FIC: Silence and Grace (1/1)
Sep. 26th, 2012 07:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Silence and Grace
Author:nilchance
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen, Jeff/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: This is an AU one-shot. Contains dub-con (fuck or die) and various pagan fuckery.
Jensen grieved for the silence.
He lived for the job: the petty theft of wallets, the way the mark yielded as words flowed silver over Jensen's tongue. The money. Most definitely the money. After the job, though, came the cool embrace of his ship and the darkness of the stars. He knew the Blackbird, knew its tics and pops like scars on a lover's body, and knew the silence as he counted his money was its own kind of grace.
Seventy five days since that fucking job for Murray. Seventy five days of running through backwater planets, sleeping on filthy streets, trapped away from the Blackbird. Too easy recognized; it'd be caught and they'd both be impounded for scraps. None of his contacts were willing to stick their necks out this time. He couldn't lay low or fake his own death, just run and keep running until they caught him or he dropped.
And now this. New Geneva, the shelter for convicts, fanatics and idiots.
The planet was constant summer, its trademark white clay dried out by the sun until it became a shifting mass of dust. There were plenty of people around as Jensen ducked out of the courier port and on to the street, shoved together in the chaos of the transport station and the market right by it: blue robed merchants, gray robed seekers, white robed students, a few scattered Justices in black. The Justices were too busy sweating to notice much. Despite the high concentration of wanted criminals, New Geneva was nearly free of street crime, as all the bad elements were hiding in Sanctuary. Jensen's fingers itched to lift a wallet or an apple, but nobody wanted to screw with New Geneva. It was the only place left to hide.
Speaking of, he had to find a priest.
Pulling the robe's gray hood tighter around his face, Jensen squeezed through the crowd and away from the temptation of the food. He hadn't managed to score anything since three ports back. There had been wanted signs, his picture plastered everywhere. A reward. If Kane hadn't been running his own job on a representative on Dorado, Jensen could've worked out a way to get the money and keep his head. He might not have stolen Kane's percentage, even.
Out of the market, Jensen began to see homes for gods he didn't recognize. Most were humble shacks, but that was no good. He didn't do humble well, and he'd probably feel bad about lifting their silver on his way out. There could be wide eyed orphans involved.
As he turned another corner into a plaza, the sacred changed from a trickle to a flood. Statues, plaques, churches, cathedrals, synagogues, temples; he could hear music and chanting, punctuated occasionally by the high squawk of a chicken. He hoped that the chicken was the sacrifice, not the deity. And there was wealth everywhere, the glint of precious metals in the sun.
Very nice. But where could he stand being trapped for a few weeks? Hard to tell from the outside, and it couldn't look like he was god-shopping...
Sunlight flashed off polished metal, spearing his attention. Wincing, Jensen shielded his eyes and looked at the temple that had blinded him. It was appropriately ornate, but instead of somber gray stones, it was built in shades of red and gold. Carved above the door were the words Silence and Grace.
Jensen hesitated, but the sight of black robes in the crowd meant that he didn't wait long. He went in, and the door closed heavily behind him.
After the blazing light off dust and metal, the inside of the church was too dark to see. Jensen held still, resisting the urge to flail for support. It was a nice trick, he had to give them; it would awe the audience and scare off the wicked. Theoretically, anyway.
Slowly, the room came into view. There was a cushion on the floor, carvings in the wall. The room's only light bled copper through a stained glass skylight. Amazingly, it was cool enough to be on the edge of uncomfortable. Jensen smelled incense, thick and mind-dulling. If he wasn't paying attention, he would have missed the seam in the wall that was the door. More tricks.
Time to look penitent, then. Jensen went over to the cushion and knelt. At this level, the carving was in his reach and worn smooth by countless fingers. He touched where he was obviously meant to, following the words with his fingertips. High Galatean. I come to you, Sophia, goddess of grace, as the root to the underground river. I come to you, Thanos, god of silence, to yield as the branch to the wind.
Typical 'my will is yours' religious crap. If Jensen trusted to the universe, he'd have been driven into a sun by now. But if they wanted to dedicate a temple to the art of letting shit happen, that was their business and his benefit.
He started to sink back on his heels, and stiffened as he felt something press a gentle warning against his spine. He hadn't heard the door, but there was someone standing behind him now. Not touching; the object against his back was an inert, solid point of pressure. Too dull to be a blade, too rounded to be the muzzle of a firearm.
Balanced like he was between kneeling and sitting, his thighs took all his weight and burned. Too much running. Jensen eased forward to get away from the prodding and the ache, but a big hand cupped his throat. Held him in place. Despite himself, Jensen swallowed, and felt his dry throat click.
It was nothing. Mystical, intimidating crap.
Was he supposed to talk first? Were the priests silent, or was he? Fuck, he'd have never run a con like this before. Sloppy.
The priest wasn't trying to choke him, his hand firm but not unkind. As Jensen wavered on his knees, a callused thumb stroked down the tendon of his throat and rested against his pulse. Jensen closed his eyes and willed himself not to knife his possible benefactor in the gut.
"I don't know you." The priest's voice had to be jacked up, nanotech or surgery or simple acoustics, because it rolled over the skin. Not unpleasant, but unnerving.
"No," Jensen said. When his voice came out thin, he cleared his throat and tried again, louder. "No. You don't."
"Then why are you in that robe?"
Because he had liberated one from an adept at a public bathhouse three planets ago. "I'm looking for training."
"Hm." Hand sliding up to Jensen's chin, the priest jerked his head back. Once the world finished tilting, Jensen found himself looking at an upside down shadow. His hands clenched in frustrated violence. He could've been wrong, but Jensen thought he saw a flash of teeth as the priest smiled. "Training or sanctuary?"
So now Jensen was bowed backwards, straining on his knees, and being interrogated. This could be going better.
Trying for an ingratiating smile, Jensen said, "You could say they're the same thing."
"Right." Dry as the dust outside. "You think you want the test, boy?"
Only the thought of stealing the temple blind kept Jensen smiling. The test should've been enough to put him on his way out the door, but... boy? No. Fuck that. "Yeah. I do."
The priest touched the soft hollows on the underside of his jaw, the vulnerable places. Jensen set his teeth against the dark flutter in his stomach. His thighs were starting to shake, but he would not lean into the support against his back.
Abruptly, the priest let him go. Jensen dropped back on his heels, feeling his muscles throb in relief, and twitched when the priest flipped the hood in front of his eyes again. His fingertips tingled with adrenaline.
"Not here," the priest said. "Get up."
Jensen stood, refusing to stumble, and was irritated to find that the priest was taller. There was a crop in his hand, the kind one used to steer a horse. Jensen caught a flash of dark eyes, before the priest turned and strode through the now open door.
It would have been an excellent time to run.
*******
The room of the test was nicer, as it turned out. Definitely brighter. There was a table, a bottle of wine, and a naked woman kneeling on the floor. No signs of hard life on her body, and her smile was secret and pleased. Apparently Jensen had gone into the wrong business; religion had much better perks.
On his way past her, the priest stroked her hair. She preened under his touch, but beneath her lashes, she was watching Jensen.
The priest sat, stretching long legs in front of him. At a look from him, the woman began to undo the priest's cloak. Beneath it, the priest's clothes were simple but fine. He was attractive in a rough way, tousled hair and lopsided smile, but his eyes followed everything with an intensity Jensen couldn't read. Another day, another world, and Jensen probably would've tumbled in the sheets with him.
Jensen stopped in front of the table. A quick glance around confirmed that there was no second chair, although there was an anatomically correct statue seated in the corner. The statue's phallus was worn smooth by countless touching. Between that and the naked woman... fertility cult? Jensen could deal with that.
The priest grabbed the wine bottle and poured it into a waiting cup. The cup was gilded, Jensen noticed, and a good size to conceal under clothes. It'd fetch a nice price in the mid-world markets. The woman glanced at the cup, wet her lower lip, and studiously concentrated on folding the priest's cloak.
"Do you want this test?" The priest asked.
