J2 | Let It Down | NC-17
Aug. 4th, 2018 11:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dugindeepTitle: Let It Down
Words: 4400
Rating/Warning: NC-17/escort!Jensen
Summary: Jensen is the high-priced escort ignoring all the warning signs and Jared is the businessman making them both too vulnerable. Part of the Domestic Dreams verse.
Notes: Title from/inspired by James Bay's Wild Love. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smpc. Big thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gluedwithgold for the beta! <3
Read on AO3
The second hand on his watch takes another trip around and Jensen wonders when his patience withered away. He clenches his left hand in a brief fist before he flattens his palm to the bar top and looks away from the time.
His right hand betrays him by gripping tight to the whiskey glass in front of him, beads of water dribbling down to the cocktail napkin as ice melts. The liquor dissolves from anything worth the price he already paid, but he still drinks from it to cool his nerves.
His client is late.
Or not showing up at all.
He’s unsure if he’s being stood up and even more unsure why he cares.
He tells himself that he’s pissed at the loss of a night’s income, that he hates waiting around in a bar so empty it’s hard to ignore the fact that he’s on his own. Deep beneath the cool set of his lips, turning an easy smile when Tom raises an eyebrow in judgement, his blood goes icy at the truth. At the realization that he’s more disappointed in not seeing Jared tonight.
It’s been over a decade of this line of work and Jensen hasn’t before found himself caring beyond the hefty bills that line his wallet at the end of the night. There have been men that became more than just business acquaintances, sure. Ones he matched in wits and personality, who are friendly and genial, and provide more than money in thanks for the security and silence Jensen offers. A Wall Street regular often gifts access to his boat, where Jensen brings friends out for a warm sunny day on the water, coasting away from the skyline and the rise and grind of their day jobs. An executive in alcohol distribution arranges a crate of high-end bourbon hand-delivered to Jensen’s doorstop every few months. And there’s the car salesman who gave Jensen the dealer’s rate for a new Audi last year.
There are also the men seeking companionship beyond a night of seduction and bring Jensen along to social events, Michelin-star dinners, and Broadway shows. With them, Jensen feels a little less like acting. He doesn’t have to put on the show of a demure, young man who rather enjoys older men taking advantage of him with his pants down, or the bold, domineering superior giving orders with a steely edge to his voice.
Jensen’s seen it all in this career and has learned how to pivot and adapt to the client’s requests, while setting aside his own impulses. After all, if he was in it for himself, his own pleasures, he wouldn’t be charging. And he would have settled down long ago, rather than build a rolodex of reliable and respectable clients.
Now, though, he’s stuck in the precarious mess of twisting aimlessly in Jared Padalecki’s orbit.
It’s only been half a year since that first night when Jensen had witnessed the soft, warm flame of Jared’s smile and his open gaze, only to have it washed out in one poorly-timed moment with ugly words from a stranger. Every month, at every encounter, Jensen continues to face the vulnerability seeping through the sharp edges of the façade Jared has built, repeatedly reinforcing the steely walls that hold him together every other minute of the day.
Jensen supposes it’s like digging deep into ashy remains of a fire. He wants to pull away the wreckage to find what can be salvaged below, but he’s sure they’ll both suffer the burn.
If the whole thing doesn’t collapse atop them first.
He knows he shouldn’t care. Rule number one of this line of work, after all, yet he spends far too much time in the days leading up to and following their meetings wondering what makes Jared tick. If there’s more there than manic energy that’s been shackled for weeks until Jared can release when he’s in Jensen’s presence. If Jared’s pent-up fire will push them further than before as he continues to run at Jensen when they’re behind closed doors.
And right now, he wonders what kind of mess he’s made for himself with all his thoughts.
“Stood up?” Tom asks as he slides a fresh pour in front of Jensen.
It takes a few seconds for Jensen to muscle together a response that doesn’t taste as bitter as his unease is. When the words fit together, he aims a cocky smile at the bartender. “Maybe I’m just here to see your friendly face.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” he returns with a tilt of his head, “I get paid whether you like me or not. There’s no need to flirt.”
Jensen huffs a laugh, pushing his watered-down drink back at Tom. “We’re more alike than you realize, bud.”
“Don’t remind me.” Tom rolls his eyes before wiping down the bar around them, wasting time on this quiet night. “So, the big guy, right?”
He tries to ignore the twist in his chest that Tom knows what’s bringing on tonight’s sour mood. But he spectacularly fails and focuses on taking a sip of his drink in lieu of answering.
“He was in here late last night. Sounded like it’s been a few long days. Like, real long.”
Every word slinks into Jensen’s brain, and he battles between thoughtful worry with Jared having a rough day and the instinct to not care for excuses. It’s a business after all. And he’d rather hear it from Jared, himself. Hear that tonight wasn’t going to happen so Jensen didn’t have to spend the last hour or so alone with twenty-dollar bourbon pours. He could be home, drinking for free, distracting himself with something more than a surly bartender and Seinfeld reruns silently playing on the TV.
“I could find out his room number,” Tom offers quietly.
Jensen gives him an odd look, because for the past three or four years of combing this bar for clients and meeting regulars here, Tom has never been what one would call accommodating. Critical and acerbic, surely; not empathetic or helpful aside from changing the channel if asked nicely.
“If you wanted to check on him or whatever.”
Shaking his head, Jensen clears his throat. “No, man, it’s not like that.”
