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You Must Be This Tall To Ride

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Everyone's got their little kinks. It's a simple fact of life, and sex, and Jensen is totally okay with that. He likes being deepthroated and finger-fucked at the same time; he also likes being tied up occasionally. Everybody has something, or a few things, that are ironclad guaranteed turn-ons every time. It's just taken him a while to figure Jared's out.

He's been watching Jared ever since they started fucking. It's been six months, and until now Jensen's never seen so much as a hint in Jared's reactions to indicate he's interested in anything but traditional (but admittedly awesome) cock-in-orifice sex. It's not that Jensen minds; he just thinks it's curious that in all this time Jared's never asked for anything special in bed, or shown a particular preference for being held down or blindfolded or whatever. Jensen has a broad knowledge base and a healthy appreciation for a lot of kinks. Jared's indulged some of his when Jensen's asked, so he has to know Jensen isn't going to judge. But now that Jensen's seen what gets Jared hot, he can understand the radio silence. It's not exactly the most tactful thing to request of your average co-star-cum-fuckbuddy.

Fortunately for Jared, Jensen is not your average co-star. And he thinks Jared deserves some special treatment for being so shy about what he wants.

He watches Jared watching him during his coverage, and then later at the props table. He hides a smile as Jared's breath hitches when he handles the Colt. Jensen picks up the hard rubber replica and twirls it easily around his forefinger, aiming it at Jared with a grin straight out of Dean Flirting 101. Jared's lips part and his eyes grow dark for the briefest of instants; he gets himself under control quickly enough and flips Jensen off, but it's too late. Jensen knows his buttons now, and the time has come to push them.

Hard.

* * *

The house is dark and quiet when Jared stumbles into the living room shortly after midnight. He has to be up at five-thirty for a seven o'clock call, but Jared is congenitally incapable of getting through the whole night without waking up at least once for a drink of water. He says he likes to walk through the house and make sure everything's okay. Checking the perimeter, he calls it—usually with a dorky grin.

That habit is going to get Jared in quite a bit of trouble tonight.

He waits, sprawled in an armchair, until Jared returns from the kitchen, yawning and muttering to himself. Jared's almost to the doorway when he reaches over and switches on the lamp. Jared jumps like he's been shot and spins around, glares blearily at him.

"Jesus Christ, Jensen. Scared the shit outta me. The hell you doin', sitting there in the dark like that?"

He tilts his head and considers Jared for a long moment without speaking. Jared grows restless under his regard, shifting his weight.

"You gonna just sit there all night, or what?" Jared says finally. "'S late, man. You should go to bed."

He kicks his legs out wide in a lazy slouch. It says, Look at me. I am the coolest motherfucker on the planet, and you know it, bitch. Body language is so important in his line of work.

"You should use that pretty mouth for something better than talking," he replies. "Like, say, sucking my dick."

Jared makes a noise that's half-laugh, half-splutter. He starts to flip the bird, but his hand stills halfway when the dark shape of the gun registers in his brain. Confused hazel eyes go wide, sliding up from the gun to meet coolly amused green over a trademark infuriating smirk.

"Jensen?" Jared's voice is softer now, a little cautious.

He widens the smirk into a dark smile, sensual and dangerous, and watches Jared melt in its heat.

"Guess again, sweetheart," he drawls. "Name's Dean Winchester. And believe me, it is a total pleasure to meet you."

* * *

The look on Jared's face is priceless. He gapes like a virgin in a whorehouse for a good fifteen seconds before shaking his head as if to clear it. He probably thinks he's dreaming. Jensen aims to make that dream a reality.

"Come," he invites, gesturing negligently with the gun. The Colt works like a magnet, drawing Jared to him until he's standing in front of the chair. "Take a seat."

Jared looks around, starts to sit on the couch. Jensen growls a negative and taps the barrel of the gun against his lap.

"Here."

"What ..." Jared's shaking his head again, waking up a little. "Dude, I'm not gonna—"

The muzzle of the gun makes a sharp indent against his sternum. Jensen strips every hint of softness from his tone, leaving nothing but implacable Winchester command.

"Sit. The fuck. Down."

