ladyjanelly | SPN RPS FIC: Re-cast, ch 4/? rated R Jensen/Jared

Title: Re-cast ch 4/?
Author: Ladyjanelly
Rating: R
Characters: Jensen/Jared,
Summary: Jensen stopped acting in 2000. He still runs into Jared.
Warning: Men sexing men, AU.
Disclaimer: Never happened, not my boys.
Betaed by the lovely

misskatieleigh and

rayvenblackwood Your input was invaluable. Thanks so much for the concrit and hand-holding.
Feedback: is like sex--Nothing wrong with a quickie, but long and hard has a lot going for it.

“Bring beer for yourself if you want it,” Jensen had told him, so Jared has a six-pack in hand, only 3 of the Coronas have been replaced with sarsaparilla beer, the non-alcoholic, not-too-sweet cousin of root beer. It’s his little way of showing that he pays attention and he cares.

There are honest-to-God butterflies in his stomach as he knocks on Jensen’s door. He feels under-dressed and over-dressed at the same time. The jacket’s too much, he decides as he hears footsteps from inside. He hadn’t wanted to wear Sam clothes for this, but with as much time as he spent in costume, he wasn’t quite sure what his clothes were anymore. Maybe if the jeans weren’t worn thin at the knees it would have worked, and why the hell is he worried about what he’s wearing anyway?

Then the door opens and Jensen’s standing there, so relaxed-looking in his ribbed pullover and faded jeans and Jared stops thinking completely. “Hey,” he says, stalling for time to get his brain in gear. Jensen’s sleeves are pushed up almost to his elbows and Jared’s seen so little of Jensen’s skin in the months they’ve known each other that he finds even the man’s forearms sexy.

It’s sort of weird, being on such a formal date-date with a dude. The only other guy Jared has fooled around with had been back in high school and that had been more of a recurring grope and blowjob behind the bleachers thing, not a relationship of any sort. Did men hug at the start of a date or what?

“You comin’ in?” Jensen teases and Jared flushes and bumbles across the threshold into the other man’s apartment.

Jen’s place is small but open, a living room separated from the kitchen by a slate-tiled bar. Bluesy-sounding country music is on the stereo, a CD Jared thinks; it’s too Texas to be Canadian radio.

“Make yourself at home,” Jensen says and takes the beverages. Jared takes off his jacket and watches as Jen’s gaze flickers to the not-beer bottles and a smile teases at his lips. Two points for the tall guy, he thinks as Jen pops the top off of one of each drink and sets them out on the bar. He doesn’t pour them out into mugs or anything and Jared thinks it’s better that way.

Jared parks his butt on one of the stools. “Thanks for inviting me over,” he says, feeling fourteen kinds of awkward.

“Thanks for coming,” Jensen says back. He produces a bowl of guacamole from the fridge that a dozen avocados must have given their lives for, followed by what looks like half a gallon of home made salsa.

“You sure I’m the only person you’re expecting tonight?”

The tortilla chips aren’t home-made, but they are warm from the oven and saltier than any of the local restaurants serve.

“I’ve seen you eat, dude.” And there’s the grin and flash of green eyes Jared had been looking for. “Feeding you well is self defense.” Jensen starts pulling out the cutting board and vegetables and a big bowl of marinating steak strips.

Jared shakes himself out of his Jensen-and-food induced daze for long enough to ask “Anything I can do to help?” He might be distracted by the graceful way Jen handles his kitchen knives but his momma raised him right and he’s still got manners.

Jensen shakes his head. “I’ve got it. Not much left to do at this point.” He’s got this Iron Chef thing going, halving and coring and slicing the green peppers with smooth efficiency. He’s halfway through an onion when he sniffs and stops and presses the back of his wrist between his eyes.

“You okay?” Jared asks and Jensen nods.

“Onions, contacts, not a good combo.” His smile is reassuring. “Just give me a sec, I need to take these out.”

Jared’s left alone in the kitchen. There’s an onion and a half left uncut. Jen’s busy in the bathroom; Jared can hear the water in the sink running.

He may not be as smooth or fast with the knife, but when he’s done, the onions he cut look indistinguishable from the first set.

“I knew better than that,” Jensen says as he comes back. “My own fault for trying too hard.” He glances around Jared at the cutting board. “Hey, thanks. Looks good.”

You too, Jared manages not to say. How unfair can it possibly be? Because Jensen in those wire-frame glasses, with his eyelashes damp and thick and his eyes all sparkly? Beautiful. Seriously.

He shoulder-checks Jared to the side so he can get a pan out of the lower cabinet. “There’s fixin’s in the fridge,” and somehow, easy as that, it went from Jensen making dinner to making dinner together.

As much fun as cooking with Jensen is, eating is better. The fajitas are like tortilla-wrapped home and intrinsic tastiness both. Jared’s moaning like a porn star and Jensen’s laughing at him. It’s the happiest he can remember being in a long time and the past year’s been pretty damn happy.