Tom shrugs and glances up to watch the closed captioning on the sitcom. “He seems like a decent guy.”
Jensen sets his voice as level as possible to ask, “Really?”
“As decent as one of your customers could be.”
“Dick.
Tom chuckles and explains, “He tips well, but isn’t cocky about it. He likes to talk about whatever’s on TV, even if he rambles a lot. Seems like he’s not used to trying to have a normal conversation, but really likes to.”
Jensen finds himself logging that information away. A tiny hope sparks that he’ll witness this side of Jared sometime soon.
“And he seems to really like you,” Tom mumbles before rapping his knuckles on the bar and nodding towards the open entry to the bar.
Following Tom’s gaze, Jensen sees a handful of corporate suits heading inside, a few trying to coax a sixth inside. But the guy isn’t listening to them much, just shaking his head as he stares at Jensen.
Jared, his mind whispers as his cheeks warm up at the sight.
Jensen sits up straight and breathes deep as he catalogs Jared’s disheveled state of a crooked tie, jacket hanging over his elbow, and his shirt sleeves folded up his forearms. What hits Jensen hardest is the softness in Jared’s eyes in the seconds they share the long look, before Jared is distracted by the company around him, still trying to convince him to come in for drinks and a late dinner.
“No, really,” Jared is arguing carefully, “I gotta get some rest.”
“C’mon, Padalecki!” someone insists. “We’ll get the Clippers game on for you.”
Another laughs. “A couple beers will chill you out.”
Jared looks at Jensen again, eyes a bit more wired now and Jensen feels a phantom knife cut into his side. Embarrassment and disappointment crowd the view, with Jared having to excuse himself because Jensen is there. That he can’t bear to be in the same room as coworkers and his dirty secret.
“I’m really just looking forward to bed and a quiet night,” Jared maintains with a quick step back towards the lobby.
And maybe that’s the whole reason Jensen hadn’t heard from Jared all night. Jared had better things to do … work meetings, dinner, and an easy night in. Anything aside from spending time with a guy who trades sex for money.
Jensen leans against the bar again, trying his best to only casually glance at Jared as the businessmen dole out goodbyes and one shouts for Tom to get drinks lined.
Then he notices Jared scratching behind his ear as he steps further into the lobby. Jared tips his head to the right and Jensen narrows his eyes at the stilted movements of Jared slowly, so very slowly, backing away.
It’s when Jared bites his lower lip that Jensen picks up on the signal and smiles. He slides off the stool and drops bills on the bar for his drinks.
“Not like that, huh?” Tom says, clearing away Jensen’s now-forgotten glass.
“Shut up,” Jensen throws over his shoulder, ignoring Tom’s dark laugh as he heads out of the bar.
With quick steps, Jensen catches up to Jared at the bank of elevators and they stand within a few feet of one another.
“Hi,” Jared offers softly before turning back to watch the digital numbers flip over as the elevator returns to the main floor.
Jensen nods and casually looks around the lobby. He’s played this game often enough to keep it cool and pretend they’re perfect strangers both waiting to return to their hotel rooms. Still, his nerves are rattling down to his bones when in such proximity to Jared, after the long hour of waiting and trying to will away the disappointment of being left alone for the evening.
Once the elevator doors slide open, Jared puts his hand against one side and motions Jensen inside, which Jensen comments on once they doors shut.
“What a gentleman.” Jensen pushes his hands into his jeans pockets and slants a crooked smile at Jared, who has a tired smile in return.
“It’s the least I can do for tonight.” He flashes a strained smile that disappears immediately. “I’m really sorry. It’s been a hell of a few days.”
“Yeah, I heard.” When Jared is confused, Jensen shrugs. “The bartender said you were looking worn out last night.”
Jared nods solemnly. “Yeah, I probably did. My flight on Tuesday night was delayed and then it was practically a red eye as I ran right from the airport to the office. Then we were locked up in a conference room all day and night. I can’t remember the last time I saw sunlight.”
“That does suck,” he agrees with a nod.
“And then I dropped my phone and the whole thing is fucked up. Like really fucked up. Look at this.” Jared pulls out his phone and rattles on about how he was juggling coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and his luggage, while also trying to reply to emails when the phone fell out of his hand and the screen took the brunt of the impact on the curb just outside baggage claim.
Jensen doesn’t mean to grin at the plight of Jared’s phone, but there’s something arousing about hearing Jared’s voice slip into an easy, albeit tired cadence as he complains about the shattered phone.
The elevator dings, opening at Jared’s floor, and Jensen follows him to the suite as Jared continues. “And I haven’t had time to do anything aside from emailing IT to get a replacement. Of course, that’ll take formal requests and authorizations, so I get to spend the next God knows how many days with this thing.” Jared ends his rant by waving the broken phone around, then stopping in front of his room with a sudden frown. “You … probably don’t care.”
Jensen thinks back to Tom’s observation that Jared enjoys innocent conversation, like he doesn’t get much of it and everything tumbles from his mouth when he can’t help it.
Worn out and stressed by travel and work would be enough of a reason for Jared to have lost his restraint. Add on a thread of guilt for making Jensen wait, and Jared seems like a whole new person than the one who usually appears in the hotel suite.
His mouth twists with the thought, that once they’re on the other side of the door that Jared will button himself up and this version of Jared … untethered by the accords of a sexual transaction … will shatter like the cell phone he holds in his hand.
