blowing smoke-ring halos (smokeringhalos) wrote,
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break loose ranch: at the end of the sun on a long hot day (Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles) NC17

Title: at the end of the sun on a long hot day
Series: break loose ranch; follows the end of: riding shotgun to everything that’s on my mind; precedes: hit the ground running.
Author: technosage
Characters/Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles; cameos by Christian Kane, others
Rating/Warnings: NC17
Word Count: 4736
Notes: A postlude, in the Break Loose Ranch verse taking place sometime after Jensen comes back for good, but before Chris and Dave get together.
Summary: When friends come for a visit, and Jared's tired of sharing Jen's company, the slow sun of a Texas summer and the lightning flash jealousy give way to the shimmering heat of skin on skin.

You'd think he'd be used to it by now. He's Texas from his Stetson to his Tony Llamas, born and bred, and yes ma'am, everything really is bigger down here. But as much as he loves butter dripping off his corn on the cob at State Fair or leaning on the fence with the sun at his back while the new weanlings play tag with the dogs? Days like this that stretch on for miles, the heat really gets to him.

Bright clear morning with a hint of a breeze makes him think maybe he'll get a reprieve. By nine, a yellow sun's bleaching green timothy hay to straw and by ten the hair's standing up on the mares' hindquarters and his shirt's clinging to his back bringing 'em in. It never lets up after that, sun crawling up the slope of the sky and hugging his skin like real maple syrup on flapjacks. Or Mike when he's had a few too many Shiners.

'Cause that's not really helping any, Chad and Mike and Tommy and Chris and Steve lounging around his firepit drinking and smoking, laughing with Jen about what Allie and Erica got up to last weekend or that time that Eliza pantsed David at the old WB Upfronts.

His face and shoulders pull tight with too much sun, the prickle-itch of a new burn over an old tan and edgy, too. Every time Chris sets his hand on Jen's shoulder, or Mike leans across Tommy's lap to pass the fifth of Jack and makes kissy lips all trade you a smack for a shot, the burn in his gut feels like hellfire and brimstone.

So by the time Mike passes out with a bleated, "Draw on me, you die," and Tommy hauls him off to bed, Jared's as ornery as a stud colt scenting a mare in season. He tosses a glance over at Mike and Tommy's tent, which isn't rocking so much as rolling—like Mike couldn't find the air mattress and crashed against the side. Maybe he oughtta help Tommy get him to bed, but he's not gonna. Let Jen and "my boy Chris" figure how to untangle the two of them if they bring the tent down.

"M'goin for a walk," Jared tells whoever's listening, but Steve's got the guitar out, and even Chad, who thinks Justin Timberlake's the Second Coming, shuts up for that.

In the firelight, Jen's eyes glow gold and guilty. "Want company?" The hand sliding down Jared's calf as he stands doesn't begin to hide the wistfulness in Jen's smoked whisky voice.

"Nah." He almost says yes, just to have Jen to himself, but his mama taught him better than that. These boys are his guests, his and Jen's – well, except Chad, who doesn't count anyway, because he'd forgive Jared anything; has to, since Jared puts up with him being the world's biggest dipshit. One of them oughtta see to their wants 'til they head to bed.

Truth, Chad could. They've got Jack and smokes, beers and guitars, and if the sun's been down long enough for Tommy to stay in with Mike, the only things they might be needing are lube and condoms and Chris keeps well-stocked just in case. But Jared feels Jen's longing for the music like his own ache, and he might be a jealous, possessive bastard, but he swore he'd never be Van Der Beek.

And he won't, but right now, it's just fucking beyond him to be Sunday school about it. "You just hang here…" He tucks his pistol in the back of his jeans, because he might be mad, but he's not stupid, and no one walks alone miles from civilization without a weapon. "With your boys."

He's barely outside the circle of fireglow when Chris asks, "What's with him?" and Jared can just make out him jerking his head and flicking a butt in Jared's direction.

Jen's answer comes back slow, a quiet drawl with a hint of apology. "Heat kinda fucks him."

After a long pause, long enough, Jared's damned sure, for Jen to lean in and light Chris's cigarette and Chris to take a slow hit, but not long enough for Jared's legs to carry him out of earshot, Chris drawls, "Well, Jenny, maybe you oughtta."

