etoile_etiolee (etoile_etiolee) wrote,

J2 au fic: One Step Forward (sequel to Bath time) : Therapy 'verse

So, I have three stories now, and apparently I'm not done. I don't really know where this is going. Is it turning into a long fic? Naw, too porny... Maybe a series, or a verse? I don't even know the difference between the two.

I do know that each time I finish a "part" it has a wrapped-up, or an ending feel to it. Because of that, I'm not feeling restrained the same way I do when I write a multi-chapters story -it will never be a WIP, which is great (let's be honnest, there is nothing more frustrating in fanfiction than a WIP). Let's call this a 'verse. It will be my Therapy 'verse. I'm gonna let those two characters take me wherever they want to go. And you guys are welcome to tag along.

Title: One Step Forward
Word Count: 5k
Summary: On his second night working as Jensen Ackles' caretaker, Jared is eager to suggest they take things further. He knows the man has issues -hell, the legs are just the tip of the iceberg- but he doesn't care: he's in love. The night is very different than the previous one. Jensen has a lot to say, and Jared a lot to give.
Warnings: NC-17 for explicit sexual situation, drug use and language.
Kinks: Comfort!sex, vulnerable!Jensen, handjob, ass play, dirty talk, blow job.
Beta:The always efficient and awesome candygramme
Disclaimer: None of this is true. I make no profits out of this story but it is my intellectual property.

Read the 'verse from the beginning Here
Read the 'verse on AO3 Here
Read One Step Forward on AO3 Here

A/N: The blood circulation machine used in this story is not one of those thing you put your feet on that can be buy in any drugstore, but one that is prescribed by doctors to prevent serious clot forming risks. It looks a bit like this.


- - -

Jensen welcomes Jared in his wheelchair and blushes as soon as Jared looks at him and says “hi.”

Jared thinks it’s a good thing he doesn’t blush as easily as Jensen, because they would be caught in a vicious circle. He is no better than Jensen, he knows: his heart started beating ridiculously fast in the taxi, and now it’s like it wants Jensen to hear the racket it’s making, bumping against Jared’s thoracic cage.

Jared closes the door behind him. When he turns back, Jensen is laughing, his hand shoved over his mouth, his eyes reduced to slits.


“Nothing,” Jensen giggles. “Well, the whole situation we’ve got going it’s… and… and I just smoked pot.”

Jensen turns his wheelchair and rolls toward the living room without adding a word. Jared follows, having made quick work of pulling his winter clothes off. He finds the young man stubbing out what’s left of a joint in a makeshift ashtray in the form of an empty tuna can. The smell of pot is concentrated in the room, reminding Jared of Friday nights in college.

“You huh… you smoke on a regular basis?”

“Nope,” Jensen coughs, “when nothing works for the pain or… or all those drugs I’m taking make me sick, pot helps.”

“Bad day?” Jared asks, sitting.

“I had physical therapy this morning. Didn’t see you,” Jensen adds and looks away, like it’s not important, at all.

Jared did see Jensen. When he saw Jensen's name on the schedule he had managed to take his break accordingly and had wandered to the huge physical therapy gymnasium downstairs, without really knowing what he would say to Jensen, or if somehow, just the others seeing him and Jared together, would guess what was happening between them. In the end, Jared had stopped just in time before Jensen could see him. Hidden from him by a punching ball, he had seen Jensen at the parallel bars, holding onto them with Kate in front of him, coaxing him into taking another step –just another, to which Jensen had replied in a trembling but angry voice that no, he wouldn’t take another step, and fuck, they should’ve cut off his damn legs after the accident.

Jared had felt like a voyeur –well, he was observing Jensen without his knowledge-and had walked away quickly, feeling a lump in his throat swelling until he’d been dangerously close to tears.

Everyone will tell you Jared is a bit emotional. Always been that way –not only that, but he’s a fucking open book. He can’t pretend to be happy when he’s not –his friends, his family, hell, even his aunt Janice, who’s practically blind- everyone knows it. And it makes it very difficult, if not impossible, to hold back. Anything he feels.

Right now, he looks at Jensen and wants to wrap him in a blanket and feed him soup. Or, you know, give him an orgasm powerful enough to have him drift off peacefully, painlessly, in a bath of tepid water. Jared is empathetic –all of his teachers agrees on that, and he regularly finds himself disturbed or immensely sad for the people he helps at the center. That’s why his friend Jason –who’s not working there, Jared wouldn’t have confided in him otherwise- had told him maybe what he was feeling for Jensen Ackles was just that, a huge assault of sympathy, empathy and pity all wrapped up together.