So, Jensen takes his time to smile and carefully pluck the phone from Jared’s grip. “I can get you a new phone tomorrow.”
“No, wait,” Jared blurts loudly. “No, I didn’t complain about it all for that. I’m just pissed about it and I shouldn’t have even brought it up in the first place. That’s not what I was doing. You don’t have to—”
“I know,” Jensen says firmly. He sets a hand on Jared’s shoulder and squeezes. “But I can, and I want to. I know a guy who can help you out and we’ll get it back to you before the end of tomorrow’s meetings.”
Jared swallows roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing obscenely.
Jensen has thoughts about touching and kissing his way down the thin flesh of Jared’s neck, but he’s also a little lost in the sad, exposed way Jared looks at him.
“You know a guy,” Jared says quietly. “Like another client?”
Shaking his head, Jensen tells a little white lie. “It’s a friend.”
A friend who also pays him for a standing lunch date with blindfolds on the menu. But he’s also someone who has a track record of helping Jensen get hooked up with tech devices on short deadlines.
Jared slowly nods, whispers okay, then bites the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. It’s like my whole life is in there. Like I can’t function without it. I mean, I couldn’t even tell you I’d be late because …”
Jensen slides his hand down Jared’s arm and to his hand, holding his fingers for a quick moment. “It’s alright. We’ll get you all set up tomorrow and life will be back to normal.”
His eyes widen and he nervously licks his lips. “Are you sure? I hate to make you … to make it your responsibility.”
From deep within, Jensen feels concern bubble to the surface and he earnestly smiles at Jared. “You’ve had a shitty forty-eight hours. I’d do more to help you if I could.”
Jared glances at the door and Jensen spots the exact moment of change, where limitless talking and casual comfort evaporates. “I mean … Unless it’s too late. Or you have another … meeting.”
Jensen studies him, searches his eyes for that vulnerability that skated back just beneath the surface. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs. “I’m all yours tonight.” When Jared sighs and drops his head, hair falling in his eyes, Jensen reaches up to comb it away, offering as much tender care as he can before they go inside and everything changes. “I heard you say you needed a quiet night, though.”
He slides his cheek into Jensen’s hand, eyes fluttering shut. “I do. But I … I wanted to see you.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Jensen assures him. At this point, he almost hopes they won’t, all to maintain the ease between them.
Jared opens his eyes, blinking slowly and watching Jensen. It seems as if he’s weighing his words and anticipating a poor response. “You wouldn’t … you don’t mind?”
Jensen finds himself breathing far too deeply, his chest painfully full, and something deeper packed tight with emotions he doesn’t want to categorize right now. “Whatever you want, Jared.”
He nods forward, eventually resting his forehead to Jensen’s. With a light chuckle, Jared admits, “I am so unbelievably tired right now.” After a long breath, he adds, “But also really happy to see you.”
“Whatever you want,” Jensen repeats and warmth spreads deep in his stomach when Jared whispers alright and kisses his forehead.
***
Sun streams through the open drapes, spread wide the night before when Jensen had insisted Jared should see some sun in the morning.
The growing warmth of the light wakes Jensen first. He’s on his side, blankets up to his waist and the sun hitting his bare back. Next to him, Jared’s spread out on his back with a soft snuffling of breath steadily making his chest rise and fall. Jensen smiles as he recalls their quiet, yet short night where he helped Jared out of his clothes and nudged him into bed, face down with Jensen straddling his waist to massage out the tight kinks in his shoulders.
Jared hadn’t lasted long, pliant and exhausted beneath Jensen’s hands after two grueling days wore him to the bone. Jensen would be lying if he said he minded; the peaceful night was nice for them both, something Jensen isn’t often afforded with the duality of his life.
Allowing a few moments to himself, Jensen gently shifts closer, rises to his elbow, and leans over Jared. He pushes stray hair away from Jared’s handsome, serene face and lightly thumbs over the high angle of his cheek bone, lets himself fall into his own private moment of appreciation.
It lasts mere seconds before Jared stirs, eyelids fluttering open with dazed eyes finding Jensen looking down at him. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice deep and sleep-rough.
Jensen tells himself he’s making Jared’s payment worth it when he leans down to kiss him. Does his best to convince the other voices in his head that this is what Jared meant when he said quiet was what he needed most.
He presses in and kisses gently, sucking delicately at Jared’s lower lip, then dragging his hand down Jared’s chest. Jared is slow through the sleepy haze as he brings his hands up to touch Jensen’s arms, shoulders, back. Pulls Jensen in closer and opens up to Jensen’s tongue. Jensen reaches deep into Jared’s mouth, tongue winding around before pulling off with a smack and doing it all over again, making them take the time to live in the moment and give Jared the calm and cozy morning he deserves.
Especially after the hell of this trip.
Or just because.
Because Jensen is enjoying the slow drag of their tongues together, the silence surrounding them broken only by the noises of their mouths finding one another time and again. Because he enjoys the warmth of their bodies so close with no rush to get anywhere, no hurry to do anything other than what they find along the way.
He remembers Jared asking for just that: to start with one thought and let it unravel. So Jensen allows himself to float through this without an end game, sinking into the thought of being all consumed with Jared’s mouth, his tongue, his lips until Jared says otherwise.