If Jared's not spitting nails, he can still taste rust. Only thing worse than Jen making excuses for him, is Christian fucking Kane playing marriage counselor.


The sun-baked rock under his ass still hasn't given up the day's heat, and the ones he skips across the surface of the swimming hole mostly sink, 'cause he still hasn't given up his. Every time he pulls back his shoulder to toss, he tells himself to get over it and stop acting like a child. And every time his stone hits the water and drops out of sight, he snarls back that he'll stop when Chris does.

In the distance, a coyote howls accusations, and Jared humps his shoulders at the sound. It's not fair, it's not right, but he can't help it. Seems like Chris just has to show up for Jared to lose his cool about him and Jen and forever.

He likes Chris, he does. Man's a good 'ol boy, best kind. Says his please and thank you ma'ams, treats dogs like friends and horses like women, checks his troubles at the door when he comes in and always has a beer for yours. Thing is, Chris needs to break his own colt, 'steada borrowing Jared's whenever he comes to town.

And that's not really fair either. Chris doesn't want Jen, not like that, but he looked out for Jen a long time after Van Der Beek and he hasn't lost the habit yet. Kinda like him and Chad and Chad's endless parade of broken-heart weekends, but the fact he gets it doesn't make it easier to hear Chris drawling Jenny or see Jen giving him that easy smile he usually saves for Jared.

Jared throws another stone, not even trying to skip it.

"Careful you don't put someone's eye out with that thing."

No matter his mood, Jen's voice always washes over him like a shot of Jack at the end of a long hot day. 'Course, 'cause of his mood, that's not really a good thing right now. "Maybe I'm looking to."

Stepping out of the bracket at the other side of the water, Jen gives him a wary look, the kind you might give a sunning rattler while you made your way by. Their gazes lock, and Jared feels it all the way down to his pointed toes.

Jen rolls his shoulders, shrugging. "Then your aim sucks."

Jared grunts, then drops Jen's gaze in favor of pistol and the neat pile of river stones by his thigh. Pokes around looking for his next victim. "The dipshit and them get to bed all right?"

"Still howling at the moon."

That brings Jared's head up again. "That's some real nice hospitality you're showing."

Toeing off his Tony's, Jen shoots him a sharp look. "Glass houses, Jay, and you're the one throwing stones."

Yeah, fine, he's being a hypocrite. His lip curls into a sneer. "Sure your boy can live without you, Jenny?"

Jen goes stiff, then shakes his head. "You're a real jackass, you know that?"

"Sure." He chucks another pebble at the too-still surface of the water. "And you're a bitch in heat."

Fingers trembling on the buttons of his shirt, Jen looks at him, just looks at him, and even with only the moon for light, Jared knows his eyes are honey-soft and the inside of his lip bitten. "For you."

So soft Jared barely hears it, but he feels it like a shot through the heart. "Jen."

Jen's shirt joins his boots and tube socks in the pile. His jeans slide over trim hips, zipper gaping open to frame his cock, flushed hard against a thatch of hair Jared knows is dark gold and tugs at his day old stubble. Then the denim, too, hits the stony beach, and Jen walks out into the water. "I'm a bitch in heat for you. Asshole."

It's not that Jared doesn't hear the hurt choking Jen's voice, and it's not that everything in him doesn't want to reach for him and make it better. It's just…

It's just Jen's not Meg Ryan and he's not Tom Hanks, and it doesn't matter how sleepless they are outside Banderas, he still feels like someone else played his high-scoring game of Super Mario and forgot to save before they horked the bonus level.

If they lived one of the hundreds of romantic comedies he could recite by heart – Jen says he'd have made a great leading man – he'd have some witty quip to make the heroine laugh, or soft words to make her smile through her tears. But Jen's no heroine and all he's got sounds more like the kid with the busted bonus level.

"Then why d'you gotta smile at him like the hostess at a twenty-four hour Vegas buffet?" He kicks off his boots, scowling, but Jen's chest deep in the water with his back turned like Jared's not even there. "Why's he gotta have his hands all over you all the time?"

The muscles in Jen's back tense and bunch, but his voice comes out flat as Kansas. "Get in the water."

He's been peeling out of his clothes, glad for what little air circulation there is, anyway, but Jen's tone gives him pause. Last thing they need is to start throwing punches.

