blowing smoke-ring halos (smokeringhalos) wrote,
blowing smoke-ring halos

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break loose ranch: busting through them gates, 2/2 (Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles) NC17

Read Part 1 first here.

Title: busting through them gates, 2/2
Series: break loose ranch; follows: everybody’s got their own definition of just their kind; fills in riding shotgun to everything that’s on my mind.
Author: technosage
Characters/Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, Chad Michael Murray
Warnings/Rating: NC17
Word Count: 11977
Summary: Jared’s a good ‘ol boy, appreciates life’s simple pleasures, but he wants what he wants and he’ll go to some serious lengths to get it. And what he wants right now, is Jensen.

Between Jensen reaching and him pushing and them slamming up against every vertical surface in their path, they’re going nowhere fast until Jared grabs a fistful of shirt and flat out drags Jensen toward the barn. The house is too damned far, and the thinking part of him knows that’s a good thing. Another time, he’d scrap their plans for a ride, spread Jensen across his bed and spend the rest of the day fucking him stupid, but Jensen’s only just now getting the point and if Jared wants it to stick, he’s got to keep his promises. Doesn’t mean he’s not yanking Jensen into the first empty stall, though, sinking to his knees in the clean straw, and opening Jensen’s jeans before Jensen can think to ask “where?”

The fresh straw crushed beneath him smells good, golden, wholesome like pinto ponies and apple pie. He likes the feel of that, this thing between him and Jensen being natural and easy, out in the open and clear light of day. It’s in his mind to tumble Jensen down with him and make out awhile, but there’s a hard dick in front of him, leaking and flirting and begging for his mouth, and the sexass little sound Jensen makes when he thumbs over the head says nownowpleasenow.

Jared grabs Jensen’s jeans at the outside seams. Jerks them down over his hips, cuz the boy’s got a damned pretty cock, long and thick, a nice full sac, and quickie or no, Jared’s gonna give them his kind regards.

Starting with his hand reaching between Jensen’s thighs to lift his balls forward for his lips and tongue. Above him Jensen just groans, tangles one hand in Jared’s hair and hangs on to the creosote-darkened stall slats with the other. Smirking, Jared looks up through his bangs, then opens his lips against the salt-musky flesh and sucks one testicle into his mouth.

Jensen whimpers, holy Christ, whimpers, and Jared’s just gotta know. He pulls off slow, leaving him wet, then blows cool breath against the skin. “Feel good, baby?”

Jared’s dick lurches in his jeans at the wild heat in Jensen’s eyes. He licks over his lips, parting them for the thrust he’s sure is coming, but Jensen only pets his hair and whispers, “Please.”

God. Jensen saying please turns him inside out, makes him want to give Jensen anything, everything, a standing invite and keys.

He can’t bluff worth a damn, so he doesn’t try. Just works his thumb along the crease of Jensen’s thigh, presses a kiss to the underside of his shaft, and slurs a soft, husky, “C’mere, then.”

Dark, dark eyes watch him, glittering with intensity over kiss-stung lips, while Jensen pushes his dick down with two fingers. Fuck if it’s not hotter than Texas in August the way his fingers slip through Jared’s hair and cup his head to urge him forward. It don’t make no never mind that he’s a top and Jensen’s a bottom, only thing on his mind’s the salty slick of precome Jensen’s smearing on his lips.

That, and adding shut up and suck me to the list of things he wants to hear Jensen saying in that smoke and whiskey voice of his, right up there with this here’s my boy, Jared and be home soon.

His tongue’s busy rolling around and over the head, licking and lapping and just enjoying, when Jensen grunts and flexes forward. Seems he’s not moving fast enough to suit his boy, and Jared’s gotta grin at that. Mouth full of dick, but he smiles wide as the panhandle and feels it right down to his Tony’s. It’s not shut up and suck me, but from Jensen, broken down deep and used to being denied, it’s the next nearest thing.

If it’s up to him, he stretches this out ‘til his jaw aches and Jensen’s hoarse from moaning JaredJaredJaredJared until it makes no sense. But Jared softens and opens and sucks him right quick to the sound of a grateful hiss from Jensen. Thing is, the kind of trust Jensen’s showing now don’t come easy, takes months sometimes with an abused horse just to get ‘em to come to the front of the stall when the feed cart rolls by, and you gotta reward it when it happens.

