Title: By the stars
Summary: Inspired by LA Confidential. Jensen is a detective with a soft spot for abused men, Jared is a high class hooker who crosses his path during an investigation. For essene for spn_j2_xmas. My undying affection and thanks to theladyscribe for helping with the bad!porn and the tenses from hell and valiant for much handholding and comma rescues!
"Tell me again why we're sitting out here in the dark instead of getting the rest of the booze and heading back to the station?"
Officer Jensen Ackles ignores the drone of his partner's voice drifting from the backseat of their assigned car, a white Toyota Camry, and keeps his eyes trained on the house across the street.
"At least tell me you got something on this guy."
"He's been out on parole for two weeks. I'm waiting for him to fuck up again so I can haul his ass back to jail."
Jason's sharp bark of laughter is cut off by a wet cough and followed by the obscene slurp of his lips as he gulps directly from the whiskey bottle held loosely in his left hand.
"What do you care if some brain dead twink gets his head bashed in by his queer boyfriend, anyway? You one of 'em?"
Jensen turns his head slightly and slowly lets his eyes glide over Jason's sprawled form. He fixes him with a deadly stare, the slight jump of a muscle in his jaw hinting at the barely concealed violence hidden beneath the smooth facade of his face.
"Maybe I am. You got a problem with that?"
He's not too far gone to ignore the threat in Jensen's words and raises his hands in surrender, amber liquid sloshing loudly against the glassy sides of the bottle.
"No, no problem. Was just wondering, 'sall."
Jensen turns his full attention back to the house where he can now hear raised voices drifting out into the icy winter's night air. When the voices turn into muffled screams, he already has one hand on the gun at his hip and the other reaching for the door handle.
"Call it in," he orders as he steps from the vehicle.
"Call it in. Now."
Keeping his attention fixed on the ominous dirty white of the front door, Jensen crosses the street quickly, slowing when he walks up the steps onto the small porch. Raising his gun and keeping it trained at chest height, he tries to listen for any more sounds coming from inside before he steps back a little and lifts a leg to kick it down. Suddenly the door bursts open and a man comes stumbling out. Jensen grabs him by the arms, the cool metal of his gun cutting cruelly into the guy's left bicep. He's naked except for a pair of faded white briefs hanging loosely from his hips and a sock on his left foot. His bottom lip is split and there's blood running from his nose. Both his eyes are almost swollen shut, the lids already starting to turn a sickening purple red and there are more cuts and bruises scattered all over his upper body.
Jensen curses himself for waiting too long and deftly maneuvers the kid under his arm so he's standing behind him and Jensen is shielding him with his body when the fugly bastard comes running out after him. He comes to a sudden stop when Jensen wraps a hand around his throat and jams the barrel of his gun into the guys mouth. Jensen hears it knocking against his teeth and pushes it in even further.
"He's tired of your bullshit. Why don't you play with me instead?"
The guy's eyes widen comically, but he doesn't back down, bringing up an arm to slap the fleshy meat of his palm heavily against the side of Jensen's head. He barely feels the pain, is hardly even aware of the ringing in his ear. He pulls the gun from the guy's mouth, tilts it to slam the butt into the fucker's temple. Jensen lets go of his neck as well, grabs hold of the hand still hovering near his face and swings him around, slamming the side of his face into the doorframe.
"You fucking asshole, let go of me."
"Why? So you can continue taking it out on your boyfriend that you can't get it up? I don't fucking think so."
Jamming the gun into the back of his pants, Jensen takes out a pair of handcuffs and slips it around one wrist. The guy rears back at the feel of metal on his skin and Jensen grabs a handful of greasy hair and smashes his face into the doorframe again. Letting go, he quickly secures the other wrist as well and turns the guy around to march him down the steps towards the patrol car that's just coming to a stop with a wailing siren and flashing lights. Catching sight of the broken boy still huddled behind him, the guy spits a gob of blood at his face and twists his mouth into a snarling, "Fuck you."
"No thanks," Jensen replies, "I like mine with a little less stomach and a lot more dick."
"Lemme go, you fucking fag. When I get my hands on that little cocksucker ..."
