They don't talk about it during the day. If they happen to run into each other on the driveway, Jared coming back from his morning run while Jensen's getting the paper, it's just a simple exchange of 'good morning's and occasionally some friendly chitchat. They don't acknowledge in any way the things they get up to at night, in secret. Together.
The first time was an honest mistake--the middle of summer, a lightning storm that killed the entire power grid in near-hundred-degree temperatures for three days. Jensen's bedroom was on the second floor, so he felt comfortable leaving the six-foot window open at night in case they were blessed with a breeze. On the second night he stood framed by the french-door-style open glass, fresh from a cold shower and hoping for even a breath of air to help cool him down. He was out of candles, but his trusty Maglite was turned on and lying on his bed, giving a soft glow to the room so he could see where he was going. He'd been touching himself idly, squeezing his cock through the pleasant rough-soft scratch of his towel, then getting into it a little more when it registered how good it felt. Soon he was jerking himself through the terry cloth, leaning against the window frame and arching into his hand, eyes half-focused on the darkness of the yard.
A single point of brightness had caught his eye: something like candlelight, wavery and flickering at ground level about fifty feet away. He'd leaned forward for a better look, and saw the silhouette of someone in the first floor window of the house next door.
The embarrassment had been intense, a hot flush running over his entire body as he jerked back out of sight. At the same time, Jensen felt a thrill at the knowledge that someone had seen him, had possibly been watching him the whole time. His cock twitched at the idea, sending a gush of pre-come to wet down his towel. Jensen used it to stroke himself again, shuddering at the newly-wet sensation, and slowly edged back into view.
The shadow was still there.
Even better, Jensen realised, he clearly wasn't alone in his pursuits that evening. The other person had either not noticed him or didn't care, because Jensen had a really great view of a tall, nicely cut body and strong hands working over a thick cock big enough to make his mouth water just from the sight of it. Jensen had been unable to tear his eyes away, all but hanging out of his window to keep his eyes on the other guy, his own hand working himself furiously through his towel. He'd blown his load in an embarrassingly short time, but it had been one of the top five orgasms of his entire life so he wasn't exactly complaining. And then, while he'd been gasping and clinging to the window frame for support while his legs recovered, had been the most shockingly awesome part of the whole deal.
The silhouette had turned his head toward Jensen, and given a jaunty little wave.
Jensen had felt more than justified in watching the other guy get himself off after that.
Several weeks later, things have kind of ... escalated. He'd nearly swallowed his tongue when he first met Jared in broad daylight, but Jared had just smiled and introduced himself without even a hint at what they'd caught each other doing two nights before. Jensen is both excited and relieved by this tacit agreement they have; no matter what parts of themselves they show each other at night, he trusts Jared to leave it there where it belongs. It's incredibly freeing, and it leads him to try things he never would have dared to think about before.
There was the night he tried finger-fucking himself for the first time, one foot braced on a chair so he could spread his legs wide open. That had been so spectacularly good he'd nearly blacked out, half the rush coming from the knowledge that Jared was watching him. He'd done that twice more in the first week alone, going deeper and harder every time until he'd had three fingers shoved in all the way to the third knuckle and his other hand was stinging with indents from his teeth. He'd watched Jared play with his nipples, his balls, pinching and twisting, low-lit shadows falling over his body while he jerked himself for an hour while wearing a cockring.
It was two and a half weeks before Jensen left the first note. It was unsigned, of course, anonymous block-lettered scrawl on a random bookstore receipt he'd found in his wallet. He'd broken a sweat while writing it, so achingly hard with sheer filthy want that he'd actually had to drop an ice cube into his boxer briefs to calm down before he could go outside. It was a simple request, but he'd been trying and failing to get a decent view of Jared for days and he couldn't think of how to get it other than this. The window patterns in Jensen's house don't match up with Jared's, so they have to work with what they've got.
Put a light next to you and spread your legs wide for me, he'd written. I want to get a good look at your fucking gorgeous cock.
He'd waited for Jared to take his dogs out the following morning, then scurried down the drive and dropped the note in his mailbox. Then he'd spent the rest of the day avoiding the windows, shutting himself into his home office and working furiously to try and distract himself from what he hoped would take place that night. Around ten-thirty, their usual 'meeting' time, Jensen had screwed up his courage and gone upstairs into his bedroom, approaching the window with bated breath.
He'd all but choked on the sight of Jared, naked, seated in a huge leather chair with his legs slung over the arms, the entire room in darkness except for the torch burning a spotlight on his cock. That night was the closest Jensen's been to coming without a touch since high school.