Jared draws in a deep, shuddering breath. His whole body goes tense, every muscle tightening in a way that gets Jensen hard as a rock and aching inside Dean's jeans. There's a moment of delicate balance, a silent battle of wills as Jensen waits for Jared to acknowledge what he's trying to do--and more importantly, decide whether he wants it. Jensen's fairly confident on this score; he knows what he saw in Jared's face on set, but he wants Jared to be the one to greenlight this or it isn't going to fly.

He holds Jared's gaze and waits patiently, projecting as much of Dean's personality into the moment as he can: Dean's unashamed sexuality, his open appreciation of total hotassery, dude, with his own raw want mixed in. Jared wavers, the tension in his body melting away, and it's all Jensen can do to keep control as he slides a leg over Jensen's hips and slowly, carefully settles his weight across Jensen's lap.

He rests his free hand on Jared's thigh, brings the gun up and taps it against Jared's lips. He makes sure to press a little too rough, dragging the soft pink flesh apart, because that's what Dean would do.

"Nice," Jensen murmurs. "Been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

Jared is stubbornly silent, uncertain, hovering on the edge of bolting. Jensen slides the gun down his throat and presses in again, making Jared choke briefly before he takes the Colt away.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I can see it in your eyes, how hot you are for me." He lets Dean's voice deepen, brings in the raspy edge that only comes when Dean's emotions are running high. "Can't say I wouldn't love hearing how much you want it, though. Hearing your voice go all wrecked and broken for me."

Jared's eyes flutter closed. His teeth sink into his tender bottom lip, right where the Colt pushed in, and his body melts a little more, shifting so that less of his weight is on the chair, more on Jensen's thighs. Jensen takes it easily, Jared's heavy warmth an anchor. His hand slides up to Jared's hip, finding a natural resting place there, thumb tucked into the sharp cut of muscle disappearing under his sweat pants. Jared is sleep-warm, a little sweaty, and he fills Jensen's hand like they were made to fit.

"You shy, hotshot?" Jensen slides his other hand up Jared's chest, smoothing over the flat planes of pectoral muscle. "Big guy like you? C'mon, open that pretty mouth and talk to me. Tell me how much you're dying for me to slide down a little bit and put my cock right against that tight little ass of yours." He takes a risk and arches up, mentally fistpumps when Jared stifles a tiny moan at the contact. Jensen lets a sensual smile curl across his face. "Yeah, you like that. Mm, me too." He does it again, a little harder, a little longer, and watches a flush rise along Jared's jaw. Runs a finger along the edge of Jared's face. "Oh, that's pretty."

"Dean." Jared's voice is a whisper of sound, barely more than breath. His eyes stay closed as he follows Jensen's hips back down, the curve of his ass just touching Jensen's dick. "Fuck."

"There you go, beautiful. That's it." Jensen picks up the Colt again and slides the barrel up Jared's chest under his t-shirt. "You're so fucking hot, man. Got you all spread out for me like a present, and you love it, don't you?" He drags the muzzle over Jared's skin in aimless patterns, watching the way Jared's lips fall apart, the hitch of his breath, the colour high in his cheeks. "I could do anything I wanted to you and you'd let me."

"Jesus," Jared gasps. He opens his eyes; they're dazed and sex-vague, focusing slowly on Jensen's face. "What--what am I doing--"

"Getting off, sweetheart." Jensen leans forward and growls the next words into Jared's ear. "Any way I want you to."

* * *

Jensen draws back the hammer on the Colt. The click of it is loud, shocking, in the midst of the smothering tension between them. It's not loaded; he made very sure of that, cleaned it inside and out himself just to be extra careful. Jared's eyes clear sharply, looking straight down the barrel of the gun into Jensen's face.

"Strip," Jensen says, tapping Jared's chest with the gun. "Want you naked when you ride me. And you are gonna ride me," he adds. "Right here, just like this." At Jared's sidelong glance, Jensen bares his teeth in a dare-me grin. "You got a problem with that, there's the door. But I'd bet the pink slip on my baby that you don't."

