Jared/Dean | The Dirty Ones | NC-17
Apr. 9th, 2015 02:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dugindeepTitle: The Dirty Ones
Words: 1600
Warnings: Unresolved J2
Summary: Written for 2015 SPN Masquerade, for this prompt: So Jared's favorite type of thong is a pink lacy one. Dean gets off on wearing ping panties.
Notes: I tried to post this a week or so ago, but LJ was being lame and wouldn't let me. I did get it up on AO3 that day, but here it is officially on LJ.
AO3
It is impossible.
It doesn’t make sense.
It could never happen in this universe.
Jared knows this, and yet he’s staring right into Jens—Dean’s face and growing warm at the playful gleam in those sea-green eyes.
Jared has stared into Jensen’s eyes thousands of times over the last decade. He’s seen them all sorts of shades, stained with emotions good and bad, but this entirely different.
It’s still the smooth slope of Jensen’s face, the wrinkled corners of his eyes, the plump lips … but the eyes, they’re distinctive. They’re weathered and tired, yet amused and wanting.
Just the way Jared wishes Jensen would look at him.
And yet … here he stands toe to toe with someone who is so very much Jensen-like in the entirety of his shape, while something else fills the space around them.
There is the barest hint of a scent that’s familiar from filming long days in the Impala: leather and rain. And Jared can sense a whole brand of confidence so unlike Jensen when he’s not on set.
It’s impractical that this is real, but Jared refuses to let the opportunity to slip through his fingers. He doesn’t back up when Dean invades his personal space, instinctively tips his head down when Dean lifts his up, and then they’re kissing and Jared’s hands immediately go to Dean’s hips. He palms the slim curves and squeezes before smiling when Dean leans in closer so there isn’t even a sliver of light between their chests.
Jared runs his hands to Dean’s back and down to his ass. He kneads like he’s always imagined, always dared himself to do, but could never put into action. Dean rubs against Jared’s front and immediately, his hard-on is obvious.
For a split-second, Jared freezes, because he’s possibly too close to the real thing.
It’s kind of creeping him out.
Then Dean bites at Jared’s lower lip and chuckles. It’s dark and throaty just like Dean, and it does the trick to kick Jared back into action.
Jared takes big handfuls of Dean’s ass in his palms. He grabs as much as he can while tugging Dean tight against him so their dicks rub together with coarse denim friction. Still, Jared keeps them writhing against one another while he squeezes and massages Dean’s cheeks. He even presses his fingers into the crease of Dean’s jeans to tell him right where he wants to be.
Dean brings his hands up to Jared’s face and holds on tight so their mouths are smashed together with teeth tearing at lips. Jared takes that as the sign for the next step, so he plunges his fingers down the back of Dean’s jeans, sliding over smooth, tight skin until they freeze at a ragged scrap of cotton.
Jared slows everything down in an instant. He pulls back and eyes Dean, who’s lightly smiling in return.
“Go ahead,” Dean murmurs, gravel-rough and sex-warmed. “You wanna take a look, don’tcha?”
He even licks his bottom lip, all lascivious and inviting. Jared nips at that lip and tastes something salty-sweet he hadn’t noticed before. It’s so very tempting to dive right back into Dean’s mouth, then Jared remembers the rough texture hiding beneath Dean’s jeans, and he wants to see more.
Slowly, he steps back, daring to let go of the firm, perky ass, and watches Dean’s amused eyes as he undoes Dean’s belt and jeans. They drop with a soft thud around Dean’s feet and Jared can see a swatch of pink down where he’d imagined one would spy Jensen’s typical Calvin Klein boxer briefs covering half his thighs.
No, there’s a whole lot of skin on display with just a few strips of pink lace over Dean’s hips, another wide piece down the front that barely contains his dick, which stands at attention.
“Oh, mama,” Jared breathes out. His fingers flick through the air at Dean’s sides and he can’t breathe. Can’t move or do anything other than focus in on the bright pink fabric.
He wants to touch and run his hands over the lace. He longs to feel the dips in the fabric where it thins out and is likely heating up from Dean’s rising body heat.
Jared’s heart stutters with excitement of the visual: Dean’s lean thighs stretch up to his hips, all pale skin, freckled over like Jared had always imagined, and the flat of Dean’s lower abdomen is as clean as a blank canvas. Jared’s fingers immediately streak across it and lift Dean’s shirts up and away. Quickly, Dean tosses his flannel to the side and the t-shirt is ripped up and over his head, fussing up his hair.
