![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Hungry (For Your Love)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rose_the_hat
Pairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Words: 23,000-ish
Summary: In which newlyweds Jensen and Jared learn a little more about each other and have dirty sex.
Notes: Fourth installment in my October Rust ‘Verse.
I apparently cannot write a short one-shot with these guys to save my life.
This takes place immediately after White Wedding. Away from everything and everyone, the boys get a
chance to let their guard allllll the way down. I hope you enjoy this side of them.
Much appreciation tojdl71 for the beta, helpful suggestions and…the pretty banner! ♥
Title taken from the Winger song.
Jensen and Jared Ackles arrived in Aruba in the late afternoon. They were mostly quiet during the short taxi ride from Oranjestad to their villa on the coast, tired from the excitement of the wedding reception, not to mention the five hour plane ride, that they were content to watch the beautiful scenery fly by. Once they got to the villa and Jared had seen the beach (“right outside our door, Jensen!”) his excitement had come back and infected Jensen. He loved that he could do this for Jared, give him a new experience. Jensen has never been to Aruba either and he was looking forward to the things they had planned…after they got all the fucking out of their systems.
Jensen gazed at Jared standing on the beach looking out at the endless beautiful blue and vowed he was going to buy Jared an island. He had never seen his new husband look so at peace, his back and shoulders loose and relaxed. Jensen is still adjusting to Jared with short hair. Whereas the long mahogany locks had given Jared a sort of reckless air, the short hair with the silver streaks gave him elegance and gravitas. Long or short he wore it well. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of low-hanging bright aqua blue board shorts with palm fronds and pink flamingos on them. Jensen himself was still dressed in a pair of Dior trousers and button down shirt. He had taken off his Italian wingtips before deciding to wander down to the beach after his husband.
“Those are an offense to God and man, Jare,” Jensen said of the pink flamingo shorts as he sidled up to Jared.
Jared turns to gaze at him open and fond, a crooked smile and dimple flashing. “They are kitsch and fun. I’m gay, Jense, I’m allowed to unironically like kitsch stuff.”
“I’m gay, too, Jare, remember and I have never and would never be caught dead in pink flamingos.”
Jared scoffed and tossed his head, a leftover habit from when his hair had been at or past his shoulders. “You are just less fabulous than I. Sad, really with your model good looks.”
Jensen feels heat suffuse his face. Jared who still has a body like granite, with washboard abs and chiseled chest, still thinks him sexy and handsome enough to be a model.
“Jense, you are the sexiest man alive or dead. James Dean and Paul Newman ain’t got nothing on you. I have no idea what you see in a damaged piece of goods like me but I’m grateful everyday you do.”
Jensen’s eyes sting and he swallows the lump in his throat.
“I don’t know why you think you’re not hot since you hit the other side of forty five.”
Jensen shrugs, drops his head as he runs his palms down his soft, slightly pudgy middle.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jensen,” Jared explodes, scowling severely. “You are not fat.”
“I know.” Jensen does know he isn’t overweight, but he can’t help but be a bit envious of Jared’s gorgeous body. “I’ve never had abs like yours, but I’ve always wanted them. Now that I’m edging closer to fifty it’s gonna be even harder to keep in as good’a shape as I am. Is fifty too old to be considered a cub? I’m not hairy enough to be a bear.”
Jared busts out laughing. In him, Jensen sees a glimpse of the man Jared could have been if tragedy, abuse, and circumstance hadn’t twisted him into a killer.
“You have a little hair and a cute tummy,” Jared says, laughter tapering off to bursts of adorable giggles. “I think you’re an otter.” Jared winks, “If you have to label yourself. So, you wanna have some scotch and talk about what I brought up on the plane?”
A shiver runs through Jensen. He swallows thickly and nods.
They plant themselves in loungers on the beach, the tide just starting to come in and tickle their feet. Jensen pours Jared a measure of the fifty year old Glenfiddich and himself a couple of fingers of the sixty year old Macallan. The suburb Scotches had been wedding presents from Colin.
“Oof. Damn. That is the finest I have ever had,” Jared says.
Jensen cocks a brow. “Oh really?”
“Well, as far as libations go.” He grins. “So?” Jared says, bringing the topic of discussion around. On the plane Jared had floated the possibility of a TPE for the week. Since they are totally alone, and don’t have to wear the masks they usually do, they can experiment a little more with the kinkier side of their power dynamic.
“It sounds intriguing,” Jensen allows. He has no qualms about submitting to Jared in the bedroom, but Jensen will always balk at the idea of someone—even Jared—controlling every aspect of his life.
Jared, of course, knows him better than anyone, and before Jensen has to even open his mouth to offer any kind of counter, or explanation, Jared withdraws the suggestion. “Okay, so no to TPE,” Jared says easily. Jensen just feels like melting into a pile of goo. Jared just gets him. “How about me? You have access to me whenever you want, however you want for this week. Carte blanche. I’ll be your sex slave—safewords still apply. I say cinnamon and you stop.”
“That would go without saying, Jare,” Jensen says gently. It stings a little, but Jense understands the gravity of what Jared is offering—how much it scares him to give up control over his body and sex even to Jensen—and he needs to establish the safety net of safewords before he can think about letting go. Jensen is humbled every time Jared lets Jensen make love to him, treasures it for the rare gift that it is, even if they both prefer Jared to be the one in control.
Jensen sips his scotch and a delicious idea blooms. He doesn’t have to be the one in control to be the one in control…so to speak. “So, if I say “rim me until I scream” you will…”
Jared’s eyes flash and his vulpine features go dark with desire. He licks his lips and grins. “Lick that ass ‘til you’re hoarse.”
Jensen’s eyes roll back and he swallows, his cock rapidly swelling. “What if I want you to be completely naked all week?”
Jared throws him a wounded look. “Just be honest, you’re only suggesting this to get me out of my fabulous flamingo shorts! I always knew you were shrewd but that is positively cunning, Jense!”
They both explode into laughter. Once it subsides Jared asks, “So? I’m your sex slave for the next seven days?”
Jensen sips his scotch, dirty thoughts churning up one after the other. He nods his head once. “Take off those fucking shorts, Jared.”
Jared looks genuinely disappointed as he shucks his absurd shorts. His cock is half hard and getting harder every second and Jensen fucking wants it.
“Choke me with your cock, baby.”
Jared arches a brow. “Yes, Sir.”
Jensen can’t remember the last time his throat has been so abused and Jared had about drowned him when he came, but it was as good a face fuck as Jensen has had in awhile. Maybe it’s true what they say that after marriage the sex changes but in their case it gets better. Jensen hadn’t thought such a thing possible.
The sun has set and yet he and Jared are still out on the beach—or rather Jensen is still on the beach, Jared has gone inside for some reason, but he is post-orgasm boneless and sleepy. He gazes up at the black star sprinkled sky in wonder. It’s all so vast and beautiful. He wonders if there is some omniscient being that led him to Jared and Jared to him. If there is he is immeasurably grateful. Jared has brought a roundness and fullness to his life in all aspects that he had been missing.
He hears the sliding glass door open then close and a moment later Jared is back handing him a steaming cup of something. “Mint tea with honey. Help soothe your throat.”
“Thanks,” Jensen rasps.
Jared is still naked as he sits down in his lounger beside Jensen. He lifts his eyes to the sky. “Say what you want about Texas, but it ain’t got a sky like that. At least Dallas don’t.”
Jensen takes a sip of the tea, just warm enough, and, with the honey, feels heavenly on his sore throat. “I know. Why Aruba, Jare? I don’t think you’ve ever told me why you love the tropics so much you want to retire here and become a beach bum.”
Jared ducks his head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
Jensen reaches out to touch Jared’s forearm, catches Jared’s gaze. “No. I won’t.”
