Jensen watches out the corner of his eye as the guests file in, all dressed to the nines, tuxes and gowns, Rolexes and pearls. Their host, Mr Morgan, is an important guy and he likes to watch, so Jensen listens with a barely reigned-in smirk as they all make a fuss about the ballroom they've just walked into, gasping at the amazing array of decorations, the expensive champagne and silver trays of hors d'oeuvres being floated around by twink-faced waiters in coattails.
It's an exercise in pure hedonism and Jensen hates it on principle. Except he kind of loves it, too. He has to, at least a little bit, else he wouldn't be so good at his job.
Because Jensen is the main attraction in tonight's entertainment.
In a sea of satins and silks and finery, Jensen is the only one not wearing a single stitch of clothing, and all eyes are on him. Once the guests see him, perched up above them on a cushioned pedestal the size of a bed, they can't take their eyes away. Sure, they may look to their plus-ones, make polite chit-chat with whatever fellow rich bastard they're trying to impress, but some sliver of their attention will always be on Jensen. That's the whole point. You don't hire a 'performer' like him if the act is going to be relegated to little more than background noise. A perfectly formed naked man with temptation in his eyes, getting himself off just for you, is the sort of thing that makes a statement, the sort of thing that people remember.
A small crowd starts to gather at the foot of the podium, curious and captivated, but Jensen refuses to let himself look at them. He stays flat on his back, rolling his balls and half-hard cock between his fingers, exaggeratedly arching his back so that his nipple piercings – two silver barbells and a chain linked between them – catch the light. He never lets himself go too fast too soon, has learned the art of restraint, because they're going to be there a good couple of hours and Jensen's being paid to perform for the whole damn lot of it. Thankfully he's got a solid list of tricks up his non-existent sleeve to keep his audience interested despite the lack of penetration or orgasms or whatever else Jensen decides to get up to. The 'not paying attention to the audience' deal is just one of said tricks – pretending they're not there, pretending that he's in his own little masturbatory world while they wait and silently beg for some tiny shred of Jensen's attention… it never fails.
Eventually he's fully hard and he reaches to one side, grabbing a studded leather cock ring and wrapping around his shaft and behind his balls, snapping it closed. He jerks his body as he does so, biting down on his lip as the firm squeeze of the ring kicks in, and he holds back a smile when he hears a number of sharp gasps from nearby. He's barely even started and some people are already worked up? He wonders if they can hold out 'til the end. He takes his cock in one hand and reaches down between his legs with the other, fingertips rubbing and circling around the tight pink whorl of his hole. He's clean inside and out, completely shaven from neck to toe, because he's classy and refined, and because he wants his audience to have an unhindered view so they know exactly what he's doing, exactly where he's putting his fingers.
He's got a box of goodies to one side so he grabs the lube he'd left sitting on top, slicking up his fingers and pushing them inside one at a time, slowly slowly starting to open himself up. Only then does he allow himself to get a little vocal, letting a few raspy moans slip past his lips. He always starts small – always gotta have somewhere to go. A genuine gasp gets past him though, when his fingers brush over his prostate, his eyes squeezing shut as he does it to himself a second and third time. It gets his cock throbbing a little, twitching where it lies thick and drooling on his belly. He can only hope that those people standing close enough are paying attention to the details.
He can't lie there all night, however, so once he thinks the fingering routine has done its dash Jensen scoots up onto his knees, knees splayed wide, and reaches back into his goodie box for a plug. It's candy pink and medium in size, just enough to get a little stretching happening, get those initial burns out of the way. He presses it to the decadent purple sheets underneath him, and then gently lowers himself down. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a pleasured sigh tumbling out as he exhales. It's all part of the performance, true, but thankfully he doesn’t have to fake it completely – he really does love having a nice big dick in his ass, even if it's made of silicon.
Speaking of which, he's probably a little too quick to dispose of mister candy pink and move onto the next in line – a shimmery blue number that's both longer and thicker and nicely curved – but he can draw out the time somewhere else, there's plenty to go yet. The blue plug's length is its best feature so Jensen makes a point of going slow as he lowers himself down, grabbing at his cock and balls half to ease the pressure, half to pull them up and away and make sure everyone's getting a nice view of his hole.
Jensen goes through the motions and moves onto the next one – a big, shiny black thing shaped like three increasingly larger balls squished together. It's a bit of a leap from the one before but it'll use up the time and he likes the challenge. People are still milling around, eating and drinking, talking business and pleasure while they watch. The majority are there for the professional connections as much as for Jeffrey Morgan's renowned hospitality. It's another reason why Jensen doesn’t pay them much attention. Watching some self-important douche with middle-aged spread dropping cracker crumbs and fois gras down the front of his tux would be enough to kill anyone's hard-on.
The first section of the dildo finally pops home and Jensen can feel the sweat starting to bead along his hairline. Getting to this point (and beyond) is probably what he enjoys the most, because he has to really work at it, doesn't have to put on as much of a show because his reactions are real and he's loving it too much to be forced or insincere. He squats down a little further and starts working at the second section of the dildo, one hand planted on the mattress and the other coming up to rub over the stiff peaks of his nipples, tugging at the chain that hangs down in between.
There's a moment where he loses focus for a second, eyes glancing up toward the room at large for the first time since he'd gotten started. Immediately he's drawn to a well cut figure at his right, tall and handsome, dressed in a tux but somehow not of the same cloth as most of the others present. It's against his usual self-imposed rules but Jensen is intrigued and aroused, likes the weight of the man's curiously coloured eyes on him. Jensen maintains eye contact as he bears down, his stretched-out ass finally swallowing up the second segment of the dildo. The guy has a considerably sized bulge not-all-that-hidden under his suit pants and Jensen licks his lips, turning his bedroom eyes up to maximum. There's a half empty glass of champagne in his grasp and Jensen wants to order him to dip his fingers in and let Jensen suck them clean complete with obscene curls of his tongue and loud slurping and the whole shebang… but it was Mr Morgan's rules that there be no physical interaction between Jensen and his guests and there was no way Jensen was jeopardising his pay packet.