Time drags by with them connected by touch and taste. Jared’s hands coasting over Jensen’s shoulders, fingers scraping along his back, palm finding the curve of Jensen’s neck and head. Jensen tracing as much bare skin as he can manage, while his mind is finely attuned to the low moans buried in the back of Jared’s throat.
Jensen won’t dare break the kiss as he lets his hand wander south, fingers slipping beneath the blankets to find Jared hard and wanting, waiting, to be touched. He presses his palm low and inside Jared’s thigh, spreading his knees apart and resting his own leg over Jared’s, intertwining. Then he brings his fingers up the underside of Jared’s dick and back down in a tease, fondling just so, yet not enough. Reaches lower to his balls with the same gentle touches. He stops only when Jared’s mouth does.
Jared pulls back to look at him, but it’s Jared who is quite the sight with his lust-lost eyes and pinkened cheeks and blood-red lips. His mouth opens with a thought dancing on the tip of his tongue and Jensen waits with a held breath for the words to come. They never do; Jared’s mouth closes with his tongue peeking through like he has to hold it in place for fear of shattering the moment.
Jensen doesn’t want it to break either, so he offers a tiny smile as he brings his fingers up the side of Jared’s dick and finally closes his hand around him. He keeps his eyes on Jared while he strokes his dick, watches Jared fight to maintain eye contact, struggling to keep his eyes open, and fighting against the noises straining to break free from his tight lips. The pressure in Jensen’s chest increases as he finds himself breathing as quickly as Jared is when Jensen continues to stroke him, pulling everything out of him in the soft silence of the sunshine-bright bedroom.
With all that Jensen has done in his lifetime of this work, most things become mechanical. Touch this, pull that, steady rhythms and cheap words recycled every day. He throws that all out the window and doubles down on the chance to watch Jared crumble under the intensity of their gaze with Jensen unwilling to look away. Jared wouldn’t want that, doesn’t need it right now. Jensen can read him well enough in this moment to know that Jared craves the connection just as much as the sexuality Jensen can manufacture. The vulnerability Jensen gets a glimpse of every so often is displayed in Jared’s bright, wide eyes and the purse of his red-bitten lips as they continue to watch each other, while Jensen fists him with the same sort of gentleness of their fixed gaze.
Intimacy.
It’s been so long since Jensen has witnessed it for himself that the word smashes against the inside of his brain. Letters fly around before crumbling to the ground in a messy pile, but he recognizes each one all the same. And just like those pieces, he feels his steely resolve of splitting business from pleasure dissolve into tattered debris.
Jensen knows he should stop, look away, do something, anything, other than dig his heels. But he can’t, too far drawn into the unguarded eyes looking right back at him.
They’re both defenseless now, and Jensen can find a sliver of comfort in knowing he’s not alone. Not totally exposed when Jared is now gripping at Jensen’s back, one hand coming up to his cheek, and letting desperate whiny sounds break free as emotion overrules logic.
Jensen moves into Jared’s hand, kissing his cheek to that warm, open palm. The tenderness is tempered with Jensen’s quickening his fist on Jared’s dick, gripping tighter and pulling faster as he silently begs Jared to fall over the edge with him.
Jared’s eyes shine with delicate tears and Jensen feels the same emotion wet and sticky in the back of his own throat. But he doesn’t back down when Jared shakes with full body moans and shivers as he comes, still staring right into Jensen’s own vulnerability.
Watching Jared pant through the wreckage of the unguarded moment, Jensen knows there’s no going back from this. That his mind won’t let Jared go, no matter who else he sees between now and the next time Jared comes to town.
And Jared, it seems, can’t yet let go either. When he walks Jensen to the door once they’re showered and clothed and ready to start the day, he quietly asks, “Are you free later?” Then awkwardly adds, “I’m here one more night. And I’ll need to get my phone back anyway.”
Jensen’s schedule says he isn’t, but his head betrays that with a quick nod. “I can come back tonight.”
Jared bites the edge of his lip and dazedly rocks forward, eyes slipping down to Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen grants him the wish. He leans up with his hand along Jared’s jaw and leaves him with a kiss.
Walking to the elevators, and going on with his day, Jensen does his best not to look back. Tells himself to march forward with a full eight hours at his day job, but it doesn’t work. Around 10 am, he makes the calls and escapes the office to get Jared a new phone, with all his data fully transferred and a new case and screen protector that boast ultimate protection against life’s little accidents.
The phone hangs heavy in his pocket for the rest of the day, a weight holding him back from living a normal day. Just like the bulky mass sitting deep in his chest with the quick flashes of this morning playing on torturous repeat.
He’s totally fucked. Just not in the manner he had predicted. At least he still gets paid for it, he reasons. It’s the high cost of opening himself up to this life. For the poor planning and assumptions that he’d never find himself drawn into someone like Jared. For the inability to properly compartmentalize Jared with all the other clients on the books.
He tells himself that each customer has their own tastes, and Jared’s is for something meatier than the others, more than just a quick fuck over a desk or dirty blow jobs on his knees. And he just has to play the game for client satisfaction, no matter the stakes. Because money is the goal in this line of work.
Jensen tells himself all sorts of things to reason with the situation, and he knows it all to be true. If only he could deliver on his own directives, despite the antsy bounce of his knee as he counts down the hours until he’ll return to Jared’s hotel. If only he could believe it was possible to forgo these feelings for the sake of easy, paid sex with Jared.