“When I was a kid, before my parents were killed, we spent a lot of time going to the hospital and nursing homes to visit my father’s grandmother. I was little and didn’t really understand what was going on. I’d do the dutiful thing and say hi to the little old lady then wander out to the waiting room or whatever and watch TV.
“I don’t know what year this was, mid to late eighties anyway. One movie that I loved, that always seemed to be on, was Jaws: The Revenge. Don’t laugh,” Jared says but he is grinning. Jensen himself has never heard of the movie; he knows the original certainly, but nothing about the sequels. Gleaning from Jared’s context it wasn’t a particularly good movie. Maybe they can watch it this week, if it won’t bring up bad memories for Jared.
“It took place in the Bahamas.” Jared continues. “And I just…I was captivated by the clear blue water and the sky. It was a long way from hospitals and nursing homes that reeked of piss, disinfectant, and ever encroaching death. I was maybe six or seven, so I wouldn’t have understood that then; I just knew those were sad places, and full of bad smells. The Bahamas was bright and sunny and happy and I wanted to be there.
“After my folks died and after Armstrong tried to fiddle with me, I wanted to go there to live. Just be on the beach, play in the sand, build sandcastles, and splash in the water.” He gazes at Jensen then, looking so vulnerable.
Jensen sips his tea and digests this. Gaining a new insight into his hew husband. Jensen reaches out and takes his hand. “And now that you’re actually on a tropical island?”
Jared lifts his head to that endless sky once more and sighs. “It is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I have the hottest guy on earth beside me to make it even better.”
They lapse into silence then. Jensen thinks about the island he wants to buy for Jared and him to retire on. It doesn’t have to be too big. It would need an airstrip, and be close to a bigger island for any supplies or necessities. It wouldn’t need a house on it. He likes the idea of him and Jared designing a house together, made by them and just for them. A real true home for Jared because he’s either lived or squatted in tenements or at the Ackles Compound. Jared may consider the Ackles Compound home but it doesn’t have his stamp or flare on it. Their home on their island would. Thinking about making a home for Jared turns Jensen’s thoughts back to Jared’s parents.
“Jare, what do you think you’d be doing if your folks weren’t killed?”
Jared shrugs. “I wouldn’t be here with you, so it doesn’t matter. Everything in my life has led me to you so I’m okay with it.”
“You wanna sleep out here?”
“Jense, no. I love the beach and the sand but there is a nice big bed inside and we are gonna sleep on it. Let’s open all the windows for the waves though. I’d like that.”
Jensen pushes up from his lounger and holds a hand out to Jared. Jared stands and takes it.
“But I want your ass for breakfast,” Jensen says and strolls into the house.
Jensen licked his lips as he gazed down at Jared, asleep beside him; arm tucked under his pillow the other thrown carelessly out across the bed. The sheet had been completely kicked off revealing all of that powerful beautiful leanly muscled body; the back so broad, shoulders so wide, waist and hips narrow, legs long and strong, and his ass. Jensen bit his bottom lip. His ass was perfection, a work of art worthy of the Louvre, so pert and cute, round and tight. It was rare he got to give it the attention it deserved, but this morning he was going to worship it.
Jensen knew better than to just touch Jared below the belt while he was asleep or his attention was otherwise diverted. To do so could bring hurt, a big hurt. He laid a hand on Jared’s back, near his shoulder blades. He felt the muscles tense for a fraction of a second, and then relax. Jared sighed and cuddled his pillow tighter. Jensen pets Jared’s back, light caresses with his fingertips, feeling the dips and valleys of the hard muscle beneath the silky soft skin. Jared gives a sleepy chuckle and tries to wiggle away.
“Ticklish, baby?” Jensen feels a smile tugging up his lips. He bends and kisses the knob of bone at the very top of his spine. “I distinctly remember you offering to be my sex slave all week.” He kisses the next two knobs of Jared’s spine.
“Yours to command, my King.”
“’Member what I said I wanted for breakfast?” he kisses even lower down Jared’s elegant spine. Jared smells like sand and saltwater.
“Something about my ass.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jensen says kissing the hollow of Jared’s spine. “This okay? You’re green?” Jensen has to check in, even if Jared feels loose and relaxed under him that’s not necessarily indicative of Jared’s mental or emotional state.
“I am but a slave,” Jared says, his tone is light and happy.
Jensen won’t go on with his plan to eat Jared out for breakfast until he has his full consent. He rises up, lifts his eyes from Jared’s tantalizing ass. “Jare, I need to hear the word,” Jensen says gentle but insistent.
Jared’s eyes connect with Jensen’s and blaze with hunger. “I’m green, Jense. Hunter green, Kelly green, sea green, the fucking Grinch, jade, shamrock, grass, emerald, olive, money, your eyes. Green, green, green! Now, eat my ass!” He spreads his thighs and flexes the muscled cheeks of his ass.
Permission very firmly given, Jensen moves down between Jared’s spread thighs and gets comfortable, laying flat on his stomach, elbows supporting his weight. He starts by planting wet-open mouthed kisses all over Jared’s ass. Jared makes a little impatient sound and wiggles his ass tantalizingly. Jensen grins as he parts the firm flesh to expose the dusky pink hole in the center.
Jensen eases into it, planting wet kisses around Jared’s hole, moving closer, to the center. Once he reaches his target, his licks little gets stuck lapping little stripes over Jared’s hole. Jared sighs and spreads his legs further in invitation. He licks and kisses around the perimeter, moving ever closer to his target.
"Taste so fuckin’ good, Jare. Mmm," Jensen sighs.
Jensen is no stranger to rimming, he enjoys eating ass as much as the next man, watching your partner writhe and moan on your tongue, so fucking hot. When that partner is Jared? Hotter than the sun. That thought in mind, he presses his face firmly into Jared’s ass and gets to work, licking with purpose, sucking, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. His using the flat of his tongue in long licks or swirling around the edges with the very tip of his tongue; changing up his technique to keep Jared guessing and keep him moaning. God, the moans, the breathy little cries are better than a philharmonic. Only Jensen can do this, only Jensen gets this special privilege to see Jared like this, to hear him like this and it has him hard enough to hammer nails. His cock drooling a thin string of precum stretching from the tip of his cock to the sheets.
“Fuck, Jense. Your mouth your perfect perfect mouth. Oh, Christ!”
There is a warm salt-scented breeze blowing in through the open windows, the sheer curtains billow out and the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the waves, Jared’s moans, and the filthy slurps and smacks of Jensen eating Jared’s cute ass. Jensen loses track of time, completely absorbed in giving Jared pleasure. Gradually the tight muscle twitches and loosens under Jensen’s continued oral onslaught. He won’t push inside, but he wets his first two fingers with his copious precum and rubs against Jared’s perineum for a little extra pleasure and sensation.
Jared growls, rises up and pushes his ass back into Jensen’s face. So fucking hot getting Jared to let go like this.
“Yeah, baby, ride my tongue,” Jensen orders with his mouth pressed to Jared’s hole.
And Jared does, he arches his back and bucks his hips, pushing back onto Jensen tongue, face firmly buried in Jared’s luscious ass.
Christ this shouldn’t be as hot as it is, shouldn’t have Jensen on the edge of coming but it does, Jared’s moans, his utter abandon in his hips, his dark masculine scent pervading Jensen’s nose; sweat, seawater, testosterone, and lust are too potent of a cocktail.
Jared makes this high frustrated little whine. Jensen pulls back and catches Jared jerking his cock.
“Don’t!” Jensen puts a little Big Boss Man in his voice and gives a hard smack to that perfect ass. The muscle bounces prettily and the skin pinks up in the shape of Jensen’s hand. “Get your hand off that cock. That is mine to play with this week and I don’t want you coming yet. Understand me, baby?”
“Y-y-yes, Sir,” Jared says breathless. He stops stroking his cock and grips the sheets so hard his knuckles bleed white. He’s panting and shuddering, trying to keep control.