So if Jensen wants blown now, then Jared’s blowing him now. And just to make sure he’s getting his point across, he grabs ass-cheek with both hands, rocks Jensen up into his face a few times, and swallows him to the root. He can’t move his head much, but he rolls his eyes all the way up to stare at Jensen from beneath his bangs, like come on, fuck me, I can take it, and stays that way, mouth and throat full of hot, hard dick, eyes wide open until Jensen takes the hint.

Soon as Jensen gets his fist snarled right proper in Jared’s hair, Jared lets his eyes slide closed so he can find Jensen’s rhythm and follow it. Jensen starts up slow, testing the ride, and Jared’s got just enough time to appreciate him leaking over his tongue and being right there in his face, before it’s, “Jesus, Jared,” stripped raw and honest, and Jensen giving it all he’s worth.

Happens so fast, the first thrust slams his head back, but Jensen’s there, hand in his hair keeping him upright, hand downright kind on his shoulder, steadying him. But he doesn’t stop, thank Christ, just keeps on fucking his face, dick bruising his lips and numbing his tongue, while Jared works to keep up.

Pretty soon, he stops trying, just hollows his cheeks with suck and lets Jensen use his mouth. His own cock’s fit to burst, staining the front of his jeans with wet, and it’s good, damned good, to be here like this, palm against his dick for a little relief while Jensen gets his.

He moans into it, hot and hungry, and something about that does it for Jensen. Hoarse growl of “Jay, gonna--” then he’s trying to pull away. Jared’s having none of it, just hangs on tighter, wanting it. Jensen stiffens, then comes on a strangled shout, so hard and fast, Jared can’t get it all, can’t possibly swallow fast enough.

Come slips past his lips, gets on his cheek. Lots of tops he knows don’t like that, but Jared does. Loves the look in any guy’s eyes when he sees his come on a partner’s face. And what he sees in Jensen’s, that beats all.

He’s panting, head fallen back, honey brown hair against walnut boards and a half-mile stretch of cream-pale throat marked purple from Jared’s teeth. Jared’s cock-proud and messy on his knees in the spun-gold straw, sweet-sucking Jensen clean. When Jensen glances down, he’s blissed out and grateful, sure, but there’s more, something bright and warm and soft around the edges.

Something Jared’s real tempted to call hope.

He’s got no words for how that feels, and that’s saying plenty right there. His brain just stops, resting there on bowed legs in faded jeans, warm hand in his hair, Jensen coming down easy – boy next-door in a borrowed Henley.

A bird flutters up to the rafters, startled by some movement or other out in the barn. Jensen thumbs over Jared’s mouth. Drawls, “You look real good like that, Jay, on your knees for me,” voice thick and husky and a little bit wry.

Smiling, and more than a little smug, Jared smoothes faded green cotton over Jensen’s abs. “You look damned pretty in my clothes.”


Tucked away and tidied, Jensen gives Jared a hand up, and Jared’s about to give Jensen the taste of himself on Jared’s lips when his gaze locks right in with Chad’s across the aisle. Clear enough, Jensen hasn’t seen him. He’s already going for the button on Jared’s fly to return the favor.

Jared lays his palm over Jensen’s hands, pressing ‘em flat. “It’ll keep.”

Confusion tints Jensen’s cheeks pink, and Jared swears to fucking Christ, if it weren’t for Chad staring him down, he’d be reeling Jensen in to kiss it away. Instead, he twines his fingers through Jensen’s, tips his head toward Chad.

Jensen turns his head, follows the direction of his gaze, then looks back at Jared, jaw tightening. For a second, Jared thinks Jensen’s gonna get mulish on him, sink to his knees and try it anyway, and Jared really doesn’t want that. Chad’s seen him on his knees before, fucked Jared’s face himself a time or two and vice versa when they were between partners, Tay used to blow him when and wherever the two of them pleased, but Jensen…

Jensen’s different, and even if Jensen was fine with it, which Jared bets he’s not, Jared couldn’t do it. He couldn’t expose him that way.

“Promised you a ride,” he says, soft and hitting heavy on the innuendo to give Jensen a reason. Then jerks his chin hey and calls, “Get Honey saddled up for Jensen, would ya?” to Chad.

