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To Have and To Hold

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He could feel it, that electric tickle on the back of his neck.

Someone was watching him.

Looking up from his textbook, Jensen used the excuse of leaning down to grab something from his backpack to take a look around. It was early evening so the library was packed, people milling around, chatting quietly, researching, writing papers… He tried to be subtle about it, but even so he didn't catch anyone in the act of staring. Not obviously, anyway.

Turning back to his homework, the 'itch' immediately returned and he sighed in defeat. He kept his eyes peeled as he moved to pack up his stuff and head back to his dorm room, but still no one stood out from the crowd.


He noticed it several more times over the following week, that sensation of unknown eyes on his back, watching his every move. It was enough that he mentioned it to his friends, but they all brushed it off with a laugh.

"You're just stressed."

"You're hallucinating."

"It's pre-pre-exam stress!"

"Maybe you should get that checked out."

"You're being paranoid, Jen," Chris had assured him, patting him firmly on the shoulder, "I mean, not that I'm sayin' noone's lookin', 'cause I'm sure they are. You're too good lookin' for your own good, despite those geeky glasses you wear. But what I mean is that if you actually had a genuine stalker, you'd probably know it by now. Those fuckers are the type of crazy that just can't stay away. When you start getting anonymous letters or your shit starts getting stolen, then we can talk."

Chris might have been his best friend, but he wasn't exactly the most comforting kind of guy. Still, Jensen figured that perhaps he was right. People liked to look at other people, it was perfectly normal, so maybe he was just overreacting.


But the feeling kept coming back.

He tried to track when and where it would happen, but even that didn't give him any clues. Sometimes he was walking to class on his own. Sometimes he was sitting with his friends at lunch. Sometimes he was typing on his laptop in a busy coffee shop next to the college campus.

For his own sanity Jensen was starting to think outside the box, starting to wonder if maybe he'd acquired a ghost or some sort of invisible being that was haunting him. Oddly enough the thought gave him some peace, though he was the only one that thought that way.

"Stress finally got to you, huh?"

"Ooooh-kay, so you've finally cracked."

"Now you really should get that checked out."

"Have you thought about taking some time off?"

His friends were unsympathetic fuckwits, clearly, but then something happened out of the blue.

He saw him.

Only for a second, and only from a distance, and he didn't get a clear look, but… somehow he just knew it was the right guy.

He was tall and slim with hair to just above his shoulders. Jensen didn't think he'd ever seen the guy before, but with only a back-view and no face to put to memory, he couldn't even be sure of that. Still, it meant his ghost theory likely had to go out the window. He tried not to be sad about it.


Not one to be outdone, Jensen decided he could be sneaky too. He started sitting in corner tables at the coffee shop, making sure he was one of the last to leave the lecture hall once class was over, and ducking behind bushes and down corridors unexpectedly when he was on his way somewhere. He began seeing his 'stalker' more often after that, though only ever from a distance and never long enough to get a good look at his face.

It frustrated him to no end and was taking up way too much of his time and energy. Even his friends had called him out on it, despite not really knowing what he was up to (though Chris had his suspicions). But it didn't stop him from carrying out his plan. He started getting better at catching glimpses of the guy, until eventually he caught a break. A real, actual break.

He got a perfect (and handsome) side view as the guy was turning away, his expression suggesting he'd lost sight of Jensen and wasn't sure where to go next.

Putting on his detective cap, Jensen stealthily followed him across campus and over to the arts building, and decided that that probably explained why he'd never seen the guy before. Jensen was studying sports medicine, which meant he had no reason to mingle with the art kids. Danneel was studying something fashion related and he tended to only ever see her on weekends. With mixed feelings he watched from a few dozen feet away as his mark disappeared into the building and out of sight.

Jensen sighed. So he had an arts major with half a face and no name. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd started out with.


He'd been planning to quiz Danneel about his mystery man the next time he saw her, but things came to a head much sooner than expected and he didn't get the chance.

It was only two days after his minor breakthrough- he was just leaving a lecture (last one out the door this time, not including the professor) when he ran straight into someone who was speeding down the hallway. Their shoulders connected, and Jensen started to spin, but then he felt the brush of fingers across the back of his hand and suddenly he was pulled to a stop. He found himself face-to-face with a pair of hazel eyes, a sharp nose, and hair of a particular length. After pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose things quickly clicked into place.



The guy half-smiled, then looked away awkwardly, eyes downcast.

Jensen noticed the slight movement of his hand and looked down to find it cradled in the gentle grip of another – another hand that happened to be attached to his stalker. His grossly cute stalker.

"You can let go of my hand now," Jensen mumbled, curious about the oddly delicate way in which his hand was being held. But then it was gone in a flurry of limbs and jumbled apologies, the guy stepping away and wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll just—"

"Before you go anywhere, I'd say you owe me an explanation or something, wouldn't you? I don't even know who you are, yet you've been following me for weeks."