“Know who does get to come? Me. All over this gorgeous ass.”
Jensen curls his hand around his cock and strokes himself hard and fast, giving a little squeeze on the head. Jared turns his head, and Jensen can see how pink his cheeks are, his mouth open and panting.
His balls pull up and his cock erupts. Jensen moans and shudders through his orgasm, watching streaks and drops of pearly white cum paint Jared’s ass and thighs, a string even goes up his back. It’s satisfying in some deep primal way to see his release all over Jared.
“Oh fuck,” Jensen groans, milking the last few drops from his balls, slapping those cum-streaked cheeks with his cock even as he becomes too sensitive and starts to soften. “Mmmm.” Jensen smears his jizz into Jared’s skin. He gathers up a streak on his finger and plunges the digit into Jared’s gasping sighing mouth. His lips close around it and suck Jensen’s finger clean, eyes blown with desire and pleading.
“Good, boy,” Jensen purrs but his regret is instant when Jared’s face closes up and color drains from his face.
“Fuck you!” Jared is up off the bed, like a shot, and shoving Jensen so hard he falls from his kneeling position off the bed and onto the floor, banging his head pretty good. Jared stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A second later the shower comes on.
Jensen pulls himself up, rubs the sore spot on the back of his head and stares around bewildered. What the fuck? Why…? Is Jared mad because Jensen wouldn’t let him come? Because Jensen made him eat his come? None of that made sense. Jared liked to eat Jensen’s come, and, while orgasm denial isn’t something they really partake in, Jensen figured it would be fun to edge Jared and let him come when he ordered Jared to fuck him out on the beach.
Jensen isn’t sure if he should go into the bathroom with Jared or not. That look on Jared’s face, Jensen has seen it a time or two before, usually before Jared kills someone. He knows Jared though. Understands that any emotion Jared is uncomfortable with he turns into anger because anger he can deal with and express. Jensen has obviously said or done something to upset Jared in some way, which would be the last thing that Jensen would ever want to do. He decides to let Jared alone.
He grabs a robe, wraps it around himself, and heads into the kitchen to make some coffee. Making coffee takes only a few minutes and Jared is still in the bathroom. Jensen sighs and his gaze falls on the paper bags full of groceries that the property manager arranged delivery of. Some things have already been put away, going by the fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables already in the fridge. Jensen puts the items away all except the alcohol, a couple of bottles of Captain Morgan, a bottle each of Coconut and Banana Malibu, and two bottles of Petron. Fifteen minutes pass and Jared still isn’t out of the bathroom. Jensen, at a loss for what else to do, scrambles some eggs to make them a couple of omelets.
Jared walks into the kitchen just as Jensen is plating a second omelet. He is dressed in low hanging knit pants and a tight t-shirt. His short hair is still wet from his shower and slicked back from his broad forehead. Jensen can see his eyes are red. He feels like utter shit for upsetting Jared so much he cried. He hopes to God this isn’t one of those times Jared buries his hurt deep and tries to ignore it. Jensen wants to help.
Jared sits on the stool at the breakfast bar and brings one of the plates with the huge omelet on it towards him. “I’m not mad at you, Jense,” Jared says taking up a fork.
That makes Jensen feel a little better, but he needs to know what set Jared off. He wonders if Jared himself even understands. He wants to touch Jared but isn’t sure that is the right thing to do now. Jared, when he’s upset, is like a bomb; though Jensen usually knows how to diffuse him, this is different. “I’m sorry, Jared, for whatever I did,” Jensen rushes to say.
“It was the ‘boy’.” Jared’s lips curl into a snarl and his eyes flash. “Calling me a “good boy”. Don’t….don’t ever do that again.”
“No. Never. Understood.” Jensen knows this has something to do with Jared’s prior molestation or his history of being a hooker. He can feel the tension radiating off Jared in waves. He won’t ask. Jared will talk about it in his own time, but Jensen also doesn’t want this to happen ever again. He needs information but he needs to tread lightly. “Is there anything else you don’t want to be called or me to say?”
Jared shrugs and color rises in his face. “I’m okay with most dirty talk, Jense. Just not “boy”.”
“Jared,” Jensen presses gently. “You said “most” dirty talk. Please tell me what you don’t want to be called. I don’t want to get into another scene and trigger you. You’re fucking scary—even to me—when you lash out.”
Jared’s face melts into one of remorse. He drops his fork with a clatter. “Did I hurt you? When I pushed you? Oh God. I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” he ignores the ache in the back of his head, the ache in his heart is worse. “But you are very capable of it, especially when you are reacting and not thinking. So, please, talk to me. What don’t you want to hear?”
Jared takes up his fork again and shovels in more of his omelet, but keeps his eyes averted. “Humiliating stuff: bitch, boy, whore, slut. Johns used to do that, as if them using my mouth or ass wasn’t humiliating enough, they had to degrade me further with the names. Not that getting fucked is humiliating,” Jared is quick to say.
He sits beside Jared and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “It was for you in those circumstances, I understand, Jared.”
“I love anything we do, everything we do, because with you everything is different. I never thought you calling me boy would upset me like that.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t lash out when you were young, but you can now, so; you did. Do you want to stop the sex-slave thing we had going on? Or maybe take a break?”
“Take a break for today,” Jared says with his head bowed and in a soft quiet voice.
Jensen gives Jared’s hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “’Kay.”
“Did you make these?” Jared motions to the half eaten omelet on his plate.
“Yeah,” Jensen smiles and now that things seem to be back on an even keel between them he digs into his own. It would never be featured on the cover of Saveur Magazine but it was very tasty. Jensen has been catered to all his life and really only has an understanding of cooking, but he had done his best and it turned out pretty good. He’s actually a little proud Jared’s really enjoying something Jensen made himself.
“You been holding out on me all these years, Jense? You can cook?”
“No, not at all. I just…saw the eggs in the fridge, and, well, can’t be hard to cook those, so I gave it a try.”
Jared finishes off his omelet and wipes his mouth on a paper napkin. “Coulda been a chef in another life.” He kisses Jensen’s cheek. “I can cook, too, I’ll have you know,” Jared says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes puts Jensen on his guard.
“Oh? And what can you make? Ice?” Jensen smirks. Although he knows Jared probably does have some rudimentary cooking skills having had to look after himself most of his life.
“How did you guess? Yes! I know how to make ice for…” he grabs the bottle of tequila. “Margaritas!”
Jensen thinks this might be a very bad idea.
Jensen watches in drunken bemusement as Jared frolics—there is no other word for it—naked on the beach. Jared had made them two pitchers of Margaritas—pouring heavily on the tequila—they got a little handsy when applying sunscreen—SPF 100 for Jensen—and then went down to the beach to catch some sun. Before, however, Jensen had given Jared an extra pair of plain sunshine yellow board shorts to wear instead of his pink flamingo patterned pair.
After a couple of big margaritas Jared wandered down to the beach to build a sand castle. Jensen had gone into the kitchen to scrounge some building tools for him. It was just a pasta pot and spoon but Jared went to work eagerly with them and Jensen returned to his lounger and got steadily drunker. Noooo, Jensen amends. He is not drunk. A little tipsy…maybe. No. Intoxicated. That was a classy word for it. He might be a little intoxicated. He snorts into his glass as he empties it.
Jared upends the pot packed with damp sand, carefully tapping all around it, before lifting it slowly off, revealing a pot-shaped tower. Jared lifts a fist triumphantly in the air. Jensen gives a little golf clap. Jared flashes a proud dimpled grin and gets to work carving out windows and a door, eyes glittering with happiness and pink tongue poked out in concentration. He is completely adorable, and Jensen feels himself falling deeper in love—if it was even possible. This happy carefree—drunk!—man is a side of Jared Jensen has never seen before.