Jared sucks in a breath, loud and desperate. He doesn’t really care, though, because Dean shifts away to kick off his boots and socks, while Jared admires all of Dean’s body on display.
Jared’s groin aches with how hard he is right now. He wants to pull his dick out and fucking beat off until he comes all over those pink panties, but no. Somehow, he stops himself long enough to make Dean turn all the way around so he can take in the sigh of the lace running over half of Dean’s ass before it tucks in tight between his cheeks.
With a moan, Jared drops to his knees and kneads Dean’s ass all over again, this time leaning in to kiss and suck and bite his way across the skin. He licks at the pink lace, damn near gnaws at it, revels at the jagged edges of fabric dragging against his tongue. He bites into the cotton and Dean’s ass, while holding tight to Dean’s hips. His fingers press against Dean’s bare skin in time with the throbbing between his legs, tucking in tighter as the harsh beat grows more intense.
Dean makes quick panting, whimpering noises, sounding less cocky about the whole situation, as if he’s about to succumb to the whole thing.
But then: “Hey,” Dean says with a quick tug of Jared’s hair, “I told ya I had a sensitive side.”
Jared laughs, and hard, surprised beyond belief that this is where he sits, and even more shocked that he’s enjoying the light jerk of Dean’s fingers in his hair. He thinks back to an episode years ago, back when the brothers had fewer loads on their shoulders. To a time when he called Dean bossy, and maybe it was right all along, because now Dean is turning around while maintaining the twist of his fingers in the long strands.
Jared tips his head back to look up at Dean and is rewarded with lust-blown pupils that crowd out the brisk green of Dean’s eyes. His breath is ragged and his chest heaves up and down. His heart is an uncontrollable mess that roars in his ears, and all he can do is lick his lips and appreciate the bright flush running down the length of Dean’s smooth chest, narrowing out as it reaches his cock, still trapped by that frilly pink lace.
Dean’s hand drifts down to Jared’s mouth and his fingers rub over Jared’s lips, slowly, back and forth. “That pink mouth is real pretty, you know that?”
Jared licks the pad of Dean’s finger then sucks it into his mouth. It doesn’t stay there long, because Dean quickly reclaims his hold on Jared’s hair and rocks close enough to lead Jared right to the next event. Jared shuffles forward so he can bury his face in Dean’s crotch. He opens his mouth as wide as possible and runs it up and down the length of Dean’s dick, soaking the panties, even catching the tang of Dean’s precome.
With the flat of his tongue, Jared tracks the entire length of Dean from bottom up to the tip then mouths at it through the slightly-scratchy lace. He spits at it and keeps mouthing over the fabric until it’s not even soaked anymore. It’s drenched and dripping down the hot pink and to the underside of Dean’s balls.
“God, you’re good at this,” Dean mumbles.
Jared makes an affirmative noise while refusing to take his mouth away from the wet lace and red-hot heat of Dean’s cock. He feels the quick pulse of shocks firing through his body and the euphoric wave crashing over his head: he knows he’s close. Hopes Dean is, too, so he quickly tugs his belt and jeans open, yanks his dick out, and fists himself as he continues to mouth and lick and suck at Dean’s dick.
Dean grabs hold of Jared’s hair with both hands and increases the pressure of Jared’s mouth. The quick jerks of hair have Jared stroking himself faster and faster, gripping impossibly tighter until he’s coming. He shoots over his hand and moans so loudly, it likely reverberates against Dean’s cock, because Dean is shooting in the lace just seconds later.
Jared leans forward with his head hanging low as he catches his breath. He’s thankful he’s already on the ground so he doesn’t have to experience an embarrassing fall immediately after shooting his brains out of his dick. Thinking on that and quickly zipping through all that just happened, Jared chuckles to himself and shakes his head.
Dean lightly scratches at Jared’s scalp then threads his fingers through the hair. “Whatcha laughing at, bud?”
His voice is more ragged than before and Jared’s chest clenches with another flare of want. “Just thinking … sometimes wishes really do come true.”
“Especially the dirty ones.”
Jared chuckles again and glances up to Dean, who winks in return. He smile as crookedly as he can and narrows his eyes with thoughts of what else can happen here. Dean’s eyes are now a dark, forest green, and Jared knows exactly what that means. He knows Dean just as well as Jensen, so he’s happy to nod up at him and smile. “Thank God for the dirty ones.”
