Work Header


Work Text:

If Jared had a nickel for every red flag that pops up in his brain every time he steals a glance at Ackles, he would be significantly richer than Ruth insists he’d be if only he finally put his back into his job like she’s been telling him to for years.

It doesn’t help that he is already expected to fail. That this was a trap from the get-go, and that Ruth is right—their mateship is on thin ice lately. With Ruth being older and their dynamic kind of, as Jared’s parents put it, untraditional, things are starting to grow rocky now with the kids growing into actual people, with reality settling in—this is your life for the rest of your life. How tossing a young, unmated Omega basically at Jared’s feet is supposed to clear things up, Jared has no idea. Maybe that’s not the goal. Maybe Ruth has other plans already. Ruth always has plans.

Ackles catches him looking, again. Purses his mouth a little like he’s disappointed, but otherwise ignores—tells Glen, “No,” and grabs the toy out of the child’s hands. “It ain’t your turn. Let your brother play.” Glen cries. Glen always cries.

Ackles bends down with a dramatic sigh and picks up Jared’s girl to bounce her in his arms. Aiden keeps playing, unbothered. Ackles carries her over to Jared, who hurriedly pretends to be very busy with the work he laid out on the kitchen table.

“I—oh, uh—”

“You need Daddy, sweetheart? Aw, yeah, I know.”

Jared accepts the bawling child. Makes a face, but Ackles doesn’t have much mercy. You can’t, if you signed up for herding the five screaming toddlers of this household.

Jensen cups Glen’s head a last time. His fingers graze the back of Jared’s hand as he withdraws.

“Daddy’s taking care of you for a minute,” he says, and then he’s back with the other pups, like Jared is…God, a prop. Nice enough of Ackles to jump in, take up some hours even though Jared is technically present to watch his own children—but there’s five of them and only one of him. Rigged from the start.

He supplies the nice young man with coffee and snacks. A hasty glimpse to the clock—phew. Ruth isn’t gonna be home for another couple hours. Just Jensen and the kids and Jared. Ah. Someone yells. Someone starts crying. Jared hides in his home office.

Golden hour. Jared sighs, looks out the window—the nice neighborhood, the tended front yard, the Jeep. Ruth took the Benz. Important client, she said, like Jared is somehow supposed to keep track. The mansion up in the hills, you know, with the marble kitchen counters? They all have marble kitchen counters, for frick’s sake.

A knock on the door; must be Jensen. Jared’s kids don’t knock. “Yeah?”


“Oh, thank God. Yes, thank you. Thank you.”

“Here you go.”

“What would I do without you?” sighs Jared, drinking, and half of Jensen’s mouth lifts. He cradles a cup of his own and seats his cute little ass onto the corner of Jared’s desk.

“You’re working hard,” says Jensen, easy. Beautiful with his summer tan, the freckles, the messed-up collar of his polo shirt…

“I, uh, yes. Or, I try. It’s been going slow, even with you around…”

“They’re energetic,” helps Jensen. “I’ve had worse.” God, his smell. His ass on Jared’s table.

“You keep saying that.”

“It’s true. What, Mr. P, you say I’m lying to you?”

“No, of course not.”

Jensen teases, “Uh-huh,” around one of those darling smiles of his, and it’s all for Jared, and. Jesus. Jesus, he knows exactly what he’s doing to Jared. Must smell it. Must read it right off Jared’s pathetic face.

Jensen uncrosses his legs to recross them the other way. Jared figures he deserves a medal for not letting his eyes droop to where the denim surely shifts so tightly in that crotch.

“It’s, uh. Jared,” corrects Jared, in an afterthought.

Jensen smiles. “I know, sir.”

Ruth returns with a bottle of champagne and good news—she sold the mansion. Of course she did.

“Oh, you should have seen them.” She pops the bottle open in the kitchen, three children clinging to the hem of her skirt. She’s high on the success. She deserves it. “I knew it was a done deal when I saw her gasping at the view from the master bedroom.”

