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“No. I don’t know. Maybe. I– But– Can you just hear me out for a second!”
Jared sits still. Listens to the tense argument fade in and out as Jensen paces by the cracked porch door. Breathes slowly and prepares himself for the aftermath. When Jensen finally comes back in, phone case creaking under the strength of white knuckles, Jared looks up, calm, ready.
“What do you need?”
Jensen blinks at him rapidly. His jaw is ticking, the vein at his temple throbbing. He breathes in deep, puts the phone on the counter, the plastic peeling away from his sweaty palm like a plaster. Swallows.
Jared stands up. “Tell me.”
Jensen closes his eyes, shuddering, as he always does when Jared uses that voice. When he opens his eyes again, they are wide and wild. Desperate. “Make me… Just take me! Can you do that? Can you just…” He pulls his hand out of the pocket of his sweatpants and thrusts out his open palm before curling his fingers so tight around the small object, it must cut into the flesh. “I’m exploding, man. I’m… I’m gonna scream!”
Jared reaches him in two long steps. Grabs him by the neck and slaps his hand over Jensen’s mouth, pressing so hard Jensen’s flushed cheeks go white under his fingers, eyes springing wide open. “Then scream.”
He drags Jensen into the gym, kicking and screaming, fighting so hard that if they didn’t have years of sparring between them Jared would be thrown flat on the floor. Instead, he’s the one kicking Jensen’s legs from under him, palm cushioning Jensen’s head as he lands on his back on the mattress, bucking, kicking, beating with his fists until Jared catches Jensen’s wrists, first one, then the other, one-handed in the tight grip of his long fingers and presses Jensen’s hands into the floor over his head. He lets go of Jensen’s mouth just long enough to snatch the skipping rope that lies curled up on the mattress and wrap it around Jensen’s wrists, Jensen’s screams muffled by Jared’s shoulder, pressed over Jensen’s face. He drops his whole weight, pinning Jensen until his screams turn into strangled coughs. When he eases up, covering Jensen’s mouth with his hand again, Jensen bucks, struggling wildly, and again screaming, screaming, screaming, words of fury and just noises of hurt that go straight to Jared’s heart. He almost snatches his hand away when Jensen bites the flesh of his palm, hard, but the next muffled word out of Jensen’s mouth is just “No!” so Jared tightens his grip and slips his other hand down to grab Jensen’s crotch.
“This is gonna happen,” he growls, swallowing when Jensen stares up at him with wild pupils framed in white. “So you might as well stop fighting me.”
Jensen screams, murder in his eyes, as Jared pulls down both their sweatpants. This time it sounds like, ‘Fuck you!’ and Jared smirks and shakes his head. “No. I’m gonna fuck you, you little bitch.”
Jensen’s eyes widen even further, and his struggle turns more frantic, but he’s rock hard, his cock pushing wet and desperate against Jared’s hipbone. Jared lets go of Jensen’s mouth and flips him over, breath going out of him with a whoosh as Jared drops his weight down on Jensen’s back, pinning him into the mattress as he kicks Jensen’s knees apart.
He feels it, the instant Jensen’s breathing stutters to a halt, and he goes rigid, one visible eye glazing over. Then Jensen chokes out, “Yellow.”
Shit.
Jared flips him over again, looks for confirmation in Jensen’s relieved eyes as he nods up at him in thanks while gulping in air. Still wary Jared starts to pull away, but Jensen grabs his hand between his still bound wrists, and puts it back over his mouth, eyes pleading, before he bucks hard enough to almost topple Jared off him.
“Oh, that’s it, you fucker!” Jared growls and slams Jensen down again, shivering when Jensen shudders underneath him. He reaches out, one long arm, for the massage oil he left on the bench after their last session, enduring Jensen beating him with his bound hands and frantically trying to push him off as he flips off the cap and pours oil over his fingers, keeping Jensen down with his weight, with his hand still covering Jensen’s screaming mouth, pressing Jensen’s head into the mattress, as he slips his hand between them and under Jensen’s hard dick, under his full-to-bursting balls, and… there.
Jensen goes rigid again when Jared slips the first finger in, but when Jared cups his palm over Jensen’s mouth in permission to speak, he grunts, “Green! Green!” and so Jared covers his mouth again and keeps going, slicking Jensen up quickly, adding another finger sooner than he should but later than Jensen would have asked for, if he wasn’t busy screaming, his efforts doubled, fighting so hard now that Jared knows they’re both going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.
The tears start leaking when Jared pushes in, Jensen squeezing his eyes shut against the pain while his tongue licks his consent across Jared’s wet palm.
