J2 | pas de deux | NC-17
Jun. 24th, 2018 08:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dugindeepTitle: pas de deux [a dance for two]
Words: 2100
Summary: Jensen escapes the noise of the rock star life for something quieter.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smpc; based on this art: The Needle by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_biting_smile. Big thanks to cherie_morte for middle-of-the-night beta! <3
Read on AO3
On the last drum beat, the crowd roars along with Jensen’s heart. Lights flare across the stadium, feet stomp, and voices scream and cry for more, and he stands completely still to soak up the pulse of the audience.
There isn’t much energy left in him. Three solids hours at Madison Square Garden, running up and down the catwalk, screaming himself hoarse for the second sold-out night in New York City has all drained his last reserves.
They have one more tomorrow, the last of this leg of the tour bringing them back home to NYC. They’re so close to returning to their regular lives, but he’s still running on fumes when he joins the band at center stage and bow together … once, twice, three times until the lights on stage slowly dim out to end the show. He all but drags himself off the stage and accepts the large bottle of water and towel from a handler, numbly following the rest of his band mates back to the green room.
The crowd grows louder, insistent for another encore. Jensen drops into a chair and closes his eyes, feels the thrum of their pleas pass over his skin and thinks about it for a second. Lets the thoughts linger a bit as the room fills with friends, management, assistants … his eyes remain closed as his mind struggles to listen between the conversations stacking on top of one another.
“One more?” someone calls out.
Jensen begins to nod, just so he doesn’t have to drum up the words to argue.
“If you’re gonna do it, you better go now,” their manager insists.
“They closing down the Garden?” he hears from his right, laughter following.
“Not if we have anything to do with it.”
“I’m good.”
“Jensen?”
Finally, his eyes slip open. There are far too many people in the room and he can’t focus on any one face.
His phone ends up in his lap when assistants dole out personal items and now he’s distracted by a number of missed texts. Seconds later, he has the thread open and while he can’t wholly make out the words, he gets the gist.
There’s something better waiting for him elsewhere.
“I think I’m done,” he rasps out, throat sore and in need of rest.
Surprisingly, no one fights him, and he makes a quick escape before they can try to change his mind.
*
The warehouse district is bursting with life. Bar after bar after bar is lit up in neon and patrons spill from one door and into another.
Jensen tugs his hat low and flips up the collar on his beat-up leather jacket. He slides through the mess of the busy sidewalk to get to the end of the block, doing his best to go unnoticed. Headlining the Garden means Jensen has one of the most recognizable faces in the country right now, especially with this demographic.
To punctuate his concern, the opening guitar line to one of their first hits drifts out of bar he passes before making it to the last door on the left. Voices sing along to his recorded voice and he makes himself turn away from the sound. Any other day of the week, he’d smirk, maybe even make a pit stop to drop his credit card and buy drinks for the folks who have their records and made him rich.
Not tonight. He has something else he needs upstairs. Something he wants, especially after a long run from one city to the next.
It takes a slow, rattling freight elevator to bring him to the top floor, and when the doors slide open to the sprawling loft, his heart settles. Muscles relax with the quiet hum of music from the back of the place.
The raspy voice singing from the speaker is the only sign of life, but Jensen can still feel him within these four walls.
Drapes hanging from high above to separate the spaces, cotton billowing in and out as he passes. He’s on course to the bathroom, stripping his jacket, shirt, and jeans until he’s in the shower.
Hot steam rises around him and he lets the sweat wash away, along with the tension in his shoulders. The loud noises he’d been immersed in since they first took the stage hours ago are gone now; his ears are filled with steady stream of the overhead shower head and he lives in the misty rain, moving his head around so the warm water falls over his neck.
When he comes out of the shower, he’s a brand-new man. Having shed the sweat and grime of the rock star life, he can settle into the peace of the loft and a quiet evening with the one who grounds him.
And Jensen needs to see him now. So, he pulls on a pair of long cotton pants from the dresser, grabs his pack of cigarettes and lighter from his jeans, and follows the piano chords echoing from the far corner of the loft.
