Jensen's not a heavy sleeper. Not usually. He doesn't dream much, not from what Jared can tell, because he wakes up in pain too often to really get good rest. It's one of those things Jared worries about when he gets stuck in his head for too long. Jensen is usually the one lying awake all night, staring at the ceiling, or probably at Jared. Realistically, Jared knows he doesn't go unwatched on the nights he stays here. The weird thing is that it doesn't bother him.
Tonight, though, tonight is different. Tonight Jensen is out cold, his body lost in something Jared isn't a part of, and Jared's the one that can't sleep. Tonight, Jared can't take his eyes off Jensen.
He woke up to the moaning, loud enough to cause his house to shake. Jared worried at first, hopped down to Jensen's bed without even thinking about it, because he could hear Jensen thrashing in bed, and he thought maybe it was pain causing those sounds, some kind of seizure moving Jensen's big body.
It wasn't like that at all. By the time Jared figured out what was really going on, it was too late. He was too close. Close enough to smell the musk of sweat, to see drops of salty water on Jensen's skin, and Jared has the weirdest thought, wonders if he could swallow just one drop without drowning, or if maybe drowning in it would be the appeal.
Those are happy groans Jensen's letting out. That's his dick standing up under the sheets, tenting the fabric, and Jared knows it's weird to think it, but he wishes it wasn't covered, that he could see the whole thing from where he's standing, all the way at the head of Jensen's bed.
It's big—of course it is, Jensen's a giant. His dick is taller than Jared standing up, he doesn't need to get very close to know that, and too thick for Jared to wrap both his arms around. But the idea occurs to him. Jensen probably wouldn't feel him, but wouldn't it be a nice experiment, slipping down into Jensen's underwear and rubbing up against him until one or both of them loses it. Jensen wouldn't ever know, and Jared's dick is getting thick in his pants just thinking about it.
He might be tempted, if it was safe. But Jensen's hips are shifting wildly as is, and Jared knows it would be a stupid risk to take. If Jensen rolls over or moves too fast, he could break every bone in Jared's body without even realizing it.
That used to be the kind of story Jared and his friends told each other for cheap thrills when they went camping, back when he had friends other than Jensen, back when giants were monsters and thinking of how damn big and strong they were didn't make precome gather at the head of his dick.
Jared reaches down, gets a grip on his cock and squeezes it, trying to decide if he's really gonna jerk off while Jensen sleeps on just a few inches away.
Then Jensen turns over in his sleep. Jared dodges out of the way and watches as the giant rolls onto his stomach, his dick grinding down into the mattress for relief.
It's so hot, the desperate way Jensen thrusts and the way his breath catches, and Jared wants to know what the giant is dreaming about, or he doesn't, so he can pretend it's him that has Jensen so keyed up.
But more than anything, he wants to watch. He's disappointed by Jensen's new position, by the fact that he knows Jensen's big cock is bearing down for friction, but he can't see it, not without risking his life. And he doesn't stop or think, because he's working his own cock hard now, so turned on it's impossible to control his mouth.
"Fuck, Jensen, let me see."
He regrets it as soon as it's out, worried he'll wake Jensen up and ruin what they had going. His hand stills on his dick and he swallows hard, waiting to find out if the moment will pass without Jensen waking.
Jensen stills and his breathing evens out, but he doesn't open his eyes. Doesn't give any sign whether he's still sleeping or not, and maybe it's just coincidence that he turns over again, onto his back, and his underwear has ridden down so low from all the movement that it would be so easy to—
Eyes still closed, Jensen's hand moves down slowly, sluggish enough that Jared can keep pretending they aren't really doing this. It's stupid. He's told himself that every time his mind has even tried to think these things, because Jensen is a million times too big, there's nothing Jared could do to make him feel good, there's no point in wanting him.
Jared won’t admit that he wants. But he will watch, a captive audience as Jensen pushes the elastic of his boxers down past his balls, cups them in his hand while leaving his cock on full display.
It's a beautiful sight, tall as a tower and pink, a pearly white drop of precome slipping down along thick veins that steer it, like it's just trying to find its way where Jared could reach it. He wants to climb Jensen, find out just how big he is, if that dick is twice as tall as Jared like it looks, and maybe that's just Jared getting carried away, but who cares? The thought has him thrusting into his palm, his hands suddenly remembering what they were in the middle of.
Feeling bold, Jared takes a few steps closer to Jensen now that the giant isn't moving erratically. He hardly even has to bend to find himself right next to Jensen's ear, and Jared whispers, "I want to watch you. I want to see you come. Got such a big cock, Jesus."
Jensen lets out a hot little whine, makes sure to be deliberate about how he grips his shaft when he starts to jerk off, angling his hips so that Jared can look up and get a show. Jared makes a strangled sound.
"I wish I could take it," he says, knowing he's only hurting them both by encouraging this. "Wish I was big enough to take you, Jensen. In my mouth. My ass. Don't even want to be your size. Just big enough to take it. Even if it fills me up so much I can't breathe. Even if it splits me in half. I want you to stuff me so full of that big cock."
Jared stays in control while he talks, but Jensen loses it, fucking so fast into his hand that he hardly lasts more than a minute before he's letting out a shout that gets muffled when he turns his face into his pillow.
His come shoots up and Jensen uses it to slick himself, half a minute more of clean jerks, the sound of his hand slapping on his dick as he works through the aftershocks. Jared watches, imagines being big enough to drink that river, and he hardly even notices his own orgasm, so caught up in watching Jensen's.
Jensen turns over then so his face is toward Jared, and there's this perfectly simple smile tucked into the curve of his lips. Jared is still shaking loose, but he backs away, terrified of the way that smile makes him hurt. All he wants is to kiss Jensen. He just wishes he could kiss Jensen.
Behind the lids, Jensen's eyes begin to move, and Jared knows in a few seconds they'll open up. Jared will be staring into a pool of green, and Jensen will say his name like he's a treasure and they'll have to acknowledge what just happened and what it means.
Lucky for him, Jared is quick, has a whole lifetime of practice disappearing. He scrambles up the nightstand like a mouse, is tucked into his bed pretending to sleep before Jensen whispers his name. He hears the bed shift as Jensen sits up, can feel the giant's eyes on his back. It's hard not to picture the disappointed frown Jensen must be wearing, but it's okay. Jared goes on sleeping. Pretending to sleep. It's better this way. Maybe, Jensen will think it was just a dream. Maybe it was.
Jared wakes up to one obnoxious giant's finger poking him in the side the next morning. Jensen carries him down to the kitchen like always, sets him on the counter while he burns their breakfast, makes cheesy jokes, and nothing is different. They don't talk about it. They don't ever have to talk about it.
It's not until Jensen is washing the dishes, his back to Jared so Jared can't see his expression, that he says, "It's always you I dream about."
It makes Jared's heart speed up, remembering the obvious lust that had been rocking through Jensen by the time he woke Jared up last night. It's the best thing Jared's ever heard, and the cruelest.
The way Jensen says it—casual, out of the blue, like it's part of a conversation they've already been having, which it isn't because Jared's been reading the morning cartoons off the newspaper he's lying on top of—lets Jared know he's not expecting a response.
Jared doesn't give him one. He keeps reading Garfield, and Jensen chuckles when he gets to the punch line, keeps drying the plate in his hand like he's not put out by Jared's avoidance.
Maybe he's said his piece. Or maybe Jared's the one that got his point across.