Jensen grabs hold of the front of the guy's shirt and hauls up onto his toes, right into Jensen's face.
"No, you won't. You touch him and I'll know about it. And then I'll come back here with a gun, nightstick, anything big and mean and ugly I can lay my hands on. Fuck you up the ass so hard you'll be coughing up shit and blood until you're begging me to just kill you. Understand?"
He doesn't say anything, but Jensen can see the fear in his eyes. He hears the truth in Jensen's voice and he knows it's not an empty threat. Jensen hits him against the side of his head again and this time his legs fold in under him as he sags to the ground. He lets him fall, bends down, goes through his pockets and takes out his wallet and his keys. Flipping open the wallet he empties out the cash and throws the wallet back down onto his prone form.
Jensen turns to the kid who is still hovering behind him.
"You got someplace you can go?"
He nods shakily and Jensen takes off his jacket and slips it over the kid's scrawny shoulders. He's practically drowning in the scratchy tweed as Jensen hands him the money and the keys.
Resting a hand lightly on the nape of his neck, he steers him towards the rundown blue Honda parked in the driveway.
"Go, get yourself fixed up."
He goes, each step becoming steadier and surer. He wrenches open the door, but turns back for a moment before getting in behind the wheel.
"Merry Christmas, huh?"
"Merry Christmas, sir," Jensen replies as he sidesteps the patrolman manhandling the shitbag up from the ground and gets back into his car. Jason doesn't say anything as they pull away from the curb and head back into town.
Behind the counter at the liquor store, Nick is loading bottle after bottle of booze into a cardboard box. Jensen is leaning against the far wall, just behind the door, idly thumbing through yesterday's paper when the bell above the door jingles, signaling a new customer.
He brings with him the crisp clean air from outside, laced with the faintest hint of expensive cologne. He walks up to the counter and, resting his hands familiarly on the worn wood, greets Nick by name, tells him he needs an order delivered. He's wearing a tuxedo, midnight black with a white satin scarf draped effortlessly around his neck. His hair, slightly too long in the neck, is slicked back, gleaming almost black under the fluorescent lights. His voice is soft, assured; he knows he doesn't have to raise it to get attention.
"Yeah, sure thing, Jared. Just give me a moment to finish up this order."
Nick turns and disappears through a narrow door to the back of the store. Almost without noticing Jensen is drawn towards him, moving towards the man in a wide arc until the side of his face comes into view.
Jared. Nick called him Jared.
Jensen stares at Jared's profile, the strong line of his jaw, the high cut of his cheekbones, the prominent curve of his nose. He shakes himself mentally, tells himself he should look away, but he can't.
Only the muted tones of Christmas music coming from the beat up radio Nick has hidden in the corner breaks the absolute silence between them. There's a tension there, a river of anticipation steadily flowing between them.
He doesn't know where the words come from, but Jared immediately turns towards Jensen, startling him slightly.
"And Merry Christmas to you, Officer."
Just then Nick comes back carrying the last two bottles of Jensen's order. He puts one in the box, taking up the last space and slides the other over the counter towards Jensen. Jensen sweeps it up before it can even stop moving. Without another word he bundles the box under his arm and walks towards the door. Jared's eyes follow him for few beats as he steps away, then turns back towards Nick with a slight grin on his lips and starts listing his order.
Walking towards his car, Jensen gives half a glance backwards towards the door still swinging shut, but keeps moving. Jason is asleep in the backseat, empty whiskey bottle resting against his thigh, his mouth open and dripping drool onto his shoulder.
There's a car parked around the corner, a sleek black Mercedes with the engine still running. A guy sits in the backseat, looking out the window towards Jensen. There is a wide white bandage stuck across his nose and the circles under his eyes look black under the lamplight. He sits back suddenly when he sees Jensen looking at him, but Jensen is already propping the too full box onto the hood of the car, stuffing the bottle in his hand into it upside down.
A handful of steps and he's tapping his badge against the window, motioning the guy to roll it down. There's another man sitting next to him, wealth and power rolling off of him in waves. He's got a cane in his hand which he taps lightly against his leg and mumbles something indistinct to the driver before the window is completely open. He doesn't look in the least surprised or uncomfortable by Jensen's intrusion as the driver gets out and quickly walks around the back of the car toward Jensen.