After, they move to the couch. Jen brings the chips and bowls of dips because apparently he pays attention too. “There’s sherbet for later, if you want it and I’ve got last night’s game on TiVO if you haven’t seen it yet.”

Jared may be a little oblivious on occasion but he can see that between the kitchen and the living room something with Jensen has gone a little off. He tries to figure it out as Jen fidgets with the stereo and then multiple TV remotes. His smile seems pasted on, not quite traveling all the way to his eyes, and he’s stopped looking at Jared, except in quick furtive glances. He stands and messes with the volume for a second, lowering it. His gaze flickers over to the couch and he raises the sound level again.

Something’s up, Jared’s just not sure what.

Jensen catches his puzzled stare on his way back to the couch. When he sits down it’s a little closer than it could have been, but still not exactly cozy.

“I have a confession to make,” Jensen says, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lower lip. He has this wry smile on, a real one, like now that he’s made up is mind to talk about it, everything’s right again. Jared doesn’t get how one person can look so humble and confident at the same damn time.

“Yeah?” Jared pushes, because he’s pretty sure this has to be a good thing.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, putting it all out there.

“The guy thing?” The words just sort of blurt themselves out of Jared’s mouth with little input from his brain. Jen grins and Jared remembers the taste of his mouth that first night they went out together, how willing and skilled his lips had been before he stopped it and he knows the guy thing isn’t it.

“The date thing,” Jensen clarifies, and Jared’s so relieved he barks out a laugh.

“Oh God, me too. The guy thing, but not the date thing.” He knows he’s babbling but Jensen doesn’t seem to mind yet. He makes an expansive gesture. “It’s like I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Jensen laughs and turns towards Jared, ignoring the TV. “No kidding.” He’s so close and so happy and so relaxed that he’s making an invitation that Jared can’t resist. He reaches out, first one hand then the other, to cup Jensen’s face. He has just a second to marvel at how soft his skin is, how fascinating the scar feels under his thumb, before Jensen’s fingers tangle in his hair and grip, pulling them together.

Jensen’s kiss is like the key the makes every cliché about starving men and food or drowning men and air make sense. His mouth tastes like Tex-Mex under the sharp-sweet of the sarsaparilla beer and it doesn’t matter at all. The first touch of lips against his are slow, tender, and he can feel Jensen trembling as he struggles for self control. Jared gives Jensen’s lower lip a nip for encouragement and the other man lets go, lets himself be hard and demanding; his insistent tongue flicks over Jared’s teeth and he can’t remember being this turned on in his life.

And then Jen’s pushing against his chest, moving back, standing up and Jared thinks “Oh hell no, not again,” before he realizes Jensen’s dragging him up with him and saying something about “not on a couch” and “want this on a bed.” Jared’s struck dumb by the thought that Jensen may have wanted this for as long as he did, wanted it as badly as he did, and dude, if Jensen wants a bed, they’ll find the bed.

Jared follows where Jensen drags him, down the hall and into a bedroom. They’re so close, kissing and touching, that they’re tripping over each other’s feet. He’s not too concerned with that whole keeping his balance thing though, not when Jen’s so close and so warm and Jared’s hands find their way up under Jen’s shirt like the smartest hands ever.

It strikes him how unfair it is, how Jensen’s seen just about all of him naked and touched most of him and all Jared’s felt so far is that bit of lean waist his hands have fastened on and don’t intend to let go of.

The edge of the mattress comes up behind his knees and Jensen’s still moving forward, and if Jen wants to be on top, Jared sure has no problem with that. He bounces on the bed and Jensen crawls up him to straddle his thighs.

“Want to see you,” Jared groans out, proud at how close to a full sentence he managed. Jensen sits up takes his glasses off, tossing them over on the bedside table then drags his shirt off over his head. “God bless Texas,” Jared breathes because wow—Jensen is lean and smooth and hard. He barks out a laugh at Jared’s proclamation then goes serious again in the next second as they grind hard against each other through their jeans.

Jared works desperate fingers at Jensen’s fly, needing it open, needing to touch now. “Please,” he rasps and his voice sounds ragged even to himself.

Jensen plants a hand on the center of Jared’s chest. Jared’s still wearing his shirt and a button presses in against his breast-bone, but it doesn’t matter because Jensen’s stripping his pants down to his knees and then getting Jared’s open. All Jared can do is cling to the sheets and try not to lose it because he’s pretty sure if he touches Jensen he’ll hold him too tight or get in the way or something and this is all going so right he barely believes it.

They’re almost touching dick to dick when Jensen looks down at him, his pupils blown and his face flushed and his body trembling with restraint.

“Are you sure?” Jensen grinds out and Jared’s brain must have a short or something because it’s the most ridiculous question he’s heard. “You have to be sure.”

He looks so desperate, so intense, that Jared nods. “I’m sure.”

