. She grunts what Jensen guesses is a greeting and goes back to her caffeine vigil. Her shorts are sliding down over her hips, and there are scars in the small of her back. The pull-out bed is empty.
Managing a quiet noise that should cover "good morning" before coffee, Jensen runs up the stairs and to the guest room. He isn't sure what he expects: blood, a body, the aftermath of a rape. But he finds Jared still sleeping, a cup of coffee and Bengay on the nightstand.
Jensen leans against the doorframe, limp with relief, and closes his eyes. He shoves out of the borrowed pants, hesitating before he just slings them over a chair to dry. Brushing off the worst of the sand, Jensen climbs onto the bed beside Jared.
Jared wakes, mumbling. "J'n?"
"Shh. Shh." Jensen kisses Jared's shoulder, the tension there taking hold again like it always does. "We're okay."
For now.
As the scent of morning rises through the house, Jensen settles in. He doesn't expect to sleep.
His dreams are full of forests, and of running.
***
The outdoor shower is ball-shrinkingly cold, but it gets the sand off. Zach spits bark and goes inside. While he's still dripping, he slides in behind Ever and shakes off on her neck.
Ever doesn't squeak, the alpha bitch, but she does elbow him. "Ass."
"Hey," Zach grumbles. "I got up."
"Yeah." Ever never relents, exactly, but she does let him put his arms under the swell of her tits. He hums into the back of her neck, but doesn't bite. She'd put him on the ground, and he knows it. "Did it do any good?"
"What, playing stick? Yeah, I'll be flossing for months."
Ever grabs two mugs. "Zach."
"I don't know. I guess. He didn't try to hotwire the boat." Zach closes his eyes, breathes her in. Ever smells like sleep and woman, and he likes both. It settles the dim tension in his stomach, puts him back on even keel. "He's screwed up inside. Pretty bad. It must've been a while since the bite."
Ever stills in the middle of pouring. In that quiet voice, the wolf voice, she asks, "Like Sarah?"
Zach doesn't answer, because he doesn't know. He never felt Sarah; he couldn't even tell that she wasn't human. He would've passed right by her. Maybe David should've. It would've saved Jeff a lot of grief. Dead mate, dead wife, ashes in the ocean. Bad times.
If Jensen is dying, Zach'll finish it himself before he sees Jeff broken down like that again.
Author:
nilchanceRating: PG-13
a/n: Same 'verse as Serendipity. Jensen can't sleep.
When Jensen was 16, he closed his teeth around an owner's dick. Nearly bit it straight through.
It wasn't worth it. Not because of the places he went after that, the long ugly stretch of years between that night and finding Jared. He survived those times, and he can block them out. No, the price was in the fact that the owners never touched him, after. They never came to him at night with seeking hands. He was left alone.
They went to Jared. And they made Jensen watch.
****
After Jeff pitches him out of the bed, Jensen spends a few minutes in the hallway, calming himself down. He bites ridges into his fist, jittering with adrenaline. Stupid. He'd been so ready, but of course Jeff knew his history. Of course he said no.
There's going to be a price, sooner or later. He knows that. He just can't see where it's coming from.
Jensen creeps back to the guest room, where Jared tosses under the sheets. Jared's sleep is always shallow, the knots in his muscles so tight Jensen can see them. So Jensen straddles his hips, rubs and grinds and wrestles the tension out of Jared's body until his own muscles are screaming. Jared shoves his face into the pillow to keep quiet, his body rolling under Jensen's hands. It probably looks like sex, but they're both too goddamn tired for that anyway.
Finally, Jared subsides, his breath fading to quiet rhythm. Jensen scoots back so he doesn't disturb him, his back resting against the bedframe, his eyes on the door.
It's a long night.
The clock reads 4 when Jensen eases out of bed again, moving carefully to keep from jarring him awake. Jared grumbles a complaint, his hand kneading the blanket beside him where Jensen should be. Where he would be, if he had more sense than paranoia.
He feels like something's moving under his skin, pulling at him, keeping him on edge. He runs his hands over his face, scrubs at the rough stubble and sweat, and thinks. Part of him wants to stay with Jared, stand watch, but the house is silent. It's a good time to go look at their exits. In case.
They're a long way from land, and it's probably stupid to even try, but...
He pads out into the hallway. His senses feel like they've been cranked up high, every creak of the stairs wrenching him tighter. There's no sound from Jeff's room. As Jensen eases down to the first floor, he glances into the living room; Ever and Zach are on the fold-out couch, their bodies tangled up, Zach's face burrowed into the long hair at Ever's nape. Neither of them move.
On their way in, Jensen noticed there was no security system in place, but he checks again for his peace of mind. The knives are out in the kitchen and the doors open quietly. Ever inhales sharply when she hears the door, then mutters and buries her face in the pillow again.