"I don't think so, asshole."
The guy keeps coming and Jensen turns, goes at him and slams him down over the trunk of the car. Patting him down with one hand, he extracts the guy's wallet and the gun he has concealed in a shoulder holster.
"LAPD, don't move."
"I got a permit for that."
He tucks the gun into the back of his pants and checks the wallet for an I.D.
"I don't give a rat's ass. Michael. Don't move."
Jensen leaves Mike bent over, gives him a look when he tries to straighten and he goes back down meekly. Back to the open window, he bends down and studies the injured man intently.
The other man leans forward, giving Jensen all of his attention now, and answers for him.
Jensen ignores him, waits for the victim to speak, but he just looks back at Jensen warily.
"It's not what it looks like," a familiar voice suddenly says behind him.
Jensen had not heard Jared coming up behind him, but turns now to watch him walk casually toward them. Standing opposite Jared, Jensen suddenly feels small, plain, every inch the dumb hick cop.
"Then what is it?"
The guy who started all of this sits forward in his seat, looks at Jensen with a mask of unmasked disdain and finally finds his voice.
"You got the wrong idea, Mister. I'm fine."
Jared walks over to the door on the passenger side, opens it and stands with one leg raised onto the edge.
"But it's nice to know you care."
He stays like that, staring Jensen down as he takes out the gun he took off the driver and flips it open to empty the bullets into his hand. He tosses it back towards Mike who has now straightened and is walking past him toward the open door on the driver's side. Jensen steps back as the car roars to life and Jared slides into his seat, closing the door as they're already pulling away.
A week goes by and Jensen does his job, just like always. He beats up some Mexicans brought in for questioning, gets suspended for two days and re-instated just in time to assist the Captain with another tricky questioning. Nothing unusual. Except each night on his way home he drives past the liquor store, looking for something, but unable to admit what.
Jensen doesn't usually go down to the morgue. His talents are better utilized on living suspects. But they're a little short handed and he needs the paperwork to finalize one of his cases, so he heads down to quickly get it and finish up before the end of his shift. Jensen finds it hard to believe that it's a complete coincidence that he steps through the door just as they're wheeling by the corpse of the guy Jensen saw a week ago in the back of a Mercedes with a bandage across his nose.
He can only stare in disbelief as John Doe is tagged and covered in a sheet. Dropping the documents in his hands back onto the desk, he barely slows to gather his jacket hanging from the back of his chair before he's out the door.
He pulls up in front of the liquor store with screeching tires, this time stopping and getting out. He doesn't have to grill Nick too hard for a name, billing and delivery address on the other night's order.
Walking up to the opulent mansion Jensen can hear the hollow thump of golf balls being hit. He sees the perfect little pile of balls before he sees the man swinging back the club to putt the next one. Jensen recognizes the arrogant man from the backseat of the Mercedes immediately. He's wearing a pair of immaculately pressed white trousers and a designer powder blue open-necked shirt. Jensen can smell the money coming off him in waves.
Jensen makes it a question, almost daring him to try and weasel his way out of it.
"As you well know, Officer Ackles. Is the LAPD doing house calls now? Usually they contact my offices if they need to secure my services."
Jensen's face remains stoic, giving no sign at the surprise he feels at being known to Welling.
Welling drops his head back down, completes his shot and without raising his voice talks back up to Jensen.
"So how'd you find me?"
"This is where Jared Padalecki's booze bills go."
"That's right. Why don't you come round back to the driveway, we can talk there."
The door is still rolling up, the Mercedes and three other luxury cars being revealed as Jensen rounds the corner. Welling is still holding the golf club, but it appears unmenacing, merely being held as an afterthought.
"So what can I do for you today, Officer? Interested in some company? Maybe I could arrange for a little liaison with Mr. Murray. You seemed extremely interested in him the other night."
"Yes, Chad Michael Murray."
"He's in the morgue, Mr. Welling. And somehow I think you knew that."