Jared busies the children while Ruth shares the champagne with Jensen—I can’t believe he made you come over, he couldn’t handle them himself? Oh, you’re such a darling, my husband can be such a baby sometimes; what would we do without you? Jensen smiles and sips. Jared catches him checking Jared out, playing horse.

Oh, Jared, you are a fool. A goddamned, stupid fool.

“Tell your mother we’ll be having ‘y’all’ for dinner this Wednesday—did I pronounce that right? I’m still not used to this place, forgive me…”

“You’re fine ma’am.”

“Tell her—my God, that clever little dessert she came up with last time? She has to bring it.” Ruth produces her cheque book from her purse and scribbles, rips it out to hand it over to a politely smiling Jensen. “You’re a blessing,” hears Jared, “don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs. P. I’ll let Mom know. Y’all have a good night.”

“See, you say it differently.”

Jared misses Jensen leaving. Half of the kids are glued to the TV. Ruth’s heels are loud on the tiles. She hushes Ellie even though she isn’t even upset and accepts the half-asleep child into her arms, cradles her.

“Did you have a nice time, my dear? Was Uncle Jensen nice to you, yes?”

They fuck, that night. Jared doesn’t even know why, or how. Her, being drunk and provoking, maybe. Jared, replaying how Ethan had tugged on Jensen’s tit today, made him hiss (no, I’m not your momma, baby; there’s no milk for you).

It’s fast and effective as all Hell. Rough in the way Ruth always is, demanding and rewarding and Jared’s ears ring when they’re finally tied after weeks of nothing, when he’s pulsing and his head is empty for once and it feels—good, with her. Always has. But that’s not the point. They were always good in bed.

Ruth comes down; her lashes drag. Her breathing stays ragged, her nails tickle over his back, into his hairline.

“What are you thinking about, darling?”

Jared grunts. She tugs at his hair a little firmer. “Nothing.”


“Baby, I’m still inside you—you think I’m capable of thinking?”

She says, “Fair,” and allows him to nuzzle her throat, lets him drag his teeth over her scent gland. God, her scent. It’s good. That’s good. Focus on that. “No marks,” she reminds, sharp. Jared obliges. Of course.

He rocks them together. Full of him, their babies asleep in the next room over. Jensen, cooing: you need Daddy to hold you, baby? Come on, let’s see where Daddy is.

Jared kisses his mate’s neck, her clavicle. Her chest, the necklace he got her for Christmas a few years ago, her breasts. The milk is almost gone. Doc said it’s natural with the sterilization—Ruth is relieved, she says. Jared wonders how Jensen would look, swollen with it.

“Marge called,” muses Ruth, letting him kiss and scent-mark his fill. “She invited us to their summer house, the one by the lake, you remember?” Jared hums non-committal. “I said we’d be there. Haven’t seen the old hag in ages.”

Jared comes up to kiss his wife on the mouth. Churns into her with his knot still too massive to do anything, but the illusion is nice. Maybe another round, if he times it right. He thinks to ask: “When?”

“Two weeks over. Thursday to Sunday.”

“Baby—” He frowns. She frowns right back. “You know I—I have an important evaluation that Friday. I can’t miss it.”

“If Paul can miss every other meeting in favor of his daughter’s silly little ballet plays, you can miss one ‘evaluation’ for your wife and children, Jared.”

Jared scoffs.


“You say ‘evaluation’ like I made it up.”

“It’s not my fault your employer uses ridiculous phrases.”

Jared scoffs again, sighs. “Great. Okay.”

“What? What did I do now?”

“Nothing,” lies Jared. “I’m tired.”

“As you are,” snaps Ruth. “Wonderful. You know, maybe I should just grab the kids and go see my friend on my own, so you have all the time in the world for your incredibly important work!”

Jared tells her, “Maybe you should,” and he realizes too late that this was another trap. That he was not supposed to agree.

His Omega glares at him. If they weren’t tied, Ruth would get up and leave. She’s done it before. Or sent Jared to sleep on the couch.