Chewing on the inside of his lip to quell a smart remark, Jensen nodded. "My answer's the same."
The woman had finished. The priest touched her cheek. "Rahel, take his cloak."
Rahel turned her face into his fingers, then shifted to all fours. Gracefully, spine rolling in slow waves, she crawled her way across the floor to Jensen's feet. Without strain, she knelt up and began to undo the cloak's lowest clasps. Her fingers slid beneath the folds of cloth, brushing his body.
Jensen felt the priest studying his face.
Rahel looked up at him. "I would undo your other clasps."
She wasn't getting up. Jensen bent, watching the priest in the corner of his vision. Rahel made quick work of his cloak, and soon it was sliding off his shoulders into her hands. He straightened, feeling stripped without its protective bulk. He looked road-worn and skinny, but the worst of his secrets was still hidden under his shirt. Even more comforting was the weight of his bootknife.
"Do you want this test?" The priest asked again.
Excluding idiocy as an option, it was probably a ritual. Jensen folded his hands behind his back and nodded solemnly.
The priest pushed the glass to the edge of the table. "To the kindness of the gods."
That sounded ominous. Jensen approached, took the glass, and made a show of putting it back down. "Forgive me, I've been off world trading too many times. I don't doubt your hospitality--"
For whatever reason, that amused the hell out of the priest. With a sardonic smile, he lifted the glass, knocked it back, refilled it and pushed it to Jensen again. "I'm not poisoning you. Drink."
Jensen took the glass again and raised it to his lips. The rim held lingering warmth from the priest's mouth. Jensen drank, checking for the poisons he knew. The wine was sweet, untainted. He swallowed, and the spices rose up to make his head swim. It burned the whole way down and lit a fire in his stomach. His cough wasn't all feigned.
The priest sank back in his chair, resting his hands on the desk. "Jeffrey," he said suddenly. "The adepts here call me Jeff, so you may as well."
"Jeff." Jensen put the glass down. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Jeff said darkly. To Rahel, he said, "Bring food, sweetheart. Bread, cheese, an apple. You can walk now."
Rahel rose, smooth as water. She met Jensen's eyes, a spark of contact that was too much like a signal between thieves, then spun away. There was evidently a dumb waiter in the corner, which could be valuable to know for escaping--
Odd that the heat in his stomach hadn't eased up.
"Do you have a name?" Jeff drawled.
"Ah. Sorry. Alec Winter." Which was one of the few aliases Jensen thought they hadn't connected to him.
"Alec," Jeff murmured, tasting the word. As Rahel returned with a tray, Jeff touched her shoulder again and gave her a real smile. Even the edge of that smile was blinding. Rahel sank beside him again, settling at his feet, and Jeff tossed a roll at Jensen. "Eat. You're too skinny."
Jensen thought about throwing the roll at Jeff, but he was too hungry. He ate it, and the pieces of cheese Jeff silently offered. Each bite was better than the last, but eating woke his body up to the fact that he'd been living on scraps for months. It was an itch, a rising driving hunger pulling his skin tighter. He wanted the apple, its green shine. But he needed the test finished; sanctuary wasn't offered to lunch guests.
"Jeff," he said. When had his voice gotten rougher? "I appreciate this, but the test..."
Something shifted behind Jeff's smile, his eyes going heavy-lidded. "Yeah. I thought so."
Shit. Jensen blinked, trying to look guileless. He could feel sweat creeping down his spine. "I'm sorry, you thought what?"
Taking the knife on the tray, Jeff split the apple with a wet crunch that jerked Jensen's nerves. And again. And again, exposing the white brittle insides. Voice almost gentle, Jeff said, "What did you do?"
"I didn't--" Crunch. Jensen shook his head. "I came in to pray. I drank the wine."
"Most criminals don't come here."
Jensen heard the drum of his pulse in his ears. "I'm glad."
"Most people here, they know this test. And they know what it does to you. The only others who've come without knowing are the ones who couldn't find sanctuary anywhere else. The rapists, the murderers." Jeff glanced up at his face, clearly waiting, the knife in his hand. Juice on his fingers.
"I'm not a rapist," Jensen growled, then shook his head again. Couldn't clear it. "I'm not a criminal. Can I sit down?"
"Yeah," Jeff said, not helpfully. Then he set the knife aside and held out an apple slice. "Come here."
Apple for temptation; apple for the fall.
'This test', Jeff had said. 'What it does to you.' The slow heat spreading through Jensen's limbs, down from his belly to his cock...
"You did something to the wine," Jensen said. "You son of a bitch."
Jeff shrugged. "I warned you. Three times."
"What did you do? No, wait." Jensen pressed his palm to his forehead and revised. "What is it going to do?"
"To most people, not much. To some people, it's hell." Jeff's gaze was hot and steady. "You're not most people. I can see it in your eyes. You're already starting to feel it."
"No." The lie was automatic. Jensen rubbed his slick palms on his thighs, restless. "You took it, too."
"I did."
"You're not..." Jensen gestured vaguely.
Jeff raised his eyebrows. Then, deliberately, he shifted his knees apart to show the erection pressing against the seam of his pants.
Hunger clenched inside Jensen's gut. He backed up, clenching and unclenching his fists. The door wasn't locked.
Jeff smacked both palms down on the desk, a sharp retort of sound that made Jensen want to crawl out of his skin. "Don't think about it, boy."
"What?" Jensen snapped.
"Running."
It might've been the 'boy', or the heat sliding through his bones, but Jensen's patience cracked wide open. "Go fuck yourself, you sadistic bastard. You get off on this? Making people crawl? Fine! But don't you fucking tell me what I should do--"
Jeff stood up.
No thinking, just reaction; Jensen darted back towards the door. Jeff's eyes followed him with all the expectation of a predator.
"Don't," Rahel said abruptly, breaking Jensen's concentration. "Don't move. Not one more step."
Jensen didn't want to take his eyes off Jeff. His body was humming like a taut wire, tighter and tighter with every second he didn't move. "Why shouldn't I?" Jensen asked.
Jeff's smile wasn't kind. "Because it makes people chase."
Funny how part of Jensen wanted to be caught. He bent and unclasped his bootknife, still holding Jeff's stare. It should've been just like the wolves on Acacia, easy not to flinch once he knew that was the rule, but wolves were more civil than men.
Jeff narrowed his eyes a little. They crinkled at the corners, deceptively charming. "Ah, sweetheart. Blood makes it better. You still won't reach the street."
Heart lurching in his chest, Jensen shifted the knife to a firmer grip. "What the hell are your gods?"
"Old ones," Jeff said. "They were here first. And they apparently like you."
Despite himself, Jensen panted a laugh. "This is liking?"
"You'd be dead otherwise, Alec. Sophia's on you now. You've got that scent all over you like a bitch in heat." The words could've been cruel, but Jeff said them low and hot. "You're shivering."
"Fuck you."
Jeff closed his eyes, a small motion that seemed almost painful, then shook himself and turned that eerie intensity on Rahel. She drew up straighter, lips parting so Jeff could slide his fingers into her mouth. She sucked them clean of apple, cheeks hollowing, and didn't flinch when all when Jeff let go to haul her onto the table. Jeff moved her like a doll, spun her around to face Jensen and urged her thighs apart.
Oh. Oh no, no, fuck, he couldn't. Jensen could see her glistening, the sight of wet curls against slick pink like a fist around his spine. The creeping, coaxing warmth of the wine pulled even tighter.
Rahel met Jensen's eyes, her pupils widening, and she didn't look away as Jeff sank two fingers inside her. Jeff's hand cupped her, cradled her; his palm would grind against her clit if he moved.
Resting his chin on Rahel's shoulder, Jeff said to Jensen, "No. I'm going to fuck her. And you're going to watch her ride my fingers."
Jensen dragged in a breath, but couldn't think of a curse to throw at him.
