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Like most Saturday nights, the house that Jensen shares with Jared is filled with a variety of guests: people they currently work with, friends from before Supernatural, and a few that Jensen has never seen before and has absolutely no idea where they came from.

The party is in full swing and Jared is in his element, entertaining their guests the only way he knows how: carrying on loud, boisterous conversations with lots of laughter and even more arm flailing. Jensen once teased him about the latter, saying that one of these days Jared would flail one too many times and someone would end up in the emergency room. He’s been lucky, so far.

From his place in the kitchen, Jensen can hear Vancouver’s Rock 101 playing in the living room, a smattering of faint guitar chords and drum cadences above the ebb and flow of conversation and laughter filtering in. He had come in a few minutes earlier to grab another beer for Jared and top off his own tumbler of whisky but instead of immediately rejoining the party, he decided to take a moment for himself, away from the insanity. He loves their friends, old and new, but he would prefer them in much smaller doses. Jared’s outlook was quite the opposite: the more, the merrier.

Jensen is feeling no pain, compliments of the bottle of Maker’s Mark he picked up earlier that day. While he loves his beer, and what good old Texas boy doesn’t, there are times that he prefers the stronger taste of whisky, and Maker’s Mark supplies that in spades.

He is sitting on one of the kitchen counters, long legs dangling over the side, booted heels marking time on the lower cabinet doors to whatever song was on the radio. Jared would “tan his hide” if Jensen left scuff marks on the cabinets, but right now, he could care less, thanks to the alcohol warming him from the inside out. Jensen has a full glass of amber liquid in one hand, his other wrapped protectively around what’s left of a full bottle, which isn’t much. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a long draw, eyes closed as he tilts his head back, resting it on the upper cabinets, letting the smooth flavor slide down his throat. Warmth spreads through him as the alcohol hits his system once again and he smiles. Yeah, he loves this feeling.

John Mellencamp’s Hurts So Good morphs into a song that has become synonymous with Supernatural. Jensen smiles, slow and lazy, as the opening words of Carry On My Wayward Son wrap around him like a well-worn blanket. The song has become a part of him as much as his character has, just as Jared has become an integral part of his daily life, on-screen and off. The show brought them together and what they have built between themselves keeps them together. It’s not easy, it’s not perfect, but it’s theirs.

As the song plays, the show’s video follows suit behind closed eyes. Jensen is proud of the job they have done, of what he and Jared have brought to life for the network and their fans. His quiet musings are bought up short when Jared stumbles into the kitchen.

“Man, I thought you got lost,” he says with a tipsy grin and makes his way to the counter Jensen is currently occupying. A big hand reaches out and grabs the beer that is sitting off to the side. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Sorry, just needed a few minutes to myself,” Jensen answers before lifting the glass to his lips once more.

The song changes again, this time to one that never fails to get his blood pumping, although in a much different way. He would never admit to anyone that this song conjures up all kinds of dirty thoughts and even dirtier images of Jared spread out before him, like an offering waiting to be sacrificed.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he grabs Jared’s wrist and tugs him over and between his open legs. He quickly wraps his left leg around the back of Jared’s right, preventing the other man from moving.

Jared’s eyes widen in surprise. “Jen, what in the hell are you doing?”

With Jensen sitting on the cabinet, he and Jared are practically the same height, which is all kinds of good in Jensen’s whisky-addled brain. “Something I’ve put off for far too long,” he admits before leaning forward and capturing Jared’s lips in a kiss that is raw and primal.

He feels like he’s drowning, his want and need dragging him down into a place he’s never been before. He and Jared play it rough from time to time, but this… this is infinitely more visceral than anything he’s ever felt.

There’s no finesse, just Jensen’s need to mark, to claim, to salt and burn this overwhelming need to consume Jared, all thanks to Ted Nugent’s Stranglehold that he can barely hear over the sound of blood roaring through his ears.