"It's hot, we drank a lot. I'm cutting you all the slack I got, but you're about five words from hanging yourself in it. Get in the goddamned water now, Jared."

Jen only calls him 'Jared' when he's heart-hard and hurting, usually 'cause Jared's being a possessive ass. And Jen's right; too damned hot for fighting, especially since it's the making up he's been wanting all day.

Which makes Chris right too. Jen oughtta have fucked him hours ago. Jared's jaw ticks at that thought, but he ignores it and the burning tightness across his shoulders. Tries to focus on the tepid water creeping up his calves and the way Jen's hand unclenches to skate across the surface of the swimming hole.

Water's near eighty-five degrees he'd bet, but it feels cool behind his knees and inside his thighs. Feels downright cold over the points of his hips and in his pits. For the first time since nine, he takes a full breath and his lungs don't steam-burn. He ducks under, stays until his brain stops boiling and the last bubble of air pops the surface.

Jen's waiting for him when he comes up. Shoves him hard in the chest. "Whyn'tcha just burn your all-fired brand in my hip?"

"I don't—" think of you like that, but he does and usually Jen likes it fine. Jared pushes his wet bangs off his forehead, stares at Jen from under his bicep. "Might, if you'd let me."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jen stares back, strong-willed and defiant. He arches an eyebrow finally. "Would it help?"

An image of Jen with Jared's Break Loose brand tattooed into his hip sparks and flares, and with him naked as the day he was born, Jared can't even deny the appeal. "Wouldn't hurt."

Jen's eyes darken. "You agree to a matching one, and we'll talk. Until then…"

Dropping Jen's gaze, Jared blows out a long breath. Says quietly, "You look at him like he saved your life."

Slow inhale, like he's breathing Jared's sigh, then Jen unclenches his fists again. One palm smoothes the surface of the water. "He did."

Jared scoops some water into his palm; it spills in time with remembered words: Took me in. Gave me a place to stay. Dragged me out and made me play. Handed me condoms when I got too drunk to make good choices. "Yeah. I know." Dashing away the rest of his handful, he turns to go. "That's kinda the—"

Fingertips to his breastbone, Jen stops him short. "The night it all blew up, I drank myself stupid. Then kept drinking. James called Chris. Told him to come get his trash." Jen's voice falls low and broken-soft, but his gaze compels, searches Jared's face and wills him to listen. If he could see them, Jared knows, Jen's eyes would be burnished gold with intensity. "Jay, Chris dropped a gig to come for me. He sat by my hospital bed and swore at me until the doc said I'd live."

Sure, it makes sense of the way they look at each other, 'specially when Jen's drinking. Makes him want to pull Van Der Beek's intestines out through his nose, too, but Jared's throat's tighter than his shoulders, because this right here, he and Jen, is everything. "Can't compete with that."

Jen's palm flattens out against his chest, slides up to curl around the back of his neck. Jared's eyes close, and he won't, just won't, let himself lean into that touch. "It's not an audition." Slow step, heavy drag through the water, then Jen presses cocks and bellies flush. "You already got the part."

Mesquite from the fire smokes Jen's hair, sweet and spicy. Underneath it, the rawer scents of sweat, cigarettes and whisky cling to his skin, and Jared's never wanted anything in life like he wants to bury his nose in the crook of Jen's neck and believe him.

Breath coming hard, like an green-broke colt just quit fighting the cinch, he lowers his head 'til their foreheads near touch. "Just seems like you got him, so what d'you need me for?"

"Jay." For a stretch, there's nothing but the crickets, Jen's fingers soft in his hair, the occasional frog. Then his ring catches, tugging, when Jen tightens his grip. "Jay."

It's nothing specific, no one thing he can point to. Maybe the pained urgency in Jen's voice, or his cockhead sliding in the hollow of Jared's hipbone. The tilt of his head hollering c'mon, take me, or the wide set of his eyes whispering please.

No one thing, everything.

He touches his forehead to Jen's, and he's trying, trying to break through the heat and hurt and find him and Jen beneath it but it's so hard.

Then Jen's saying Jay, please with soft lips on his jaw and mouth, and suddenly it's easy. Hand coming up to hold Jen's head, hand sliding down his spine to splay at his lower back, heart pounding and he can't get their mouths mated fast enough. Can't kiss deep enough.