Jared’s knot falters. He slips out of his wife without further comment and pulls his pajamas back on. He grabs his pillow and sheets and drags both downstairs onto the living room couch. She won’t apologize. Jared wouldn’t demand it of her.


A daze. The flowers Jared bought for Ruth (who snappishly accepted them) slowly begin to droop with neglect in their gigantic crystal vase on the kitchen table.

Jensen plucks at them, helps them.

“A little vacation could be nice,” he says. Jared hums into his coffee. His blueprints. “Some guy time. TV and beer, no kids? That can be fun.”

(Said kids are hypnotized by animated firefighter dogs on the TV screen. The latter isn’t as attractive to Jared anymore after falling asleep in front of it too many times lately.) “I don’t know. I’ll probably just catch up on work.”

“I could come over. Kick back with you, relax a little,” offers Jensen, easy. “You work hard enough. And I literally don’t know what to do with myself without your rascals running around my feet.”

“You’re—” (Insane. All I ever wanted. Smelling like you want me to get you pregnant, oh my God, brain, please…!) “—ridiculous, buddy. Come on, you surely have way better options than hanging out with boring old me… You’re in your best years, why don’t you enjoy your summer away from school, live a little?” and Jared hates that when he looks up, Jensen is just as precious as he always was, even as the snotty kid Jared barely remembers, and he looks at Jared like he wants to eat him, and. Jared can’t deal with it. Any of it. Of Jensen, playing him like a fiddle. Dangling him like a toy.

“I’m old enough to decide these things for myself, don’t you think?” and Jared swallows, nods. God, Jensen. Jensen freaking Ackles. “If you don’t want me around, just tell me.”

“No. No, I—that’s not it. I just really need to get this project done,” Jared tries, half-laughing, a desperate plea. Jensen considers. Oh, that cruel face of his.

Eventually, “Hm,” and, softer, “you really work too much, sir,” and Jared can laugh and wave him off and they might arrange a date of some sorts, that afternoon. Jared doesn’t remember, too nervous, too anything. Everything. He’s got enough fantasies going on as is, even without Jensen explicitly throwing himself at him. For Jared, it suffices to keep it all safe and locked up in his head. Helps to make the days a little shorter, lately. Only a few more weeks left until Jensen will return to campus, halfway across state… They’ll have to find a new babysitter. Jared’s getting migraines just thinking about it.

Jared’s phone buzzes that night while Ruth and he are bathing the kids. Jared doesn’t get a chance to check it until after they’re done and Ruth tucks the last ones in and Jared beelines for the bathroom, a nice, hot shower before bed—just a quick glance, maybe an email from work, and, Jesus freaking Christ.

The door is in Jared’s back and he presses against it in order to stay upright.

A picture. A caption—‘can’t wait for tomorrow’—and Jared texts back immediately:

Jensen, you got the wrong number

Jared’s heart pounds because—Jesus, he can’t look away from that flawless ass, naked and smooth and that toy looks massive

Jensen is typing. (Their earlier exchanges above—can you come over today? I’m so sorry it’s so short notice but I’m DROWNING out here / course, no problem. be there in 5 (: / omg thank you.)

I appreciate the cuteness
but I think we’re past that

Jared stares at his phone. That photo, still, slowly pushing up and away with the new texts coming in. Jared is already soaked from bathing his pups but the sweat sets in now, big time.

you let me wait long enough

The doorknob twists against his elbow and Jared nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What are—Jared, are you in there?”

They shower together. Ruth doesn’t question why her husband picks her up and fucks her against the tiled wall, but she does go a little softer, a little melancholic, in bed. Smiling and cuddling and they’re both beat, but it feels—nice. Like it used to be. Jared kisses his Omega’s head. She chuckles. Scratches through his chest hair.

“Maybe I should threaten to abandon you more often if this is how you show you’re missing me.”


“And you are sure you don’t want to come?”

Jared shakes his head, rubs Aiden’s soft-soft cheek through the rolled-down window. “Positive. Y’all take care, all right? Be nice to your sisters, Aiden.”