His hands come up to cradle Jared’s face, to hold the other man in whatever position he needs to delve deeper, to vanquish this unnamed thing that is driving him. Jared’s mouth is going to be sore, lips swollen from Jensen biting at them before diving in once more.

A tiny part of Jensen’s brain tells him to slow down, that Jared has no idea why Jensen’s acting the way he is, but he also knows that if it gets to be too much, all Jared has to do is pull away and that would be it. But Jared is not pulling away and Jensen loses himself even more because of it.

It’s not surprising that he’s rock hard, his cock throbbing in time with his beating heart, aching within the confines of his jeans. He can feel Jared’s matching hardness pressed against the inside of Jensen’s left thigh and he has plans for that, as well. Just not yet.

When the lack of oxygen threatens to bring everything to a screeching halt, Jensen slows the onslaught and backs off a fraction, Jared’s lower lip tucked between Jensen’s teeth. He is reluctant to let even that small part of Jared go, but he does. Jensen puts a little more distance between them, leans back against the cabinet, his tongue massaging his own lower lip. He takes a few deep breaths and his eyes finally meet Jared’s.

A question is there but Jensen shakes his head, the alcohol making it feel as if he’s underwater, like the movement is lagging a few seconds behind. Talking is not high on Jensen’s priority list right now. He gets a nod from Jared, who stands before him looking completely strung out thanks to Jensen’s administrations.

Jensen is ready to dive in for round two but Chad’s voice halts all movement.

“Dude! Do you have to do that in here?” he asks and both Jared and Jensen hear the smile behind the question. “I mean, this is your house and all, so I guess you can go at it wherever you damn well feel like it, but maybe for once, take it to the bedroom since you have guests and all.” He grabs a few beers from the refrigerator. “Although I’m sure there may be a few out there who wouldn’t mind watching you two in action.”

“Fuck off, Chad,” Jensen growls.

“Right back at ya, Jenny,” the younger man quips before disappearing into the living room again.

Jensen’s gaze darts between Jared’s lust-blown eyes and swollen, spit-slick lips, giving some thought to Chad’s earlier request. A hand to Jared’s chest has the other man backing up a few steps and Jensen slides from his perch on the counter, adjusting his jeans a bit to alleviate some of the discomfort he’s been in since all this started.

“Bedroom, now. I’m not through with you,” Jensen says as he grabs the whisky bottle. He doesn’t wait for Jared, knowing the other man will be right behind him. He ignores the cat-calls and remarks their friends make as they wind their way through the crowded living room before disappearing down the long hallway to the master bedroom they share.

He can hear the song winding down now and Jensen feels that he can breathe a little easier, but he’s still wired and there are a few things left he needs to do.

“Naked, bed, now,” he commands and watches as Jared nods and fumbles a bit in his haste to do as Jensen instructed.

Jensen has imagined this next part a few different ways but he’s reaching his limit and doesn’t have time for the niceties some of the scenarios hold. The need to own Jared is still there, not as fierce as it was earlier, but still there, nonetheless.

Jared is sitting on the bed and this is not how Jensen wants him. “On your back,” he instructs and Jared immediately complies.

Jensen stands at the end of the bed and takes a moment to enjoy the view before him. Jared never misses a workout and while this tanned and toned body is hidden from millions of viewers each week, Jensen has access to it twenty-four/seven and takes advantage of that fact every chance he gets.

Jared is achingly hard, his full and flushed cock curled up against his stomach, precome welling in the slit. Jensen is still fully clothed, his own cock hard and pressing against the button fly of his jeans. Jared has teased him mercilessly about them, calling them old-school, which prompted Jensen to show Jared just how NOT old-school he was.

He pulls the forest green Henley over his back and head before tossing it aside. Nimble fingers make a show of unbuttoning his jeans, one silver button at a time, exposing the pale skin beneath to Jared’s gaze. The fabric of Jensen’s black boxer-briefs is stretched across his own swelling cock. He slides his hand inside the material, stroking himself a few times, enjoys the naked desire he sees on Jared’s face.