If only he truly wanted to separate the two.
Words: 4400
Rating/Warning: NC-17/escort!Jensen
Summary: Jensen is the high-priced escort ignoring all the warning signs and Jared is the businessman making them both too vulnerable. Part of the Domestic Dreams verse.
Notes: Title from/inspired by James Bay's Wild Love. For
smpc. Big thanks to gluedwithgold for the beta! <3Read on AO3
The second hand on his watch takes another trip around and Jensen wonders when his patience withered away. He clenches his left hand in a brief fist before he flattens his palm to the bar top and looks away from the time.
His right hand betrays him by gripping tight to the whiskey glass in front of him, beads of water dribbling down to the cocktail napkin as ice melts. The liquor dissolves from anything worth the price he already paid, but he still drinks from it to cool his nerves.
His client is late.
Or not showing up at all.
He’s unsure if he’s being stood up and even more unsure why he cares.
He tells himself that he’s pissed at the loss of a night’s income, that he hates waiting around in a bar so empty it’s hard to ignore the fact that he’s on his own. Deep beneath the cool set of his lips, turning an easy smile when Tom raises an eyebrow in judgement, his blood goes icy at the truth. At the realization that he’s more disappointed in not seeing Jared tonight.
It’s been over a decade of this line of work and Jensen hasn’t before found himself caring beyond the hefty bills that line his wallet at the end of the night. There have been men that became more than just business acquaintances, sure. Ones he matched in wits and personality, who are friendly and genial, and provide more than money in thanks for the security and silence Jensen offers. A Wall Street regular often gifts access to his boat, where Jensen brings friends out for a warm sunny day on the water, coasting away from the skyline and the rise and grind of their day jobs. An executive in alcohol distribution arranges a crate of high-end bourbon hand-delivered to Jensen’s doorstop every few months. And there’s the car salesman who gave Jensen the dealer’s rate for a new Audi last year.
There are also the men seeking companionship beyond a night of seduction and bring Jensen along to social events, Michelin-star dinners, and Broadway shows. With them, Jensen feels a little less like acting. He doesn’t have to put on the show of a demure, young man who rather enjoys older men taking advantage of him with his pants down, or the bold, domineering superior giving orders with a steely edge to his voice.
Jensen’s seen it all in this career and has learned how to pivot and adapt to the client’s requests, while setting aside his own impulses. After all, if he was in it for himself, his own pleasures, he wouldn’t be charging. And he would have settled down long ago, rather than build a rolodex of reliable and respectable clients.
Now, though, he’s stuck in the precarious mess of twisting aimlessly in Jared Padalecki’s orbit.
It’s only been half a year since that first night when Jensen had witnessed the soft, warm flame of Jared’s smile and his open gaze, only to have it washed out in one poorly-timed moment with ugly words from a stranger. Every month, at every encounter, Jensen continues to face the vulnerability seeping through the sharp edges of the façade Jared has built, repeatedly reinforcing the steely walls that hold him together every other minute of the day.
Jensen supposes it’s like digging deep into ashy remains of a fire. He wants to pull away the wreckage to find what can be salvaged below, but he’s sure they’ll both suffer the burn.
If the whole thing doesn’t collapse atop them first.
He knows he shouldn’t care. Rule number one of this line of work, after all, yet he spends far too much time in the days leading up to and following their meetings wondering what makes Jared tick. If there’s more there than manic energy that’s been shackled for weeks until Jared can release when he’s in Jensen’s presence. If Jared’s pent-up fire will push them further than before as he continues to run at Jensen when they’re behind closed doors.
And right now, he wonders what kind of mess he’s made for himself with all his thoughts.
“Stood up?” Tom asks as he slides a fresh pour in front of Jensen.
It takes a few seconds for Jensen to muscle together a response that doesn’t taste as bitter as his unease is. When the words fit together, he aims a cocky smile at the bartender. “Maybe I’m just here to see your friendly face.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” he returns with a tilt of his head, “I get paid whether you like me or not. There’s no need to flirt.”
Jensen huffs a laugh, pushing his watered-down drink back at Tom. “We’re more alike than you realize, bud.”
“Don’t remind me.” Tom rolls his eyes before wiping down the bar around them, wasting time on this quiet night. “So, the big guy, right?”
He tries to ignore the twist in his chest that Tom knows what’s bringing on tonight’s sour mood. But he spectacularly fails and focuses on taking a sip of his drink in lieu of answering.
“He was in here late last night. Sounded like it’s been a few long days. Like, real long.”
Every word slinks into Jensen’s brain, and he battles between thoughtful worry with Jared having a rough day and the instinct to not care for excuses. It’s a business after all. And he’d rather hear it from Jared, himself. Hear that tonight wasn’t going to happen so Jensen didn’t have to spend the last hour or so alone with twenty-dollar bourbon pours. He could be home, drinking for free, distracting himself with something more than a surly bartender and Seinfeld reruns silently playing on the TV.
“I could find out his room number,” Tom offers quietly.
Jensen gives him an odd look, because for the past three or four years of combing this bar for clients and meeting regulars here, Tom has never been what one would call accommodating. Critical and acerbic, surely; not empathetic or helpful aside from changing the channel if asked nicely.
“If you wanted to check on him or whatever.”
Shaking his head, Jensen clears his throat. “No, man, it’s not like that.”