A chorus of Daddy! and come with us! but Jared declines, chuckles, gives Ruth a last smooch. She smiles, enjoys being held in his arms.

“Have fun with your calculator then, dear.”

“Tell Marge I’ll make sure to come next time, all right?”

Ruth’s eyebrow raises. “I’d rather not lie to my friends.”

She claps Jared’s ass before she circles the car. A last round of goodbyes. The small ones wave out of the back window until Jared can’t see them anymore. Probably longer.

Jared sighs. Alone in the driveway. Wow. They’re really…gone.

Jared’s eyes pan across the street; the Ackles’ house. A tug to his stomach—oh, Lord, he better hurry back inside before Ackles catches wind of Ruth’s departure.

Inside, locked door. Jared stands. Stupid. With the Jeep gone, him being alone is rather obvious, isn’t it?

Eventually, Jared fixes himself a cup of coffee and returns to his work. Hours pass. Lackluster lunch. Jensen is yet to turn up. Did they even mention a time? Did Jared maybe hallucinate all of it? He checks the chat again—nope, there is that picture, as aneurysm-inducing as it was last night. Jared groans, turns the display off, puts the phone face-down. Elbows on the table, glasses off; he rubs his face, up into his hair. Jesus. Jesus, Padalecki, you are in so much trouble.

Past five. Jared knows because it’s one of the last cognitive actions of today that he checks the clock—doorbell. Jared’s stomach sinks. He can’t not answer, though.

Downstairs. No second ringing. Jared cringes for the blurry silhouette behind their stained-glass front door. Can’t possibly be anyone else. Jared unlocks and opens anyway.

Ackles looks—like a dream. Soft and tanned from a lazy day and he looks straight at Jared and doesn’t say a word. Hands in his pockets—God, those jeans. Jared is speechless. He must tell the Omega to leave. Now.

Jensen steps forward and Jared lets him in. Closes the door.

His heart races. So many thoughts, so many—

Jared is still clasping the doorknob as Jensen grabs him between the legs and squeezes.

Jared blinks.

Jensen doesn’t. “Hm,” he says. “She’s gone, right?”

“Right.” Jared clears his throat. It doesn’t help. “You, uh—wait, wait a second, let’s, uh, let’s talk about this, Jensen,” and a weak grip to Jensen’s wrist, the warm, silken skin of it…

Oh, God, Jensen’s scent.

Soft, measured: “No. I don’t think so.”

Jared begins, “Jen,” but doesn’t get much farther thanks to Jensen, grabbing Jared’s free hand and slipping it under his shirt for him, makes Jared cup one of his almost-flat tits, skin on skin. Keeps it there. Makes Jared feel it.

Jensen hums, “Tell me to leave,” and Jared attempts to swallow, move; anything. “Go on. Tell me, Alpha.”

“J-Jesus—Jesus Christ, Jensen…!”

Jensen’s mouth curves with a smile. “That’s what I thought.”

They kiss. Jared cannot tell who initiated but it’s happening, and Jensen tastes—God, he tastes better and sweeter than the best thing Jared ever dared to imagine. That hand is still grabbing his dick through his jeans and Jared feels it twitching alive, feels his body reacting. Jensen flattens his hand and hums into Jared’s mouth, rubs his palm firmly up and down to encourage further. Jared’s hand is still cupped over that breast. Jensen’s soft-soft nipple stiffens.

“Touch me,” sighs Jensen, crowding Jared further in. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna tell.”

Jared groans. Jensen kisses his chin, presses his tit into his palm. Jared’s hand squeezes on its own accord and oh, oh it’s soft, it’s tiny and perfect and Jared wants to see it. Mark it. Own it.

“Been thinking about your hands.”

Jensen slowly releases Jared’s hand (which doesn’t go anywhere) and rubs his hairy forearm instead. Warm and soft and he kisses behind Jared’s ear, and Jared feels—God, not even in his wildest dreams did he imagine…!