Jensen moves his hand off of Jared’s chest and bends to kiss him. They push against each other, connected from chest to where their jeans tangle around their shins. It’s good, so good. Jared could almost come just from Jen’s body on top of his.

Then Jensen pulls back and Jared watches in awe as he licks his own palm and then spits in it. He wraps his hand around both their cocks and strokes them together as he thrusts down. Jared’s body arches up and they find a rhythm together.

He’s never seen anything as sexy as Jensen’s face when he comes, the way he bites his lip as the tension builds and cries Jared’s name with the orgasm hits.

And Jared, Jared’s just done at the sight, pushing up one last time and trapping his scream in his throat. It’s never been like this, not with anybody and sure not with a glorified hand job. He just lets go of his grip on the world for a second and comes to with Jen’s weight on his chest and soft words being pressed into the skin under his ear, a litany of “Jesus, so good, thank you, so long, I never thought…”

“Got you,” Jared murmurs. He runs his fingers through Jen’s hair and it’s even softer than it looks, so straight and fine that it feels like rain. Everything’s muted and lazy but neither one of them is exhausted enough to fall asleep. Besides, Jen’s there and Jared feels like it’s his duty to even things up a bit, to learn the other man’s body like Jensen knows his.

He rolls Jensen over on his back and there’s this moment when Jensen tenses, but Jared’s used to being so much larger than anybody he’s with that he’s made a fine art out of not being threatening. He flashes his best goofy grin and scooches down so he’s not freakin’ looming over Jen and he feels the other man relax.

They kiss again, slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world. Jared licks at the corner of Jen’s mouth, along the plush fullness of his lower lip, smiles at the contented sound that comes from the man under him.

Jared had expected more scars, but he doesn’t see or feel anything more distinguishing than the scattering of freckles across Jen’s shoulders and chest, not even a mole. For just a second he’s too perfect, like some genetically engineered super-human from the Sci-Fi channel or maybe a cyborg or something, untouchable. Then he arches against Jared’s hand, moans as Jared brushes his knuckles against his stomach, he’s so human and so open and so real.

He kisses his way down Jen’s throat, across his smooth perfect chest. He teases at his waist, blowing and nibbling until Jensen’s laughing as much as he’s moaning. A little lower and he licks his lips, slicking the way, already anticipating how Jen’s going to taste.

“Jare--” Fingers tighten in his hair and he looks up. Jensen—Jensen isn’t comfortable for the first time Jared’s seen. His eyes are dark, a frown of worry between his eyebrows. There’s the slight shake of his head, like he’s not sure how to say what he needs.

Jared doesn’t want to stop and more importantly, he doesn’t think Jensen wants him to stop; just maybe a blowjob is a little much, a little soon. He draws back a bit, resting his head in the crook of Jen’s elbow while he still strokes his hand over that sensitive spot where hip becomes thigh.

It must have been the right thing to do because Jensen relaxes again, bringing the fingers of his free hand to trace Jared’s lips. Jared’s not sure he can handle being without something of Jensen somewhere inside him so he licks and sucks and teases until he’s got two of Jensen’s fingers in his mouth and is working them like he’d have worked Jensen’s cock if he’d been allowed.

Jensen watches it like he’s never seen sex before, watches his own fingers disappearing between Jared’s lips. He watches until Jared touches his dick for the first time, but then his head tips back and he breathes in through his teeth and Jared has to bite a little to keep Jen’s hand where he wants it.

If Jensen wants to limit this to hand jobs at this point, Jared can do that. It can even be a damn challenge, he thinks as his thumb slides over the slickness at the slit, and he tugs and teases, twists and squeezes, using every trick he’s felt or done or heard about listening to late night talk radio.

Jensen’s so damn beautiful when he comes for the second time and Jared takes it slow, gentling him down from the high. Jensen doesn’t protest as Jared kisses the point of his hip, but the spot just down from that’s ticklish and he laughs and squirms when Jared licks it.

“Hey Jensen?” Jared asks later, when they’re both sleepy-soft and mellow, have finally taken the jeans from around their ankles and wrapped up in the bed’s comforter. Jensen makes a good pillow and Jared thinks he could stay there forever.

“Hm?” Jen’s only half awake and it seems a good time to ask without him tensing up again.

“What did you mean? When you asked if I was sure. Sure about what?”

Jensen’s quiet beside him, still except for the fingers that card through Jared’s hair. He’s almost lost himself in the steady heartbeat below him when the answer comes.

“Everything,” Jensen says, “I wanted you to be sure about everything. Me, this, here, now. I didn’t want you to have any regrets, ever.” The way the words come out makes Jared think he’s done things before that he regretted, things he wasn’t sure of.

“I’m more than sure,” Jared says, and lays a kiss on Jensen’s sternum, “I’m positive.”

“Me too,” Jen whispers back. There’s a tone of wonder in his voice, bordering on awe. “Me too.”