Tom shrugs and glances up to watch the closed captioning on the sitcom. “He seems like a decent guy.”
Jensen sets his voice as level as possible to ask, “Really?”
“As decent as one of your customers could be.”
“Dick.
Tom chuckles and explains, “He tips well, but isn’t cocky about it. He likes to talk about whatever’s on TV, even if he rambles a lot. Seems like he’s not used to trying to have a normal conversation, but really likes to.”
Jensen finds himself logging that information away. A tiny hope sparks that he’ll witness this side of Jared sometime soon.
“And he seems to really like you,” Tom mumbles before rapping his knuckles on the bar and nodding towards the open entry to the bar.
Following Tom’s gaze, Jensen sees a handful of corporate suits heading inside, a few trying to coax a sixth inside. But the guy isn’t listening to them much, just shaking his head as he stares at Jensen.
Jared, his mind whispers as his cheeks warm up at the sight.
Jensen sits up straight and breathes deep as he catalogs Jared’s disheveled state of a crooked tie, jacket hanging over his elbow, and his shirt sleeves folded up his forearms. What hits Jensen hardest is the softness in Jared’s eyes in the seconds they share the long look, before Jared is distracted by the company around him, still trying to convince him to come in for drinks and a late dinner.
“No, really,” Jared is arguing carefully, “I gotta get some rest.”
“C’mon, Padalecki!” someone insists. “We’ll get the Clippers game on for you.”
Another laughs. “A couple beers will chill you out.”
Jared looks at Jensen again, eyes a bit more wired now and Jensen feels a phantom knife cut into his side. Embarrassment and disappointment crowd the view, with Jared having to excuse himself because Jensen is there. That he can’t bear to be in the same room as coworkers and his dirty secret.
“I’m really just looking forward to bed and a quiet night,” Jared maintains with a quick step back towards the lobby.
And maybe that’s the whole reason Jensen hadn’t heard from Jared all night. Jared had better things to do … work meetings, dinner, and an easy night in. Anything aside from spending time with a guy who trades sex for money.
Jensen leans against the bar again, trying his best to only casually glance at Jared as the businessmen dole out goodbyes and one shouts for Tom to get drinks lined.
Then he notices Jared scratching behind his ear as he steps further into the lobby. Jared tips his head to the right and Jensen narrows his eyes at the stilted movements of Jared slowly, so very slowly, backing away.
It’s when Jared bites his lower lip that Jensen picks up on the signal and smiles. He slides off the stool and drops bills on the bar for his drinks.
“Not like that, huh?” Tom says, clearing away Jensen’s now-forgotten glass.
“Shut up,” Jensen throws over his shoulder, ignoring Tom’s dark laugh as he heads out of the bar.
With quick steps, Jensen catches up to Jared at the bank of elevators and they stand within a few feet of one another.
“Hi,” Jared offers softly before turning back to watch the digital numbers flip over as the elevator returns to the main floor.
Jensen nods and casually looks around the lobby. He’s played this game often enough to keep it cool and pretend they’re perfect strangers both waiting to return to their hotel rooms. Still, his nerves are rattling down to his bones when in such proximity to Jared, after the long hour of waiting and trying to will away the disappointment of being left alone for the evening.
Once the elevator doors slide open, Jared puts his hand against one side and motions Jensen inside, which Jensen comments on once they doors shut.
“What a gentleman.” Jensen pushes his hands into his jeans pockets and slants a crooked smile at Jared, who has a tired smile in return.
“It’s the least I can do for tonight.” He flashes a strained smile that disappears immediately. “I’m really sorry. It’s been a hell of a few days.”
“Yeah, I heard.” When Jared is confused, Jensen shrugs. “The bartender said you were looking worn out last night.”
Jared nods solemnly. “Yeah, I probably did. My flight on Tuesday night was delayed and then it was practically a red eye as I ran right from the airport to the office. Then we were locked up in a conference room all day and night. I can’t remember the last time I saw sunlight.”
“That does suck,” he agrees with a nod.
“And then I dropped my phone and the whole thing is fucked up. Like really fucked up. Look at this.” Jared pulls out his phone and rattles on about how he was juggling coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and his luggage, while also trying to reply to emails when the phone fell out of his hand and the screen took the brunt of the impact on the curb just outside baggage claim.
Jensen doesn’t mean to grin at the plight of Jared’s phone, but there’s something arousing about hearing Jared’s voice slip into an easy, albeit tired cadence as he complains about the shattered phone.
The elevator dings, opening at Jared’s floor, and Jensen follows him to the suite as Jared continues. “And I haven’t had time to do anything aside from emailing IT to get a replacement. Of course, that’ll take formal requests and authorizations, so I get to spend the next God knows how many days with this thing.” Jared ends his rant by waving the broken phone around, then stopping in front of his room with a sudden frown. “You … probably don’t care.”
Jensen thinks back to Tom’s observation that Jared enjoys innocent conversation, like he doesn’t get much of it and everything tumbles from his mouth when he can’t help it.
Worn out and stressed by travel and work would be enough of a reason for Jared to have lost his restraint. Add on a thread of guilt for making Jensen wait, and Jared seems like a whole new person than the one who usually appears in the hotel suite.
His mouth twists with the thought, that once they’re on the other side of the door that Jared will button himself up and this version of Jared … untethered by the accords of a sexual transaction … will shatter like the cell phone he holds in his hand.