Jensen nods sorta stiff, but Chad slides from brooding to douchebag faster than most people blink. “Hey Jensen. Hey to you, too, asshole.”

Jared tugs on Jensen, kinda pushes him out of the stall and steers him down the aisle while he’s still saying hey to Chad. At the top of the list of things that can’t happen right now is Jensen having to put up with Chad’s overprotective bullshit.

“In the tack room fridge, there’s fixings for lunch. Everything else is in the saddle bag over the chair. Mind packing up? I’m starved.”

No way it’s not the most obvious leave us alone a spell he’s ever put together, but Jensen shrugs like he’s been this route before and heads in the direction he’s pointed. “Yeah. No problem.”

From the flat, dry tone, Jared’s guessing he thinks the problem’s with him. If it wouldn’t mean taking the time to patch him up before he could apologize to Jensen and explain, he’d kick the shit out of Chad for making Jensen doubt again.

That’s not happening, so Jared just stares at him, cold and mean, while they get to tacking up the horses. Chad has a lot of faults, but stupid isn’t one of ‘em. He doesn’t say a word, not a single one, until he’s cinching up Honey.

His hand stills on her barrel, gaze cutting over to Jared, who’s slipping the headstall over Rebel’s ears. Then it’s just, “Jay,” quiet and concerned, because they’ve been here before.

Jared grits his teeth. “Don’t say it. Don’t say a goddamned word.”

Chad gives him a long look, then shrugs. “Don’t gotta, idiot. You already know what I’m going to say.”

Strings cut, Jared lets out a quiet sigh and leans his forehead against the kidney-shaped bay splotch on Rebel’s neck. He looks toward the tack room, toward Jensen, then closes his eyes and says under his breath, “It’s already way too late.”


Be careful, remember the last time, keep your head above water -- all good advice except how none of it’s even possible for Jared. He tumbles a little bit for everyone he fucks. Even the pretty come down from Tinseltown to clear their heads, it’s just how he’s wired, but the softly brooding presence atop the pale golden palomino behind him is something else again.

Jensen sits a horse like a dream, quiet hand, steady leg, steering by shifts of balance so subtle the novice eye would miss ‘em. He rides silent, too, none of the magpie chattering of tourists with frenetic lives done pinned all their hopes for relaxation for the year on a long weekend in Texas.

That’s something Jared appreciates under normal circumstances, finding center in warm sunlight and a rolling lope, but he feels Jensen’s silence like hard-bruised ribs. Every breath a dull ache and routine actions surprisingly, suddenly blossoming with pain. The worst of it’s not knowing how, when or even whether it’s gonna change.

Since Jensen’s not a talker at the best of times, Jared figures it falls to him to set things right. Pulling long black and white strands of mane across the callous of his palm, he sighs and gives himself a firm mental shake by the shoulders. Falls to him anyway: If you fuck up, fess up, his mama taught him as a boy, ‘cepting she said mess steada of fuck, but to Jared’s way of thinking fuck’s a damned sight more appropriate here.

As in wanna fuck you every day for the rest of forever, which he shouldn’t be thinking, not after seventeen hours, not after seventeen weeks, and for God’s sake not seventeen minutes into a misunderstanding that might stop them in their tracks. Thing is, he can’t help it.

Pretty much since he first laid eyes on Jensen’s fingers spread out around his whiskey glass, holding it like an old friend with a bad temper, and definitely since he scratched open his soul to sing the lonely performer’s life to a room full of strangers, Jared’s wanted to stand up behind Jensen and give him something solid to lean into. Wanted to fit dick to ass and lips to throat, and be his something better.

Now he’s the something so much worse, and all because his best friend’s a dipshit can’t be trusted to mind his tongue around a guy who might could break his heart.

Maybe he’s being melodramatic about it, probably is. Sandy’d tell him there’s nothing can’t be fixed with a warm heart and an honest tongue. First time, he remembers, he’d politely reminded her neither had fixed them, but she’d poked him in the chest, beaming, and said, “Still friends, aren’t we?”