However, either the sand isn’t damp enough, or Jared carves too deep, and his castle crumbles. Jared’s shoulders slump for an instant before he rallies and spoons sand back into the pot, not to be deterred. Again and again he tries, and again and again his little castle falls. After four attempts, and another glass and a half of margarita, Jared finally gets fed up.
“Fuck you, sand!” Jared shouts and pushes to his feet. “S’fuckin’ hot!” He shucks out of the yellow board shorts before weaving unsteadily down to the lapping waves, leaving his sad little sand-pile castle behind.
Sand castle. Jensen snorts. What it was in actuality was a sadcastle. He was a goddamn lyrical wordsmith while intoxicated. It was a sadcastle, but Jared had tried hard to build it.
“Awww, Jared!” Jensen calls after his husband. “I think it’s cute! Looks just like Hogwarts!” Hogwarts after the Battle, maybe, but he keeps that to himself, just like he’ll keep to himself the fact that he likes Jared’s pink flamingo board shorts.
Jared turns and flashes a grin. It makes Jensen’s heart swell.
He poured another salt-rimmed glass of margarita and watched Jared jump and skip through the lapping waves, kicking up sand and water. His booming laugh reaching him and making Jensen smile. It was wonderful to see him like this. Jensen himself was happy to let go of his rigidly held control and get shitfaced as well. No, that was incorrect. He was not shitfaced. He was getting steadily more intoxicated, although he was doing it very manfully and stoically, as he did all things.
Tired of frolicking Jared staggered back up to the palm they were sitting under and went splat right onto his sad crooked little sandcastle. “I broke my castle,” Jared said, sounding genuinely heartbroken.
Jensen can’t even make fun of him for it because he feels bad his husband is upset. It was a sadcastle but Jared had tried hard to build it and all he had to work with was a pasta pot and spoon. Now Jensen feels even worse. He was a bad bad husband. He whisks Jared away to a beach and doesn’t even think to get him a shovel and pail so he can make a decent sandcastle.
“We,” Jensen said and downed what little of his latest margarita was left in his glass, “can make a new one! A better one! With a moat!” Jensen tried to push up from his lounger, but didn’t quite get his feet under him and went sprawling face-first into the sand. Oh. He might be a wee bit more intoxicated than he thought. Jared, the very noisy drunk, laughed at him. Laughed? No. The drunk bastard brayed like a donkey. Well, he could just forget about that shovel and pail now!
“Immernatn’l phlebotomist Jens’n Cackles falls on his hans’um face on th’ beach. Footage at elev’n,” Jared slurred. “You bastard! You drank the last of the marg’ritas! I made those!”
Jensen flopped over onto his back. The sky was very blue and the palm fronds seemed to be spinning. He was definitely very very intoxicated now. “Least you c’n make som’thin. Can’t make a san’cass’le.”
“Hey!” Jared barked back. “You said it was cute! Jus’ like Hogmarts! You said!”
Jensen struggled to push himself up onto his elbows and focus on Jared who was pouting cutely in his lounger, empty margarita pitcher in hand. “You’re cute,” Jensen said. “And naked. Better put some sun’creen on your balls.” This sent Jensen off into gales of laughter for some reason.
Jared cupped his vitals looking horrified. “My balls! Don’t burn my balls!” He shouted at the sky. He tried to get up from his lounger, probably to find the sunscreen, but only ended up flopping face first into the sand next to Jensen.
“Hi!” Jared said gazing dopily at him.
“Hi,” Jensen said he felt an answering smile on his own lips. “I’ll put sunscreen on yer balls.”
“Think we might be drunk, Jense,” Jared said and began to laugh hysterically.
That sent Jensen off into another shrieking gale of laughter of his own. “You are drunk. Absoulmly shitfass’d. I am merely intoxicated.” He groped and found Jared’s hand and took it. “I’on wanna move. Grounds all wibbly wobbly,” Jensen said. “Can’ walk.”
He didn’t like the idea of Jared getting his nuts sunburned. He valiantly stripped off his board shorts—classic navy blue, no garish patterns for a classy bastard like him—and tossed them to Jared. “Put ‘em on. Cover yer balls. I like ‘em and don’ wan’ ‘em burned.”
Jared took the shorts and stared at them, then, to Jensen’s horror, began to cry. “But what about your balls! Jared wailed, waving the blue shorts like a flag. “Your balls are better’n mine.” He shoved the shorts back to Jensen. “Put ‘em back on!”
Jensen looked between his legs. His balls were nice, round and tight. He looked over at Jared. His balls were absolutely magnificent, big, heavy, low-hanging, but not saggy, and dusted with hair. His mouth flooded with saliva. He flopped over; face planted right between Jared’s powerful spread thighs, intending to pay tribute to those balls only to get a mouthful of sand instead. “PLAH!” Jensen spat, looking accusatorily at Jared’s balls.
“What’r you doin’?” Jared asked.
“Wann’d to suck your balls. Got sand ‘stead. That was mean.”
Jared reached out and petted Jensen’s head. “Mayb’ when we’re sob’r.”
“No!” Jensen said petulantly. “I wanna suck y’balls and I’m gonna suck ‘em!” He sort of crab-crawls closer to his prize. He runs his hands up Jared’s long tanned legs caressing them, feeling the wiry hair tickle his palms. He opens his mouth to tongue one of Jared’s balls and again gets sand. “PLAH!” he spits again and struggles into a seated position. “No fair. All this goddamn sand!” he smacks it with a palm. “Fuck you, sand!”
“S’okay, baby. You c’n suck ‘em lat’r.” He pats his very nice balls. “They’ll still be here. Wan’ more drinkies? I c’n make more.”
“Nah. We’re wayyyyy too drunk as it is,” Jensen says having a moment of clarity.
“Hmpf,” Jared says dismissively. He crawls over to his lounger.
Jensen watches him, stares at his tight round ass and those big, big balls. He looks down between his own legs at his limp cock and sighs. No action there. Not even a twitch at that beautiful sight. Bad tequila!
Jared sprawls into his lounger, eyes closed. Jensen gazes at him in all his naked thick lengthy cock and big-balled glory. His heart clenches. He loves that man so much. He gazes up at the sun in accusation, flips it off, and then struggles to his feet. He cannot let Jared’s perfect balls get sunburned! If they get sunburned they will hurt and if they hurt he won’t be able to suck them! And he wants to suck them. He’s gotta find Jared’s cute pink flamingo shorts! Fuck those ugly piss yellow ones he had Jared put on earlier.
He stumbles, falls down, and gets back up. He falls again going up the three deck stairs. He staggers around the villa, trying to find the cute flamingo shorts Jared had on a couple of days ago, but it won’t stop spinning. He falls down in the kitchen. “Motherfucker!” Jensen curses and struggles up to his feet. He needs to find those shorts! Jared’s balls need to be covered!
He finds them in the bedroom, near the en suite. He picks them up, races through the villa, and back outside. He falls again going down the stairs and splats into the sand. “Goddamn it!”
He crawls over to Jared and slaps the board shorts on his chest. “Found em!” Jensen says triumphantly. “Put ‘em on! Protect your balls!” He cries.
Jared pops one eye open to look at the shorts. “Aww, my f’mingos!” He briefly hugs them to his chest before struggling to get his legs into them and pull them up over his hips.
Jensen is sad when Jared’s meaty cock and big balls are out of sight but happy the sun won’t be able to burn them. “I love you, Jen’sn.” Jared gives him a sloppy tequila flavored kiss and Jensen returns it with equal fervor.
Jensen struggles back into his own board shorts and flops into his lounger. “Le’s mellow out.” He finds his shades in the sand and pops them over his eyes.
“I’m mellow,” Jared slurs. “Sleepy, too. Suns all warm and the,” he yawns. “waves ‘r nice.”
Jensen closes his eyes, limbs feeling loose and heavy, the lounger cradling him. “Nice,” Jensen echoes.