“Been thinking about you in general. A lot.”

Jared groans, helpless. Gets his dick kneaded, gets Jensen basically climbing him where they stand, still in the hallway; Jared’s other hand now finding the darling arch of that lower back, right above Jensen’s ass…

“’Bout how you look at me. Undressing me with your eyes while I feed your babies.”


“You’re such a tease. Look at what desperate measures you force me to take…! I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Jared groans; Jensen tilts his hips, entices Jared to grab, feel him up. Jared does. Groans more. God. Weeks of dreaming of it, imagining it… Jared firms his fingers and rubs them straight between Jensen’s cheeks, and he’s so so hot here, even through the denim…!

Jensen huffs, “There you go,” and Jared kisses him this time, definitely.

Oh, this is bad. This is so, so bad.

The next thing Jared knows is that he heaves Jensen onto the kitchen island and that they’re pushing spit back and forth, growling. That Jensen heats faster than Jared can get his jeans open for him, that he’s still (again) groping the Omega’s tits, that Jensen’s legs are parted so Jared can fit between them, grind himself here.

The jeans are tight; it’s a struggle. Jensen gasps with his feet in the air because Jared yanks him like he needs him, drops right to his knees and buries his face where—oh, he won’t recover from this, ever—Jensen is already slick and so so smooth, perfect and ready, and Jared sucks his mouth over it and eats at it, moans; it’s everything. Soft from use, from Jensen, getting ready, riding that huge-ass toy from the photo, making sure Jared can easily push up inside.

He hears Jensen curse, feels his breath hitching, his legs kicking the jeans off for good. Both of Jared’s hands on those tits now and Jensen’s moan is strangled like he’s tipped his head way back, overwhelmed—Jared can scent it. How fucking hot Jensen is for it. For him. Because of him.

“Fuck, yeah… It’s yours, Alpha, it’s all yours…!”

Jared growls into Jensen’s cunt. Laps deep into it, firm tongue, chasing the honey of Omega slick. Unclaimed, available, fertile…! Jared’s cock pulses fat against the inside of his zipper.

Jensen whines, “I need it,” and moves against Jared’s hard-working mouth. Air on Jared’s hands, so maybe Ackles is stripping out of his shirt—yes, he is; Jared comes up growling, laps hard oner one nipple before he claims Jensen’s mouth again, feeds his own taste back to him. Jensen moans, up on his elbows, his mouth all pink-feeling with the heat of it; the tiny mounds of his tits in Jared’s too-big hands, Jared’s still-clothed crotch ruining itself against that off-the-edge-hanging ass, Jared’s hips already churning like they’re fucking. God, he wants that. Needs that.

“Yes,” babbles Jensen, struggling to stay on his elbows, to help Jared with getting his zipper down, his dick out, “yes, oh fuck, do it, do it…!”

Jensen is all peaches and cream inside, lets Jared push up so so deep right away—clenches and yelps, surprised, as Jared hauls back to bull right up his sensitive, tiny pussy, stretches its drippy mouth right out with the massive girth of his cock and feeds it to the hilt, draws back to hump even deeper, makes Jensen take all of it. Both sphincters cling tight to Jared’s cock and drag on the downstrokes, and Jensen whines again, overfull, and sucks on Jared’s tongue while he bangs him out, kneads one flushed-pink tit, grunts into Jensen’s mouth.

“Fuck, you’re big, you’re so so big…!”

Jared growls, curves lower over the O. Fucks him open, balls-deep. He’s gonna knot this bitch. No questions.

Jensen mewls, lets Jared have at it. Claws into Jared’s hair to keep him sucking his tit and whimpers about yes, yes; fuck, you’re so deep, don’t stop, own that pussy, and Jared blindly obliges. Twenty-one, so sweet, so tender…! Perfect age for marriage, for pups, and Jared realizes together with a hard throb of his cock that he’s bare inside, that there is nothing to catch the steady stream of his precome and that he’s rubbing it right into Jensen’s cervix—no heat but there is always that off-chance, and it gets Jared even harder, even wetter. He bites the tit in his mouth hard enough to make Jensen yelp before he switches to the other, repeats. He wants him sore. Wants him so stupid with it he can’t keep talking.