Pushing pale blue cotton sheaths apart … there he is, Jensen thinks, expelling a long breath and further relaxing himself.
He lights a cigarette and lets the swirling smoke add to the ethereal escape he finds himself in.
Far away from glaring lights, pounding drums and bass lines, booming crowds, not to mention the steady demands of his schedule, Jensen can slink into the peace that balances the run-ragged life he lives outside these walls.
The piano picks up, loud against the brick walls, and Jensen watches a long leg effortlessly rise through the air, left to right. A well-muscled arm stretches up, then falls with a grace Jensen envies, but has never owned himself.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Jensen whispers, awed by the beauty before him and the fact that he gets to witness it.
With a surprised laugh, Jared’s leg and arm fall back into place and he sets to a practiced position, further illustrating the power and poise in those six feet and four inches of lean muscle and tight, tanned skin. Lips part in a smile, and Jared subconsciously rakes fingers through the mess of his hair tied loosely in a knot at the top of his head.
“Jen,” he sings gently, the sound holding more passion than any word Jensen belted tonight.
Jensen slowly approaches, eyes raking over every inch before him. The white tights are a stark contrast to the honey brown tone of the rest of him. They also fit like a second skin and he can see every line of Jared’s body. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“Too late,” Jared replies, voice lofty like the open space around them. Still, he shakes his head to recenter himself in the music, limbs immediately falling back into the routine. His right hand holds tightly to the long bar posted to the brick, then he turns on the ball of one foot, lifting the other behind him. He closes his fingers around his ankle and, with surreal patience, stretches it up towards the ceiling.
As Jared holds the pose, Jensen reaches out to set his fingers along the curve of Jared’s rib cage, lets them dance between each rib as he leans in for a quiet kiss. He steps back just as quickly to give Jared enough space to move freely.
Within minutes, Jared is unraveling his body into intricate positions, stretching and pulling with the music’s rhythm. Jensen continually moves in and out to touch the sharp edges of Jared’s muscles; soon enough, he’s unable to keep his hands to himself and drags his fingers and palms across the warm skin of Jared’s sides, back, over his shoulders and up to his neck. His cigarette is long forgotten so he can bring their mouths together, ash dropping to the ground as the ember goes out. The fire in Jensen’s belly ignites with the first touch of tongue and he dives in deep, no longer caring that Jared’s sequence is broken.
He tugs on Jared’s hips to pull him from the room and to the bed. Then he grabs Jared’s hand and makes him spin up on his toes, admiring the display of Jared’s graceful turn before settling back into first position and leaning down to fall into another thirsty kiss, needing the nourishment that only Jared can give him.
They don’t use words from here on out, descending into their own practiced dance as they drop to the bed and Jensen runs his mouth over Jared’s neck and down his chest. He grants every muscle a kiss on his way down to the tights, which he carefully slips down and off. His hands skate up the length of Jared’s bared calves, the back of his knees, and his thighs, dropping kisses along the way. Then he turns Jared over and admires the rise and fall of his back muscles as he sucks in a deep breath.
Jensen holds his own breath as he settles between Jared’s legs, hands planted on either side of them, and drags his lips up the back of his thighs. He’s drawn to the center and fights impatience to keep the spell over them while he listens to the gentle scratch in Jared’s hitched breathing.
His hands do the work first, massaging and squeezing at Jared’s tight ass, pulling his cheeks apart to admire the dip of his body down to the center. The place he wants to crash into to bring them together, as one.
They have all night. And Jensen has other plans to show Jared just how much he needs him to feel whole again. To pull Jared apart, then slide each piece back into place, before Jared does the same for him
The first step is in front of him and he drops lower, tucks his thumbs into Jared’s cheeks and kisses. Initially, Jensen is slow, tender, with the press of his mouth to Jared’s hole. His tongue graces it lightly, taking his time to express his care for how gorgeous every single piece of Jared’s body is.