PART 2
Author:
rose_the_hatPairing: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Rating: NC-17
Words: 23,000-ish
Summary: In which newlyweds Jensen and Jared learn a little more about each other and have dirty sex.
Notes: Fourth installment in my October Rust ‘Verse.
I apparently cannot write a short one-shot with these guys to save my life.
This takes place immediately after White Wedding. Away from everything and everyone, the boys get a
chance to let their guard allllll the way down. I hope you enjoy this side of them.
Much appreciation to
jdl71 for the beta, helpful suggestions and…the pretty banner! ♥Title taken from the Winger song.
Jensen and Jared Ackles arrived in Aruba in the late afternoon. They were mostly quiet during the short taxi ride from Oranjestad to their villa on the coast, tired from the excitement of the wedding reception, not to mention the five hour plane ride, that they were content to watch the beautiful scenery fly by. Once they got to the villa and Jared had seen the beach (“right outside our door, Jensen!”) his excitement had come back and infected Jensen. He loved that he could do this for Jared, give him a new experience. Jensen has never been to Aruba either and he was looking forward to the things they had planned…after they got all the fucking out of their systems.
Jensen gazed at Jared standing on the beach looking out at the endless beautiful blue and vowed he was going to buy Jared an island. He had never seen his new husband look so at peace, his back and shoulders loose and relaxed. Jensen is still adjusting to Jared with short hair. Whereas the long mahogany locks had given Jared a sort of reckless air, the short hair with the silver streaks gave him elegance and gravitas. Long or short he wore it well. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of low-hanging bright aqua blue board shorts with palm fronds and pink flamingos on them. Jensen himself was still dressed in a pair of Dior trousers and button down shirt. He had taken off his Italian wingtips before deciding to wander down to the beach after his husband.
“Those are an offense to God and man, Jare,” Jensen said of the pink flamingo shorts as he sidled up to Jared.
Jared turns to gaze at him open and fond, a crooked smile and dimple flashing. “They are kitsch and fun. I’m gay, Jense, I’m allowed to unironically like kitsch stuff.”
“I’m gay, too, Jare, remember and I have never and would never be caught dead in pink flamingos.”
Jared scoffed and tossed his head, a leftover habit from when his hair had been at or past his shoulders. “You are just less fabulous than I. Sad, really with your model good looks.”
Jensen feels heat suffuse his face. Jared who still has a body like granite, with washboard abs and chiseled chest, still thinks him sexy and handsome enough to be a model.
“Jense, you are the sexiest man alive or dead. James Dean and Paul Newman ain’t got nothing on you. I have no idea what you see in a damaged piece of goods like me but I’m grateful everyday you do.”
Jensen’s eyes sting and he swallows the lump in his throat.
“I don’t know why you think you’re not hot since you hit the other side of forty five.”
Jensen shrugs, drops his head as he runs his palms down his soft, slightly pudgy middle.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jensen,” Jared explodes, scowling severely. “You are not fat.”
“I know.” Jensen does know he isn’t overweight, but he can’t help but be a bit envious of Jared’s gorgeous body. “I’ve never had abs like yours, but I’ve always wanted them. Now that I’m edging closer to fifty it’s gonna be even harder to keep in as good’a shape as I am. Is fifty too old to be considered a cub? I’m not hairy enough to be a bear.”
Jared busts out laughing. In him, Jensen sees a glimpse of the man Jared could have been if tragedy, abuse, and circumstance hadn’t twisted him into a killer.
“You have a little hair and a cute tummy,” Jared says, laughter tapering off to bursts of adorable giggles. “I think you’re an otter.” Jared winks, “If you have to label yourself. So, you wanna have some scotch and talk about what I brought up on the plane?”
A shiver runs through Jensen. He swallows thickly and nods.
They plant themselves in loungers on the beach, the tide just starting to come in and tickle their feet. Jensen pours Jared a measure of the fifty year old Glenfiddich and himself a couple of fingers of the sixty year old Macallan. The suburb Scotches had been wedding presents from Colin.
“Oof. Damn. That is the finest I have ever had,” Jared says.
Jensen cocks a brow. “Oh really?”
“Well, as far as libations go.” He grins. “So?” Jared says, bringing the topic of discussion around. On the plane Jared had floated the possibility of a TPE for the week. Since they are totally alone, and don’t have to wear the masks they usually do, they can experiment a little more with the kinkier side of their power dynamic.
“It sounds intriguing,” Jensen allows. He has no qualms about submitting to Jared in the bedroom, but Jensen will always balk at the idea of someone—even Jared—controlling every aspect of his life.
Jared, of course, knows him better than anyone, and before Jensen has to even open his mouth to offer any kind of counter, or explanation, Jared withdraws the suggestion. “Okay, so no to TPE,” Jared says easily. Jensen just feels like melting into a pile of goo. Jared just gets him. “How about me? You have access to me whenever you want, however you want for this week. Carte blanche. I’ll be your sex slave—safewords still apply. I say cinnamon and you stop.”
“That would go without saying, Jare,” Jensen says gently. It stings a little, but Jense understands the gravity of what Jared is offering—how much it scares him to give up control over his body and sex even to Jensen—and he needs to establish the safety net of safewords before he can think about letting go. Jensen is humbled every time Jared lets Jensen make love to him, treasures it for the rare gift that it is, even if they both prefer Jared to be the one in control.
Jensen sips his scotch and a delicious idea blooms. He doesn’t have to be the one in control to be the one in control…so to speak. “So, if I say “rim me until I scream” you will…”
Jared’s eyes flash and his vulpine features go dark with desire. He licks his lips and grins. “Lick that ass ‘til you’re hoarse.”
Jensen’s eyes roll back and he swallows, his cock rapidly swelling. “What if I want you to be completely naked all week?”
Jared throws him a wounded look. “Just be honest, you’re only suggesting this to get me out of my fabulous flamingo shorts! I always knew you were shrewd but that is positively cunning, Jense!”
They both explode into laughter. Once it subsides Jared asks, “So? I’m your sex slave for the next seven days?”
Jensen sips his scotch, dirty thoughts churning up one after the other. He nods his head once. “Take off those fucking shorts, Jared.”
Jared looks genuinely disappointed as he shucks his absurd shorts. His cock is half hard and getting harder every second and Jensen fucking wants it.
“Choke me with your cock, baby.”
Jared arches a brow. “Yes, Sir.”
Jensen can’t remember the last time his throat has been so abused and Jared had about drowned him when he came, but it was as good a face fuck as Jensen has had in awhile. Maybe it’s true what they say that after marriage the sex changes but in their case it gets better. Jensen hadn’t thought such a thing possible.
The sun has set and yet he and Jared are still out on the beach—or rather Jensen is still on the beach, Jared has gone inside for some reason, but he is post-orgasm boneless and sleepy. He gazes up at the black star sprinkled sky in wonder. It’s all so vast and beautiful. He wonders if there is some omniscient being that led him to Jared and Jared to him. If there is he is immeasurably grateful. Jared has brought a roundness and fullness to his life in all aspects that he had been missing.
He hears the sliding glass door open then close and a moment later Jared is back handing him a steaming cup of something. “Mint tea with honey. Help soothe your throat.”
“Thanks,” Jensen rasps.
Jared is still naked as he sits down in his lounger beside Jensen. He lifts his eyes to the sky. “Say what you want about Texas, but it ain’t got a sky like that. At least Dallas don’t.”
Jensen takes a sip of the tea, just warm enough, and, with the honey, feels heavenly on his sore throat. “I know. Why Aruba, Jare? I don’t think you’ve ever told me why you love the tropics so much you want to retire here and become a beach bum.”
Jared ducks his head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
Jensen reaches out to touch Jared’s forearm, catches Jared’s gaze. “No. I won’t.”