Instead he keeps an intense eye on his 'favourite' audience member while he completes his performance, finishing with the black dildo, then sticking his own fist inside himself, ripping the cock ring away, and then stripping his dick until he comes all over his chest and face. Jensen can literally see the guy's pupils dilate as he licks a drop of his own cum from his chin.
He lies there, chest heaving, drawing swirls over his skin with his come, as the final few minutes pass. His audience is beginning to dissipate, including his favourite, but it isn't long before Jeff is tugging at his arm and helping him down from the platform, wrapping him up in a soft cotton robe.
"Perfection as always, Jen. You never fail to amaze me."
"Anything for you, JD."
Jensen lets Jeff lead him away and take care of him. They were practically old friends by this point. Jeff had hired him a dozen or so times for varying amounts of people but all for nauseating amounts of money… and then when Jensen was done Jeff would kick all his guests out and they'd hang around and chat. Or fuck. Or whatever Jensen wanted to do. Jeff was just a really giving kinda guy.
"Saw you giving Jared eyes at the end there. See something you like?" Jeff grins, staring back at Jensen, calculating.
"Padalecki. Made bajillions with some computer thing I don't understand. He's soft and sweet like a gummy bear, though. Reckon you two'd get on."
Jensen licks his lips and ponders it. Jeff knows his type, so he believes him, but Jensen is still buzzing from his performance and the mere feeling of Jared's eyes on him. He's keen to meet Jared, for sure (there was just something about him) but right then, despite having come already, he's just desperate for a real cock in his ass and a hot, sweaty body at his back.
"I bet that monster in his pants isn't soft and sweet… Think he'd wanna get in me?"
"If you'd like to go get comfy in the guestroom I can go ask?"
Jensen preens. "You're too good to me, Jeffy."
"You know I hate it when you call me that."
Jeff disappears and Jensen help himself to the guestroom, flinging himself on the bed. He doesn't have to wait long before there's a knock on the door and Jared's head peeks in, hair flopping around his face. He looks dishevelled, collar undone and shirt askew, but it suits him somehow, and Jensen praises him with his eyes as Jared steps inside and shuts the door.
"Uh… this is a fuck first, talk later scenario, right?"
Nodding, Jared starts unbuckling his belt. He's shaking but Jensen can't tell if it's nerves or anticipation or both. "Good, 'cause I don't think I'm up for talking right now. You like it rough?"
Jensen's starting to feel like the cat that got the canary. Who the fuck was this kid and how did he get so lucky? "And big dicks. I like those too."
Jared doesn’t say anything else as he shrugs off his jacket and unzips his fly. He's still unbuttoning his shirt as he approaches the bed, and Jensen is so fucking pleased with himself as Jared proves he's not just big, but strong as well. Jensen's robe is completely askew as he's all but thrown onto his front, Jared pulling the hem of the robe out of his way and dragging Jensen's bare hips back against his thighs. Craning his neck around, Jensen gets a look at the perfection that is Jared's chest, hiding behind the open flaps of his shirt, and then the sizable girth of Jared's cock as he finally frees it from his boxers. Jared jerks himself, thumbing at the tip until its glossy with smeared precome, then Jensen's suddenly groaning into the sheets as Jared feeds the full length of it into his hole. He might just die from happiness.
"Fuck, Jensen," Jared says between breathy grunts, and Jensen can tell he's not gonna last long, "Thought you'd be all loose and sloppy after you had that huge goddamn dildo in you, but you're still so tight."
Jared leans over him, trying to get a better angle, the sweat from Jared's chest clinging to Jensen's back. And Jensen can't do much but lie there and let himself be pinned to the mattress by Jared's baseball bat of a dick. It's the best he's had in an age – thick and heavy and punching into him hard, bruising his insides. Jensen's hole is gonna be so wrecked after this, properly gaping, and he probably won't walk straight for a week. The thought occurs that maybe he should be paying JD for this privilege and not the other way around, but he shuts it down quick smart – a guy's gotta eat.
And fuck, of course, but he's got that well and truly covered.
Jared's speeding up, his thrusts getting a little wild, and Jensen edges a hand between his stomach and the mattress, wrapping his fingers around his dick. He's so hard it hurts, and after all the friction from the sheets it doesn't take much before he's coming for a second time, coating his hand and staining the sheets. Jared's face pushes into the curve of his neck, teeth cutting at the skin, and then he follows, cock pulsing in Jensen's ass and spilling hot come inside him. He withdraws almost immediately, and Jensen wants to complain (he just hates that empty feeling) but then he loves the sensation of thumbs pulling at the stretched out rim of his hole, spunk dripping out of him and trickling down towards his balls.
"Shit, look at that. So nasty."
Jensen grabs at him and pulls Jared down onto the mattress. Their limbs tangle together amongst the sheets and their half-on, half-off clothes, and Jensen pulls their lips together for an open-mouthed kiss before Jared can get a word out.
"The good kind of nasty I hope?"
"Most definitely. Don't know that I can think of a bad word when it comes to you. I mean, I know we've only just met and, well, actually, we haven't even met properly, so hi, I'm Jared."
Jensen can't stop the matching stupid grin that slides onto his face. Jeff was so goddamn right. Jared was pathetically soft and sweet, and totally Jensen's type. He had a feeling he was going to owe Jeff after this one.
"Hi Jared, I'm Jensen. And I'm so very, stupidly, utterly happy to make your acquaintance."