But he doesn’t want to be friends with Jensen, not just friends anyhow. Which means he’d best get to matching his tongue to the brushfire in his heart any second now or they’re gonna end like him and Quinto, unrequited pining and the threat of restraining orders. Bushy-eyed bitch still sends him cards on Christmas and his birthday, God only knows how he found it out, years later off a club scene one night stand.

He blinks away the image of the stalker he’s never gonna be, no matter what happens here today, sits heavy on his seat bones, and slows his mare to let Honey draw even. Jared still doesn’t know what he’s gonna say, but he’s got to do something. Riding ahead of Jensen where he doesn’t have to see the fragile-stubborn set of his jaw and his thumb worrying the well-worked leather looped through his fist might make breathing a bit easier now, but them bruised ribs might turn punctured lung tomorrow.

Jensen doesn’t rein back to keep Honey behind Rebel. As signs go, it’s kinda flimsy, but Jared’s gone on worse. When he brought her in from the wild horse rescue, Honey kicked him in the chest the day before she let him scratch her ears the first time, one last show of vinegar before she earned her nickname.

It gets a little better when the trail narrows, they slow to a walk and their calves brush. Jensen doesn’t flinch or tighten his jaw. Might be a trick of light through the trees, but seems to Jared he might even have sunk a little deeper in his saddle.

He’s stalling now, knows he is, and there’s nothing for it but to make his move and brace for the blow. So Jared sits on his outside hip and Rebel steps across herself to get closer to Honey.

Soon as he’s sure he can breathe through the low throb of Jensen’s calf pressed to his, Jared uncurls his fingers to touch Jensen’s knee. Jensen closes his eyes first, then looks over as bland and mild as you please. That tiny tell, eyelashes to cheeks, bursts through Jared like mountain air after a month of dusty desert wind.

Jensen’s confused, yeah, but if the actor in him needed time to get in character, he hasn’t shut down tight either. Makes Jared ache to wrap an arm around him and pull him back against his chest, and that, right there, tells him what he needs to say.

“Back there, what happened with Chad. That wasn’t about you.” It comes out so easy, he can’t quite figure why he didn’t say it before.

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “Is that right? Coulda fooled me,” he drawls, dry as bleached bones and about as forgiving.

“Fine.” He lifts his hat, pushes his hair back under it, and settles it again. “Fine, it was, but not like you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know dick about what I’m thinking.”

It’s probably perverse, but the bitterness in it helps. Jensen’s down to fumes, defenses worn thin, spitting weak venom’s all he’s got left. “Yeah, Jen, I do.” Jen, because he’ll be goddamned if he’ll give up that ground without being made to. “You’re thinking you’re good enough to warm my dick but not good enough to meet my friends. And maybe I sucked you off on account of owing you something for last night.”

He cuts his gaze to stare hard at Jensen, then shakes his head. “Didn’t figure you for stupid, Jensen Ackles, but if you don’t know you make me hornier than a sixteen year-old with his first porn rag, you’re more than stupid. You’re plain ignorant.”

Jensen snorts, rough and angry. “Knew that, asshole.”

“Well, then?”

He humps his shoulders. “We were getting along fine ‘til Chad showed up.”

Jared sits and pivots. Rebel drops to a halt across Honey’s path. The little palomino stops with her neck across Rebel’s and her chin by Jared’s knee. If he leans over, he can take Jensen’s mouth and end this the easy way. But if he’s gonna be that something better, he can’t.

“’Til Chad showed up.” He draws it out slow, trying to drive home his point. “You seeing the problem in your logic yet?”

Head high and shaking-tense, Jensen glares back at him. “He’s your boy, and I’m a fuck, and there’s no cause for the two of us mixing.”

Stubborn as all get out, but bone-deep hurt, too, and Jared swears, he ever meets that bitch, there won’t be enough left of him to ID. “Chad’s my boy, true. But he’s an overprotective fuckwit, and I don’t trust him not to say something to you I’m gonna need to punch him for.”

Mouth made for soft smiles, slow kisses and sucking cock presses thin, thinner, and Jensen’s cheeks color high and splotchy. “You make a mean waffle, Jared, I’ll give you that, but it’s kinda funny how—” His eyes narrow, words come out a barbed snarl: “You’re not my mother.”

It’s so last-ditch lame, Jared can’t even laugh. Just shakes his head. “C’mon, Jen, you can do better than that.”