Mine mine mine. Need you, baby, need you so much. "Jen." His name forces its way past Jared's lips in a strangled whimper, half-apology and all hunger.

"I know." Smoke and raw silk, Jen's voice catches against his sunburnt skin, drags prickling and soothing over his shoulders in the wake of Jen's hands. His ass flexes under Jared's fingertips, shaft grinds out a slow invitation against his hip. "Do too need you. Mule."

It stings, Jen needing him for sex. Makes him want to ask if Jen's fucking him because he wants to, or 'cause Chris told him to. Makes him want to ask what happens if Chris wants his ass, and if sex is all he needs him for. But he's not gonna, he's just not gonna fuck it up again when Jen's right here, with him, and he's supposed to know the answers.

Must show in his face, or Jen felt the way his forearms stiffened before he had a chance to will them relaxed again, 'cause Jen pulls back. "What?"

If you had to choose… He shakes his head because they're so not going there. "Nothing. You got lube?"

Eyebrow lifting like he doesn't believe, Jen tilts his head. "Yeah, but…"

His dick isn't confused at all about Jen wanting him for sex, so Jared cups his ass and draws him up tight against it. Jen's breath releases with a soft hitch that floods Jared's gut with warmth and satisfaction. He bends and breathes across Jen's ear. "Fetch or fuck dry, baby, because I'm done talking 'bout who you belong to."

"Gon' show me, now, Jay? Pound my ass 'til I give it up for you?" Jen backs away quick. Doesn't quite scramble out of the water to reach the lube in the back pocket of his jeans, but Jared's seen wobbly-kneed colts more graceful.

Fisting his cock, he meets Jen halfway to the water's edge. Pushes him toward the rocky side where the pool hits mid-thigh. He nods at the boulder someone pushed here half-century ago for sittin' against. "Bend over and hang on."

Jen whines low in his throat, but does as he's told.

It's a helluva view, Jen's head level with his ass, legs spread for balance, wide open exposed in the hot Texas night. He could slick up and pump Jen so fast and full his hips want to split apart. But anyone could do that for him. Could finger Jen until he begs for deep-dicking, but anyone could do that, too.

Only Jared knows to cover him right away, press his thighs to Jen's and smooth his palms up Jen's spine. 'Cause only Jared knows that little whine is fear, even now, of being denied.

He'd bet his best broodmare Chris doesn't know that.

"Got you, Jen, promise," he soothes, one hand firm on Jen's shoulder, the other fumbling with the lube. Jen's head drops low, relaxed, and at that, finally, Jared smiles. Opening a tube of lube with one hand's like wrestling a greased pig, but out here in the dark, behind Jen where he can't see him, Jen knowing where his hands are matters.

Chris probably doesn't know that, either.

Jared lubes up fast, drizzles enough down the cleft of Jen's ass to ease his way. Pressing an open-mouthed kiss between Jen's shoulder blades, he murmurs, "Got you," again, then sets the lube by his hand.

"Yeah." Jen turns his head to look up at him, and that one movement, the vulnerability of a twisted neck and an exposed throat has Jared flushed and scrubbing the damp hair off his too-warm face with his wrist. "You do."

He squeezes his eyes shut. "M'sorry, Jen. I just--"

"Show me." The words feel soft, like the night air after a rain. Hint of a tease, but also a plea he recognizes as don't fuck around, not tonight.

His chest goes tight, hands go loose. Skim the broad shoulders and lean waist he knows down to the freckle to the right of his spine and the half-moon scar on the left hip from a fall off a little bay pony when he was seven.

He frames Jen's tailbone with his thumbs, then bends to brush his lips there and up his spine a short ways. Jen responds with a liquid moan, such pure pleasure that Jared's gut flips like Sunday morning flapjacks. Was a time not so long ago, Jen thought guys didn't kiss; feels damned good to have taught him different.

Thumbs gliding over lube-slicked flesh, Jared draws down the seam of Jen's ass and pulls him wide. The chemical taste coats his lips and tongue, so he works deeper, licking into Jen to find the musky tang of flesh beneath it. Jen's moans edge higher now, impatient; Jared's cock thumps against his groin, leaves a smear of precome on his belly. No surprise there, he's wanted Jen since they woke to Mike's off-key yodeling "Oh what a beautiful morning!" And between a day of casual touching and Chris's…Chrisness, he needs in Jen so bad he can taste come in the back of his throat.