He shifts back and slides his thumb along the slick left by his tongue, pushes just enough to pull stuttered noises from Jared’s mouth. Jensen again sets his lips to Jared, slips his tongue just inside, pressing all around. Then he flattens his tongue and slides up and down and laves at the warmth at Jared’s center. He reaches every angle with the full stretch of his tongue along Jared’s hole and Jared’s muscles tense and pull away and back, needing more, yet not daring to stay away for long.
As Jared’s breathing grows louder so does Jensen. He groans with Jared as he drops back into place and is hungrier with every taste of Jared on his tongue. He adds his thumb, pressing in and down to stretch Jared open, to give himself space to lick his way inside. He pushes further in and Jared ruts against the sheets, noises louder and more wanton the deeper Jensen gets inside him.
His thumb is fully planted and he licks all around the stretch of Jared’s ass, distracting Jared with the tuck of his knuckles to pull him further open. When Jared cants his hips up, knees wide and sliding on the bed, Jensen reaches around and closes his hand around Jared’s hard cock. He holds a loose fist for Jared to thrust into, and watches Jared set his power to a whole new rhythm as he rocks back to Jensen’s thumb, then into his hand.
Jensen kisses and bites at the meat of Jared’s ass, satisfaction rising in his chest as Jared chases the coming orgasm. There’s wonder, too, at the bow of Jared’s body just inches above the sheets as his muscles roll beneath his taut skin.
“Let’s go, baby,” Jensen whispers with his lips pressed to the swell of Jared’s ass.
Jared is good at following directions; any choreographer he’s met has relished the practiced perfection he brought to the studio. Jensen’s glad he’s the one Jared is performing for tonight.
That striking sinewy back bends impossibly towards Jensen as Jared comes, his vulgar shouts shattering the hushed peace of their home. Jensen smiles at the break in Jared’s elegance and drags his upturned lips up his back until he can find Jared’s panting mouth and steal more of his ragged breath.
Jensen falls to his back and brings Jared with him, relishing the warmth now blanketing him. With Jared’s head tucked at his shoulder, he gently combs through the edges of Jared’s hair and listens for the jumpy heartbeat pressed to his own. He waits for it to settle into a languid pace before disrupting the stillness between them.
It doesn’t matter how long that takes; he lives for this quiet and this man.
Words: 2100
Summary: Jensen escapes the noise of the rock star life for something quieter.
Notes: For
smpc; based on this art: The Needle by a_biting_smile. Big thanks to cherie_morte for middle-of-the-night beta! <3Read on AO3
On the last drum beat, the crowd roars along with Jensen’s heart. Lights flare across the stadium, feet stomp, and voices scream and cry for more, and he stands completely still to soak up the pulse of the audience.
There isn’t much energy left in him. Three solids hours at Madison Square Garden, running up and down the catwalk, screaming himself hoarse for the second sold-out night in New York City has all drained his last reserves.
They have one more tomorrow, the last of this leg of the tour bringing them back home to NYC. They’re so close to returning to their regular lives, but he’s still running on fumes when he joins the band at center stage and bow together … once, twice, three times until the lights on stage slowly dim out to end the show. He all but drags himself off the stage and accepts the large bottle of water and towel from a handler, numbly following the rest of his band mates back to the green room.
The crowd grows louder, insistent for another encore. Jensen drops into a chair and closes his eyes, feels the thrum of their pleas pass over his skin and thinks about it for a second. Lets the thoughts linger a bit as the room fills with friends, management, assistants … his eyes remain closed as his mind struggles to listen between the conversations stacking on top of one another.
“One more?” someone calls out.
Jensen begins to nod, just so he doesn’t have to drum up the words to argue.
“If you’re gonna do it, you better go now,” their manager insists.
“They closing down the Garden?” he hears from his right, laughter following.
“Not if we have anything to do with it.”
“I’m good.”
“Jensen?”
Finally, his eyes slip open. There are far too many people in the room and he can’t focus on any one face.
His phone ends up in his lap when assistants dole out personal items and now he’s distracted by a number of missed texts. Seconds later, he has the thread open and while he can’t wholly make out the words, he gets the gist.
There’s something better waiting for him elsewhere.
“I think I’m done,” he rasps out, throat sore and in need of rest.