Words: 1600
Warnings: Unresolved J2
Summary: Written for 2015 SPN Masquerade, for this prompt: So Jared's favorite type of thong is a pink lacy one. Dean gets off on wearing ping panties.
Notes: I tried to post this a week or so ago, but LJ was being lame and wouldn't let me. I did get it up on AO3 that day, but here it is officially on LJ.
AO3
It is impossible.
It doesn’t make sense.
It could never happen in this universe.
Jared knows this, and yet he’s staring right into Jens—Dean’s face and growing warm at the playful gleam in those sea-green eyes.
Jared has stared into Jensen’s eyes thousands of times over the last decade. He’s seen them all sorts of shades, stained with emotions good and bad, but this entirely different.
It’s still the smooth slope of Jensen’s face, the wrinkled corners of his eyes, the plump lips … but the eyes, they’re distinctive. They’re weathered and tired, yet amused and wanting.
Just the way Jared wishes Jensen would look at him.
And yet … here he stands toe to toe with someone who is so very much Jensen-like in the entirety of his shape, while something else fills the space around them.
There is the barest hint of a scent that’s familiar from filming long days in the Impala: leather and rain. And Jared can sense a whole brand of confidence so unlike Jensen when he’s not on set.
It’s impractical that this is real, but Jared refuses to let the opportunity to slip through his fingers. He doesn’t back up when Dean invades his personal space, instinctively tips his head down when Dean lifts his up, and then they’re kissing and Jared’s hands immediately go to Dean’s hips. He palms the slim curves and squeezes before smiling when Dean leans in closer so there isn’t even a sliver of light between their chests.
Jared runs his hands to Dean’s back and down to his ass. He kneads like he’s always imagined, always dared himself to do, but could never put into action. Dean rubs against Jared’s front and immediately, his hard-on is obvious.
For a split-second, Jared freezes, because he’s possibly too close to the real thing.
It’s kind of creeping him out.
Then Dean bites at Jared’s lower lip and chuckles. It’s dark and throaty just like Dean, and it does the trick to kick Jared back into action.
Jared takes big handfuls of Dean’s ass in his palms. He grabs as much as he can while tugging Dean tight against him so their dicks rub together with coarse denim friction. Still, Jared keeps them writhing against one another while he squeezes and massages Dean’s cheeks. He even presses his fingers into the crease of Dean’s jeans to tell him right where he wants to be.
Dean brings his hands up to Jared’s face and holds on tight so their mouths are smashed together with teeth tearing at lips. Jared takes that as the sign for the next step, so he plunges his fingers down the back of Dean’s jeans, sliding over smooth, tight skin until they freeze at a ragged scrap of cotton.
Jared slows everything down in an instant. He pulls back and eyes Dean, who’s lightly smiling in return.
“Go ahead,” Dean murmurs, gravel-rough and sex-warmed. “You wanna take a look, don’tcha?”
He even licks his bottom lip, all lascivious and inviting. Jared nips at that lip and tastes something salty-sweet he hadn’t noticed before. It’s so very tempting to dive right back into Dean’s mouth, then Jared remembers the rough texture hiding beneath Dean’s jeans, and he wants to see more.
Slowly, he steps back, daring to let go of the firm, perky ass, and watches Dean’s amused eyes as he undoes Dean’s belt and jeans. They drop with a soft thud around Dean’s feet and Jared can see a swatch of pink down where he’d imagined one would spy Jensen’s typical Calvin Klein boxer briefs covering half his thighs.
No, there’s a whole lot of skin on display with just a few strips of pink lace over Dean’s hips, another wide piece down the front that barely contains his dick, which stands at attention.
“Oh, mama,” Jared breathes out. His fingers flick through the air at Dean’s sides and he can’t breathe. Can’t move or do anything other than focus in on the bright pink fabric.
He wants to touch and run his hands over the lace. He longs to feel the dips in the fabric where it thins out and is likely heating up from Dean’s rising body heat.
Jared’s heart stutters with excitement of the visual: Dean’s lean thighs stretch up to his hips, all pale skin, freckled over like Jared had always imagined, and the flat of Dean’s lower abdomen is as clean as a blank canvas. Jared’s fingers immediately streak across it and lift Dean’s shirts up and away. Quickly, Dean tosses his flannel to the side and the t-shirt is ripped up and over his head, fussing up his hair.