“When I was a kid, before my parents were killed, we spent a lot of time going to the hospital and nursing homes to visit my father’s grandmother. I was little and didn’t really understand what was going on. I’d do the dutiful thing and say hi to the little old lady then wander out to the waiting room or whatever and watch TV.
“I don’t know what year this was, mid to late eighties anyway. One movie that I loved, that always seemed to be on, was Jaws: The Revenge. Don’t laugh,” Jared says but he is grinning. Jensen himself has never heard of the movie; he knows the original certainly, but nothing about the sequels. Gleaning from Jared’s context it wasn’t a particularly good movie. Maybe they can watch it this week, if it won’t bring up bad memories for Jared.
“It took place in the Bahamas.” Jared continues. “And I just…I was captivated by the clear blue water and the sky. It was a long way from hospitals and nursing homes that reeked of piss, disinfectant, and ever encroaching death. I was maybe six or seven, so I wouldn’t have understood that then; I just knew those were sad places, and full of bad smells. The Bahamas was bright and sunny and happy and I wanted to be there.
“After my folks died and after Armstrong tried to fiddle with me, I wanted to go there to live. Just be on the beach, play in the sand, build sandcastles, and splash in the water.” He gazes at Jensen then, looking so vulnerable.
Jensen sips his tea and digests this. Gaining a new insight into his hew husband. Jensen reaches out and takes his hand. “And now that you’re actually on a tropical island?”
Jared lifts his head to that endless sky once more and sighs. “It is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I have the hottest guy on earth beside me to make it even better.”
They lapse into silence then. Jensen thinks about the island he wants to buy for Jared and him to retire on. It doesn’t have to be too big. It would need an airstrip, and be close to a bigger island for any supplies or necessities. It wouldn’t need a house on it. He likes the idea of him and Jared designing a house together, made by them and just for them. A real true home for Jared because he’s either lived or squatted in tenements or at the Ackles Compound. Jared may consider the Ackles Compound home but it doesn’t have his stamp or flare on it. Their home on their island would. Thinking about making a home for Jared turns Jensen’s thoughts back to Jared’s parents.
“Jare, what do you think you’d be doing if your folks weren’t killed?”
Jared shrugs. “I wouldn’t be here with you, so it doesn’t matter. Everything in my life has led me to you so I’m okay with it.”
“You wanna sleep out here?”
“Jense, no. I love the beach and the sand but there is a nice big bed inside and we are gonna sleep on it. Let’s open all the windows for the waves though. I’d like that.”
Jensen pushes up from his lounger and holds a hand out to Jared. Jared stands and takes it.
“But I want your ass for breakfast,” Jensen says and strolls into the house.
Jensen licked his lips as he gazed down at Jared, asleep beside him; arm tucked under his pillow the other thrown carelessly out across the bed. The sheet had been completely kicked off revealing all of that powerful beautiful leanly muscled body; the back so broad, shoulders so wide, waist and hips narrow, legs long and strong, and his ass. Jensen bit his bottom lip. His ass was perfection, a work of art worthy of the Louvre, so pert and cute, round and tight. It was rare he got to give it the attention it deserved, but this morning he was going to worship it.
Jensen knew better than to just touch Jared below the belt while he was asleep or his attention was otherwise diverted. To do so could bring hurt, a big hurt. He laid a hand on Jared’s back, near his shoulder blades. He felt the muscles tense for a fraction of a second, and then relax. Jared sighed and cuddled his pillow tighter. Jensen pets Jared’s back, light caresses with his fingertips, feeling the dips and valleys of the hard muscle beneath the silky soft skin. Jared gives a sleepy chuckle and tries to wiggle away.
“Ticklish, baby?” Jensen feels a smile tugging up his lips. He bends and kisses the knob of bone at the very top of his spine. “I distinctly remember you offering to be my sex slave all week.” He kisses the next two knobs of Jared’s spine.
“Yours to command, my King.”
“’Member what I said I wanted for breakfast?” he kisses even lower down Jared’s elegant spine. Jared smells like sand and saltwater.
“Something about my ass.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jensen says kissing the hollow of Jared’s spine. “This okay? You’re green?” Jensen has to check in, even if Jared feels loose and relaxed under him that’s not necessarily indicative of Jared’s mental or emotional state.
“I am but a slave,” Jared says, his tone is light and happy.
Jensen won’t go on with his plan to eat Jared out for breakfast until he has his full consent. He rises up, lifts his eyes from Jared’s tantalizing ass. “Jare, I need to hear the word,” Jensen says gentle but insistent.
Jared’s eyes connect with Jensen’s and blaze with hunger. “I’m green, Jense. Hunter green, Kelly green, sea green, the fucking Grinch, jade, shamrock, grass, emerald, olive, money, your eyes. Green, green, green! Now, eat my ass!” He spreads his thighs and flexes the muscled cheeks of his ass.
Permission very firmly given, Jensen moves down between Jared’s spread thighs and gets comfortable, laying flat on his stomach, elbows supporting his weight. He starts by planting wet-open mouthed kisses all over Jared’s ass. Jared makes a little impatient sound and wiggles his ass tantalizingly. Jensen grins as he parts the firm flesh to expose the dusky pink hole in the center.
Jensen eases into it, planting wet kisses around Jared’s hole, moving closer, to the center. Once he reaches his target, his licks little gets stuck lapping little stripes over Jared’s hole. Jared sighs and spreads his legs further in invitation. He licks and kisses around the perimeter, moving ever closer to his target.
"Taste so fuckin’ good, Jare. Mmm," Jensen sighs.
Jensen is no stranger to rimming, he enjoys eating ass as much as the next man, watching your partner writhe and moan on your tongue, so fucking hot. When that partner is Jared? Hotter than the sun. That thought in mind, he presses his face firmly into Jared’s ass and gets to work, licking with purpose, sucking, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. His using the flat of his tongue in long licks or swirling around the edges with the very tip of his tongue; changing up his technique to keep Jared guessing and keep him moaning. God, the moans, the breathy little cries are better than a philharmonic. Only Jensen can do this, only Jensen gets this special privilege to see Jared like this, to hear him like this and it has him hard enough to hammer nails. His cock drooling a thin string of precum stretching from the tip of his cock to the sheets.
“Fuck, Jense. Your mouth your perfect perfect mouth. Oh, Christ!”
There is a warm salt-scented breeze blowing in through the open windows, the sheer curtains billow out and the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the waves, Jared’s moans, and the filthy slurps and smacks of Jensen eating Jared’s cute ass. Jensen loses track of time, completely absorbed in giving Jared pleasure. Gradually the tight muscle twitches and loosens under Jensen’s continued oral onslaught. He won’t push inside, but he wets his first two fingers with his copious precum and rubs against Jared’s perineum for a little extra pleasure and sensation.
Jared growls, rises up and pushes his ass back into Jensen’s face. So fucking hot getting Jared to let go like this.
“Yeah, baby, ride my tongue,” Jensen orders with his mouth pressed to Jared’s hole.
And Jared does, he arches his back and bucks his hips, pushing back onto Jensen tongue, face firmly buried in Jared’s luscious ass.
Christ this shouldn’t be as hot as it is, shouldn’t have Jensen on the edge of coming but it does, Jared’s moans, his utter abandon in his hips, his dark masculine scent pervading Jensen’s nose; sweat, seawater, testosterone, and lust are too potent of a cocktail.
Jared makes this high frustrated little whine. Jensen pulls back and catches Jared jerking his cock.
“Don’t!” Jensen puts a little Big Boss Man in his voice and gives a hard smack to that perfect ass. The muscle bounces prettily and the skin pinks up in the shape of Jensen’s hand. “Get your hand off that cock. That is mine to play with this week and I don’t want you coming yet. Understand me, baby?”
“Y-y-yes, Sir,” Jared says breathless. He stops stroking his cock and grips the sheets so hard his knuckles bleed white. He’s panting and shuddering, trying to keep control.