Surprisingly, no one fights him, and he makes a quick escape before they can try to change his mind.
*
The warehouse district is bursting with life. Bar after bar after bar is lit up in neon and patrons spill from one door and into another.
Jensen tugs his hat low and flips up the collar on his beat-up leather jacket. He slides through the mess of the busy sidewalk to get to the end of the block, doing his best to go unnoticed. Headlining the Garden means Jensen has one of the most recognizable faces in the country right now, especially with this demographic.
To punctuate his concern, the opening guitar line to one of their first hits drifts out of bar he passes before making it to the last door on the left. Voices sing along to his recorded voice and he makes himself turn away from the sound. Any other day of the week, he’d smirk, maybe even make a pit stop to drop his credit card and buy drinks for the folks who have their records and made him rich.
Not tonight. He has something else he needs upstairs. Something he wants, especially after a long run from one city to the next.
It takes a slow, rattling freight elevator to bring him to the top floor, and when the doors slide open to the sprawling loft, his heart settles. Muscles relax with the quiet hum of music from the back of the place.
The raspy voice singing from the speaker is the only sign of life, but Jensen can still feel him within these four walls.
Drapes hanging from high above to separate the spaces, cotton billowing in and out as he passes. He’s on course to the bathroom, stripping his jacket, shirt, and jeans until he’s in the shower.
Hot steam rises around him and he lets the sweat wash away, along with the tension in his shoulders. The loud noises he’d been immersed in since they first took the stage hours ago are gone now; his ears are filled with steady stream of the overhead shower head and he lives in the misty rain, moving his head around so the warm water falls over his neck.
When he comes out of the shower, he’s a brand-new man. Having shed the sweat and grime of the rock star life, he can settle into the peace of the loft and a quiet evening with the one who grounds him.
And Jensen needs to see him now. So, he pulls on a pair of long cotton pants from the dresser, grabs his pack of cigarettes and lighter from his jeans, and follows the piano chords echoing from the far corner of the loft.
Pushing pale blue cotton sheaths apart … there he is, Jensen thinks, expelling a long breath and further relaxing himself.
He lights a cigarette and lets the swirling smoke add to the ethereal escape he finds himself in.
Far away from glaring lights, pounding drums and bass lines, booming crowds, not to mention the steady demands of his schedule, Jensen can slink into the peace that balances the run-ragged life he lives outside these walls.
The piano picks up, loud against the brick walls, and Jensen watches a long leg effortlessly rise through the air, left to right. A well-muscled arm stretches up, then falls with a grace Jensen envies, but has never owned himself.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Jensen whispers, awed by the beauty before him and the fact that he gets to witness it.
With a surprised laugh, Jared’s leg and arm fall back into place and he sets to a practiced position, further illustrating the power and poise in those six feet and four inches of lean muscle and tight, tanned skin. Lips part in a smile, and Jared subconsciously rakes fingers through the mess of his hair tied loosely in a knot at the top of his head.
“Jen,” he sings gently, the sound holding more passion than any word Jensen belted tonight.
Jensen slowly approaches, eyes raking over every inch before him. The white tights are a stark contrast to the honey brown tone of the rest of him. They also fit like a second skin and he can see every line of Jared’s body. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
“Too late,” Jared replies, voice lofty like the open space around them. Still, he shakes his head to recenter himself in the music, limbs immediately falling back into the routine. His right hand holds tightly to the long bar posted to the brick, then he turns on the ball of one foot, lifting the other behind him. He closes his fingers around his ankle and, with surreal patience, stretches it up towards the ceiling.
As Jared holds the pose, Jensen reaches out to set his fingers along the curve of Jared’s rib cage, lets them dance between each rib as he leans in for a quiet kiss. He steps back just as quickly to give Jared enough space to move freely.
Within minutes, Jared is unraveling his body into intricate positions, stretching and pulling with the music’s rhythm. Jensen continually moves in and out to touch the sharp edges of Jared’s muscles; soon enough, he’s unable to keep his hands to himself and drags his fingers and palms across the warm skin of Jared’s sides, back, over his shoulders and up to his neck. His cigarette is long forgotten so he can bring their mouths together, ash dropping to the ground as the ember goes out. The fire in Jensen’s belly ignites with the first touch of tongue and he dives in deep, no longer caring that Jared’s sequence is broken.