Jensen slips out into the dark. The moonlight is blinding after months of city nights, the stars like a net above his head. The house is surrounded by cool stone and sand, and his bare feet sink in. It feels good. The water gouges at the shore, spitting foam at his feet as he goes along the edges of the house.
There are escape routes, and he catalogs them as he walks, but most of them hinge on 'ifs'. If the boat is out, if they can figure out how to start it. If there's no opposition. If the weather is calm. If they don't get lost on the way home. If they can figure out where else to go. It's almost worse than not seeing any exits at all.
There's trees by the house, shade, an overgrown garden that looks feral at night. It reminds Jensen of the jungle legends about plants that eat people. He gives it wide berth. There's nothing else to see out here, but the house is silent, and he doesn't want to go in and stare at the ceiling until morning.
He walks circles around the house, widening until the tide washes over his feet. He steps away from it, doesn't want to get messy, but he lets the ocean chase him from a safer distance.
Over the sound of the water, he doesn't hear it coming. There's just a shadow there, at his hand. He freezes, and the most disreputable dog he's ever seen splashes past him. Brown dog, shaggy and rangy, huge; it bounds forward, spins and stares at him, tail wagging.
"Hi," Jensen says, before it can bark. Jesus, don't let it bark. "Um. I didn't see you."
The dog tilts its head, like words mean anything, and gives a doggy grin. Then it cuts a path through the water, spraying sand and mud as it circles back around him. It (he) shoves under Jensen's hand, and it's big enough that Jensen can thump its back without bending down. It tolerates that for a few seconds before veering away again.
Despite himself, Jensen smiles. "Oh, Jared's going to love you."
The dog makes the pre-bark sound, chest deep, and bends its enormous head to retrieve a branch to bring to Jensen. When Jensen takes it, it trots back a few steps and braces for the throw.
"Oh. You want...?" Jensen glances at the branch. "You're gonna bark, aren't you."
If the dog could roll its eyes, this one would. It lowers its chin to the sand, looking for a moment more wolf than dog. Which it can't be. A wolf in the islands? And where the hell was it hiding, anyway?
The dog makes an impatient noise.
"Fine. Fine. Here." Jensen throws the branch. It's not a great throw, his muscles worn down from this last assignment, but the dog darts after it and tumbles in the sand. It seems gratuitous, but the dog's tail goes wild as it noses around for the stick and brings it back to Jensen. It's polite about letting Jensen have it back, and Jensen tentatively pats the top of its broad head. Keen eyes follow his hand. Smart eyes.
Shaking himself, Jensen throws again. And again. The dog retrieves, anticipating, more predator than Fido. It never barks, and it never loses patience. It's goddamn eerie, but Jensen smiles anyway.
After a while, he realizes he isn't sure how long he's been throwing, but the dog is drenched and he has sand in the hems of his borrowed pants. The sky is lighter, too.
"Jared," Jensen mutters, and gives the branch a last toss. "Sorry, guy."
The dog settles in with its prize, watching Jensen go under brows too heavy for any dog Jensen's ever seen.
Jensen tears up sand getting back to the house, and guilt kicks in when he sees that the lights are on inside. He shakes off the worst of the sand and comes in.
Ever looks over her shoulder from her position at the coffeemaker. She grunts what Jensen guesses is a greeting and goes back to her caffeine vigil. Her shorts are sliding down over her hips, and there are scars in the small of her back. The pull-out bed is empty.
Managing a quiet noise that should cover "good morning" before coffee, Jensen runs up the stairs and to the guest room. He isn't sure what he expects: blood, a body, the aftermath of a rape. But he finds Jared still sleeping, a cup of coffee and Bengay on the nightstand.
Jensen leans against the doorframe, limp with relief, and closes his eyes. He shoves out of the borrowed pants, hesitating before he just slings them over a chair to dry. Brushing off the worst of the sand, Jensen climbs onto the bed beside Jared.
Jared wakes, mumbling. "J'n?"
"Shh. Shh." Jensen kisses Jared's shoulder, the tension there taking hold again like it always does. "We're okay."
For now.
As the scent of morning rises through the house, Jensen settles in. He doesn't expect to sleep.
His dreams are full of forests, and of running.
***
The outdoor shower is ball-shrinkingly cold, but it gets the sand off. Zach spits bark and goes inside. While he's still dripping, he slides in behind Ever and shakes off on her neck.
Ever doesn't squeak, the alpha bitch, but she does elbow him. "Ass."
"Hey," Zach grumbles. "I got up."
"Yeah." Ever never relents, exactly, but she does let him put his arms under the swell of her tits. He hums into the back of her neck, but doesn't bite. She'd put him on the ground, and he knows it. "Did it do any good?"
"What, playing stick? Yeah, I'll be flossing for months."