He looks away, then down at his reining hand where it rests on milk-white mane. “Maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I can take care of myself.”

It’s quiet and honest, and slips under Jared’s ribs like a fleshing blade. “Yeah, you can,” Jared says, equally quiet with recalling Jensen putting Chad in his place last night. He rubs his knee against Jensen’s thigh. “Guess me’n Chad are friends for a reason.”

“Overprotective fuckwits, both of you.” There’s a hint of a smile in Jensen’s voice that has Jared sucking breath like he swam too far under the surface at the old stone quarry.

“Sorry for the part where I’m an ass for fighting your battles for you.” Jared twists his fingers in Rebel’s mane. He almost doesn’t say it, but it’s never gonna change, so it’s best Jensen know it now. “But not the part where I had your back.”

Jensen shrugs, flips the reins against his thigh. “Kinda used to it, between Chris and Steve.”

Now it’s Jared struck dumb silent, but he can’t help grinning. Cuz as signs go, Jensen comparing him to his boys? That one’s bright green flashing neon.


Sprawled on the red and black plaid picnic blanket he’s had since high school, Jared tucks in the last of the pulled pork smothered in Sarge’s spicy barbeque sauce and polishes off the mustard potato salad while Jensen looks on, shaking his head and grinning. Behind them in the stock pen, the mares pull wisps and chunks of hay from the hay rack. He and Jensen haven’t said much since they made up, a reverent damn here, and an oh my god there, in praise of the chow, coupla where you want me to put this?s before that, but mostly they’ve been sharing the breeze and the light.

Nigh onto three o’clock, they still haven’t known each other twenty hours, but they’re already falling into that comfortable rhythm of talking when it suits them, sitting quiet when it doesn’t. Jared’s giving up not thinking about what that means, mostly on account of it’d mean he couldn’t think at all, since his brain won’t hold an idea except baby, be mine.

So he takes a last swig of barely cool beer, makes a show of wiping his kerchief-cleaned mouth on his arm just to make Jensen smile, and manages to smile back without going too dewy-eyed stupid before dropping back onto his elbows.

Maybe five minutes later, Jensen asks, “You want to do this your whole life?” and it doesn’t sound like casting about for words to fill the silence, more like wanna get to know you.

“This?” He’s pretty sure he knows what Jensen means, but when spending an afternoon with you? Hell yes suggests itself as the immediate answer, he figures he could use to buy a little time before he’s got to speak for himself.

“Run a ranch, show city slickers around the Texas countryside, this?” Jensen stretches back, arms over head, and now Jared’s brain wants to go to the Jensen-related place of suck purple bruises into every inch of your body.

Rolling onto his side, Jared reaches across the space between them to rub the fraying threads around the rivet on Jensen’s hip pocket, while he tries to come up with something a mite less provocative. “Sorta.” Some folks don’t take kindly to hearing your childhood dream matches their reality, so he glances at Jensen through his lashes to watch his expressions. “Always wanted to be an actor, actually.”

Jensen doesn’t bat an eyelash, and he doesn’t mock either, which makes Jared want him that much more. Just asks, “What stopped you?”

“Nothing really.” He shrugs, tugs on Jensen’s belt loop. “Just was always something Sandy and I planned to do together. When we called it quits, it didn’t seem like me anymore.”

It occurs to Jared, about thirty seconds into Jensen not saying anything, that it might sound like he was dissing Hollywood. Or he might’ve confused things by talking about an ex-girlfriend. He’s still busy trying to figure out how to pull his foot out of his mouth when Jensen sits up then stalks across the blanket on hands and knees to push Jared over and straddle his thighs.

“Tall.” Jensen’s fingers curl around his belt, but Jared’s pretty sure that’s not the only reason the observation makes no sense. “Dark,” Jensen adds, while he pulls the end through the buckle, and it starts to make a little more sense. “Handsome.” Jensen’s lips quirk at that. “I’d say sexy as hell actually, but I think the technical term these days is ‘droolworthy’.”

Grinning like an idiot, Jared gets his hands on Jensen’s hips, starts rucking up the Henley, but Jensen lifts his hands away. Maybe he ought to protest, but he’s a guy, he’s been thinking about this since nine o’clock last night when he first laid eyes on Jensen, and he’s spent the entire day trying to get Jensen to stand up for what he wants. Seems kinda ass backwards to stop him when what he wants is Jared.