It's another turning point; another chance for Jared to call it off, end the game, take things back to normal. He's braced for it, half-expecting it, but Jared just slides off his lap and pulls off his t-shirt without a word. He slides his sweat pants down his hips slowly, in stages, and Jensen takes it for hesitance until he looks at Jared's face and sees the glint of heat in his eyes and the hot little curve of his lips.

"Nobody likes a tease, sweetheart," he growls, but he's smirking, throwing Dean's most flirtatious, hot-eyed look, and Jared flows back onto his lap like he's boneless, miles of gorgeous naked skin on display.

"You seem to like it just fine," Jared drawls right back, and holy shit, he's really getting into it. His ass rests snug and firm against Jensen's crotch, his dick long and hard, blood-heavy against Jensen's belly. Jared's close enough to kiss, eyes dark and fixed on Jensen's face.

"So now that you got me here, Winchester ... what're you gonna do with me?"

* * *

He grins dirty, pure Dean, and grabs a handful of Jared's hair. Yanks on it hard enough to sting, forcing Jared to stay still for a kiss. It's not soft or gentle or playful or anything Jared would be expecting; it's hard, demanding, outright simulation of fucking with tongues. Jared makes a muffled noise into his mouth and goes pliant, hands coming up to grip handfuls of his overshirt, ass rocking rythmically over his dick. It's mindblowingly hot, Jared turning to wildfire in his lap with no selfconsciousness whatsoever. He growls for the sheer enjoyment of it and smiles into the kiss when Jared moans, pressing into him harder.

"Gonna fuck you," he promises, biting at Jared's lips. "Just unzip it right here and watch you ride me, put my hands all over you and make you come." He slides the gun along Jared's spine, bites his neck when Jared arches at the touch. "Yeah? That work for you?"

"Oh my God," Jared says breathlessly. "Fuck, just do it, I don't even care." He shifts back, scrabbles at belt and zipper and makes a strangled noise when he gets it undone.

Dean doesn't often go commando, but now and then when they're between jobs, he likes how it feels, the extra sensuality. He doesn't think of it in those terms, of course, but Dean Winchester is undoubtedly a hedonist.

Jared evidently approves; he mutters a soft, "Holy fuck", and gets a hand around it, jacking rough and fast for a few seconds until the Colt presses up hard under his chin. Jared goes still, swallowing audibly when the muzzle pushes in just a little harder.

"Handsy bastard, aren't you?" He leans in and sucks a mark into Jared's neck, biting down hard just before he lets go. "Good thing I don't have a hair trigger."

"Ngggggh," Jared groans, chasing the contact in vain. "Fucking dick."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I won't leave you hanging. I got a reputation to uphold. Not to mention," he breathes into Jared's ear, "I've been dying to tap your sweet ass for weeks." He feels Jared shudder and grins, scraping his stubble over delicate skin. "Been watching you watching me, wanting me so bad and too shy to say it. Turned me on so much I had to jack off in the middle of a job."

Jared lets out this low, almost pained sound and starts fucking undulating against him. He dips his head back and down and gets the gun barrel in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make his cheeks go hollow. Hazel eyes lock with green, challenging, and seriously, that is it.

All the implied sexuality of Dean's character—the flirting, the shameless pick-up lines, the potential for pure, animalistic, primal fucking that has never been realised on camera—it all comes to the fore, tapping depths Jensen didn't know he had. He shoves the gun deeper in Jared's mouth, growling at him to keep it there, keep sucking like a goddamn million dollar hooker, Jesus, and reaches into his hip pocket for the packet of lube. Jared must hear the metallic rip of foil, because his eyes go smoky-dark and he tries to fucking deep-throat the Colt. It's the hottest thing Dean Winchester's ever seen. It blows Jensen's fucking mind.

"Motherfucker," he breathes. "Christ, if I don't fuck you soon I'm gonna fucking die."

Jared pulls off the gun and licks his lips, pink and swollen from the hard metal. When he speaks, he sounds totally wrecked, his voice harsh and scratchy.

"Keep taking your fucking time about it, Winchester, I'ma get off all by myself."

* * *

"Gonna watch you do that someday," he promises. "Get yourself all worked up and shoot off all over me. Yeah?" An idea occurs to him, and he speaks without thinking. "Get you to do it on the hood of the car, maybe."