“Know who does get to come? Me. All over this gorgeous ass.”
Jensen curls his hand around his cock and strokes himself hard and fast, giving a little squeeze on the head. Jared turns his head, and Jensen can see how pink his cheeks are, his mouth open and panting.
His balls pull up and his cock erupts. Jensen moans and shudders through his orgasm, watching streaks and drops of pearly white cum paint Jared’s ass and thighs, a string even goes up his back. It’s satisfying in some deep primal way to see his release all over Jared.
“Oh fuck,” Jensen groans, milking the last few drops from his balls, slapping those cum-streaked cheeks with his cock even as he becomes too sensitive and starts to soften. “Mmmm.” Jensen smears his jizz into Jared’s skin. He gathers up a streak on his finger and plunges the digit into Jared’s gasping sighing mouth. His lips close around it and suck Jensen’s finger clean, eyes blown with desire and pleading.
“Good, boy,” Jensen purrs but his regret is instant when Jared’s face closes up and color drains from his face.
“Fuck you!” Jared is up off the bed, like a shot, and shoving Jensen so hard he falls from his kneeling position off the bed and onto the floor, banging his head pretty good. Jared stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A second later the shower comes on.
Jensen pulls himself up, rubs the sore spot on the back of his head and stares around bewildered. What the fuck? Why…? Is Jared mad because Jensen wouldn’t let him come? Because Jensen made him eat his come? None of that made sense. Jared liked to eat Jensen’s come, and, while orgasm denial isn’t something they really partake in, Jensen figured it would be fun to edge Jared and let him come when he ordered Jared to fuck him out on the beach.
Jensen isn’t sure if he should go into the bathroom with Jared or not. That look on Jared’s face, Jensen has seen it a time or two before, usually before Jared kills someone. He knows Jared though. Understands that any emotion Jared is uncomfortable with he turns into anger because anger he can deal with and express. Jensen has obviously said or done something to upset Jared in some way, which would be the last thing that Jensen would ever want to do. He decides to let Jared alone.
He grabs a robe, wraps it around himself, and heads into the kitchen to make some coffee. Making coffee takes only a few minutes and Jared is still in the bathroom. Jensen sighs and his gaze falls on the paper bags full of groceries that the property manager arranged delivery of. Some things have already been put away, going by the fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables already in the fridge. Jensen puts the items away all except the alcohol, a couple of bottles of Captain Morgan, a bottle each of Coconut and Banana Malibu, and two bottles of Petron. Fifteen minutes pass and Jared still isn’t out of the bathroom. Jensen, at a loss for what else to do, scrambles some eggs to make them a couple of omelets.
Jared walks into the kitchen just as Jensen is plating a second omelet. He is dressed in low hanging knit pants and a tight t-shirt. His short hair is still wet from his shower and slicked back from his broad forehead. Jensen can see his eyes are red. He feels like utter shit for upsetting Jared so much he cried. He hopes to God this isn’t one of those times Jared buries his hurt deep and tries to ignore it. Jensen wants to help.
Jared sits on the stool at the breakfast bar and brings one of the plates with the huge omelet on it towards him. “I’m not mad at you, Jense,” Jared says taking up a fork.
That makes Jensen feel a little better, but he needs to know what set Jared off. He wonders if Jared himself even understands. He wants to touch Jared but isn’t sure that is the right thing to do now. Jared, when he’s upset, is like a bomb; though Jensen usually knows how to diffuse him, this is different. “I’m sorry, Jared, for whatever I did,” Jensen rushes to say.
“It was the ‘boy’.” Jared’s lips curl into a snarl and his eyes flash. “Calling me a “good boy”. Don’t….don’t ever do that again.”
“No. Never. Understood.” Jensen knows this has something to do with Jared’s prior molestation or his history of being a hooker. He can feel the tension radiating off Jared in waves. He won’t ask. Jared will talk about it in his own time, but Jensen also doesn’t want this to happen ever again. He needs information but he needs to tread lightly. “Is there anything else you don’t want to be called or me to say?”
Jared shrugs and color rises in his face. “I’m okay with most dirty talk, Jense. Just not “boy”.”
“Jared,” Jensen presses gently. “You said “most” dirty talk. Please tell me what you don’t want to be called. I don’t want to get into another scene and trigger you. You’re fucking scary—even to me—when you lash out.”
Jared’s face melts into one of remorse. He drops his fork with a clatter. “Did I hurt you? When I pushed you? Oh God. I’m sorry.”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” he ignores the ache in the back of his head, the ache in his heart is worse. “But you are very capable of it, especially when you are reacting and not thinking. So, please, talk to me. What don’t you want to hear?”
Jared takes up his fork again and shovels in more of his omelet, but keeps his eyes averted. “Humiliating stuff: bitch, boy, whore, slut. Johns used to do that, as if them using my mouth or ass wasn’t humiliating enough, they had to degrade me further with the names. Not that getting fucked is humiliating,” Jared is quick to say.
He sits beside Jared and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “It was for you in those circumstances, I understand, Jared.”
“I love anything we do, everything we do, because with you everything is different. I never thought you calling me boy would upset me like that.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t lash out when you were young, but you can now, so; you did. Do you want to stop the sex-slave thing we had going on? Or maybe take a break?”
“Take a break for today,” Jared says with his head bowed and in a soft quiet voice.
Jensen gives Jared’s hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “’Kay.”
“Did you make these?” Jared motions to the half eaten omelet on his plate.
“Yeah,” Jensen smiles and now that things seem to be back on an even keel between them he digs into his own. It would never be featured on the cover of Saveur Magazine but it was very tasty. Jensen has been catered to all his life and really only has an understanding of cooking, but he had done his best and it turned out pretty good. He’s actually a little proud Jared’s really enjoying something Jensen made himself.
“You been holding out on me all these years, Jense? You can cook?”
“No, not at all. I just…saw the eggs in the fridge, and, well, can’t be hard to cook those, so I gave it a try.”
Jared finishes off his omelet and wipes his mouth on a paper napkin. “Coulda been a chef in another life.” He kisses Jensen’s cheek. “I can cook, too, I’ll have you know,” Jared says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes puts Jensen on his guard.
“Oh? And what can you make? Ice?” Jensen smirks. Although he knows Jared probably does have some rudimentary cooking skills having had to look after himself most of his life.
“How did you guess? Yes! I know how to make ice for…” he grabs the bottle of tequila. “Margaritas!”
Jensen thinks this might be a very bad idea.
Jensen watches in drunken bemusement as Jared frolics—there is no other word for it—naked on the beach. Jared had made them two pitchers of Margaritas—pouring heavily on the tequila—they got a little handsy when applying sunscreen—SPF 100 for Jensen—and then went down to the beach to catch some sun. Before, however, Jensen had given Jared an extra pair of plain sunshine yellow board shorts to wear instead of his pink flamingo patterned pair.
After a couple of big margaritas Jared wandered down to the beach to build a sand castle. Jensen had gone into the kitchen to scrounge some building tools for him. It was just a pasta pot and spoon but Jared went to work eagerly with them and Jensen returned to his lounger and got steadily drunker. Noooo, Jensen amends. He is not drunk. A little tipsy…maybe. No. Intoxicated. That was a classy word for it. He might be a little intoxicated. He snorts into his glass as he empties it.
Jared upends the pot packed with damp sand, carefully tapping all around it, before lifting it slowly off, revealing a pot-shaped tower. Jared lifts a fist triumphantly in the air. Jensen gives a little golf clap. Jared flashes a proud dimpled grin and gets to work carving out windows and a door, eyes glittering with happiness and pink tongue poked out in concentration. He is completely adorable, and Jensen feels himself falling deeper in love—if it was even possible. This happy carefree—drunk!—man is a side of Jared Jensen has never seen before.