As he fucks Jensen into the floor, hand still covering Jensen’s screaming mouth, using all his strength as Jensen fights him tooth and nail, he wonders what it says about him that he’s never felt as powerful, as turned on, as goddamn hard. What it says that Jensen’s tears trickling along the curve of his hand give him a thrill, that Jensen’s frantic eyes staring up at him has shivers running from the strain of Jared’s neck to the curling of his toes.
At one point Jared pinches Jensen’s nose between his thumb and index finger, not budging no matter how wide Jensen’s eyes get, no matter how hard he tries to wrench free, ticking the seconds away in his head. Letting go just an inch of a second before Jensen’s eyes would roll back in his head. An inch of a second after the fear turns into panic.
Jensen likes feeling scared. “In a safe setting,” he’d confessed, shameful, hiding his blush in the dark, the heat of his cheek warming Jared’s chest. “I like the thrill. And I trust you.”
Jared likes seeing Jensen scared, likes feeling Jensen struggle under his hands, likes being allowed to use his strength, not having to hold back, likes being trusted to not cross the line. He probably shouldn’t but he does. This isn’t about him though. It’s about Jensen needing to be forced, needing to feel he had no choice; that whatever happens is not his fault. It’s a weird way of dealing with other things that are out of his control, that he has no choice over, but he still feels guilty about. Like whatever that phone call was about. Jared has a sick feeling he might know.
Slowly but surely the fight goes out of Jensen, his beating fists turn into tired flailing, he stops trying to twist away and finally falls limp, silent, his big eyes staring up at Jared, liquid green until they fall shut, and he shudders, adding slick to the slippery wetness between their sweaty stomachs.
Jared keeps fucking him, Jensen’s body flopping boneless with every thrust, muffled whimpers burning Jared’s palm, until he comes with a stuttered gasp. He collapses, only just managing to aim the weight of his shoulders at the mattress, panting hot and heavy into Jensen’s ear as his cheek rests by Jensen’s head. Jesus Christ!
When Jared can finally move, he raises his hips with considerable effort and pulls out, his cock still hard despite the flood of come running out in its wake. Jensen jerks at the extraction, sucking in air through flaring nostrils, and then he starts shaking, shivers running through him like shocks of electricity. Jared raises himself quickly up on his elbow and peels his wet palm away from Jensen’s red mouth, strings of saliva following his retreat.
“Jen?”
Jensen’s breathing whistles through tight-pressed teeth, his eyes are squeezed shut, fine lines of pain between his eyebrows, along his nose, sloping down from the corners of his lips. “Shit,” he grinds out, and Jared’s stomach lurches. “Fuck!”
Jared sits up. His sweatpants are still around his knees, he never even took off his t-shirt. When he touches Jensen’s curved back, he flinches, knees pulling up as if he’s afraid Jared is aiming for another round.
“Jesus, Jen,” he whispers, staggering to his feet, pulling his pants up, glancing down before he tucks himself in, even if he’s pretty sure there won’t be blood. It wasn’t like that. It was just… brutal, forceful. (Rape-y.) Like Jensen asked him to. “Dammit.”
“I’m okay,” Jensen says, too hoarse to be believed. “Just…” His breath stutters. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t even know what the hell that was about,” Jared says, feeling suddenly angry. That Jensen would ask that of him. That he said yes. That he enjoyed it. That even now, looking down at Jensen writhing in pain, he’s itching to do it again. Same as he was last time. And the time before that. Today’s session might have been unplanned, but it was far from unprepared.
Jensen breathes – in, out, in, out – his face finally smoothing into a resemblance of relief as the pain slowly subsides. “Fuck,” he breathes out then looks up, rueful. His eyes are still swimming, his eyelashes are obscenely wet. Jared’s hand is a ghost print across his mouth.
He’s never looked hotter.
Jared takes a shaky breath. Christ, what’s wrong with him?
“Hey,” Jensen says, a concerned frown appearing as he frees his hands from the now slack rope and reaches out, touching Jared’s leg with trembling fingers. “Fuck, was that too much?”
“Was it good?” Jared asks instead of answering, crouching so he's not looming over Jensen like an ogre. Like a goddamn abuser. He still feels feral, feels like baring his teeth and leaving their imprint on Jensen’s flesh. Somewhere visible. Like a tattoo of ownership on Jensen’s skin. A warning. ‘I’m the only one who gets to hurt him. Me. Because he wants me to. Because he’s mine.’ He shudders at the thought.
Jensen's eyes widen. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he chokes out. His face has turned pale. It makes his battered lips look even more red, more garish. “Jared, I’m sorry.”
Jared shakes his head. “Jensen, shut up. I’m fine. This is not about me. Tell me. Did it help?”