Jared doesn't answer with words; he kisses him, a wet, near-violent clash of tongues. He lets Jared control it while he gets his fingers slick with lube. His dick is crying out to fuck something, twitching with every brush of Jared's thigh against it, begging to be somewhere dark and warm and tight. He ignores it for just a little longer, and slides his slick hand back to Jared's ass instead. Jared jerks at the first contact, arching back into it when he realises, eyes falling shut and his lips going slack with pleasure. He braces his hands on the back of the chair and shoves his ass back against the touch without hesitation, muttering, "Holy shit, Dean, fuck," breath coming hard and fast. Jared's cock is heavy and leaking; he runs a finger along its length, just a tease, and winks when Jared glares at him from half-lidded eyes.

"C'mon, hotshot," he invites. "Ready to hop on board?"

"Christ, you're an asshole." Jared shudders again when his fingers slide free, teeth abusing his bottom lip some more. "Don't know why that's so fucking hot."

"It's all part of the authentic Dean Winchester experience, baby."

He waits for Jared's groaning chuckle, the relaxation of his limbs—then he pushes home in one smooth thrust, sheathing himself in tight silky heat. Jared chokes, rigid with the shock of it; he gives him no chance to recover, setting up a hard bump-and-grind rhythm immediately.

"Oh God," Jared pants. "Oh God, oh fuck, fucking fucking fuck ..."

Jensen doesn't fuck like this. Jensen is all about lazy, playful, laughter-filled sex. This, this is all Dean: hard and nasty and without cease, shoving his cock bluntly into Jared's body over and over again. It's rough, right to the point of too rough, but Jared's moaning and pushing down into it and spreading his legs wider for more, and Jensen loves it so fucking much he knows it won't last long. He's still gripping the Colt in one hand; he drags it up and down Jared's body, circles his cock with it, shoves it back under Jared's chin to force his head up and cocks the hammer again.

"You sound like every girl I've ever fucked," he grits out. "Moaning and writhing around on my dick like you can't get enough. Is this what you've been gagging for all this time? Huh? Getting my dick so far up in you that you can't breathe without feeling it?" He digs the gun in, guiding Jared's face closer, and tonguefucks him deeply. "Say it, beautiful. Tell me how much you want my dick."

Jared's sweating freely now, gleaming in the soft light, looking like something out of a wet dream. He's spread wide over Jensen's lap, muscular arms taut and tensed against the chair back, eyes closed tightly as he rides the cock inside him. He shudders every time the gun touches him, tracing his collarbones, circling his nipples, following the veins down the inside of one arm. His cock is thick, hard, engorged with blood and leaking copiously over both of them. Jensen grips it tight and squeezes, twists his wrist a little, lets Dean grin through him when Jared's eyes fly open.

"Tell me how bad you want it and I won't fuck you with the gun," he says conversationally. "Unless that's what you want ..."

Jared flushes a deep, glowing red from his chest to his hairline. His breathing goes choppy, hips jerking as his orgasm overtakes him. Jensen grinds up hard, one-two-three times in quick succession, and jacks him with a rough stroke, ignoring his own body's screaming insistence on coming. He works Jared through it, no quarter in this as there was none in the fucking, and doesn't stop until Jared's slumped limp and unresisting over him, head lolling on Jensen's shoulder.

"Fuuuuck," Jared slurs after a minute. "They never put that in a script."

"Yeah, well." Jensen's laugh has an edge to it. "Let's just say the writers and I disagree on the subject of Dean's sexual MO."

* * *

"So." Jared sits upright, hands flat on Jensen's chest. "Um. Thank you. That was kind of mindblowingly good."

"Yeah, I got that," Jensen replies dryly. He tugs on Jared's wrists until he comes close enough for a kiss. "You're welcome."

Jared hums into his mouth and circles his hips, where Jensen's snugged up tight against him. Jensen inhales sharply, can't stop his hips from thrusting up in response. Jared's grin is wicked when he pulls away.

"However can I repay you, I wonder?"

Disingenuous hazel eyes clash with heated green, and Dean's flirtiest tone flows naturally from Jensen's mouth.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something."