However, either the sand isn’t damp enough, or Jared carves too deep, and his castle crumbles. Jared’s shoulders slump for an instant before he rallies and spoons sand back into the pot, not to be deterred. Again and again he tries, and again and again his little castle falls. After four attempts, and another glass and a half of margarita, Jared finally gets fed up.
“Fuck you, sand!” Jared shouts and pushes to his feet. “S’fuckin’ hot!” He shucks out of the yellow board shorts before weaving unsteadily down to the lapping waves, leaving his sad little sand-pile castle behind.
Sand castle. Jensen snorts. What it was in actuality was a sadcastle. He was a goddamn lyrical wordsmith while intoxicated. It was a sadcastle, but Jared had tried hard to build it.
“Awww, Jared!” Jensen calls after his husband. “I think it’s cute! Looks just like Hogwarts!” Hogwarts after the Battle, maybe, but he keeps that to himself, just like he’ll keep to himself the fact that he likes Jared’s pink flamingo board shorts.
Jared turns and flashes a grin. It makes Jensen’s heart swell.
He poured another salt-rimmed glass of margarita and watched Jared jump and skip through the lapping waves, kicking up sand and water. His booming laugh reaching him and making Jensen smile. It was wonderful to see him like this. Jensen himself was happy to let go of his rigidly held control and get shitfaced as well. No, that was incorrect. He was not shitfaced. He was getting steadily more intoxicated, although he was doing it very manfully and stoically, as he did all things.
Tired of frolicking Jared staggered back up to the palm they were sitting under and went splat right onto his sad crooked little sandcastle. “I broke my castle,” Jared said, sounding genuinely heartbroken.
Jensen can’t even make fun of him for it because he feels bad his husband is upset. It was a sadcastle but Jared had tried hard to build it and all he had to work with was a pasta pot and spoon. Now Jensen feels even worse. He was a bad bad husband. He whisks Jared away to a beach and doesn’t even think to get him a shovel and pail so he can make a decent sandcastle.
“We,” Jensen said and downed what little of his latest margarita was left in his glass, “can make a new one! A better one! With a moat!” Jensen tried to push up from his lounger, but didn’t quite get his feet under him and went sprawling face-first into the sand. Oh. He might be a wee bit more intoxicated than he thought. Jared, the very noisy drunk, laughed at him. Laughed? No. The drunk bastard brayed like a donkey. Well, he could just forget about that shovel and pail now!
“Immernatn’l phlebotomist Jens’n Cackles falls on his hans’um face on th’ beach. Footage at elev’n,” Jared slurred. “You bastard! You drank the last of the marg’ritas! I made those!”
Jensen flopped over onto his back. The sky was very blue and the palm fronds seemed to be spinning. He was definitely very very intoxicated now. “Least you c’n make som’thin. Can’t make a san’cass’le.”
“Hey!” Jared barked back. “You said it was cute! Jus’ like Hogmarts! You said!”
Jensen struggled to push himself up onto his elbows and focus on Jared who was pouting cutely in his lounger, empty margarita pitcher in hand. “You’re cute,” Jensen said. “And naked. Better put some sun’creen on your balls.” This sent Jensen off into gales of laughter for some reason.
Jared cupped his vitals looking horrified. “My balls! Don’t burn my balls!” He shouted at the sky. He tried to get up from his lounger, probably to find the sunscreen, but only ended up flopping face first into the sand next to Jensen.
“Hi!” Jared said gazing dopily at him.
“Hi,” Jensen said he felt an answering smile on his own lips. “I’ll put sunscreen on yer balls.”
“Think we might be drunk, Jense,” Jared said and began to laugh hysterically.
That sent Jensen off into another shrieking gale of laughter of his own. “You are drunk. Absoulmly shitfass’d. I am merely intoxicated.” He groped and found Jared’s hand and took it. “I’on wanna move. Grounds all wibbly wobbly,” Jensen said. “Can’ walk.”
He didn’t like the idea of Jared getting his nuts sunburned. He valiantly stripped off his board shorts—classic navy blue, no garish patterns for a classy bastard like him—and tossed them to Jared. “Put ‘em on. Cover yer balls. I like ‘em and don’ wan’ ‘em burned.”
Jared took the shorts and stared at them, then, to Jensen’s horror, began to cry. “But what about your balls! Jared wailed, waving the blue shorts like a flag. “Your balls are better’n mine.” He shoved the shorts back to Jensen. “Put ‘em back on!”
Jensen looked between his legs. His balls were nice, round and tight. He looked over at Jared. His balls were absolutely magnificent, big, heavy, low-hanging, but not saggy, and dusted with hair. His mouth flooded with saliva. He flopped over; face planted right between Jared’s powerful spread thighs, intending to pay tribute to those balls only to get a mouthful of sand instead. “PLAH!” Jensen spat, looking accusatorily at Jared’s balls.
“What’r you doin’?” Jared asked.
“Wann’d to suck your balls. Got sand ‘stead. That was mean.”
Jared reached out and petted Jensen’s head. “Mayb’ when we’re sob’r.”
“No!” Jensen said petulantly. “I wanna suck y’balls and I’m gonna suck ‘em!” He sort of crab-crawls closer to his prize. He runs his hands up Jared’s long tanned legs caressing them, feeling the wiry hair tickle his palms. He opens his mouth to tongue one of Jared’s balls and again gets sand. “PLAH!” he spits again and struggles into a seated position. “No fair. All this goddamn sand!” he smacks it with a palm. “Fuck you, sand!”
“S’okay, baby. You c’n suck ‘em lat’r.” He pats his very nice balls. “They’ll still be here. Wan’ more drinkies? I c’n make more.”
“Nah. We’re wayyyyy too drunk as it is,” Jensen says having a moment of clarity.
“Hmpf,” Jared says dismissively. He crawls over to his lounger.
Jensen watches him, stares at his tight round ass and those big, big balls. He looks down between his own legs at his limp cock and sighs. No action there. Not even a twitch at that beautiful sight. Bad tequila!
Jared sprawls into his lounger, eyes closed. Jensen gazes at him in all his naked thick lengthy cock and big-balled glory. His heart clenches. He loves that man so much. He gazes up at the sun in accusation, flips it off, and then struggles to his feet. He cannot let Jared’s perfect balls get sunburned! If they get sunburned they will hurt and if they hurt he won’t be able to suck them! And he wants to suck them. He’s gotta find Jared’s cute pink flamingo shorts! Fuck those ugly piss yellow ones he had Jared put on earlier.
He stumbles, falls down, and gets back up. He falls again going up the three deck stairs. He staggers around the villa, trying to find the cute flamingo shorts Jared had on a couple of days ago, but it won’t stop spinning. He falls down in the kitchen. “Motherfucker!” Jensen curses and struggles up to his feet. He needs to find those shorts! Jared’s balls need to be covered!
He finds them in the bedroom, near the en suite. He picks them up, races through the villa, and back outside. He falls again going down the stairs and splats into the sand. “Goddamn it!”
He crawls over to Jared and slaps the board shorts on his chest. “Found em!” Jensen says triumphantly. “Put ‘em on! Protect your balls!” He cries.
Jared pops one eye open to look at the shorts. “Aww, my f’mingos!” He briefly hugs them to his chest before struggling to get his legs into them and pull them up over his hips.
Jensen is sad when Jared’s meaty cock and big balls are out of sight but happy the sun won’t be able to burn them. “I love you, Jen’sn.” Jared gives him a sloppy tequila flavored kiss and Jensen returns it with equal fervor.
Jensen struggles back into his own board shorts and flops into his lounger. “Le’s mellow out.” He finds his shades in the sand and pops them over his eyes.
“I’m mellow,” Jared slurs. “Sleepy, too. Suns all warm and the,” he yawns. “waves ‘r nice.”
Jensen closes his eyes, limbs feeling loose and heavy, the lounger cradling him. “Nice,” Jensen echoes.
PART 2
