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Got Your Hands on Me

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Jensen feels the weight of Jared's hand come down on the back of his neck and he shudders.

He's not taking the whole weight of Jared's arm, the hand isn't grabbing him, fingers aren't digging into his skin. Jared's hand is just… there. And that's all Jensen needs.

They're walking, only close enough that they knock shoulders every now and again, but Jared's hand on his neck keeps them in constant contact. Jared's other hand is holding his phone to his ear and he's talking to someone – Jensen thinks it's Tom but Jared hasn't felt the need to tell him just as Jensen hasn't felt the need to ask. There are certain friends of his that Jared likes to keep Jensen separate from, even in name. It's just one of Jared's little proclivities that he has, and just one of the many things Jensen loves about him.

The phone call ends and Jared offers nothing, just keeps his hand on Jensen's neck.




A bell rings as Jared pushes the door of the diner open and they both head inside. In his own time Jensen prefers to sit down at a café for lunch or else he'll get something to go, but Jared says he likes this place so Jensen goes along with it without protest. He follows as Jared heads across the floor and they seat themselves in a corner booth – it means they can sit closer together without the span of a table-top between them. Jensen hates that almost as much as Jared does.

The seats are worn green vinyl, thankfully not so plastic-y that they squeak every time they move. Jared takes a menu and flips through it half-heartedly, his left hand dropping under the table and fitting itself around the meat of Jensen's thigh. He rubs a little over the surface of Jensen's jeans, and Jensen takes a shaky breath when Jared's hand stills and his ring and pinkie fingers stop on the edge of too close to the crease of his groin. The waitress approaches but neither of them moves.

"What can I get you gents?" she asks with a smile, eyes darting between them.

"We'll take two chocolate milkshakes," Jared speaks up, "The corn fritter stack and the fish burger, thanks."

She notes down the order and hurries back toward the kitchen, but not before Jensen sees the curiousness flash across her face. No doubt she's wondering what to make of them, if there's a reason Jensen didn't give his own order – is he 'slow'? Or maybe he's got terrible laryngitis?

Jensen's thoughts are about to head to that insecure place when a sharp squeeze of his upper thigh has him focussing back on Jared's large presence along his right side.

"Does it really matter to you? Does it matter what she's thinking right now?"

He stares at his lap, stares at the long fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans into the flesh underneath. His dick threatens to swell.

"No. Of course it doesn't matter. But—"

"Who, then? Who matters?"

"Only you," Jensen says through a long breath. He can feel rather than see Jared's bright smile, and it warms him. The waitress is already a distant memory.




Jensen can't help the hum of content from rising up, and he feels the answering tug of Jared's fingers in his hair.

Jared doesn't pull, though. At that moment he doesn't need to.

Jensen has the perfect mouthful. Jared's cock is fully ensconced in his mouth – the head just starting to nudge into his throat, while the course hair of Jared's abdomen tickles at his nose. He loves to take Jared in while his cock is still mostly soft, then feel the flesh twitch and swell and grow while it sits on the flat of his tongue. He likes to hold the full length of it between his lips for as long as he can, the hanging weight of Jared's balls bumping lightly at his chin.

He breathes steadily through his nose, calm and focussed, but he can't hold it forever. Jared at full hardness is just that slight bit too big. Even taking his cock down deep into his throat, blocking his airflow and making his eyes water, Jensen can't quite manage the whole thing. And Jared doesn't mind, he tells him so, but fuck, Jensen knows how much Jared loves it when he still tries.

Fingers card gently through his hair, stopping now and then to cup the back of Jensen's head and ease him down just a tad, keeping him full of Jared's cock for as long as possible. It's all too soon that they reach that point, Jensen's lungs starting to burn, lips stretched wide around Jared's full girth. That point is where Jensen needs a little help, and Jared obliges.