Jeff smiled and, watching Jensen, kissed Rahel's shoulder. His fingers began to work, a lazy deep stroking that made Rahel shiver. Her nipples were hardening, the ripe scent of her rising every time Jeff moved. Rahel's eyes unfocused, her attention going inwards as Jeff fucked her open. The slick noise as she got wetter, drenched Jeff's hand, made Jensen flinch.
The smell, the sound... Jensen's breathing became shallower, turned into panting. He was slipping. He started to shift the knife to his other hand, but the brush of his fingers on his own wrist made him nearly drop it.
"You think it's hot in here," Jeff murmured. "It's not. Pretty soon you won't get able to stand having clothes on your skin. You'll want to touch everywhere, every bit of skin, but you can't get there fast enough. It'll be so good it hurts."
Rahel made a ragged sound, her back bowing as Jeff's thrusts sped up.
"You can smell her. How hot she is for it. Can't stop thinking about how she'd feel around your cock." Jeff paused, and Rahel's breath sobbed out. "Or maybe not. Maybe you want to be on the table, spread open for my hand."
Jensen jerked, fumbled the knife. It clattered to the floor, too loud, but Jeff didn't move to hurt him. Jeff didn't move at all except to keep fucking Rahel, each stroke a wet lewd slap. Rahel's hands moved on the table, her thighs beginning to tremble.
Jeff hadn't missed anything, damn him. He growled, pleased and predatory. His free hand slid down his stomach and shoved the pants out of his way, his hard cock surging into his touch. It was soaked at the tip, wet pretty, another layer of scent to make Jensen's head swim. Fisting his cock, Jeff began to a lazy, maddening stroke. His rhythm on Rahel faltered, and she whined, twisting into his hand.
Jensen choked, all his air punched out. He was burning, he couldn't, he wasn't going to--
"Yeah," Jeff ground out. "That's what you want. You'd let me push those pretty thighs up around my shoulders and open you up. You bite and scratch, but you'd be fucking yourself back on my cock. You'd beg for it-"
Rahel surged up all at once, her mouth dropping open as she shuddered and jolted in silence. She soaked Jeff's fingers, Jeff's cock dripped onto the table, and something quietly snapped inside Jensen's head. He didn't recognize the sound he made, didn't want to, as he crossed the floor and climbed onto the table.
"Shut up," he said savagely, "just shut the fuck up, why are you talking," and wrenched Jeff's hand away from his own cock, "you fucking bastard, you cocksucking-- give me--"
Jeff pulled his fingers free of Rahel. Out of the corner of his vision, Jensen saw Rahel fold to the floor, but it didn't matter once Jeff grabbed Jensen's chin in his hand and slid damp fingers past his lips. The salt-musk taste lit up Jensen's mouth, and he sucked hungrily, biting at Jeff's knuckles and trying to lick in between his fingers. He felt his cock twitch inside the prison of his pants, trapped against his leg, and tried to fumble a hand down to free it.
Jeff caught his wrist and squeezed once, hard. "I can smell your cock leaking, boy."
Jensen glared at him. Bit Jeff again, hard enough that it had to hurt.
"You want me to fuck you? You want to come?" Jeff pulled his fingers out and let go of Jensen's wrists, a sharp dizzying loss until Jeff scruffed him and pulled him down. Down to face his hard red cock. "Earn it."
Jensen wheezed, shame and want tangled up, and pulled against Jeff's grip. So close. If he tilted his head, if he opened his mouth...
"Yeah," Jeff said, quieter, satisfied. He took hold of his cock and brought it closer, brushing Jensen's lips, retreating. "That's what you want."
Jensen looked up. "I want you to shut up."
"No," Jeff said. "You don't. I know you don't. Now open your mouth for me, little liar."
Fucking bastard. Ought to be more careful with the man whose teeth were near his dick. The tug of annoyance didn't stop Jensen from opening his mouth; he wasn't sure anything could've stopped him. It was worth anything to feel the wide head of Jeff's cock push past his lips, glide slick over his tongue. Jensen groaned with the taste of it, the bloody-heavy weight pulsing, and pushed against Jeff's hand to get more.
"Fuck," Jeff breathed, hard and harsh. His grip let up, slow. "Yeah. Suck me."
Straining on the end of that leash, Jensen took everything he could, took until he felt the head of Jeff's cock nudge the back of his throat. Wanted it, wanted to choke on him, the sweet hot pressure and the wet spurt of precome. He growled, muffled, and tried to press further until Jeff's hand clenched in his hair. He wanted more, wanted, but when he tried to shove forward the sharp yank on his hair made his eyes water. He made a noise in his throat, gulping air, and tried to reach up to untangle himself from Jeff's grip.
Jeff caught his hand, callused thumb stroking a hot line down his wrist. Jensen shuddered, looking up at Jeff's face, and Jeff smiled. Something feral in that smile, in the deliberate drag of Jeff's thumbnail, sent Jensen's pulse skittering. While he was still wide-open, Jeff pulled out a little, resting on Jensen's tongue. Jensen closed his mouth around him, sucked the taste and heat, and felt his own cock bob against his belly at the ragged sound Jeff made. "Gonna fuck your mouth. Just let me..."
Heat swept up Jensen and lit him up inside. He closed his eyes, tonguing the slit, loud wet noises rising as he tried to coax more slick bitter precome. Starving for it, for the heavy pulse and jerk as Jeff got even harder, for the soft curve of skin under the head that made Jeff curse and palm his head in big rough hands. Jeff tugged at him, pulled him off, and Jensen hated the whining noise that came from his own mouth.
"Shh." Cupping his head, thumbs touching his cheekbone and his slack mouth, Jeff burned down at him.
Then something chimed behind Jensen, a delicate song of tiny fragile bells, and Jeff was holding him in place as Rahel undid his pants. Her light fingers stroked him as she pushed his pants down around his knees, playing merry havoc on his cock. It would've been welcome, Jensen's balls pulled up so tight they hurt, except Jeff was watching his face. Too intimate. No room to lie.
Rahel's touch went away; a moment later, warm oil spilled down the small of Jensen's back. He jerked, but Jeff held on, merciless. The oil dripped down the crack of his ass, bringing his breath faster in his throat. Someone had mixed perfume with the oil, a heady smokiness that reminded him of prostitutes being slicked up for--
Oh, Jensen thought clearly, but too late, because Rahel's fingers were urging him open. He heard the bells again, muffled as something pressed insistently against and inside. The stretch burned, getting worse as the thing widened, and his traitorous body shuddered and took it all. Jeff touched his chin, tipped his head back to bare his throat, rubbed a thumb over his mouth as the toy settled heavy against his prostate, and Jensen stared dizzily at the ceiling until it was done. He was full, God, it felt like he would spill over. He was breathing too loudly. He'd dripped precome all over his thighs, his belly, smeared himself with it. Fucked up, fucked open, shaking apart...
Jensen inhaled like he could breathe Jeff in, like that might fix the scrabbling hunger inside, and the toy shifted. Rubbed. He gasped in, shock and want tightening him up, and it happened again. The tiny bells were making it shiver inside him, making him pulse and clench like he was in heat.
"Better," Jeff murmured. He took one hand away and guided his cock towards Jensen's mouth again, rubbing the head against his lips. Painting his chin with slick and spit. "I can see you now. Blush up so goddamn pretty while it works you open for my cock."
Jensen squeezed his eyes shut. He ought to fight, ought to push not to be bent over and filled up like some whore, but God, he wanted it. The toy wasn't enough, couldn't give him what he needed, too slow too cold too small. His thighs were shaking; his voice shook too when he said, "Stop-- nngh. Stop talking, fuck my mouth, fuck me--"
Jeff filled his mouth in one sleek stroke. Jensen fumbled, his hands flailing, and forgot what he was going to do with them; it didn't matter, Jeff was fucking his mouth in strong slow thrusts. Holding his jaw open and taking. Nothing to say, no cons to run, all of it sliding through Jensen's hands. As Jeff rocked into him, the toy jittered and made him throb all over, skin too tight.