Sobby, “I’m coming,” and Jared slaps into him that much harder, knocks the air out of Ackles. Kisses him, laps at him—Jensen’s chaotic breath, the pinch of his brows, the heat of his mouth…!

Jared’s knot begins to fill in-synch with Jensen’s insides, seizing the fuck up.

Jensen shakes. Pants open-mouthed against Jared’s teeth, his body twitching and milking and eating Jared right up.

“In me,” he breathes, “breed me, do it,” like there was an ounce of debate left from the moment he rang that freaking doorbell.

Jared might be a generous decade older than Jensen, but his knot pops like he’s a teen all over again. They’re tied before Jensen is even done coming and he grinds back onto it, chases the stretch and tries to knock Jared around in him just that little bit longer—Jared lets him, unable to move with the bliss of it, of Jensen’s tight, young body pulsing around him, letting Jared tuck his cock so so deep.

A first, full throb and Jensen gasps, “Oh my God,” because apparently he felt it, and Jared pushes him flat to his back for good, his own elbows on the counter now, framing the Omega. Jared grunts against Jensen’s tongue—fucks at it, rolls his hips as he unloads, massive spurt after spurt. He ducks when the worst is over, tends to Ackles’ tits again. Squeezes them with his hands so he can suck the pink tips easier, can work them even puffier, even sorer. Jensen trembles underneath him. Groans, “Yeah,” and, “you love ’em, don’t you? All yours. I’ll let you play with ’em as much as you want.”

God, if there was milk—Jensen couldn’t be much more perfect but if there was milk, Jared would…! He doesn’t even know. It doesn’t matter.

Jared’s balls clench less and less until they stop entirely. Satisfied. Jared hums. Kisses Jensen’s waiting mouth again, makes it wet. Jensen’s ankles are crossed over Jared’s ass as if Jared would (or could) go anywhere. Jensen coos, soft. They take Jared’s shirt off together.

“Fuck… You’re just not fair.”

Jensen rubs circles through Jared’s chest hair. Sighs sweet for more kisses, more tongue. Moans, deep, for Jared, circling his hips.

“So deep,” he whispers, starstruck. “You got me so full with you.”


More kisses. Jared grinds lazy, plucks at Jensen’s tits. Jensen has his arms around Jared’s neck, a tender cling.

Jared’s eyes are closed. Oh, Heaven. “Hmmmm… Fuck…”

“As good as you imagined?”

Jared groans, guilty.

The pullout is beautiful—Ackles’ hole clings to Jared’s cock, barely as blown-out as it should be after a fuck like this. Merely a shy spill of Jared’s come; the rest swelling him up where it belongs, apparently… God, Jared’s nuts clench. He’s still mostly hard. He grabs himself, hisses for the sensitivity.

“Let me,” he hears, and Ackles has climbed off the counter and sunk to his knees before Jared’s whiplashed brain can process what is happening.

Jared moans, overwhelmed—the hot-hot velvet of Jensen’s mouth, his tongue, his perfect lips closing and wrapping and sucking…!

“Shit, slow…! Oh my God. Oh God.”

Jensen, the devil, chuckles around Jared’s glans. Laves and taps his tongue all around the sensitive head, no hands needed with how Jared holds himself with shaking fingers. One hand on the table for support, head hanging so he can watch—Jensen, humming, closing his pretty eyes and bobbing his mouth on Jared’s still-twitchy dick. Cleans him up. Keeps him hard. Both.

“I’ve dreamed of your taste, you know.”

Jared groans. Can’t look away.

Jensen pulls off to speak, rubs his pursed lips along the veined shaft. Eyes up to Jared, focused, glinting.

“I seriously can’t believe you let me wait for so long.”