His belt comes off, and Jensen lays it aside, careful, like it matters. “Networks would love you.” Then he pauses, fingers fanned over Jared’s abs and stroking in tiny little movements that tickle-itch and make Jared want to grab his wrists to still them, but Jensen stops himself, worries his thumb against the button of Jared’s jeans instead. “You’d hate it.”

The turnabout surprises him, but not nearly as much as the quiet confidence in Jensen’s smoke and whiskey voice or the soft warmth in his eyes. “That so?” He squeezes Jensen’s thighs gently to let him know he’s not arguing.

“Yeah.” Jensen turns his attention to the buttons of Jared’s Oxford, undoing the bottom four, and folding them cotton back away from his skin before meeting his gaze again. “It’s not a place that rewards loyalty.”

It’s so heartbreakingly honest, the question tumbles out before Jared can stop himself. “So why do you do it?”

A small, lopsided half-smile graces Jensen’s beautiful mouth. “I love performing.”

God, Jen. He reaches up to brush his knuckles across Jensen’s cheekbone, lingers for the feel of his truth. “It shows.”

Only just barely, but unmistakably, Jensen tilts his face into Jared’s touch, then he drags his fingertips down Jared’s abs and follows with his body. When he’s tugging Jared’s jeans over lifted hips, Jared gives in to the impulse riding him as hard as his want for Jensen. Curls his hand around the back of Jensen’s head and silently mouths, “baby.”

He wants, goddamn he wants, to be looking Jensen in the eyes when he says that. Have Jensen looking back at him, clear and bright and easy with it. His dick’s been hard on and off all day, but his heart’s fuller than his sac when Jensen finally presses his pretty mouth to it.

Nearly bursts over how Jensen starts it. Not sex on legs mouthing his entire sac, sucking it in then smirking up wicked-filthy with promise. Just Jensen, just a kiss, soft and reverent, continued in the whisper of his lips up the length of Jared’s shaft and the slow-wet glide of his tongue over the head.

His body’s begging, cock leaking, heat coiled so tight in his groin, he’s maybe ten thrusts into a willing mouth from coming, but Jared keeps his ass right there on the blanket. Doesn’t hardly move except to weave his fingers through Jensen’s hair and straighten the shoulder of his Henley.

He feels nine again, riding the carousel at the county fair and watching for the brass ring. It’s there, he can feel it, and if he’s patient and smart, he can maybe reach it. And the one he’s aching for with Jensen tops fucking his face any day of the year.

Jensen’s not there yet, Jared knows that. But when he tilts his face up to Jared, nothing coy in his wide-open eyes, and screws his lips down soft and slow over Jared’s shaft, Jared’s pretty damned sure Jensen’s saying yes to another night together and a weekend visit not too far down the road.

So it doesn’t matter he’s ready to go off like a Fourth of July bottle-rocket, he’s not shoving Jensen’s head down over his cock and risking Jensen reading his oh hells yes as suck me harder. He’s just gonna pet Jensen’s hair and babble every so good, yeah, Jen, love your mouth, and oh god, baby, yes, Jensen’s lips and tongue wring out.

He’s just getting comfortable with that decision, slurring, “s’good, baby, real good,” when Jensen hollows his cheeks and sucks him in deep. Then it’s “jesusfuck, Jensen” and his hips bucking up into his mouth, and goddamn the boy can suck.

It doesn’t help his resolve any when Jensen reaches back and pushes Jared’s hand over his head. Between that and his throat opening up, if Jensen’s not saying c’mon use me, he’s never heard it.

All damned day Jared’s been saying no for both of them. Jensen’s finally getting the point, but Jared’s horny and raw, falling hard and he wants, needs, to say yes. Topping him like that, using his throat like a glory hole, that’s bound to send the wrong message. Not doing it…not doing it’s plain lying.

Catch-22 and no way out but tell it true. Gentle as he can be with his gut in knots and orgasm boiling in his hips, he presses Jensen all the way down. Growls low, “Take it, baby, that’s it,” then flexes up into his face and promises, “Gonna use you right.”