"What? Wh … Why would I know that? Are you sure it's him?"
"Without a doubt, Mr. Welling. And the last time I saw him, it was in your company. He looked like he'd been beaten up, even though he didn't act like it."
"He's a big doubles fan. I think there might have been an incident with a flyaway ball."
"Don't fucking try to bullshit me, Mr Welling. What caused Mr. Murray to look like that?"
"I'm sorry, old habits, y'know? I'd assumed you knew since you knew about me and my boys."
"That my boys, they're special. I use guys that look like movie stars. Sometimes, there's a little something missing and I need to employ a plastic surgeon. When you saw us the other night, some work had been done on Chad."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"No, Officer Ackles. Thomas John Patrick Welling. Find Chad's killer, Officer Ackles. I had quite a bit invested in that young man, I'd like to see some justice done. Now, are you satisfied or is there something else I can help you with?"
"Just one more thing. Where were you last night, Mr. Welling?"
"I was here, hosting a party. Surely you don't think I had anything to do with Chad's death?"
Jensen doesn't answer, lets his silence tell Welling it's exactly what he's thinking.
Welling appears not to notice, bends down to flick a blade of grass from the cuff of his right pant leg. Straightening gracefully, he looks at Jensen casually, waiting for the next question. The one he knows Jensen really came to ask.
"What about Mr. Padalecki? Was he attending your party last night?"
"He was. But feel free to go talk to him, find out if maybe he knows anything."
"If I want to talk to Mr. Padalecki, I don't need your permission to do so, Mr. Welling."
"I just want to do anything I can to help you find Chad's killer, Officer Ackles. Just let me get you Jared's address."
"I have his address."
"Of course. If you don't mind me saying … this seems to be personal with you, Officer Ackles."
"I do mind. Thank you for your time, Mr. Welling. Be sure not to leave town in the next couple of days. You'll be hearing from me again."
"I'm sure I will. Find Chad's killer, Officer. I'll give you a handsome reward. Whatever you desire."
Jensen is already walking away. He can hear the garage door closing as he slams the car door behind him and jams the key into the ignition.
He waits for the sun to be directly overhead the next day before he makes his way to a nondescript white house on a quiet lane in a respectable neighborhood. He can hear a TV blaring inside when he knocks on the door.
Two seconds and the door is being flung wide. In the natural light of day Jared is even more beautiful than he remembered. He's standing there with slightly tousled hair, curling just so against the collar of the white cotton shirt hanging unbuttoned from his ripped torso. A pair of jeans hang precariously from his narrow hips and pool loosely around his bare feet. His lips are kiss-bruised, his pupils blown wide and Jensen has to take a moment to remember to breathe.
Before he can say a word, another man emerges from the dark interior and comes to stand next to Jared at the door.
"Everything alright? Want me to get rid of him?"
"Hit the road, pal," Jensen says and watches as the man places a hand protectively over Jared's hip.
He pulls back his jacket to reveal his badge and gun clipped to his belt.
"LAPD, shithead. Get the fuck out of here or I'll call your wife to come get you."
Jared watches with a smirk as the rushes back inside to gather his clothes. He doesn't bother taking a moment to put them back on, just runs out the door with the bundle clutched against his chest.
Jared goes back inside, not bothering to invite Jensen in, just leaving the door open for him to follow if he wishes. He opens and ties back the curtains, turns off the TV, but doesn't bother to straighten his clothes.
"Can I get you a drink? Or are you on duty?"
"Scotch, if you've got it. Neat."
Jared fixes the drink at a little table against the wall, clear crystal glasses and various bottles of alcohol standing on display. He doesn't get anything for himself.
"You're here about Chad, I guess," Jared states as he hands the glass to Jensen, careful to let their fingers touch.
"That's right. And …"
"I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Not that I don't appreciate it, Officer Ackles, but why the concern? We don't know each other."
Jensen is surprised that Jared knows his name, but tries not to show it. He walks casually around the room, placing his untouched drink back onto the little table when he passes it. There are framed movie posters on the walls, the furniture is all heavy wood and rich fabrics, and everything is precisely arranged.