It has nothing to do with what Jared usually feels. Jared wasn’t even sure of what it was after the sex therapy, except he couldn’t get the man out of his head, and the idea of attending his new assignment with another person than Jensen, had made him feel… wrong. But yesterday evening, Jared had understand. It had come to him while he was helping Jensen settle into bed, the man’s beautiful face slack and relaxed from the sex and tiredness, and was arranging his legs, then tucking him in, making sure he wouldn’t be cold.

It was love. It couldn’t be anything else than love.

It is love. Jared is twenty-two, and the only other time he had thought he was in love was with his soccer coach. He’d been fifteen, and certain he would die if the feeling wasn’t mutual, had written a long love letter to him, letting his pure, powerful feelings bleed onto the page.

The day after, Jared had found himself in the principal’s office with his soccer coach staring at the window, incapable of looking him in the eyes, while the principal let his parents read the letter, then told them that “Mr. Morgan” was finding himself in a difficult situation and maybe Jared could try baseball.

It’s an original way to come out to your mother.

It hadn’t been love, of course, just a teenager’s crush, and Jared had had relationships after that, with boys of his age, but he’s never felt the need to call any of them his boyfriend, and had prefer those vague, no definition required hook ups which would sometimes turn into something more, but that never lasted long.

This, Jared thinks, staring at Jensen who’s putting away his smoking kit, this is love. It doesn’t have anything to do with the empathy he feels for him. Or the desire to take care of him. Jared just doesn’t breathe as well when he’s not with Jensen, and the whole word is kind of grey and static away from him.

And Jared has enough on his mind right now that he wants to clear some things up. He’s a student in physical therapy working part time as an orderly slash physical therapist slash sex therapist and he’s been having sex with one of his patient. It sounds bad. It also sounds like Jared is a perverted psychiatrist manipulating a fragile human being into his bed.

Even if Jared wanted the conversation to wait he just can’t keep it inside anymore. It’s not his fault; it’s how he is.

“Earth to Jared?” Jensen asks in an uncertain voice.

Jared lifts his head, feeling the other man’s eyes on him. The pupils are blown, but nervousness is still perfectly readable in them. Not only that, but Jensen does this thing where he plays with the wheels of his chair, making it oscillate from left to right. Jared is learning that this is another sign of nervousness, or anxiety.

“Sorry, was lost in my thoughts,” he says as reassuringly as possible.

“Listen…” Jensen bites his bottom lip and takes a long, shuddering breath. “If you’re uncomfortable because of what happened we can-“

“Hey, no, not at all,” Jared cuts him out, eager not to have Jensen feel bad in any way. He sits down and grabs Jensen’s front wheels so that he can get the man to settle straight in front of him. Jensen snorts without any joy.

“What’s going on?”

“Yesterday, what happened between us,” Jared starts, trying to find the right words. “What happened, it only confirmed what I had felt the first time we met.”


“Listen, Jensen, I’m not really subtle, and I’m a kid, okay? Twenty-two years old, never been in a steady relationship or anything that serious. I… I like you. I really, really like you. I think you’re beautiful and-“

“Hey, woah,” Jensen lifts a shaking hand. “Jared. We barely know each other.”

“I know. That’s why it’s important for you to know that to me, whatever is happening between us, it’s not… it’s not just some messed up hook up, okay?”

“Okay,” Jensen murmurs.

He lowers his head. Jared is pleased to see him try to hold back a smile.

“I like you too,” Jensen says in the same too soft voice. “I huh… I really like you, Jared, okay?”

The interrogation at the end of the sentence has Jared frowning. He knows he won’t like what Jensen will say next. He just does.

“Okay but what?”

Better to take the lead than wait for Jensen to get himself together. Jared isn’t known for his patience.

“There are no “buts”, Jensen protests, leaning forward, so that he can put his hand on Jared’s knee. “You are… you seem great. I mean, from what I know. I just… I don’t see where we can go from here?”

Oh my god, anywhere you want. You pick, I’ll follow, Jared’s stupid romantic mind provides enthusiastically. Luckily, his reason takes the lead. Do not scare him, it provides. Do not make him feel like he needs to make a decision, or a commitment.

“Well, there’s no rush,” Jared says, letting his hand rest on Jensen’s. “I know you have your plate already full, man, trust me, I don’t want to put you under any kind of stress. I just. I needed to tell you how I felt. And make sure you don’t think I’m acting under some kind of caretaker kindness. I want… I want to touch you again, and kiss you, and make love to you.”

“Jesus,” Jensen rasps, closing his eyes. His fingers dig in the fabric of Jared’s jeans. Jared tries not to lose control, seeing the other man’s mouth slightly open, his nostrils flaring, his tongue licking his upper lip again, and again.