"Yeah." A low drag of sound, barely words. Jeff stroked his face and cheek, a weirdly gentle counterpoint to the relentless drive of his hips. "You're gonna take it. Gonna push you hard, boy. Push that toy up inside you until you're begging me. Lick that tight little ass. Fuck, look at you shake for me. That's right."
Jensen tasted sweet-salt-bitter and swallowed, greedy, starving. Jeff shifted him a little, back on his heels where every thrust ground the toy deep; he gasped, nearly choked, opened up wider. His thighs were burning, his face, and the toy was fucking him and he couldn't, not like this.
"Gonna push you on your belly," Jeff said. "Make you come so many times you can't sit up, but that's all right. I'll keep going. Fuck you open. And when you think you can't take anymore, I'll give you my fingers, too, fuck you so wide--"
Jensen buckled, his head snapping back, Jeff's cock slipping out of his mouth. There was nothing to muffle his whimper. He came on the desk, on his thighs, split open and scraped out inside. Jeff grabbed him, steadied him, until Jensen stopped spasming. Jeff's hands were hot.
A second of quiet. Two. And then the gnawing heat in his belly started again. Jensen moaned, and Jeff pulled his hair, forced his head back. The light hurt. Jeff searched his face, pupils swallowed by black, distracting until Jeff wrapped those long fingers around his dick.
The first stroke brought Jensen up straight. "Juh, nngh, you-- I can't-"
Another sharp yank to his hair. Jensen bent with it, baring throat with a noise that couldn't have come from his mouth, but Jeff was jerking him off, his cock slippery and all on fire from being touched now, just right, right there. He scrabbled, grabbing Jeff's shoulders and digging his nails in. Jeff didn't shrug him off, but he didn't stop, rubbing the tip with his thumb, driving and faster. Jensen scratched so hard it had to be leaving marks, he smelled blood, but he was spurting precome already and Jeff was, "Jeff, Jeff--"
Jeff leaned in and bit Jensen's throat, hard blunt teeth bruising, and Jensen hauled him closer, hauled him in, and came again over Jeff's rough fingers. He was hitching and shuddering all over, body in overdrive, burning up on re-entry.
Jeff didn't let up, not all at once, and it was something to lean into even if it hurt. Jensen breathed, his eyes watering from apparently shooting spinal fluid out his dick. He was still pulsing deep, his heartbeat throbbing sullenly around the toy, rocking it against him. Jeff eased off the pressure slow, until the bite turned into a kiss. Jeff's lips moved against the bruise, silent words.
It was never a good idea to let a priest talk where Jensen couldn't hear it. He dug his heel hard into the small of Jeff's back; the words stopped, but Jeff growled at him instead.
"Bad priest," Jensen muttered. There were more words in his head, ones he really meant to say out loud, but he couldn't find them. So he settled for, "Quit it."
Another rumble, but quieter that time, like Jeff had decided not to shove him off the desk. Jeff nuzzled, stubble scraping in ways that made Jensen's nails dig into the desk, and pressed a soft kiss above the bruise. Again, and again, following the tendon of Jensen's throat up to his jaw, sucking, licking, until Jensen's dick twitched again. He hadn't softened at all, blood-thick and aching like he hadn't gotten off in years, and the return of want need now to his blood starved brain had him grinding against Jeff before he could remember why it was a bad idea. It was good, lifting his hips off the desk to rub himself on Jeff where he could.
Jeff laughed. That was good, too.
Then Jeff's arms were around him, and Jeff took him to the floor. Jeff took the impact, dulled it, protected, and that stirred a dim alarm in Jensen's lizard brain until Jeff was on him. Covering him. Gripping the toy by its flange, his fingertips hot on the stretched-wide rim of Jensen's ass.
Jensen grunted, trying to fling an arm over his face to hide behind, but Jeff pinned his arm with another hand. So Jensen glared at him, bared his teeth and growled.
Jeff pulls the toy out enough that it stretches Jensen wide, a white-hot burn that bows Jensen's spine and strangles his growl. He arches, bracing his feet apart to follow Jeff's hand, spilling "no no no" from his mouth.
Jeff hesitates, leaves Jensen where he is, stretched and pinned and hungry. "You want me to stop?" Jeff asks.
And he would. He'd stop on a goddamn dime if Jensen asked, and knowing that, Jensen lifts his hips and grinds back on Jeff's fingers. Meets Jeff's eyes, as close to truth as he gets. Lets his voice be strung-out and shot as he says, edges blurring on his words, "Don't stop."
Jeff showed teeth and bent, nosing at Jensen's jaw, urging him to show throat again. He twisted the toy at its widest point, stretch-burn-burn dragging vulnerable noises from Jensen's mouth. He twists against Jeff, trying to ease the pressure or roll over to be fucked, and Jeff set his teeth against Jensen's collarbone. Bites a necklace of bruises there, blood blossoming under the skin, and Jensen links his ankles behind Jeff's hips. "C'mon, nngh, fuck, enough, fuck me, it's good, I want it-- I'll, Jeff, damn it, put it fucking in already, I'm gonna, give me--"
The toy comes loose, a feeling like losing his ground, his nerves scattering. Jensen breathes, hard and shallow, his hands slapping on the stone as he tries to get some contact, and Jeff kisses an apology into the bruise. Jeff's cock skims over his balls, fits behind them, not enough pressure even though Jensen feels like he's gaping open and trying to pull Jeff in. He whimpers, hating the noise, his heel sliding in the sweaty hollow of Jeff's back, until Jeff mutters something, fits his shoulder under Jensen's knee, and pushes wide.
Jensen shudders and knocks the back of his head against the floor. Sees colors behind his eyelids, the blind-colors that come when his eyes played tricks in darkness, and that's enough to make him open them again. Frantic, too much and not enough, he feels like he's drowning and dying of thirst, he feels like...
"Shh," Jeff breathes in his ear, his hips moving him deeper, "shh. Enough. You're here. Shh."
Jensen breathes out and turns his face away, blinking as he adjusts. There's sweat in his eyes. He can feel himself opening up around Jeff's dick, the way they fit together, the graceful curve of Jeff's fingers around his wrist. Jeff's thumb strokes his wristbone, soothing in time with the noises Jeff makes.
Their hips press together. Jensen swallows against another whimper, shifting to let himself open up further, muscles protesting this position. Then Jeff moves, drags over his prostate, and Jensen wishes he had something to bite. He can't keep the sounds in, soft wounded noises that are worse than begging, he can't think to beg right.
"That's right," Jeff murmurs, "that's good, fuck, you're tight. Just let me. I've got you."
A harder thrust, deeper, the slap of skin. Jensen scrabbles at the floor, and the caressing hand on his wrist tightens into a shackle. He can fight and it won't get him anyway, it isn't, Jeff just bends him up a little and fucks into him again, hips slapping, relentless. Jensen feels his nipples throbbing, his face burning, his muscles tightening up as he tries to fuck himself back on Jeff's cock. Jeff snarls and speeds up, jarring pushes, fucks Jensen across the floor as he twists and curses and yells, as Jeff bends close enough that Jensen can bite his shoulder.
They're fucking, mating, sweat and filth and come, Jensen's nails bending back on the floor, Jeff relentless against him, Jensen's cock jerking and leaking untouched. He can feel himself opening, his eyes rolling back, and he bites down hard on Jeff's shoulder until he feels skin tear under his teeth, and it's like he tears with it. He tears open and everything spills out, a ragged scream up his throat, coming and coming until he hurts with the wrenching spasms and his throat feels raw and Jeff, Jeff is, he wants it he wants--
Jeff comes quiet, shoulders hitching, controlled. Jensen tips back to watch Jeff's face, the set of his jaw, the bitten red of his mouth. He braces for the wine to crawl up inside his head again, to get hard, but evidently he's too goddamn tired to come again without killing himself.
So he lays there, body strung loose and throbbing, his wrists in Jeff's hands, and wonders how the hell he's going to get out of this one.
Author:
nilchancePairing: Jeff/Jensen, Jeff/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: This is an AU one-shot. Contains dub-con (fuck or die) and various pagan fuckery.