Ever grabs two mugs. "Zach."
"I don't know. I guess. He didn't try to hotwire the boat." Zach closes his eyes, breathes her in. Ever smells like sleep and woman, and he likes both. It settles the dim tension in his stomach, puts him back on even keel. "He's screwed up inside. Pretty bad. It must've been a while since the bite."
Ever stills in the middle of pouring. In that quiet voice, the wolf voice, she asks, "Like Sarah?"
Zach doesn't answer, because he doesn't know. He never felt Sarah; he couldn't even tell that she wasn't human. He would've passed right by her. Maybe David should've. It would've saved Jeff a lot of grief. Dead mate, dead wife, ashes in the ocean. Bad times.
If Jensen is dying, Zach'll finish it himself before he sees Jeff broken down like that again.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:39 pm (UTC)(I really, really owe you an e-mail re: Sweet Charity. You will get one tomorrow. I have thoughts.)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:14 pm (UTC)At first I was like - YES, YES, YES .. more of this story is going to be soooooo good ...
Then it was ow, that hurts so much ...
Then - COOOL .. they're wolves ...
Then - NOOOOOOOOOOO! Jensen can't be dying, they can't be even thinking about killing him .... NOOOOOOOOOO
This is so awesome .. the thing is you always manage to do it, you always leave me desperate for more - of this verse, of any verse you create .... just
WOW
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:44 pm (UTC)(Wow, that's a gorgeous icon.)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:03 pm (UTC)Yay! This is fantastic...
I love how you create an AU so deftly and precisely, so the world simply IS, and the characters glow through.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:05 pm (UTC)Wow, you totally blindsided me with that one! This just gets more interesting.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:23 pm (UTC)Oh my God, oh my God, I did not see that coming. Oh my God, thank you so much. Werewolves + ex-Hookerfic + H/C + possible J3 = perfect storm of caroline's bulletproof kinks.
This is so awesome. YOU are so awesome. OMG.
\o/ \o/ \o/
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:25 pm (UTC)This is a great universe!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:37 pm (UTC)I need a header that says "Wild Kingdom", Erin. I really do.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:37 pm (UTC)I love how Zach clams Jen down by playing fetch with him. I love how Jensen tries to work the cramps away from Jared's muscles and how he curls up around him before sleep, and I most of all I like how..sensual? Tangible? I can't think of the right word, but you describe touch in a way that leave my own skin burning.
This just sketches up an entirely new list of questions for this universe.
-Is Jared a wolf too or a human Jensen decided to protect?
-What happened to make Jensen a wolf?
-Does this have any connection to the SGA or was it just random chance that got him bit?
Damn you and your marvelous world building skills!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 11:10 pm (UTC)This is brilliant. But no killing Jensen, please!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 11:12 pm (UTC)*bounce*
*pets the boys*
Luffly stuff.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-21 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 12:19 am (UTC)Damn, why do you get me so fucking hooked on your work?!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 12:39 am (UTC)I'm so glad you guys seem to be in a little better place and feel up to writing again. Your creative talents have been sorely missed.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 01:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 02:29 am (UTC)Okay, maybe it's not an exact quote, but my point was this. I was all set to whine about lack of Jensen as cat fic, and then you go and throw us this.
Actually, I wouldn't have whined in a comment, but one part of my brain would have supplied it, and the other would have beaten it up for saying so even mentally.
My point--and lo, there is one here somewhere--is that one of my bulletproof kinks, apparently, is fantastic universes that are made real by those tiny little details that a lesser writer might overlook. For too many the temptation is to get so lost in the fantastic elements that the real seems unappealing.
But for me, it's the utterly real elements that ground a story in reality. Of course, the teenaged little sister would misplace a crossbow. Because, hello, teenager!
Which explains, perhaps, the reason that I was so deeply enamored of the bits about Zach spitting bark and flossing the remnants out for days afterwards. For me, the most believable, most plausible fantasies are the ones that think about that. (I'm finishing up some of Tamora Pierce's books, and I love that her characters who can, you know, touch and channel fire incinerate their clothes when they do so.)
I, actually, was wondering if the dog was Jeff trying to get a better sense of Jensen. I am really almost madly in love with Ever here, so you should just feel free to send along whatever pieces of whatever stories you want whenever you want it.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 01:23 pm (UTC)I love the mundane stuff in the middle of horror/supernatural/fantasy settings. I'm the type who always wonders when Jack Bauer has time to pee. And you're right, Buffy and Angel were so awesome for that; the characters had to earn a living, and go to school, and pay rent. I loved that about Joss's shows, the grounding sense of reality.
How are the Tamara Pierce books? I've heard good things and bad, both.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 03:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-23 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 06:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-22 07:40 pm (UTC)I, for one, am IMMENSELY THANKFUL that
(no subject)
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