"Mr. Padalecki, you and your boss don't fucking scare me. You are going to co-operate with this investigation or you're going to have more shit than you have fucking shovels for."
Jared gives him a soft smile, tilting his head slightly to the side.
"I remember you from Christmas Eve. You've got a thing for helping battered guys, don't you, Officer Ackles?"
"Maybe I'm just fucking curious."
"You say fuck a lot."
"You fuck for money."
Jared looks down at Jensen's plain green shirt neatly tucked into his dark grey pants, reaches up a hand to do up the buttons on his own suddenly.
"If that's all you came here to establish, Officer Ackles, I'd say our business is concluded. It was nice to meet you, sir."
Jared walks to the door, holds it open for Jensen to step outside. Jensen does, makes it halfway down the path before he turns abruptly and rushes back up to the still open door.
"Look. I want to …"
Jared doesn't let him finish the sentence, just crashes their lips together in a brutal kiss. Lips crush hard against teeth for an instant, then Jensen pulls back to flit his gaze over Jared's face, looking at everything from his eyes to his mouth like it's a feast to a starving man.
"I don't even know your first name," Jared says.
Jensen pulls him in for another kiss and Jared kisses him back, mouth opening to him hungrily and sucking on his tongue when Jensen pushes it into his mouth. Jared backs up without breaking contact, pulling Jensen in after him and kicking the door closed behind them.
Jensen breaks the kiss again, twisting Jared around to slam him up against the closed door.
"Jensen. My name is Jensen."
Jared breaks loose from Jensen's hold, pushing him back slightly and taking his hand leads him to the back of the house. He opens the door to a small bedroom, stands there clutching at the door handle while he waits for Jensen to step inside.
Jensen walks in slowly, takes in the worn and slightly rundown furniture, the warm and cozy feel of the place. There are pictures on the nightstand of a younger, smiling Jared at his high school graduation, his arms flung carelessly happy around the shoulders of two older people that Jensen assumes must be his parents. There are posters against the wall of football stadiums and exotic islands, stuck against the plain white walls with sticky tape.
This is where the real Jared Padalecki lives.
Jensen stops at the foot of the bed, runs his hand over the soft mismatched blocks of fabric on the quilt covering it.
Looking back at Jared, Jensen can see that his eyes are wide, scared, and he wraps trembling arms around himself.
"I don't know."
Jensen holds out his hand and waits for Jared to come to him, shyly slipping his long fingers into Jensen's palm. Jensen pulls him in the last couple of inches, fitting their bodies together and just holding onto each other for a few heartbeats. Then Jared turns them around, sits down on the edge of the bed and wraps his arms around Jensen's middle as he lays his cheek against Jensen's chest.
Jensen looks down, slightly unsure of what to do, but it feels right when his hands come up to thread through the soft tresses of Jared's hair. Jared turns his head, buries his face in the fabric of Jensen's shirt and with a soft groan deep down in his throat Jensen bends down, taking Jared's head between his hands and pulling him away, and places a chaste kiss on his forehead.
He stands unmoving as Jared reaches up to slip his jacket from his shoulders, but as Jared tugs it past his hands, he begins to unbutton his shirt. The buttons feel too big, the holes too small and Jared pretends not to notice his embarrassment as he struggles furtively to get them undone and sets to work on his belt instead.
Finally, finally he manages to get them all and pulls the shirt off his shoulders. He stops Jared when he goes for the button on his pants, taking his hands away as he toes off his shoes.
"Your turn," he says, but doesn't let go of Jared's hands. Jared tries to tug them loose twice, and even though Jensen doesn't strengthen his grip, he won't let go. Jared looks up at Jensen again, vague confusion on his face. He gives him a smile, a barely there quirk of one corner of his mouth, and places Jared's hands on his hips.
He places a hand on Jared's cheek and closing his eyes, Jared leans into it. Jensen lets it slide slowly, past the sharp jut of Jared's jaw, over the stretch of his strong neck and down to the open V of his shirt. He has no problems with Jared's buttons, slipping them from their holes easily with a sure flick of his fingers.
Jared moves his hands, peeling the shirt back over his shoulders when Jensen finishes with the last button and curls them around Jensen's hips again after he's dropped it to the ground.