Jensen swallows. He nods.
“Then come on, get up. I need to check you over.”
“You don’t have to,” Jensen starts but shuts up when Jared just looks at him, hand outstretched. When Jensen takes it he seems surprised at how damp it is. Like he’s already forgotten screaming “No!” and “Stop!” and “Please!” into Jared’s palm. But never ‘Red’. Never slapped the floor three times to be asked to be released. Never let go of the small bell that now tumbles from his palm, pinging as it hits the floor. They don’t do this kind of heavy stuff without multiple safety measures.
Jensen’s legs are unsteady as Jared leads him upstairs to the bedroom. “Lie down,” Jared orders, keeping a hand under Jensen’s elbow as he lowers himself down on the bed, flinching as his ass touches the soft mattress. “On your side.”
“I know,” Jensen mumbles as he lies down, knees bent. His cheeks are flushed again, this time in embarrassment. He keeps his eyes closed as Jared carefully wipes him clean. There is a hint of pink mixed in the mess. Barely visible but still there. A small tear then. Doesn’t need to be much to make it hurt like a bitch.
“Stay still,” Jared says, voice quiet but firm, and goes to fetch the ointment from the bathroom. “Pull your knees further up. Relax.”
“You relax,” Jensen mutters, but he does as he’s told, lips curling and breath hitching when Jared slips a finger in, smearing the thick paste as carefully as he can. It smells weird, not sexy at all, for which Jared is grateful. Not that he would right now. Not that he will, not for a while. There’s a limit to how much he will indulge Jensen’s masochism.
“Okay?” Jared asks when he’s done, and Jensen nods, straightening out his legs until his knees are barely bent. He’s still trembling, just a little. Jared pulls the duvet over him, big and fluffy with eiderdown that heats up in a matter of minutes, custom made for Vancouver’s colder seasons. Then goes to wash up, leaving his clothes on the floor to be picked up later. When he slips under the duvet, he says, “Come here.”
Jensen shuffles closer, wedging his shoulder into Jared’s armpit, head heavy on his shoulder, stomach pressed to Jared’s hipbone, arm sneaking over his abdomen. Jared puts his arm around Jensen and feels him slowly relax, his breathing warming Jared’s chest, the trembling fading away with a few small shudders. Jared strokes his hair and waits.
It takes almost ten minutes but finally Jensen says, “They want me to get a girlfriend.”
The weariness in his voice hits Jared before the words really register. Before it registers what they mean. His brain is still in dom mode, his heart beating ‘Mine, mine, mine!’ with a possessiveness that should worry him but doesn’t. It takes all his strength not to growl his fury into Jensen’s hair.
“Now?” he asks, keeping his voice as neutral as he can. He must not quite manage because Jensen stills, fingers curling on Jared’s chest.
“Before the Upfronts,” he says and swallows. “Apparently it’s getting noticed, us two living together and not dating anyone for so long.”
Almost two years now.
Jared closes his eyes. He breathes in slowly. Just the thought of someone touching what’s his is making his blood curdle like spoilt milk. “They have anyone in mind?” he asks, voice rough.
Jensen shivers and presses closer. His eyelashes are long enough that Jared feels them tickle his chest as they blink. “No. I don’t know. I said no. I can’t… No.”
Jared breathes out. “Good,” he says, and Jensen whimpers, hips twitching. Jared closes his eyes, breathing in. “I’m not fucking you again, so you can stop that.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Jensen rubs his face into Jared’s chest. “It’s just… You could make me do anything, you know that? That fucking voice, and I roll over like a damn dog.”
Which is why Jared is careful not to use it unless the occasion calls for it.
“Maybe later,” he still says, because he just can’t help himself. Can’t help picturing it, Jensen with his collar, with a leash, heeling like a bitch.
Jensen hitches his breath, but he keeps still and after a while he falls quiet, his breathing slowing into silent puffs of warm air as his body grows heavy in sleep.
Jared stares up at the ceiling. He had that exact conversation with his own agent two days ago and now he feels ashamed because he hadn’t said no. He’d said maybe. He’ll call tomorrow, take it completely off the table. Let them figure something else out to save the network’s precious straight image.
Jared sighs, absently stroking Jensen’s back. Knowing they’re being watched, that people are noticing that something might be ‘off’, fills him with dread but at the same time… What if they just–
Jensen’s arm tightens around him, as if he can hear Jared’s thoughts. As if Jared said them out loud and Jensen, even asleep, is harshly reminding him: No. We can’t.
Jared swallows the sudden lump in his throat and bends his head to kiss Jensen’s temple. No. No, they can’t. They can’t.
But maybe… someday. Maybe someday.