Jared half-jokes, “Sorry,” and Jensen sucks him back down. Only halfway but God it’s good, Ruth hadn’t done this in so long… Worshipping. Relishing. Jensen purrs, pleased, clearly enjoying this. God, his cute little tits…

“You’re not allowed to come anywhere but inside me, understand?”

Jared groans.

“Not my mouth, not my face, not my tits. Well…maybe on my tits.”

“Fuck, get your ass on my couch, right now…!”

Jensen laughs but obliges.

He hasn’t even fully gathered his knees and elbows on the cushions before Jared’s already mounting him, fills him up in one, smooth thrust. The Omega yelps cute and does his best to present, wriggles under Jared’s weight while Jared knocks him full, growls warningly in his ear, wraps one hand around Jensen’s throat from below.

Jensen gasp-laughs, “Fuck,” and Jared buries his teeth in that darling shoulder, makes Ackles tense up head to toe. His cunt pulses tight and Jared fucks right through the tension, rides the high. Jensen moans, gives himself over. Good bitch. Yes.

Jensen’s ass squelches increasingly loud around the come Jared keeps fucking out of him. He whines like he’s embarrassed—his scent says otherwise.

“You love it? Being so full you can’t keep it in?”

Jensen moans, “Yes,” under Jared, gets jostled with every thrust.

“You’ll be so open when I’m done with you—gonna need to plug you up so you don’t leak all over yourself—!”

“Fuck, yeah, yes; Alpha, Jared, yes!”

Oh, how Jared can picture it—Jensen, plugged and wet, tending to the children, desperate for his Alpha to fuck him full with yet another, knot him on every chance they can steal during the day, during nap time, during TV time…!

Jensen comes spectacularly, hands-free once more. Shudders apart on Jared’s cock that keeps ramming into him mercilessly, makes him soft and pliant inside. He babbles nonsense; his eyes roll when Jared bites him again, when Jared wraps his arms around him from below to rut into him harder from behind, a mean, milking pinch to one reachable nipple, pebbled and hot between Jared’s rough fingers…!

Jared makes the young thing sob on his knot. Pulls back with it nearly swollen all the way, has to truly force it back inside. Jensen gulps for it, grabs at his own dick for it, strokes quick and wet and, “Fuck, fuck!” comes again, just like that, on Jared tying to him.

Jared grits his teeth, bumps his cock deep. His balls pump hard. Jensen collapses completely, just his ass held up by their tie. He blabbers, huffs. His golden hair hangs into his eyes, finally beginning to look disheveled—good. Jared wants him that way.

Jensen reaches over his own shoulder, pets—flinches. “Fuck… You bit me.”


“Fuck.” Jared watches the O gingerly feeling over the indents of his teeth. Jared’s half-dried spit. DNA. “Fuck,” muffled, strained, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Jensen is such a wet dream. Insatiable, hungry—Jared could tell right away, that first time Ruth had dragged him over to their house: you remember Jensen, dear? He’s back home for summer and I was wondering, since I started picking up more work and he’s such a nice young man, don’t you think we could support his little college fund in exchange for him watching the babies? I’ve got experience, I have a baby sister, sir—those lashes, the pepper of freckles across his nose, the light flush from the merciless Texan sun, not a virgin, not by a stretch, but smelling like home, like something that should belong to Jared, that Jared should (no, must) keep…!

Jared’s nuts empty the last trickles of his come into Jensen’s still-flexing pussy. Their tie shifts as Jared dips low to kiss where he bit and between Jensen’s shoulders, next—Jensen sighs, hums. Fingers tickle around the wet base of Jared’s cock from below before they grab lower, engulf Jared’s sack—tug, gently but decisively, enough to make Jared groan and twitch. He snarls to stop it, fuck and Jensen snickers into the couch. Stops squeezing but doesn’t let go altogether.

“Don’t you dare go weak on me. You’re far from done, old man.”

Jared buries his forehead against Ackles’ spine and chuckles his exhale. Yeah: only Thursday afternoon. No. No, they haven’t even started yet.