"M'gonna take you now."

Jen breathes out, flattens his back to push his hips higher. "Wanna feel it. Need to feel you."

Slow push, and Jen parts easy enough over the head. Tight squeeze then the long glide, hotter than Texas summer but just what he needs. He massages Jen's ass, watching his hole stretch around his cock. "Love seeing you suck me in," he slurs, sex-drenched and heated, then pulls out and slides back in tumbleweed-lazy, taking his own sweet time.

Head dropping to his wrists, Jen laughs, low and shaky. "Jesus, Jay. You gonna fuck me or wear me like leather coat."

"Both. Wanna have you around my dick so long you just plain fit. Wanna fuck you so deep every breath has my name on it."

Jen whimpers, but doesn't protest, 'cause that's another thing Jared knows. His baby likes this, the dirty talk and the casual possession. Means he's wanted, which suits Jared just fine; he's always had a filthy mouth when it comes to sex, and there's nothing he wants more than to make he and Jen feel right together.

Couple more thrusts and Jen's taking him easy. Then hip to groin isn't enough anymore. "Leave go the rock." Arm looped around Jen's waist, he backs up, paddling with one arm for balance, until they're belly deep again.

It's kinda awkward at first, getting the body contact he wants without sacrificing depth. But once Jen figures out what he's after, he helps, sort of settling over Jared's thighs and arching back against Jared's chest. Then it's right. Elevator scene in The Matrix right.

Warm water licks at their legs and balls, hot air blows on their torsos, and even hotter sweat slips between his pecs and Jen's shoulder blades. His teeth rake heated furrows in Jen's throat, Jen's cock works a searing groove in his palm, but Jen shivers when he lifts his arm to cup behind Jared's head and Jared's left hand traces him from ribcage to his hip.

Knees bent to keep them upright, he can't move much. Just roll his hips up into Jen, like sitting Rio's lope, but from the hitch in his breath and the soft-breaking moans, Jen likes it plenty.

The water washes away the slipslick of Jen's precome in his palm, but Jared doesn't need it to know he's close. He always knows, from the way Jen tenses his stomach muscles and then – yes, there – the restless lifting and shifting.

Under his breath, Jen murmurs, "please," then flushes, face heating next to Jared's.

Anger surges, hot and protective, and it's a damned good thing Van der Beek's nowhere in sight. He quells it, shoving it aside at Jen's edgy, "what?", just wraps his arm tighter around his Jen's chest and rocks him faster and harder onto his cock. Kisses behind his ear and tastes the salt of sweat on his tongue. "Love you, Jen."

It's not the first time, or even the fiftieth he's said it, but for an instant Jen goes full-quiet and still. Then he breathes out, a slow shudder working its way through his body. Hot come pulses over Jared's hand to a whispered, "Jay," then swirls away in the water.

His dick throbs insistently through the clench and release of Jen's climax. The need to move sizzles along his nerves and over his stretched-tight skin. But Jen's locked down tighter than that Dean Winchester he used to play; he depends on him – Jared, not Chris -- to be here when sex blows him wide, and…

And Jared's been a giant, possessive ass.

Jen's not talking, but his hand runs back and forth over Jared's forearm around his hips, like he's thinking. So Jared waits, still flexing slow and steady into him, nuzzling at his throat and the underside of his jaw until his breathing quiets and his fingers close on Jared's wrist. When a minute passes, and Jen still doesn't speak, he has to. "Jen…we good?"

Jen turns his head, looks at him for a long minute, then his lips curve into a hint of a smile. "Not your fault your brain's in your dick."

He drops his forehead to Jen's shoulder, pulls him in closer just to feel him there. Then he catches his lat between his teeth, thrusts up hard and tugs Jen down over his dick, which is nowhere near as repentant as Jared. "Must be why I'm so smart."

Jen just laughs, free and easy, and it's the best thing Jared's heard since daybreak, even if the muscle spasms milking his cock threaten his sanity. He groans into the back of Jen's neck. "Might die if I don't fuck you soon."