Leaning back, Jared pulls Jensen with him until his back is pressed flat against the bed, Jensen leaning on his fists over him.
"Jared, God, you're so beautiful," Jensen says and kisses him. Jared runs his hands up Jensen's back and tries to pull him down against him, but Jensen pulls further away instead until Jared's hands fall away and down to his sides.
Standing back up, Jensen motions for Jared to slide up and lay down properly on the bed. He undoes his pants and takes them and his socks off so he's standing there dressed only in his boxers. After a brief moment of hesitation, Jared follows suit and takes his jeans off as well, but he isn't wearing any underwear and his cock slaps up obscenely against his stomach as it's freed from the tight confines of the denim.
Jensen walks down to the foot of the bed and forces Jared's legs open with firm hands on his ankles before crawling up and kneeling between Jared's spread legs. He wraps a hand around the base of Jared's cock, leans down until his lips are almost touching it, sticks out his tongue like he wants to run it up the hard length, but not far enough to actually make contact. Jared pushes his hips up, straining to feel Jensen's mouth on him, but Jensen stays that maddening breath away until Jared begs.
"Please, Jensen. I need …"
Jensen runs the head over his lips, smearing it with clear drops of precome, and then finally opens his mouth and sucks it inside. Jared whimpers and runs his fingers through the short spikes of Jensen's hair and curls them around the base of his skull. Jensen takes his time, enjoying the weight and slightly bitter taste of Jared on his tongue. Jensen bobs his head up and down on Jared's dick, feeling it hit the back of his throat as Jared tries to keep his hips still.
Jensen feels Jared pull on his neck and letting go with a pop, looks up at him.
"Jesus, you have to stop. Get up here."
Jensen stretches out on top of him and Jared hooks his fingers around the elastic of Jensen's underwear and together they manage to shimmy them down his legs until he can kick them off. Jared winds his legs around Jensen's middle, crosses his ankles at the top of Jensen's thighs, resting them just below his ass.
Jensen tilts Jared's his chin up with a crooked finger and watches as Jared closes his eyes when he darts out his tongue to lick across Jared's lips. He opens his mouth, lets Jensen lick inside and tightens his grip around him, pushes their lower bodies closer together. Their hard and aching cocks line up, rub deliciously against each other as Jared works his hips up and down in a shallow broken rhythm.
Jensen lets himself get lost in the heady sensation of Jared's skin touching his, the freedom of touching Jared anywhere he pleases and Jared's breathless whispers in his ear. It's everything and not nearly enough.
Jensen untangles himself from Jared, and Jared is soft and pliant under his hands, lets him mold and guide Jared until he's turned over onto his hands and knees. Jared barely has time to steady himself before Jensen's mouth is against his hole, placing openmouthed kisses all over and between the smooth contours of Jared's ass, working his tongue in hot and wet, deeper and deeper until Jared collapses onto his elbows and begs.
"Jensen, please … fuck me."
There it is again, that please that sounds like it's being wrenched from the very depths of Jared's soul. Jared drops his head down to rest on his hands, his long fingers clutching helplessly at the material beneath them as Jensen moves away to dig for his wallet in the inner front pocket of his jacket and pulls out a condom from between a few folded twenties.
Jensen strips the foil off with his teeth, rolls it down onto his hard length with a tight fist and spreads Jared open with shaking fingers.
Jared turns his head and looks back at Jensen through the hair sticking to his forehead and hanging over his eyes. His mouth is open, quick ragged breaths rushing past his lips, and his cheeks are flushed and glistening slightly from a thin layer of sweat. He closes his eyes, pinching the lids down tight when Jensen starts pushing inside.
He's tight, and with nothing but spit to ease the way Jensen has to work himself in with short, shallow thrusts until he's finally seated all the way inside. Jared's ass is making little involuntary clutches around his cock and he's making soft keening noises, once hitting a higher pitch that sounds almost like a sob. Jensen smoothes his hands over the paleness of Jared's ass, stroking up along his back and down towards his hips, softly whispering Jared's name over and over.