Jared sucks in a breath, loud and desperate. He doesn’t really care, though, because Dean shifts away to kick off his boots and socks, while Jared admires all of Dean’s body on display.
Jared’s groin aches with how hard he is right now. He wants to pull his dick out and fucking beat off until he comes all over those pink panties, but no. Somehow, he stops himself long enough to make Dean turn all the way around so he can take in the sigh of the lace running over half of Dean’s ass before it tucks in tight between his cheeks.
With a moan, Jared drops to his knees and kneads Dean’s ass all over again, this time leaning in to kiss and suck and bite his way across the skin. He licks at the pink lace, damn near gnaws at it, revels at the jagged edges of fabric dragging against his tongue. He bites into the cotton and Dean’s ass, while holding tight to Dean’s hips. His fingers press against Dean’s bare skin in time with the throbbing between his legs, tucking in tighter as the harsh beat grows more intense.
Dean makes quick panting, whimpering noises, sounding less cocky about the whole situation, as if he’s about to succumb to the whole thing.
But then: “Hey,” Dean says with a quick tug of Jared’s hair, “I told ya I had a sensitive side.”
Jared laughs, and hard, surprised beyond belief that this is where he sits, and even more shocked that he’s enjoying the light jerk of Dean’s fingers in his hair. He thinks back to an episode years ago, back when the brothers had fewer loads on their shoulders. To a time when he called Dean bossy, and maybe it was right all along, because now Dean is turning around while maintaining the twist of his fingers in the long strands.
Jared tips his head back to look up at Dean and is rewarded with lust-blown pupils that crowd out the brisk green of Dean’s eyes. His breath is ragged and his chest heaves up and down. His heart is an uncontrollable mess that roars in his ears, and all he can do is lick his lips and appreciate the bright flush running down the length of Dean’s smooth chest, narrowing out as it reaches his cock, still trapped by that frilly pink lace.
Dean’s hand drifts down to Jared’s mouth and his fingers rub over Jared’s lips, slowly, back and forth. “That pink mouth is real pretty, you know that?”
Jared licks the pad of Dean’s finger then sucks it into his mouth. It doesn’t stay there long, because Dean quickly reclaims his hold on Jared’s hair and rocks close enough to lead Jared right to the next event. Jared shuffles forward so he can bury his face in Dean’s crotch. He opens his mouth as wide as possible and runs it up and down the length of Dean’s dick, soaking the panties, even catching the tang of Dean’s precome.
With the flat of his tongue, Jared tracks the entire length of Dean from bottom up to the tip then mouths at it through the slightly-scratchy lace. He spits at it and keeps mouthing over the fabric until it’s not even soaked anymore. It’s drenched and dripping down the hot pink and to the underside of Dean’s balls.
“God, you’re good at this,” Dean mumbles.
Jared makes an affirmative noise while refusing to take his mouth away from the wet lace and red-hot heat of Dean’s cock. He feels the quick pulse of shocks firing through his body and the euphoric wave crashing over his head: he knows he’s close. Hopes Dean is, too, so he quickly tugs his belt and jeans open, yanks his dick out, and fists himself as he continues to mouth and lick and suck at Dean’s dick.
Dean grabs hold of Jared’s hair with both hands and increases the pressure of Jared’s mouth. The quick jerks of hair have Jared stroking himself faster and faster, gripping impossibly tighter until he’s coming. He shoots over his hand and moans so loudly, it likely reverberates against Dean’s cock, because Dean is shooting in the lace just seconds later.
Jared leans forward with his head hanging low as he catches his breath. He’s thankful he’s already on the ground so he doesn’t have to experience an embarrassing fall immediately after shooting his brains out of his dick. Thinking on that and quickly zipping through all that just happened, Jared chuckles to himself and shakes his head.
Dean lightly scratches at Jared’s scalp then threads his fingers through the hair. “Whatcha laughing at, bud?”
His voice is more ragged than before and Jared’s chest clenches with another flare of want. “Just thinking … sometimes wishes really do come true.”
“Especially the dirty ones.”
Jared chuckles again and glances up to Dean, who winks in return. He smile as crookedly as he can and narrows his eyes with thoughts of what else can happen here. Dean’s eyes are now a dark, forest green, and Jared knows exactly what that means. He knows Dean just as well as Jensen, so he’s happy to nod up at him and smile. “Thank God for the dirty ones.”