He scrunches the longest threads of Jensen's hair through his fingers and takes a firm hold. Jensen unwraps his hands from behind his back and grips onto Jared's legs. Then Jared takes over. He changes the angle of his hips slightly and uses his hold on Jensen's head to force him down. He does it again and again and Jensen's gag reflex kicks in each time, contracting his throat into a coughing motion and catching the flared head of Jared's cock with each thrust.

It's just as he starts to get dizzy that Jared pulls back.

Jensen looks up from where he sits on his knees. His face is a mess of tears and saliva and puffy red lips.

He keeps his lips parted wide in case Jared wants to go back in for more.




They're at a bar with Jensen's friends – Danneel, Steve, Chris, Jason, and a bunch of others are all within shouting distance. He won't see any of them for the next month or so. Jared's got a work thing on the other side of the country, and since Jensen can work from wherever his laptop is Jared expects him to go along. Really, Jensen would be upset if he didn't.

Chris, though. He's always been the protective sort, and he always makes a point of watching where and how Jared puts his hands on him. Jensen gets that he doesn't like it, but, as Jared has said, he doesn't have to.

Some of the others are having a round of shots and on any other night Jensen might have joined in, but they're travelling tomorrow and Jared had already capped him at two beers before they'd even stepped foot in the bar. So, when Chris looks at him, shotglass in hand and eyebrow raised in question, Jensen shakes his head no. Chris purses his lips, nods, and looks away again.

A moment later the press of lips makes contact with the back of his neck.

He doesn't need to look to know who the culprit is. Nor does he need words to hear the unspoken so good for me that automatically plays through his mind as the lips pull away again.




There are certain perks to 'living' in a hotel for several weeks. Namely the promise of clean sheets.

Jared's already come once on his face (including his pillow), and Jensen's come twice onto both his stomach and the mattress. Now Jared's looking to match him. He's got Jensen pressed onto his stomach, Jensen's spent dick pressed uncomfortably underneath him, and Jared has his weight along the length of Jensen's back, shallow thrusts pushing his cock in and out of Jensen's hole in short increments.

It's almost maddening, how determined Jared is to take his time. He wants to scream his frustration, but Jared had suggested that they should be quiet tonight – Jensen hasn't said a single word, and the extent of Jared's vocabulary has been limited to 'bed', 'hands', and 'don't move'. Jensen's always happier to obey than not, even if frustration is the outcome. He'd rather that than to be the cause of Jared's disappointment, which he knows is about the worst feeling there is.

So when Jared's cock starts grazing over his prostate he just bites into the pillow, letting the down soak up his desperation. He doesn't know how many minutes pass, only that his awareness drifts back and forth, until finally Jared shudders and comes, biting into the back of his neck to muffle the sound of it. Jensen has to hold back a sound of his own at the feeling of Jared's cock pulsing inside him, and then Jared's suddenly pulling away and heading into the bathroom.

His hole is both dripping and tender, and he jumps at the shock of a cold cloth being pressed against him. Jared cleans him efficiently, then there's a dull thump as the cloth is thrown to the floor.

"Don't move," Jared says quietly, repeating his last words from earlier. And that's all he says as he slips under the covers and gets himself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

He's close enough though that Jensen can feel the heat of his body, and that's all he would ask for – both of them are hot sleepers and prefer to remain with a little space between them. But then a hand comes down on the back of Jensen's neck again, a thumb lightly soothing Jared's bite mark there – he didn't pierce the skin so far as Jensen can tell, but it's definitely going to bruise. And that thought sends a quick thrill up his spine.

It takes time for him to settle again without moving, but eventually he manages it, despite lying in the wet spot. He just focusses on the bite, on the skin-warmth of Jared's knee where it's not quite making contact with his lower back, the steady breathing from across the mattress.

He fantasises about moving closer, wrapping himself in Jared's long limbs, but that's all it is. Jared told him not to move, and he won't. Jensen will even wake up in exactly the same position if he has anything to say about it.

He forces his mind to relax and fall into sleep. He wonders where Jared will touch him tomorrow.