Jensen moans, long and sweet, and knowing he’s done right by Jensen is an honest-to-Christ epiphany. So when Jensen arches up to give Jared space, Jared holds his head and fucks him. Drives deep, with fast pulses of his hips that work Jensen hard without being cruel.

Baby baby, god so perfect, want you so bad, want you want you mine Jen. It’s all there in his head, but even as far gone as he is, he knows better. Keeps it to grunts and yeah, babys ‘til his fingers cramp on Jensen’s shoulder and his hips jack one last time, and he lets it all go with a strangled, “Jen, oh god, Jen.”

He comes so hard he swears he hears thunder and the peal of bells, and Jensen takes it all. Pushes back just enough to let it fill his mouth, then swallows and keeps on swallowing. His tongue works the underside of Jared’s head, never letting up until Jared’s hand falls away limp.

Jared’s still singing hail and hallelujah in his head when Jensen comes up glazed and panting. His throat’s still working, eyes stone-wild, but he starts crawling toward the hats and saddlebags. Now Jared’s far from his right mind and still coming down but that’s not happening, no how. He lets Jensen get within reach, then flings out an arm, snares Jensen, and pulls him down flush.

“The hell you think you’re going?” he growls, hot, right up in Jensen’s face to make himself damned clear.

“Thought…figured I’d get…beer—”

“No.” That’s it, just no, and then Jared summons every last bit of strength to flip him, pin him, and slam his mouth down over Jensen’s before he can even think to argue.

Jensen shoves at his shoulders, but Jared keeps on kissing, biting at Jensen’s mouth until he gives up and opens. Then he licks in deep, groaning at the taste of himself on his baby’s mouth, his, even if Jensen doesn’t know it yet.

Little bit by little bit, Jensen relaxes under him. Jared pushes a knee between his thighs and forces them apart so he can settle between, not caring that his dick’s still sticky. Not when Jensen’s branding-iron hot beneath his jeans.

Still kissing him, softer now that Jensen’s stopped fighting and started holding on, Jared works a hand between them. Pops the button on his fly, yanks down the zipper to get his fist around Jensen’s dick, and Jensen whimpers at the friction.

“C’mere, baby,” Jared purrs, dragging his lips over Jensen’s sweat-salted neck. “Wanna make you feel good, Jen, wanna take care of you.”

It’s over the line and he knows it, but Jensen’s so hard, moaning and whining, and if he even hears Jared it’s a miracle. His hand strong and sure over Jensen’s shaft, the press of his body down over him, the tone of his voice, that’s what matters. Jensen needs to know, there’s no earthly way he’s letting him come down hard and alone.

Seems like maybe Jensen finally gets it when his fist twists rough in Jared’s hair, demanding stay here like maybe there’s anywhere else Jared would be. “Jared.” Jensen’s hips rock, high and strong; his other hand clamps so tight on Jared’s bicep, it’ll be bruised come morning. “Jay, gotta—”

S’all fine by Jared, the needing, the bruising, and the coming, so long as Jensen knows they’re in it together. He soothes, “M’here, Jen, got you,” against Jensen’s fuck-bruised lips, covers them, soft and open. Jensen takes the kiss he needs, deep, with tiny sounds that might be more words trapped between their mouths, then spills in Jared’s grip.

Jared works him through it, fist slowing but not stopping until Jensen’s fingers graze his wrist asking him to. Then Jared quits right away but strokes Jensen’s groin and belly with the backs of his fingers to tell him he’s not going anywhere. From the way Jensen’s fingers walk his shoulder, he’s got something on his mind and he wants to say it. No matter how sticky-stiff his dick and fingers get, Jared’s gonna sit tight and let him.

He’s half-expecting him to lob the now-familiar toppy bastard, maybe get uppity about Jared laying down the law like he did even though Jensen needed it. So when Jensen closes his eyes and turns his face aside before opening them again, Jared’s gut goes flat-tight.

“Not used to that.” Jensen’s voice sounds rough, raw from more than having his throat fucked, but Jared notes right off how he’s not denying he needed it. “He didn’t.”

He. Jared wants a name. He wants a name, a face, an address, a couple of hours alone with him and a St. Andrew’s cross. Teach the stupid fucker a lesson he’ll never forget. Tommy’d help him, for the sheer pleasure of showing a top he’s not.