Finally Jared reaches back, wraps a hand around Jensen's wrist and twisting his head a little bit more, opens his eyes again.
Jensen does, starts thrusting, deep and even. Jared arches his back, pushes back into him. The heat around his dick is perfect and he wants to make it last forever, but he's already feeling his orgasm starting to coil low in the pit of his belly; heat spreads through his balls and down his cock until he can't stop it and he's coming with a strangled moan. Jared keeps moving, tightening his muscles and squeezing every last drop of pleasure from Jensen.
Not all the way soft yet, he stays inside Jared, leans down and reaches around to run his fingers along the quivering pane of Jared's stomach. Jared is still achingly hard, still desperately wanting, but Jensen doesn't give him what he wants. Not yet.
"Touch me," Jared pleads, grinding his teeth together.
Jensen carefully reaches back farther, fits Jared's balls into his hand and gently rolls them in his palm.
That's it, that's what Jensen was waiting for; he wraps his hand around Jared's cock where it's straining against his belly, stripping up and down fast and hard a few times and then gripping the head tightly and thumbing across the slit. Jared comes with Jensen's name a barely contained scream across his lips, thickly painting Jensen's fingers and his own stomach and chest white with come.
Jensen places a kiss against Jared's arched spine, breathing in the heady scent of sweat against Jared's skin as he keeps lazily moving his hand over the silky soft skin of Jared's cock.
Jared wrestles Jensen's hand from around his spent cock and rubs their entwined fingers through the mess on his stomach.
After Jensen has disposed of the condom and cleaned them both off with a warm wet towel scooped up from the adjoining bathroom, they lay facing each other on the narrow bed, the quilt pulled up over their lower halves and fluffy white pillows beneath their heads.
Jared is looking off into the distance over Jensen's shoulder. Jensen can't keep his eyes off Jared.
"Hey. They get some guy that looks like a movie star. I get Jared Padalecki from San Antonio, Texas."
"How'd you know that?"
"Picture," he says, pointing to the impromptu family portrait in the table.
Jared smiles and looks at him then, reaches up to run his thumb over the faint scar running jaggedly across Jensen's chin.
"Where'd this come from?"
"Old man threw a rock at my brother. Guess I got in the way."
"Guess you saved him then."
"Not for long."
A shadow moves across Jensen's features, darkens his eyes.
"I'm sorry. It's none of my business."
Jensen doesn't blink, doesn't hesitate, he immediately opens his mouth for the truth to spill out.
"When I was twelve my old man caught my brother making out with his boyfriend up in his room. He threw the boyfriend out and dragged my brother down to the basement, his pants still undone. I tried to stop him. But he broke his beer bottle against the wall and sawed my brother's dick off. When he was done, he threw it into the corner. I'll … never forget the sound it made when it hit against the wall. This slick … plop. I pressed my hands against the wound, tried to stop the bleeding, called for help, but … He died. Screaming in agony and with wide scared eyes looking up at me, pleading with me to save him. The old man just stood watching until he was … gone. Then he locked the door and left me there. It took three days for the truant officer to find us. They never found the old man."
He keeps his eyes fixed on Jared's the whole time and Jared can see them tearing up by the end, the skin drawing tight around them.
"Is that why you became a cop?" Jared whispers.
"You like it?"
"I used to. But now … it's like every case these days is about guys being beat up or cut up or fucking killed. For who they love. And it's just. It's happening more and more and I can't stop any of it."
Jensen punches the pillow underneath him, sits up a little straighter.
"I just need a chance, to work homicide like a real detective. Catch these fuckers and put them behind bars before any more guys like Murray end up in the morgue."
Jensen looks down, twists his fingers into the quilt's seam, pulling it up a little higher.
"But I'm not smart enough. I'll always just be the guy hanging around parolees, making sure they go back inside before they do too much damage. Not being able to catch Murray's killer."
"You're wrong. You found Welling. You found me. You're smart enough."
Jared cups Jensen's face, resting his palm warmly against Jensen's cheek, leans into him and kisses his mouth. His eyes are open until he feels Jensen responding to the kiss, then he lets his eyelids flutter shut with a muted sigh.