So, Jensen takes his time to smile and carefully pluck the phone from Jared’s grip. “I can get you a new phone tomorrow.”
“No, wait,” Jared blurts loudly. “No, I didn’t complain about it all for that. I’m just pissed about it and I shouldn’t have even brought it up in the first place. That’s not what I was doing. You don’t have to—”
“I know,” Jensen says firmly. He sets a hand on Jared’s shoulder and squeezes. “But I can, and I want to. I know a guy who can help you out and we’ll get it back to you before the end of tomorrow’s meetings.”
Jared swallows roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing obscenely.
Jensen has thoughts about touching and kissing his way down the thin flesh of Jared’s neck, but he’s also a little lost in the sad, exposed way Jared looks at him.
“You know a guy,” Jared says quietly. “Like another client?”
Shaking his head, Jensen tells a little white lie. “It’s a friend.”
A friend who also pays him for a standing lunch date with blindfolds on the menu. But he’s also someone who has a track record of helping Jensen get hooked up with tech devices on short deadlines.
Jared slowly nods, whispers okay, then bites the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. It’s like my whole life is in there. Like I can’t function without it. I mean, I couldn’t even tell you I’d be late because …”
Jensen slides his hand down Jared’s arm and to his hand, holding his fingers for a quick moment. “It’s alright. We’ll get you all set up tomorrow and life will be back to normal.”
His eyes widen and he nervously licks his lips. “Are you sure? I hate to make you … to make it your responsibility.”
From deep within, Jensen feels concern bubble to the surface and he earnestly smiles at Jared. “You’ve had a shitty forty-eight hours. I’d do more to help you if I could.”
Jared glances at the door and Jensen spots the exact moment of change, where limitless talking and casual comfort evaporates. “I mean … Unless it’s too late. Or you have another … meeting.”
Jensen studies him, searches his eyes for that vulnerability that skated back just beneath the surface. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs. “I’m all yours tonight.” When Jared sighs and drops his head, hair falling in his eyes, Jensen reaches up to comb it away, offering as much tender care as he can before they go inside and everything changes. “I heard you say you needed a quiet night, though.”
He slides his cheek into Jensen’s hand, eyes fluttering shut. “I do. But I … I wanted to see you.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Jensen assures him. At this point, he almost hopes they won’t, all to maintain the ease between them.
Jared opens his eyes, blinking slowly and watching Jensen. It seems as if he’s weighing his words and anticipating a poor response. “You wouldn’t … you don’t mind?”
Jensen finds himself breathing far too deeply, his chest painfully full, and something deeper packed tight with emotions he doesn’t want to categorize right now. “Whatever you want, Jared.”
He nods forward, eventually resting his forehead to Jensen’s. With a light chuckle, Jared admits, “I am so unbelievably tired right now.” After a long breath, he adds, “But also really happy to see you.”
“Whatever you want,” Jensen repeats and warmth spreads deep in his stomach when Jared whispers alright and kisses his forehead.
***
Sun streams through the open drapes, spread wide the night before when Jensen had insisted Jared should see some sun in the morning.
The growing warmth of the light wakes Jensen first. He’s on his side, blankets up to his waist and the sun hitting his bare back. Next to him, Jared’s spread out on his back with a soft snuffling of breath steadily making his chest rise and fall. Jensen smiles as he recalls their quiet, yet short night where he helped Jared out of his clothes and nudged him into bed, face down with Jensen straddling his waist to massage out the tight kinks in his shoulders.
Jared hadn’t lasted long, pliant and exhausted beneath Jensen’s hands after two grueling days wore him to the bone. Jensen would be lying if he said he minded; the peaceful night was nice for them both, something Jensen isn’t often afforded with the duality of his life.
Allowing a few moments to himself, Jensen gently shifts closer, rises to his elbow, and leans over Jared. He pushes stray hair away from Jared’s handsome, serene face and lightly thumbs over the high angle of his cheek bone, lets himself fall into his own private moment of appreciation.
It lasts mere seconds before Jared stirs, eyelids fluttering open with dazed eyes finding Jensen looking down at him. “Morning,” he mumbles, voice deep and sleep-rough.
Jensen tells himself he’s making Jared’s payment worth it when he leans down to kiss him. Does his best to convince the other voices in his head that this is what Jared meant when he said quiet was what he needed most.
He presses in and kisses gently, sucking delicately at Jared’s lower lip, then dragging his hand down Jared’s chest. Jared is slow through the sleepy haze as he brings his hands up to touch Jensen’s arms, shoulders, back. Pulls Jensen in closer and opens up to Jensen’s tongue. Jensen reaches deep into Jared’s mouth, tongue winding around before pulling off with a smack and doing it all over again, making them take the time to live in the moment and give Jared the calm and cozy morning he deserves.
Especially after the hell of this trip.
Or just because.
Because Jensen is enjoying the slow drag of their tongues together, the silence surrounding them broken only by the noises of their mouths finding one another time and again. Because he enjoys the warmth of their bodies so close with no rush to get anywhere, no hurry to do anything other than what they find along the way.
He remembers Jared asking for just that: to start with one thought and let it unravel. So Jensen allows himself to float through this without an end game, sinking into the thought of being all consumed with Jared’s mouth, his tongue, his lips until Jared says otherwise.