Jared reaches for his own cock and but one raised eyebrow from Jensen has the errant hand returning to the bed. Jared huffs out an agitated sigh but he doesn’t push. He knows that Jensen will take care of him, just like he always does.

The song that started all of this is so ingrained in Jensen’s subconscious that he doesn’t need a radio. The chords, melody, drum riffs… it’s all swirling around his head and suddenly the two feet that separate them is too much.

Jensen kneels on the end of the bed, bracketing Jared’s legs between his own and surges up to catch Jared’s lips once again in a bruising kiss. This time Jared knows what to expect and gives Jensen back a little of his own. All it takes is a warning growl from deep in Jensen’s throat for Jared to acquiesce; he backs down and takes whatever Jensen has in store for him.

Punishing lips leave a trail of fire down Jared’s throat, teeth nipping at the smooth skin there, careful not to leave marks that can be seen. Lower and lower teeth and lips travel, less careful now, digging in deeper, pulling blood to the surface the same way Jensen’s actions pull the most sinful sounds from the man below him.

When Jensen is finished with him, Jared’s chest, abs, the juncture where torso meets thigh will be covered in bruises - hickeys and love bites – accompanied by raised welts, compliments of Jensen’s nails raking their way over beautiful skin.

Jared’s cock is leaking steadily now and Jensen’s mouth works its way lower, teasing little nips and licks alternating with long swipes of tongue, never staying in one place for more than a few seconds. Everything he does brings Jared closer and closer to the edge and Jensen drinks in the nonsensical words and sounds falling from the younger man’s mouth.

Jensen loves the way Jared tastes, musky and male and the uniqueness that is Jared. Lips and mouth open and stretch over and down Jared’s length as Jensen’s right hand strokes the base of the hard flesh, left hand teasing the fleshy sac and lower. He knows the signs, knows how close Jared is and when he takes Jared deeper and hums, he is rewarded with Jared’s release filling his mouth. Jensen swallows it down, coaxes the rest of it out with a few firm strokes and he knows that Jared is done, his body now overly sensitive as he tries to push Jensen away.

“Mine,” Jensen rasps, his voice barely recognizable from having Jared’s cock in his mouth and the need that has not yet been sated. He rises above Jared and quickly pushes his jeans and underwear down as far as they will go, just to the tops of his thighs, but far enough to get his hand around his cock and stroke.

This is it. This is what he sees in his mind’s eye when he hears this song, claiming Jared this way, bringing himself off and painting Jared’s torso with long, pearly streaks of his come. The hand on his cock matches the rhythm in his head and he strokes his cock until there is no more to give.

The overwhelming need that had latched onto him earlier has subsided, at least for now, and Jensen is slowly coming back to himself. Jared is quiet beneath him and Jensen leans forward and kisses the other man, gently this time, nudges Jared’s nose with his own.

“Be right back,” he offers before he climbs off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. After a quick clean-up, he returns with a warm cloth and wipes the evidence of his temporary insanity from Jared’s body, taking special care around the marks he left. With that done, he tosses the rag towards the bathroom door, sheds his jeans and briefs, socks and boots, and climbs back onto the bed with Jared.

Jared turns onto his side and stares down at Jensen, links their fingers together and settles them on Jensen’s chest.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what in the hell was that?” Jared asks, his voice filled with concern. Character bleed is a bitch to deal with and he had briefly wondered if he was dealing with Dean Winchester and not Jensen Ackles.

“Man, I don’t even know,” Jensen offers with a sigh. “That song, it always twists me up inside. Every time I hear it, I think of you, and us, and this… then tonight it all just got to be too much.” Jensen rolls to his side so that he’s facing Jared. “Are you okay? I mean, I was kinda out of control for some of that.”

Jared leans in a brushes his lips against Jensen’s, then moves them to the shell of Jensen’s ear. “Loved every minute of it, and now that I know what that song does to you, hmmm, well, you get the picture.”

And Jensen does, he knows that Jared will take advantage of it every chance he gets, and surprisingly, Jensen is okay with that.