He tugs on Jared’s hips to pull him from the room and to the bed. Then he grabs Jared’s hand and makes him spin up on his toes, admiring the display of Jared’s graceful turn before settling back into first position and leaning down to fall into another thirsty kiss, needing the nourishment that only Jared can give him.
They don’t use words from here on out, descending into their own practiced dance as they drop to the bed and Jensen runs his mouth over Jared’s neck and down his chest. He grants every muscle a kiss on his way down to the tights, which he carefully slips down and off. His hands skate up the length of Jared’s bared calves, the back of his knees, and his thighs, dropping kisses along the way. Then he turns Jared over and admires the rise and fall of his back muscles as he sucks in a deep breath.
Jensen holds his own breath as he settles between Jared’s legs, hands planted on either side of them, and drags his lips up the back of his thighs. He’s drawn to the center and fights impatience to keep the spell over them while he listens to the gentle scratch in Jared’s hitched breathing.
His hands do the work first, massaging and squeezing at Jared’s tight ass, pulling his cheeks apart to admire the dip of his body down to the center. The place he wants to crash into to bring them together, as one.
They have all night. And Jensen has other plans to show Jared just how much he needs him to feel whole again. To pull Jared apart, then slide each piece back into place, before Jared does the same for him
The first step is in front of him and he drops lower, tucks his thumbs into Jared’s cheeks and kisses. Initially, Jensen is slow, tender, with the press of his mouth to Jared’s hole. His tongue graces it lightly, taking his time to express his care for how gorgeous every single piece of Jared’s body is.
He shifts back and slides his thumb along the slick left by his tongue, pushes just enough to pull stuttered noises from Jared’s mouth. Jensen again sets his lips to Jared, slips his tongue just inside, pressing all around. Then he flattens his tongue and slides up and down and laves at the warmth at Jared’s center. He reaches every angle with the full stretch of his tongue along Jared’s hole and Jared’s muscles tense and pull away and back, needing more, yet not daring to stay away for long.
As Jared’s breathing grows louder so does Jensen. He groans with Jared as he drops back into place and is hungrier with every taste of Jared on his tongue. He adds his thumb, pressing in and down to stretch Jared open, to give himself space to lick his way inside. He pushes further in and Jared ruts against the sheets, noises louder and more wanton the deeper Jensen gets inside him.
His thumb is fully planted and he licks all around the stretch of Jared’s ass, distracting Jared with the tuck of his knuckles to pull him further open. When Jared cants his hips up, knees wide and sliding on the bed, Jensen reaches around and closes his hand around Jared’s hard cock. He holds a loose fist for Jared to thrust into, and watches Jared set his power to a whole new rhythm as he rocks back to Jensen’s thumb, then into his hand.
Jensen kisses and bites at the meat of Jared’s ass, satisfaction rising in his chest as Jared chases the coming orgasm. There’s wonder, too, at the bow of Jared’s body just inches above the sheets as his muscles roll beneath his taut skin.
“Let’s go, baby,” Jensen whispers with his lips pressed to the swell of Jared’s ass.
Jared is good at following directions; any choreographer he’s met has relished the practiced perfection he brought to the studio. Jensen’s glad he’s the one Jared is performing for tonight.
That striking sinewy back bends impossibly towards Jensen as Jared comes, his vulgar shouts shattering the hushed peace of their home. Jensen smiles at the break in Jared’s elegance and drags his upturned lips up his back until he can find Jared’s panting mouth and steal more of his ragged breath.
Jensen falls to his back and brings Jared with him, relishing the warmth now blanketing him. With Jared’s head tucked at his shoulder, he gently combs through the edges of Jared’s hair and listens for the jumpy heartbeat pressed to his own. He waits for it to settle into a languid pace before disrupting the stillness between them.
It doesn’t matter how long that takes; he lives for this quiet and this man.