Jensen grieved for the silence.
He lived for the job: the petty theft of wallets, the way the mark yielded as words flowed silver over Jensen's tongue. The money. Most definitely the money. After the job, though, came the cool embrace of his ship and the darkness of the stars. He knew the Blackbird, knew its tics and pops like scars on a lover's body, and knew the silence as he counted his money was its own kind of grace.
Seventy five days since that fucking job for Murray. Seventy five days of running through backwater planets, sleeping on filthy streets, trapped away from the Blackbird. Too easy recognized; it'd be caught and they'd both be impounded for scraps. None of his contacts were willing to stick their necks out this time. He couldn't lay low or fake his own death, just run and keep running until they caught him or he dropped.
And now this. New Geneva, the shelter for convicts, fanatics and idiots.
The planet was constant summer, its trademark white clay dried out by the sun until it became a shifting mass of dust. There were plenty of people around as Jensen ducked out of the courier port and on to the street, shoved together in the chaos of the transport station and the market right by it: blue robed merchants, gray robed seekers, white robed students, a few scattered Justices in black. The Justices were too busy sweating to notice much. Despite the high concentration of wanted criminals, New Geneva was nearly free of street crime, as all the bad elements were hiding in Sanctuary. Jensen's fingers itched to lift a wallet or an apple, but nobody wanted to screw with New Geneva. It was the only place left to hide.
Speaking of, he had to find a priest.
Pulling the robe's gray hood tighter around his face, Jensen squeezed through the crowd and away from the temptation of the food. He hadn't managed to score anything since three ports back. There had been wanted signs, his picture plastered everywhere. A reward. If Kane hadn't been running his own job on a representative on Dorado, Jensen could've worked out a way to get the money and keep his head. He might not have stolen Kane's percentage, even.
Out of the market, Jensen began to see homes for gods he didn't recognize. Most were humble shacks, but that was no good. He didn't do humble well, and he'd probably feel bad about lifting their silver on his way out. There could be wide eyed orphans involved.
As he turned another corner into a plaza, the sacred changed from a trickle to a flood. Statues, plaques, churches, cathedrals, synagogues, temples; he could hear music and chanting, punctuated occasionally by the high squawk of a chicken. He hoped that the chicken was the sacrifice, not the deity. And there was wealth everywhere, the glint of precious metals in the sun.
Very nice. But where could he stand being trapped for a few weeks? Hard to tell from the outside, and it couldn't look like he was god-shopping...
Sunlight flashed off polished metal, spearing his attention. Wincing, Jensen shielded his eyes and looked at the temple that had blinded him. It was appropriately ornate, but instead of somber gray stones, it was built in shades of red and gold. Carved above the door were the words Silence and Grace.
Jensen hesitated, but the sight of black robes in the crowd meant that he didn't wait long. He went in, and the door closed heavily behind him.
After the blazing light off dust and metal, the inside of the church was too dark to see. Jensen held still, resisting the urge to flail for support. It was a nice trick, he had to give them; it would awe the audience and scare off the wicked. Theoretically, anyway.
Slowly, the room came into view. There was a cushion on the floor, carvings in the wall. The room's only light bled copper through a stained glass skylight. Amazingly, it was cool enough to be on the edge of uncomfortable. Jensen smelled incense, thick and mind-dulling. If he wasn't paying attention, he would have missed the seam in the wall that was the door. More tricks.
Time to look penitent, then. Jensen went over to the cushion and knelt. At this level, the carving was in his reach and worn smooth by countless fingers. He touched where he was obviously meant to, following the words with his fingertips. High Galatean. I come to you, Sophia, goddess of grace, as the root to the underground river. I come to you, Thanos, god of silence, to yield as the branch to the wind.
Typical 'my will is yours' religious crap. If Jensen trusted to the universe, he'd have been driven into a sun by now. But if they wanted to dedicate a temple to the art of letting shit happen, that was their business and his benefit.
He started to sink back on his heels, and stiffened as he felt something press a gentle warning against his spine. He hadn't heard the door, but there was someone standing behind him now. Not touching; the object against his back was an inert, solid point of pressure. Too dull to be a blade, too rounded to be the muzzle of a firearm.
Balanced like he was between kneeling and sitting, his thighs took all his weight and burned. Too much running. Jensen eased forward to get away from the prodding and the ache, but a big hand cupped his throat. Held him in place. Despite himself, Jensen swallowed, and felt his dry throat click.
It was nothing. Mystical, intimidating crap.
Was he supposed to talk first? Were the priests silent, or was he? Fuck, he'd have never run a con like this before. Sloppy.
The priest wasn't trying to choke him, his hand firm but not unkind. As Jensen wavered on his knees, a callused thumb stroked down the tendon of his throat and rested against his pulse. Jensen closed his eyes and willed himself not to knife his possible benefactor in the gut.
"I don't know you." The priest's voice had to be jacked up, nanotech or surgery or simple acoustics, because it rolled over the skin. Not unpleasant, but unnerving.
"No," Jensen said. When his voice came out thin, he cleared his throat and tried again, louder. "No. You don't."
"Then why are you in that robe?"
Because he had liberated one from an adept at a public bathhouse three planets ago. "I'm looking for training."
"Hm." Hand sliding up to Jensen's chin, the priest jerked his head back. Once the world finished tilting, Jensen found himself looking at an upside down shadow. His hands clenched in frustrated violence. He could've been wrong, but Jensen thought he saw a flash of teeth as the priest smiled. "Training or sanctuary?"
So now Jensen was bowed backwards, straining on his knees, and being interrogated. This could be going better.
Trying for an ingratiating smile, Jensen said, "You could say they're the same thing."
"Right." Dry as the dust outside. "You think you want the test, boy?"
Only the thought of stealing the temple blind kept Jensen smiling. The test should've been enough to put him on his way out the door, but... boy? No. Fuck that. "Yeah. I do."
The priest touched the soft hollows on the underside of his jaw, the vulnerable places. Jensen set his teeth against the dark flutter in his stomach. His thighs were starting to shake, but he would not lean into the support against his back.
Abruptly, the priest let him go. Jensen dropped back on his heels, feeling his muscles throb in relief, and twitched when the priest flipped the hood in front of his eyes again. His fingertips tingled with adrenaline.
"Not here," the priest said. "Get up."
Jensen stood, refusing to stumble, and was irritated to find that the priest was taller. There was a crop in his hand, the kind one used to steer a horse. Jensen caught a flash of dark eyes, before the priest turned and strode through the now open door.
It would have been an excellent time to run.
*******
The room of the test was nicer, as it turned out. Definitely brighter. There was a table, a bottle of wine, and a naked woman kneeling on the floor. No signs of hard life on her body, and her smile was secret and pleased. Apparently Jensen had gone into the wrong business; religion had much better perks.
On his way past her, the priest stroked her hair. She preened under his touch, but beneath her lashes, she was watching Jensen.
The priest sat, stretching long legs in front of him. At a look from him, the woman began to undo the priest's cloak. Beneath it, the priest's clothes were simple but fine. He was attractive in a rough way, tousled hair and lopsided smile, but his eyes followed everything with an intensity Jensen couldn't read. Another day, another world, and Jensen probably would've tumbled in the sheets with him.
Jensen stopped in front of the table. A quick glance around confirmed that there was no second chair, although there was an anatomically correct statue seated in the corner. The statue's phallus was worn smooth by countless touching. Between that and the naked woman... fertility cult? Jensen could deal with that.
The priest grabbed the wine bottle and poured it into a waiting cup. The cup was gilded, Jensen noticed, and a good size to conceal under clothes. It'd fetch a nice price in the mid-world markets. The woman glanced at the cup, wet her lower lip, and studiously concentrated on folding the priest's cloak.
"Do you want this test?" The priest asked.
Chewing on the inside of his lip to quell a smart remark, Jensen nodded. "My answer's the same."
The woman had finished. The priest touched her cheek. "Rahel, take his cloak."