"Oh. Well, umm…" He fidgeted, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. "I'm Jared. I'm studying fine arts. I draw a lot – graphite and charcoal mainly – but I sculpt as well."

"Keep talking."

"So, um, I… might have a little obsession with hands. More specifically your hands. Sorry 'bout that."

Jensen frowned, confused. "Wait, my hands? The fuck."

"I saw you in the library once, writing and typing. I couldn't tear my eyes away, they were just so… Perfect. Masculine but still refined. Dexterous, strong, and not clumsy even when you're doing something carelessly like picking a pen up off the floor."

"Meaning all these weeks you've been stalking me over my hands?"

Jared bit his lip, his weight shifting side to side like he was on the verge of running off. "Umm, mostly?"

Not sure what to make of it all, and still trying to take in Jared's little revelations, Jensen's patience was coming to an end.

"Okay look, I'm gonna go now. I'm a bit creeped out and—"

"Do you think maybe I could draw you sometime? Just your hands, I mean. I could just sit in the corner and watch you or something, so I wouldn’t be a bother. Pretty please?"

"I don’t think… Oh, Christ, I need some air. And don't follow me!"


"Hey, Jensen, do you think—"

"No. Go away."


"Jensen! I was hoping—"

"No. Leave me alone."


"Jensen, please. Just one little—"

"Holy crap. I already told you, no!"


"Please, please, just once and I'll—"

"Fine! Goddamit, yes, fine, whatever."

"You… Wait, really?"


Jensen found himself giving in more and more often after that. Jared was wearing him down.

They would find an empty classroom somewhere and Jensen would attempt to do homework while Jared looked on from the other side of the table, sketching furiously. He was still a bit bothered about the whole thing, Jared being 'obsessed' with him and Jensen giving in to his whims to stare at his hands some more, but in the end there was no real harm being done, right? They were just sitting together for a while, doing their own thing. They rarely talked, no more than they had to. Just greetings and farewells and not much else. But somehow the silence between them had reached a place where it was almost comfortable – whatever awkwardness or tension there had been initially had faded over time and now Jensen thought it was almost… nice.

He wasn't really sure how to react to his own feelings. He wanted to be annoyed at himself for giving in to Jared's endless requests, he wanted to hate Jared for putting him in this position and stealing so much of his time and his thoughts. He'd barely spent any time with his own friends in recent weeks. But… there was something to be admired in the way Jared was so intense about his work, about Jensen's hands. Unwittingly, Jensen started paying less attention to the actual homework he was supposed to be distracting himself with, and instead started paying more attention to Jared. He'd already gotten past the fact that his 'admirer' was cute, but it was more than that now.

Jensen was beginning to take pleasure in Jared's watching him – even if it was just his hands. Having such concentrated attention upon himself, such focus… More than once he'd noticed Jared adjusting himself under the table, and more than once he'd had to use his sketchbook to hide the tenting of his pants when they'd gotten up to leave. Jensen was… starting to feel turned on by Jared being turned on. It had the potential for being a very vicious cycle.

"Jared," he croaked, watching as Jared was jerked from his point of focus and slowly drawn up to Jensen's face, "Would you wanna look more up close? Touch them maybe?"

Jared's jaw dropped, his eyes popping open as he made a face somewhat reminiscent of a goldfish.

"You… you'd let me touch them?"

The glaze that slipped over Jared's eyes had Jensen wondering if he'd made a very dangerous mistake.

"Yeah. I offered didn't I?"

Very nearly falling off his chair, Jared got to his feet and moved to Jensen's side of the table. He knelt down and took Jensen's hands in his own, holding them so gently, as if they were precious treasures. Jensen had to swallow down his gasp as he watched Jared's dick grow from inside his jeans, bulging the fabric outward in a way that was unmistakable.

"You really get off on this don't you?"

He hadn't meant for the words to actually come out, but then Jared suddenly froze and began to pull away.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Jared. Seriously… I get it. And it's okay, okay?"

"You mean it?"

"I mean… I guess it's a bit weird. But not as weird as it could be, right? There are people out there with really bizarre fetishes, proper creepy shit, but this isn't one of them. Hands is like, small beans."

"If you're sure…"

Jared went on to say something about wanting to sculpt Jensen's hands with clay, then something about a major project for class, but the words got buried amongst Jared's stream-of-consciousness outpouring of chatter. Jensen stopped attempting to understand what he was going on about and just let the words roll over him, instead focusing on Jared himself and the way he continued to hold Jensen's hands. He turned them over and over, back and forth, lightly running his thumbs along the dips of Jensen's palms, then tracing fingertips over the shifting tendons on the backs of his hands. It was erotic in a way Jensen had never experienced before, and he found himself getting hard, his cock thickening with each additional second that Jared was touching him.

He didn't even notice when Jared stopped talking. The present only coming back to the fore when Jared pulled away and got to his feet. They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them glassy eyed and all-too-obviously erect in their pants.

"I think… I'm gonna…"

Jared hurriedly pulled his sketchbook in front of his groin and left.