Time drags by with them connected by touch and taste. Jared’s hands coasting over Jensen’s shoulders, fingers scraping along his back, palm finding the curve of Jensen’s neck and head. Jensen tracing as much bare skin as he can manage, while his mind is finely attuned to the low moans buried in the back of Jared’s throat.
Jensen won’t dare break the kiss as he lets his hand wander south, fingers slipping beneath the blankets to find Jared hard and wanting, waiting, to be touched. He presses his palm low and inside Jared’s thigh, spreading his knees apart and resting his own leg over Jared’s, intertwining. Then he brings his fingers up the underside of Jared’s dick and back down in a tease, fondling just so, yet not enough. Reaches lower to his balls with the same gentle touches. He stops only when Jared’s mouth does.
Jared pulls back to look at him, but it’s Jared who is quite the sight with his lust-lost eyes and pinkened cheeks and blood-red lips. His mouth opens with a thought dancing on the tip of his tongue and Jensen waits with a held breath for the words to come. They never do; Jared’s mouth closes with his tongue peeking through like he has to hold it in place for fear of shattering the moment.
Jensen doesn’t want it to break either, so he offers a tiny smile as he brings his fingers up the side of Jared’s dick and finally closes his hand around him. He keeps his eyes on Jared while he strokes his dick, watches Jared fight to maintain eye contact, struggling to keep his eyes open, and fighting against the noises straining to break free from his tight lips. The pressure in Jensen’s chest increases as he finds himself breathing as quickly as Jared is when Jensen continues to stroke him, pulling everything out of him in the soft silence of the sunshine-bright bedroom.
With all that Jensen has done in his lifetime of this work, most things become mechanical. Touch this, pull that, steady rhythms and cheap words recycled every day. He throws that all out the window and doubles down on the chance to watch Jared crumble under the intensity of their gaze with Jensen unwilling to look away. Jared wouldn’t want that, doesn’t need it right now. Jensen can read him well enough in this moment to know that Jared craves the connection just as much as the sexuality Jensen can manufacture. The vulnerability Jensen gets a glimpse of every so often is displayed in Jared’s bright, wide eyes and the purse of his red-bitten lips as they continue to watch each other, while Jensen fists him with the same sort of gentleness of their fixed gaze.
Intimacy.
It’s been so long since Jensen has witnessed it for himself that the word smashes against the inside of his brain. Letters fly around before crumbling to the ground in a messy pile, but he recognizes each one all the same. And just like those pieces, he feels his steely resolve of splitting business from pleasure dissolve into tattered debris.
Jensen knows he should stop, look away, do something, anything, other than dig his heels. But he can’t, too far drawn into the unguarded eyes looking right back at him.
They’re both defenseless now, and Jensen can find a sliver of comfort in knowing he’s not alone. Not totally exposed when Jared is now gripping at Jensen’s back, one hand coming up to his cheek, and letting desperate whiny sounds break free as emotion overrules logic.
Jensen moves into Jared’s hand, kissing his cheek to that warm, open palm. The tenderness is tempered with Jensen’s quickening his fist on Jared’s dick, gripping tighter and pulling faster as he silently begs Jared to fall over the edge with him.
Jared’s eyes shine with delicate tears and Jensen feels the same emotion wet and sticky in the back of his own throat. But he doesn’t back down when Jared shakes with full body moans and shivers as he comes, still staring right into Jensen’s own vulnerability.
Watching Jared pant through the wreckage of the unguarded moment, Jensen knows there’s no going back from this. That his mind won’t let Jared go, no matter who else he sees between now and the next time Jared comes to town.
And Jared, it seems, can’t yet let go either. When he walks Jensen to the door once they’re showered and clothed and ready to start the day, he quietly asks, “Are you free later?” Then awkwardly adds, “I’m here one more night. And I’ll need to get my phone back anyway.”
Jensen’s schedule says he isn’t, but his head betrays that with a quick nod. “I can come back tonight.”
Jared bites the edge of his lip and dazedly rocks forward, eyes slipping down to Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen grants him the wish. He leans up with his hand along Jared’s jaw and leaves him with a kiss.
Walking to the elevators, and going on with his day, Jensen does his best not to look back. Tells himself to march forward with a full eight hours at his day job, but it doesn’t work. Around 10 am, he makes the calls and escapes the office to get Jared a new phone, with all his data fully transferred and a new case and screen protector that boast ultimate protection against life’s little accidents.
The phone hangs heavy in his pocket for the rest of the day, a weight holding him back from living a normal day. Just like the bulky mass sitting deep in his chest with the quick flashes of this morning playing on torturous repeat.
He’s totally fucked. Just not in the manner he had predicted. At least he still gets paid for it, he reasons. It’s the high cost of opening himself up to this life. For the poor planning and assumptions that he’d never find himself drawn into someone like Jared. For the inability to properly compartmentalize Jared with all the other clients on the books.
He tells himself that each customer has their own tastes, and Jared’s is for something meatier than the others, more than just a quick fuck over a desk or dirty blow jobs on his knees. And he just has to play the game for client satisfaction, no matter the stakes. Because money is the goal in this line of work.
Jensen tells himself all sorts of things to reason with the situation, and he knows it all to be true. If only he could deliver on his own directives, despite the antsy bounce of his knee as he counts down the hours until he’ll return to Jared’s hotel. If only he could believe it was possible to forgo these feelings for the sake of easy, paid sex with Jared.
If only he truly wanted to separate the two.