Ex-asshole’s a problem for later, he’s gotta remind himself, tame the anger in his belly. This here’s about him and Jensen right now. He lays his thumb against Jensen’s shoulder, never mind that they’re pressed together from chest to knee, rubs up and down with his thumbnail against the seam of his Henley. “I do.”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s not convinced, or he’s confused, or he’s not sure he likes it; Jared doesn’t know which.

“That a problem?” Jared asks, real quiet and still. Too much, everything, rides on the answer.

His fingers still splay over Jared’s back, but Jensen stares past him a long time. Long enough Jared gets to listening in the direction of his stare, like somehow he’ll catch up with him somewhere out there.

No cause he can tell, Jensen blinks back into focus, drops his gaze to Jared’s mouth, then meet his eyes again. “Not for me.”

Showing Jensen how good it can be, that’s never gonna be a problem for him. Hell, he lays here like this much longer, he’ll be starting the next lesson before they even get a shower. Might be fun, but Jensen’s gonna need some time.

Smiling, Jared leans over him, kisses his pretty mouth so sweet his teeth ache, then flops onto his back. He’s still got a handful of come and his dick’s stuck to his thigh and likely covered with blanket fuzz, but that’s all right. The sun’s setting red and gold, there’s hay on the breeze, and when he tugs on the cuff of his Henley, Jensen moves closer and rests his head on his arm.

After a bit, Jared inhales deep, exhales slow, then curls his fingers to play in Jensen’s hair. “Red sky at night…”

“Yeah, sailor?” Jared doesn’t have to look to know Jensen’s grinning.

“You got plans for tonight?”

Should be an easy enough question, but Jensen goes dead still. Jared keeps his fingers moving. Whatever’s set Jensen off isn’t to do with him, and he’ll talk or work around it in his own time.

Doesn’t even take long this go. As casual as you please, like it means nothing at all, Jensen says, “Steve’s got a show tonight.”

“He half as good as your boy, Chris?” Jared drawls, equally casual, but damned sure it’s not. “Cuz I could be in the mood to hear something decent. If you’re asking.”

“He’s good. Different. Folk and blues, more.” The words come out sharp, tight, like they’re punching through Jensen’s lips when they oughtta be rolling off them.

“Sounds fine. He let you sing?” Because he likes music fine, likes the way it wraps around and makes a mood, but what he really likes is Jensen opening his soul in a song.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Now Jensen sounds a cross between sulky and scared out of his wits.

Jared rolls up on his side and puts a leg over Jensen’s. “Then we’re going.”

Jensen’s confused, but only ‘til his brain catches up to what he’s hearing. Jared knows. It’s all there in Jensen’s face, plain as day. “Jay?”

“Yeah, baby?”

His eyelashes dip down low, and his smile’s as sultry as any Jared’s ever seen. But better, so much better, because it’s Jensen and it’s real. “Think after, we might fuck ‘til we don’t, either of us, remember our names?”


Thanks and notes: This story wouldn’t exist in its current form, hell, it wouldn’t exist at all, if it weren’t for way2busymom. Belinda’s the best audience, beta and friend a girl could ask for, and she loves these boys almost as much as I do. Without her constant ear on Jared’s voice and Jensen’s behavior, Break Loose verse would be much the poorer. I am in her debt and so, if you enjoy this story, are you. She made time to hold my hand and beta this week even though she was struggling with a vid albatross of her own. Please go watch Under Pressure (Supernatural) and tell her how shiny she is, for her own glorious self, and not just for helping me.

moonmelody stepped up to provide a quick and clever beta. She caught some embarrassing gaffes, and I’m much in her debt. Beyond that, she’s been one of my strongest personal supporters for months and months now. In many ways, Jess, too, is a godparent to this story, and it’s highly likely it wouldn’t be finished today if she hadn’t dragged me out to get me drunk last night.

Thank you both, so very much.

After that, any thanks to anyone else will sound paltry by comparison, but to the girls on my filter and to my two darling ficwives, go my love and devotion for listening to me whine, patting my head, reading porn dropped in IM windows, and the like.
Tags: blr, chad michael murray, jared padalecki, jensen ackles
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