Rahel turned her face into his fingers, then shifted to all fours. Gracefully, spine rolling in slow waves, she crawled her way across the floor to Jensen's feet. Without strain, she knelt up and began to undo the cloak's lowest clasps. Her fingers slid beneath the folds of cloth, brushing his body.
Jensen felt the priest studying his face.
Rahel looked up at him. "I would undo your other clasps."
She wasn't getting up. Jensen bent, watching the priest in the corner of his vision. Rahel made quick work of his cloak, and soon it was sliding off his shoulders into her hands. He straightened, feeling stripped without its protective bulk. He looked road-worn and skinny, but the worst of his secrets was still hidden under his shirt. Even more comforting was the weight of his bootknife.
"Do you want this test?" The priest asked again.
Excluding idiocy as an option, it was probably a ritual. Jensen folded his hands behind his back and nodded solemnly.
The priest pushed the glass to the edge of the table. "To the kindness of the gods."
That sounded ominous. Jensen approached, took the glass, and made a show of putting it back down. "Forgive me, I've been off world trading too many times. I don't doubt your hospitality--"
For whatever reason, that amused the hell out of the priest. With a sardonic smile, he lifted the glass, knocked it back, refilled it and pushed it to Jensen again. "I'm not poisoning you. Drink."
Jensen took the glass again and raised it to his lips. The rim held lingering warmth from the priest's mouth. Jensen drank, checking for the poisons he knew. The wine was sweet, untainted. He swallowed, and the spices rose up to make his head swim. It burned the whole way down and lit a fire in his stomach. His cough wasn't all feigned.
The priest sank back in his chair, resting his hands on the desk. "Jeffrey," he said suddenly. "The adepts here call me Jeff, so you may as well."
"Jeff." Jensen put the glass down. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Jeff said darkly. To Rahel, he said, "Bring food, sweetheart. Bread, cheese, an apple. You can walk now."
Rahel rose, smooth as water. She met Jensen's eyes, a spark of contact that was too much like a signal between thieves, then spun away. There was evidently a dumb waiter in the corner, which could be valuable to know for escaping--
Odd that the heat in his stomach hadn't eased up.
"Do you have a name?" Jeff drawled.
"Ah. Sorry. Alec Winter." Which was one of the few aliases Jensen thought they hadn't connected to him.
"Alec," Jeff murmured, tasting the word. As Rahel returned with a tray, Jeff touched her shoulder again and gave her a real smile. Even the edge of that smile was blinding. Rahel sank beside him again, settling at his feet, and Jeff tossed a roll at Jensen. "Eat. You're too skinny."
Jensen thought about throwing the roll at Jeff, but he was too hungry. He ate it, and the pieces of cheese Jeff silently offered. Each bite was better than the last, but eating woke his body up to the fact that he'd been living on scraps for months. It was an itch, a rising driving hunger pulling his skin tighter. He wanted the apple, its green shine. But he needed the test finished; sanctuary wasn't offered to lunch guests.
"Jeff," he said. When had his voice gotten rougher? "I appreciate this, but the test..."
Something shifted behind Jeff's smile, his eyes going heavy-lidded. "Yeah. I thought so."
Shit. Jensen blinked, trying to look guileless. He could feel sweat creeping down his spine. "I'm sorry, you thought what?"
Taking the knife on the tray, Jeff split the apple with a wet crunch that jerked Jensen's nerves. And again. And again, exposing the white brittle insides. Voice almost gentle, Jeff said, "What did you do?"
"I didn't--" Crunch. Jensen shook his head. "I came in to pray. I drank the wine."
"Most criminals don't come here."
Jensen heard the drum of his pulse in his ears. "I'm glad."
"Most people here, they know this test. And they know what it does to you. The only others who've come without knowing are the ones who couldn't find sanctuary anywhere else. The rapists, the murderers." Jeff glanced up at his face, clearly waiting, the knife in his hand. Juice on his fingers.
"I'm not a rapist," Jensen growled, then shook his head again. Couldn't clear it. "I'm not a criminal. Can I sit down?"
"Yeah," Jeff said, not helpfully. Then he set the knife aside and held out an apple slice. "Come here."
Apple for temptation; apple for the fall.
'This test', Jeff had said. 'What it does to you.' The slow heat spreading through Jensen's limbs, down from his belly to his cock...
"You did something to the wine," Jensen said. "You son of a bitch."
Jeff shrugged. "I warned you. Three times."
"What did you do? No, wait." Jensen pressed his palm to his forehead and revised. "What is it going to do?"
"To most people, not much. To some people, it's hell." Jeff's gaze was hot and steady. "You're not most people. I can see it in your eyes. You're already starting to feel it."
"No." The lie was automatic. Jensen rubbed his slick palms on his thighs, restless. "You took it, too."
"I did."
"You're not..." Jensen gestured vaguely.
Jeff raised his eyebrows. Then, deliberately, he shifted his knees apart to show the erection pressing against the seam of his pants.
Hunger clenched inside Jensen's gut. He backed up, clenching and unclenching his fists. The door wasn't locked.
Jeff smacked both palms down on the desk, a sharp retort of sound that made Jensen want to crawl out of his skin. "Don't think about it, boy."
"What?" Jensen snapped.
"Running."
It might've been the 'boy', or the heat sliding through his bones, but Jensen's patience cracked wide open. "Go fuck yourself, you sadistic bastard. You get off on this? Making people crawl? Fine! But don't you fucking tell me what I should do--"
Jeff stood up.
No thinking, just reaction; Jensen darted back towards the door. Jeff's eyes followed him with all the expectation of a predator.
"Don't," Rahel said abruptly, breaking Jensen's concentration. "Don't move. Not one more step."
Jensen didn't want to take his eyes off Jeff. His body was humming like a taut wire, tighter and tighter with every second he didn't move. "Why shouldn't I?" Jensen asked.
Jeff's smile wasn't kind. "Because it makes people chase."
Funny how part of Jensen wanted to be caught. He bent and unclasped his bootknife, still holding Jeff's stare. It should've been just like the wolves on Acacia, easy not to flinch once he knew that was the rule, but wolves were more civil than men.
Jeff narrowed his eyes a little. They crinkled at the corners, deceptively charming. "Ah, sweetheart. Blood makes it better. You still won't reach the street."
Heart lurching in his chest, Jensen shifted the knife to a firmer grip. "What the hell are your gods?"
"Old ones," Jeff said. "They were here first. And they apparently like you."
Despite himself, Jensen panted a laugh. "This is liking?"
"You'd be dead otherwise, Alec. Sophia's on you now. You've got that scent all over you like a bitch in heat." The words could've been cruel, but Jeff said them low and hot. "You're shivering."
"Fuck you."
Jeff closed his eyes, a small motion that seemed almost painful, then shook himself and turned that eerie intensity on Rahel. She drew up straighter, lips parting so Jeff could slide his fingers into her mouth. She sucked them clean of apple, cheeks hollowing, and didn't flinch when all when Jeff let go to haul her onto the table. Jeff moved her like a doll, spun her around to face Jensen and urged her thighs apart.
Oh. Oh no, no, fuck, he couldn't. Jensen could see her glistening, the sight of wet curls against slick pink like a fist around his spine. The creeping, coaxing warmth of the wine pulled even tighter.
Rahel met Jensen's eyes, her pupils widening, and she didn't look away as Jeff sank two fingers inside her. Jeff's hand cupped her, cradled her; his palm would grind against her clit if he moved.
Resting his chin on Rahel's shoulder, Jeff said to Jensen, "No. I'm going to fuck her. And you're going to watch her ride my fingers."
Jensen dragged in a breath, but couldn't think of a curse to throw at him.
Jeff smiled and, watching Jensen, kissed Rahel's shoulder. His fingers began to work, a lazy deep stroking that made Rahel shiver. Her nipples were hardening, the ripe scent of her rising every time Jeff moved. Rahel's eyes unfocused, her attention going inwards as Jeff fucked her open. The slick noise as she got wetter, drenched Jeff's hand, made Jensen flinch.