These days, Jensen is careful to avoid Jared when he checks his mail. The sight of his mailbox gives him a hard on now, and if he ran into Jared while anticipating one of his deliveries he's pretty sure the whole neighbourhood would get a show they're not prepared for. They've moved on from notes--although they still exchange those too, now and then, if one of them has a request that requires words rather than just ... props. Toys. Mysterious brown-paper-wrapped packages that yield increasingly perverted items Jensen sometimes has to Google to learn their uses. He always enjoys the learning process, though--he's quick on the uptake, his teachers always said so, and it's not long before he starts doing a little shopping of his own. He's particularly fond of the bright pink buttplug he sent Jared about five weeks in, the way it glows against Jared's skin and looks so pretty stretching his ass. Jared thanked him for that by gifting him with a black vibrator with a remote control ... that he kept for himself.
That night is going down in Jensen's memory as something he will never, ever forget. His ass still clenches occasionally when he thinks about it.
He's made a few adjustments to accommodate their routine: he shaves his pubic hair once a week, usually while Jared watches (you'd look so fucking hot all bare and smooth, wanna see the blade against your skin), and he's rearranged his bedroom so the bed is directly in front of the window, side-on to Jared's view. It makes things a lot more comfortable when they're playing with the vibrator, or when Jensen's using both hands to slowly insert the anal beads he bought purely on a whim. Jared likes those, he can tell--once they're in, Jensen will sit with his knees wide apart and his feet flat on the mattress, hips tilted over the edge of the bed as he teases himself. Jared generally ends up plastered to his window, eyes burning up the distance between them and making Jensen's heart pound. It's so deliciously dirty, the things they do for each other: the fingering and cockrings and plugs, the ways they pose and show themselves off in the window (Jensen bent double with his back to Jared, naked and blind as he fills himself up with a dildo the size of Jared's cock; Jared using a prostate toy to bring himself off without ever touching his cock, his body arched and straining and beautiful, every muscle on display for Jensen alone). Jensen doesn't date anymore, hasn't gone out at night in a month. His friends are constantly asking to meet whoever it is that's taking up all his free time.
That's the only problem with the whole situation, as far as Jensen's concerned. He loves what he and Jared do together; it's fucking hot and he's never had so many awesome orgasms in his life, but there are times when he's desperate to get his hands on Jared's body, fuck into that tight ass and get that beautiful cock inside him, mouth or ass, he doesn't care. He has a list as long as his arm of things he wants to do to Jared, if he were only within arm's reach. And that's where he's stuck, because he doesn't know if Jared would be up for that. What they've got now is safe, in a way: no strings; no acknowledgement; no expectations aside from the next filthy but ohsogood act to perform for the other's enjoyment. Jensen wonders if they'd lose that edge of excitement if they came face-to-face, as it were. He's almost desperate enough to take the plunge and find out.
They're deep into it on a random Thursday night, Jensen fucking hard into a pocket pussy and imagining it's Jared's ass, bottom lip caught between his teeth. His eyes are closed, a film of sweat making things slick as he pulls and teases at his nipples, scrapes his nails down over his chest and belly. Jensen peeks through his lashes to see Jared's reaction--he's doing his damnedest to look irresistible, here--and nearly falls over in shock when he sees Jared's window is empty.
Jared's never left the window before. They always make sure there are no distractions, no interruptions. Jensen's cock wilts and he pulls out of the toy, tossing it on the bed and falling back into a messy slump.
Maybe Jared's had enough of playing with him like this--always a careful distance between them, never saying anything aloud. Maybe he wanted something more, and Jensen missed his chance to offer it. Maybe there's something else Jared wants that Jensen can't give--
There's a soft thud against the side of the house. Jensen sits up and scrabbles for his underwear in a hurry, tripping over his feet when he goes to look outside.
There's a ladder propped against the cladding, right next to the window. Jared is climbing up faster than Jensen's ever seen anyone move, swarming over the window sill and stopping short when he sees Jensen staring at him from less than a foot away.
They're stock-still, just looking at each other, nothing but heavy breathing and electricity between them. Jensen's cock is hard again, full and heavy between his legs. He feels like a single touch of Jared's hands would send him right into the stratosphere. His mouth is tingling from wanting to kiss Jared into next week, his hands itching with the need to touch the miles of skin right in front of him. Jared is here, in his room, clearly turned on and ready to fuck, if the look in his eyes is any indication ... and Jensen can't bring himself to move.
The moment stretches out impossibly, tension ratcheting higher and higher, until--
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jensen growls, and slams Jared into the wall.