"C'mon then, impress me with that big brain of yours." Leaning forward, one hand curled around Jared's hip and one swimming them forward, Jen half drags him back to the side. Not like he's fighting, but walking through waist-high water, with his dick in Jen and fit to burst is pretty much beyond him.

The instant Jen's hands hit rock, Jared's setting his feet and moving with purpose. Taking, claiming, setting to rights – a proper ass-reaming that fuels the ache in his balls and has Jen moaning like his own personal whore. His.

His fingers clamp to Jen's hips, push him forward and pull him back, working him over his dick, sweet-hot and not too slick. So good, baby, god you feel so good. It's damn near all he can think, but he slurs out, an "Impressed yet?"

Gets a breathy, "Jesus fuck, yes," from Jen, panting and arching like he didn't shoot his load five minutes ago, in return.

Jared growls low and soft, 'cause that's heaven come to earth right there, then gives himself up to the friction and rhythm. To being deep in Jen and staying as long as wants. Marking his hips with purple prints and thinking, when Jen flattens out and takes him still deeper, "as long as he wants" means forever.

An entire day of wanting exactly this boils over, and Jared's coming before he can even think to draw it out and make it last. Just letting go and throbbing out in long, hot pulses -- Mine. Mine. Mine.

"Swear m'gonna buy you a damned branding iron for Christmas."

"Huh?" Jared pushes up from where he's laid himself out over Jen's back. Probably not the smartest thing he's ever said but, hey, his brain just squeezed out through his dick.

"'Mine. Mine. Mine,'" Jen bitches, looking back over his shoulder.

Shit, he hadn't meant to say it. His cheeks flush guilty, and he starts to duck Jen's gaze.

But Jen's smiling and reaching back to mold Jared's hand flush over the curve of his hip. "M'thinking right here. You think?"

Jared leans over him again, drags his tongue over the bruise he already left in his throat. "Collar." When Jen shivers and swallows hard, Jared doesn't bother to hide the smug in his smirk.

"Toppy fucking bastard." The only heat in Jen's tone is the kind they both like, and when Jared finally pulls out, Jen stands and plants his hands on his hips. "I demand diamonds."

Instead of laughing at Jensen's bitchy queen act, Jared draws him up close with an arm low around his hips. "Sure you wanna belong to this toppy asshole forever?" he drawls, casual, because they both know the answer.

Pretending to study him, Jen cocks an eyebrow. "I dunno. At least the next hour or so." He lifts his chin, chasing a kiss, and when Jared bends to oblige, Jen murmurs, "All to myself. No one else around."

Just like that, they tumble into another fuck. Jen sliding his half-hard cock against Jared's, tongues tangling in Jen's mouth, hands moving slow-time over each others' shoulders and hips until Jared's hard enough to push inside. Then it's Jen on his back against the dirt with Jared's arm underneath him to protect him from the stones; a slow screw and one long hot kiss – just because they can.

Afterwards, they swim out to the deepest point and float, fingers intertwined. Jen talks some, stories about his old co-stars and fumbling through sex scenes with girls. Jared listens, but mostly breathes a spell, and by the time they make their way back to their tent, everyone's asleep.

Jen settles with his head on Jared's chest. "Love you. Even if you are a toppy bastard."

Arm around Jen's waist, Jared smiles in the dark. Still summer in Texas, Chris and them don't head out for a few days yet, but tonight, now…

It's finally cool.

A/N:Originally begun for svmadelyn's Multi-fandom Kink/Cliché challenge, prompt: Heat: hot lazy summer days; tempers rising with the heat. It's also a late gift for one of the most loving people in fandom, roguewords, who asked, once upon a time for: Break Loose: Jen invites Chris and company over, and Jared's jealous.

poisontaster thank you for holding my hand, and many many many thanks to way2busymom who's been far more than a beta for this fic, and has become an indispensable friend. This one's also for you, B, because you get it. One more thank you, this one to exsequar for the custom icon for this story.

Love the lot of you! ♥

ETA: Y'all, I love you. This verse makes me so happy, and I'm really glad you love it, too. Still working on the feedback for the fic originally posted here.
Tags: blr, chad michael murray, christian kane, jared padalecki, jensen ackles, michael rosenbaum, steve carlson, tom welling
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