The smell, the sound... Jensen's breathing became shallower, turned into panting. He was slipping. He started to shift the knife to his other hand, but the brush of his fingers on his own wrist made him nearly drop it.
"You think it's hot in here," Jeff murmured. "It's not. Pretty soon you won't get able to stand having clothes on your skin. You'll want to touch everywhere, every bit of skin, but you can't get there fast enough. It'll be so good it hurts."
Rahel made a ragged sound, her back bowing as Jeff's thrusts sped up.
"You can smell her. How hot she is for it. Can't stop thinking about how she'd feel around your cock." Jeff paused, and Rahel's breath sobbed out. "Or maybe not. Maybe you want to be on the table, spread open for my hand."
Jensen jerked, fumbled the knife. It clattered to the floor, too loud, but Jeff didn't move to hurt him. Jeff didn't move at all except to keep fucking Rahel, each stroke a wet lewd slap. Rahel's hands moved on the table, her thighs beginning to tremble.
Jeff hadn't missed anything, damn him. He growled, pleased and predatory. His free hand slid down his stomach and shoved the pants out of his way, his hard cock surging into his touch. It was soaked at the tip, wet pretty, another layer of scent to make Jensen's head swim. Fisting his cock, Jeff began to a lazy, maddening stroke. His rhythm on Rahel faltered, and she whined, twisting into his hand.
Jensen choked, all his air punched out. He was burning, he couldn't, he wasn't going to--
"Yeah," Jeff ground out. "That's what you want. You'd let me push those pretty thighs up around my shoulders and open you up. You bite and scratch, but you'd be fucking yourself back on my cock. You'd beg for it-"
Rahel surged up all at once, her mouth dropping open as she shuddered and jolted in silence. She soaked Jeff's fingers, Jeff's cock dripped onto the table, and something quietly snapped inside Jensen's head. He didn't recognize the sound he made, didn't want to, as he crossed the floor and climbed onto the table.
"Shut up," he said savagely, "just shut the fuck up, why are you talking," and wrenched Jeff's hand away from his own cock, "you fucking bastard, you cocksucking-- give me--"
Jeff pulled his fingers free of Rahel. Out of the corner of his vision, Jensen saw Rahel fold to the floor, but it didn't matter once Jeff grabbed Jensen's chin in his hand and slid damp fingers past his lips. The salt-musk taste lit up Jensen's mouth, and he sucked hungrily, biting at Jeff's knuckles and trying to lick in between his fingers. He felt his cock twitch inside the prison of his pants, trapped against his leg, and tried to fumble a hand down to free it.
Jeff caught his wrist and squeezed once, hard. "I can smell your cock leaking, boy."
Jensen glared at him. Bit Jeff again, hard enough that it had to hurt.
"You want me to fuck you? You want to come?" Jeff pulled his fingers out and let go of Jensen's wrists, a sharp dizzying loss until Jeff scruffed him and pulled him down. Down to face his hard red cock. "Earn it."
Jensen wheezed, shame and want tangled up, and pulled against Jeff's grip. So close. If he tilted his head, if he opened his mouth...
"Yeah," Jeff said, quieter, satisfied. He took hold of his cock and brought it closer, brushing Jensen's lips, retreating. "That's what you want."
Jensen looked up. "I want you to shut up."
"No," Jeff said. "You don't. I know you don't. Now open your mouth for me, little liar."
Fucking bastard. Ought to be more careful with the man whose teeth were near his dick. The tug of annoyance didn't stop Jensen from opening his mouth; he wasn't sure anything could've stopped him. It was worth anything to feel the wide head of Jeff's cock push past his lips, glide slick over his tongue. Jensen groaned with the taste of it, the bloody-heavy weight pulsing, and pushed against Jeff's hand to get more.
"Fuck," Jeff breathed, hard and harsh. His grip let up, slow. "Yeah. Suck me."
Straining on the end of that leash, Jensen took everything he could, took until he felt the head of Jeff's cock nudge the back of his throat. Wanted it, wanted to choke on him, the sweet hot pressure and the wet spurt of precome. He growled, muffled, and tried to press further until Jeff's hand clenched in his hair. He wanted more, wanted, but when he tried to shove forward the sharp yank on his hair made his eyes water. He made a noise in his throat, gulping air, and tried to reach up to untangle himself from Jeff's grip.
Jeff caught his hand, callused thumb stroking a hot line down his wrist. Jensen shuddered, looking up at Jeff's face, and Jeff smiled. Something feral in that smile, in the deliberate drag of Jeff's thumbnail, sent Jensen's pulse skittering. While he was still wide-open, Jeff pulled out a little, resting on Jensen's tongue. Jensen closed his mouth around him, sucked the taste and heat, and felt his own cock bob against his belly at the ragged sound Jeff made. "Gonna fuck your mouth. Just let me..."
Heat swept up Jensen and lit him up inside. He closed his eyes, tonguing the slit, loud wet noises rising as he tried to coax more slick bitter precome. Starving for it, for the heavy pulse and jerk as Jeff got even harder, for the soft curve of skin under the head that made Jeff curse and palm his head in big rough hands. Jeff tugged at him, pulled him off, and Jensen hated the whining noise that came from his own mouth.
"Shh." Cupping his head, thumbs touching his cheekbone and his slack mouth, Jeff burned down at him.
Then something chimed behind Jensen, a delicate song of tiny fragile bells, and Jeff was holding him in place as Rahel undid his pants. Her light fingers stroked him as she pushed his pants down around his knees, playing merry havoc on his cock. It would've been welcome, Jensen's balls pulled up so tight they hurt, except Jeff was watching his face. Too intimate. No room to lie.
Rahel's touch went away; a moment later, warm oil spilled down the small of Jensen's back. He jerked, but Jeff held on, merciless. The oil dripped down the crack of his ass, bringing his breath faster in his throat. Someone had mixed perfume with the oil, a heady smokiness that reminded him of prostitutes being slicked up for--
Oh, Jensen thought clearly, but too late, because Rahel's fingers were urging him open. He heard the bells again, muffled as something pressed insistently against and inside. The stretch burned, getting worse as the thing widened, and his traitorous body shuddered and took it all. Jeff touched his chin, tipped his head back to bare his throat, rubbed a thumb over his mouth as the toy settled heavy against his prostate, and Jensen stared dizzily at the ceiling until it was done. He was full, God, it felt like he would spill over. He was breathing too loudly. He'd dripped precome all over his thighs, his belly, smeared himself with it. Fucked up, fucked open, shaking apart...
Jensen inhaled like he could breathe Jeff in, like that might fix the scrabbling hunger inside, and the toy shifted. Rubbed. He gasped in, shock and want tightening him up, and it happened again. The tiny bells were making it shiver inside him, making him pulse and clench like he was in heat.
"Better," Jeff murmured. He took one hand away and guided his cock towards Jensen's mouth again, rubbing the head against his lips. Painting his chin with slick and spit. "I can see you now. Blush up so goddamn pretty while it works you open for my cock."
Jensen squeezed his eyes shut. He ought to fight, ought to push not to be bent over and filled up like some whore, but God, he wanted it. The toy wasn't enough, couldn't give him what he needed, too slow too cold too small. His thighs were shaking; his voice shook too when he said, "Stop-- nngh. Stop talking, fuck my mouth, fuck me--"
Jeff filled his mouth in one sleek stroke. Jensen fumbled, his hands flailing, and forgot what he was going to do with them; it didn't matter, Jeff was fucking his mouth in strong slow thrusts. Holding his jaw open and taking. Nothing to say, no cons to run, all of it sliding through Jensen's hands. As Jeff rocked into him, the toy jittered and made him throb all over, skin too tight.
"Yeah." A low drag of sound, barely words. Jeff stroked his face and cheek, a weirdly gentle counterpoint to the relentless drive of his hips. "You're gonna take it. Gonna push you hard, boy. Push that toy up inside you until you're begging me. Lick that tight little ass. Fuck, look at you shake for me. That's right."