Jensen stared at the door and stuck his hand down into his underwear.


Up until that point Jensen had never seen any of Jared's sketches. He'd made an effort to look up other stuff Jared had done that was still lingering in the arts building, and it was beyond good as far as someone with his limited art knowledge was concerned, but for whatever reason he was holding back on everything Jensen-related and hadn't shared any of his drawings or his plans for them.

His first chance to snoop came much sooner than expected, when Jensen arrived at their meeting point one day to find an empty art room with Jared's sketchbook and pencils already on the desk. Things between them had been getting heavier since they'd started to touch – nothing below the belt, nothing beneath their clothes, yet still intimate in a way Jensen had never expected to find in a college-level relationship. He hoped that meant there was room for more, just as he hoped that their recent intimacy meant they were open to sharing, and it was that thought he kept in mind when he adjusted his glasses and lifted the cover of the sketchbook.

What he found was no less than stunning. There were hands drawn from every possible angle, performing a myriad of different movements and actions and even using props. The rendering made Jensen want to reach out and touch, such was the soft appearance of the skin and the smooth shine of the nails. Jared's art was so beautiful that he almost couldn't believe he'd been denied a look at it for so long.

As he continued turning the pages, the initially disembodied hands began to find themselves attached to whole arms and entire bodies more and more often, until eventually Jensen opened a new page only to find an image of himself looking back – an entirely too good likeness of himself flipping through a textbook as drawn from across a large desk.

A noise from behind startled Jensen, and he whipped around to find Jared taking up the whole of the doorway, but in the process of letting the sketchbook fall shut he felt the edges of the paper skirt sharply across his skin. Jensen hissed as the paper's edge sliced through the pad of his finger, and even as it was happening Jared's face morphed from anger into outright panic. Before Jensen could get a good look at the cut, Jared was barrelling into his personal space and scooping up his hand, inspecting whatever injury was there. Jensen grimaced and Jared looked about ready to cry, desperately protective of his favourite attribute of Jensen's, but before Jensen could reassure him that it was surely nothing serious, Jared was sliding the afflicted finger between his lips.

A sharp inhale was all that Jensen could manage in response, his shock caving beneath the sudden onslaught of arousal he was feeling. For several moments the cut stung like crazy, but then Jared's tongue was there, swirling around the digit, mouth sliding over it like it was a certain other sort of appendage.

"Jared, what—"

Words slipped away when Jared moved on to his other fingers as well, apparently intent on not leaving them out of the fun. Lips and tongue caressed each of his fingers in turn, then Jared was taking them into his mouth one by one, sucking on them like there was a prize at the end. Jared would look up at him from beneath his eyelashes between each downward slide of his lips, and Jensen was instantly hard in his jeans, the blood rushing south so quickly he ended up lightheaded and weak-kneed all at once.

Jensen lost himself to the feeling, only finding focus again when Jared suddenly stilled, a pained whimper emanating from his throat. Jensen might have thought he'd hurt himself if he hadn't spotted the growing wet patch on the front of Jared's pants.

"Did you just…?"

He didn't even need to finish the question. Not when Jared's face was flaming and all the necessary evidence was right in front of him.

"Holy fuck, that's hotter than I thought it'd be."

The air was cool against Jensen's spit-slick fingers as they were let go, and he found himself being pushed back against the desk, his butt perching on the edge. Jared arranged him as he liked, spreading Jensen's legs as he dropped down onto his knees on the art room floor. Jared's own charcoal-smudged fingers shook with anticipation as he pulled open Jensen's fly and wrapped his fist around Jensen's hard dick, that tongue slipping out again as he licked his lips.

He managed only a couple of strokes before he seemed to think better of it, instead grabbing Jensen's own hand and wrapping it around the swollen flesh, encouraging him to move. Jared added his hands back into the mix and urged Jensen to stroke the way he directed – hard and firm and so desperate that Jensen was gone in a matter of a few short, crazed minutes. Jared was quick to react though, curling Jensen's hands around the head of his cock in order to catch the hot pulses of come that spilled out, then his mouth was suddenly back in action, eagerly licking up the sticky white drops from Jensen's fingers.

If Jensen could have come all over again so soon he surely would have. The sight of Jared's lips and tongue all over him like an obscene mess… It was making him wonder whether he might have a secret fetish all of his own.

When Jared finally pulled away he laid his cheek against Jensen's leg and sighed deeply. His hair was all over the place, and so, with his clean hand, Jensen reached out to comb his fingers through the untidy strands. Pushing into the touch, Jared started purring like a cat, the reverberations sinking through Jensen's jeans and down into his bones. Jared looked deceptively small where he knelt down there on the ground, but Jensen decided that that was just something Jared had developed a talent for – hiding how goddamn big he actually was. It made Jensen want to get his hands on Jared for real this time.

"Hey, Jared?"

He blinked up at Jensen from where he rested against his thigh.

"How are you at drawing naked bodies?"

Jared couldn't hide his smirk.

"I'm a little rusty… I might need some practice."