Jensen tasted sweet-salt-bitter and swallowed, greedy, starving. Jeff shifted him a little, back on his heels where every thrust ground the toy deep; he gasped, nearly choked, opened up wider. His thighs were burning, his face, and the toy was fucking him and he couldn't, not like this.
"Gonna push you on your belly," Jeff said. "Make you come so many times you can't sit up, but that's all right. I'll keep going. Fuck you open. And when you think you can't take anymore, I'll give you my fingers, too, fuck you so wide--"
Jensen buckled, his head snapping back, Jeff's cock slipping out of his mouth. There was nothing to muffle his whimper. He came on the desk, on his thighs, split open and scraped out inside. Jeff grabbed him, steadied him, until Jensen stopped spasming. Jeff's hands were hot.
A second of quiet. Two. And then the gnawing heat in his belly started again. Jensen moaned, and Jeff pulled his hair, forced his head back. The light hurt. Jeff searched his face, pupils swallowed by black, distracting until Jeff wrapped those long fingers around his dick.
The first stroke brought Jensen up straight. "Juh, nngh, you-- I can't-"
Another sharp yank to his hair. Jensen bent with it, baring throat with a noise that couldn't have come from his mouth, but Jeff was jerking him off, his cock slippery and all on fire from being touched now, just right, right there. He scrabbled, grabbing Jeff's shoulders and digging his nails in. Jeff didn't shrug him off, but he didn't stop, rubbing the tip with his thumb, driving and faster. Jensen scratched so hard it had to be leaving marks, he smelled blood, but he was spurting precome already and Jeff was, "Jeff, Jeff--"
Jeff leaned in and bit Jensen's throat, hard blunt teeth bruising, and Jensen hauled him closer, hauled him in, and came again over Jeff's rough fingers. He was hitching and shuddering all over, body in overdrive, burning up on re-entry.
Jeff didn't let up, not all at once, and it was something to lean into even if it hurt. Jensen breathed, his eyes watering from apparently shooting spinal fluid out his dick. He was still pulsing deep, his heartbeat throbbing sullenly around the toy, rocking it against him. Jeff eased off the pressure slow, until the bite turned into a kiss. Jeff's lips moved against the bruise, silent words.
It was never a good idea to let a priest talk where Jensen couldn't hear it. He dug his heel hard into the small of Jeff's back; the words stopped, but Jeff growled at him instead.
"Bad priest," Jensen muttered. There were more words in his head, ones he really meant to say out loud, but he couldn't find them. So he settled for, "Quit it."
Another rumble, but quieter that time, like Jeff had decided not to shove him off the desk. Jeff nuzzled, stubble scraping in ways that made Jensen's nails dig into the desk, and pressed a soft kiss above the bruise. Again, and again, following the tendon of Jensen's throat up to his jaw, sucking, licking, until Jensen's dick twitched again. He hadn't softened at all, blood-thick and aching like he hadn't gotten off in years, and the return of want need now to his blood starved brain had him grinding against Jeff before he could remember why it was a bad idea. It was good, lifting his hips off the desk to rub himself on Jeff where he could.
Jeff laughed. That was good, too.
Then Jeff's arms were around him, and Jeff took him to the floor. Jeff took the impact, dulled it, protected, and that stirred a dim alarm in Jensen's lizard brain until Jeff was on him. Covering him. Gripping the toy by its flange, his fingertips hot on the stretched-wide rim of Jensen's ass.
Jensen grunted, trying to fling an arm over his face to hide behind, but Jeff pinned his arm with another hand. So Jensen glared at him, bared his teeth and growled.
Jeff pulls the toy out enough that it stretches Jensen wide, a white-hot burn that bows Jensen's spine and strangles his growl. He arches, bracing his feet apart to follow Jeff's hand, spilling "no no no" from his mouth.
Jeff hesitates, leaves Jensen where he is, stretched and pinned and hungry. "You want me to stop?" Jeff asks.
And he would. He'd stop on a goddamn dime if Jensen asked, and knowing that, Jensen lifts his hips and grinds back on Jeff's fingers. Meets Jeff's eyes, as close to truth as he gets. Lets his voice be strung-out and shot as he says, edges blurring on his words, "Don't stop."
Jeff showed teeth and bent, nosing at Jensen's jaw, urging him to show throat again. He twisted the toy at its widest point, stretch-burn-burn dragging vulnerable noises from Jensen's mouth. He twists against Jeff, trying to ease the pressure or roll over to be fucked, and Jeff set his teeth against Jensen's collarbone. Bites a necklace of bruises there, blood blossoming under the skin, and Jensen links his ankles behind Jeff's hips. "C'mon, nngh, fuck, enough, fuck me, it's good, I want it-- I'll, Jeff, damn it, put it fucking in already, I'm gonna, give me--"
The toy comes loose, a feeling like losing his ground, his nerves scattering. Jensen breathes, hard and shallow, his hands slapping on the stone as he tries to get some contact, and Jeff kisses an apology into the bruise. Jeff's cock skims over his balls, fits behind them, not enough pressure even though Jensen feels like he's gaping open and trying to pull Jeff in. He whimpers, hating the noise, his heel sliding in the sweaty hollow of Jeff's back, until Jeff mutters something, fits his shoulder under Jensen's knee, and pushes wide.
Jensen shudders and knocks the back of his head against the floor. Sees colors behind his eyelids, the blind-colors that come when his eyes played tricks in darkness, and that's enough to make him open them again. Frantic, too much and not enough, he feels like he's drowning and dying of thirst, he feels like...
"Shh," Jeff breathes in his ear, his hips moving him deeper, "shh. Enough. You're here. Shh."
Jensen breathes out and turns his face away, blinking as he adjusts. There's sweat in his eyes. He can feel himself opening up around Jeff's dick, the way they fit together, the graceful curve of Jeff's fingers around his wrist. Jeff's thumb strokes his wristbone, soothing in time with the noises Jeff makes.
Their hips press together. Jensen swallows against another whimper, shifting to let himself open up further, muscles protesting this position. Then Jeff moves, drags over his prostate, and Jensen wishes he had something to bite. He can't keep the sounds in, soft wounded noises that are worse than begging, he can't think to beg right.
"That's right," Jeff murmurs, "that's good, fuck, you're tight. Just let me. I've got you."
A harder thrust, deeper, the slap of skin. Jensen scrabbles at the floor, and the caressing hand on his wrist tightens into a shackle. He can fight and it won't get him anyway, it isn't, Jeff just bends him up a little and fucks into him again, hips slapping, relentless. Jensen feels his nipples throbbing, his face burning, his muscles tightening up as he tries to fuck himself back on Jeff's cock. Jeff snarls and speeds up, jarring pushes, fucks Jensen across the floor as he twists and curses and yells, as Jeff bends close enough that Jensen can bite his shoulder.
They're fucking, mating, sweat and filth and come, Jensen's nails bending back on the floor, Jeff relentless against him, Jensen's cock jerking and leaking untouched. He can feel himself opening, his eyes rolling back, and he bites down hard on Jeff's shoulder until he feels skin tear under his teeth, and it's like he tears with it. He tears open and everything spills out, a ragged scream up his throat, coming and coming until he hurts with the wrenching spasms and his throat feels raw and Jeff, Jeff is, he wants it he wants--
Jeff comes quiet, shoulders hitching, controlled. Jensen tips back to watch Jeff's face, the set of his jaw, the bitten red of his mouth. He braces for the wine to crawl up inside his head again, to get hard, but evidently he's too goddamn tired to come again without killing himself.
So he lays there, body strung loose and throbbing, his wrists in Jeff's hands, and wonders how the hell he's going to get out of this one.
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no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-29 02:07 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2012-09-26 12:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 03:37 pm (UTC)All those wanting a part two for this story say AYE.
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Date: 2012-09-26 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-27 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-26 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-28 02:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-28 03:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-29 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-29 07:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-17 04:30 am (UTC)Just wonderful little AU slice. So many lovely details to savour. thanks