“And outside of that,” Jared goes on. “Of course I want to get to know you and take you out. Try to see if there is something more than our… intimate connection.”

Jensen burst out laughing. It’s a frank, open laugh, which has his head tilting backward and his upper body shaking. It’s a wonderful sight. Wonderful and contagious. After a while, Jared lets himself go and starts giggling as well.

“What is so funny?” He asks between hiccups.

“It’s… nothing, it’s…” Jensen shakes his head and wipes away the hilarity tears caught in his eyelashes. “Seems so politically correct, is all. Our… intimate connection. After yesterday’s dirty talk-“

“Well,” Jared keeps smiling. “I’m a polite young man, Texas born and raised,” he adds, rediscovering his slightly lazy accent easily. “If I remember well, you’re the one with the potty mouth.”

Jensen stops laughing, but a large, sincere smile remains on his face. “You’re Texan?”

“Born in Austin. My parents got divorced when I was ten and I followed my mom to Maine, where her family is, but I still visit regularly. My dad has remarried. I have three younger sisters.”

“I’m from Austin too,” Jensen says. “Wow, what are the odds? My family still lives there. I left when a guy from an acting agency discovered me. That was… five years ago.”

Jared doesn’t want to say it’s another sign, that something special is definitely there, ready to happen between them. He doesn’t, but he can’t stop thinking it, though. Coming from the same state shouldn’t make him feel so happy, but it totally does.

“I was thinking,” Jensen adds. “Maybe we could try the bath again?”

Jared feels his own smile widen until the skin of his face feels too tight.

::: :::

It’s different tonight, different than the first time, different than yesterday, and maybe, Jared dares to imagine, maybe each time will have that unique taste to it.

Tonight, there is no panic attack as he lowers himself in the bathtub with his precious charge. Jensen is tensed, yes, but he looks straight at him, showing trust and anticipation in his incredibly beautiful eyes. Jared does hope the trust is genuine, and not provoked by the marijuana, but it’s an egotistical wish. Whatever the cause, Jensen’s entry into the water, and the delicate manipulations required to have him located between Jared’s legs, are way easier than the night before.

“You hurt?” Jared asks, still, feeling the older man wiggling his hips and back.

“No, not really,” Jensen sighs. He let his head fall back on Jared’s shoulder, his eyes closed, a light smile playing on his lips. A pink blush crawls up his body, coloring his chest, but Jared’s attention is caught elsewhere, between Jensen’s slightly bent legs where his cock is rising above the water, red and swollen. Jared likes how it feels in his hand, how straight and thick it is, perfect, uncut, delicate mushroom head revealing itself with the degrees of Jensen’s arousal. Jared has never been so fascinated by a dick –well, obviously he loves dicks, and he’d spent part of his teenage years discovering his own- but Jensen’s shaft is… Well, it’s as gorgeous as the rest of him.

Jared licks his lips and moves his hand slowly under the water, unable to prevent himself from touching anymore, but then, Jensen asks if they can start by washing his hair.

“Yeah, sure,” Jared agrees. He tries not to sound too disappointed. He has a job to do, after all.

Jensen’s shampoo is chamomile perfumed. Jared loves the scent. It reminds him of his youth, when his mom would use the same, because chamomile is supposed to keep a kid’s blond hair color longer. He wonders if this is why Jensen is using it: his hair color is hard to describe, neither blond nor brown, golden strands under the light which, Jared is sure, would be more visible if Jensen would keep his hair longer. He knows the guy has been a model but doesn’t remember seeing any pics of him in magazines or elsewhere, and he’s sure there aren’t any in the apartment –Jared had look for them on purpose, out of curiosity. It seems to him that a model should keep his hair a little longer, at least. At the length it is, nothing can be done with it except short spikes. Still, they are soft and very agreeable to touch, Jared thinks, taking his time to massage Jensen’s scalp. He represses a laugh, realizing he’s never given that much thought to someone’s hair. He hopes Jensen hasn’t felt the giggle dying in his chest, because, right now, the man seems to be enjoying the hair washing very much. He’s mostly silent, but has been doing that sound at the back of his throat ever since the scalp massage has begun: if a human could purr, it would sound exactly like that.

Jensen’s cock is now standing out, hard against his belly. Time to move on. Jared rinses his hair with the shower head, protecting Jensen’s eyes with a folded washcloth. It seems such an intimate gesture, washing someone else’s hair, even more than having sex, maybe. Yesterday, Jensen was barely awake, and Jared had gone on with the washing part of the bath quickly, not really paying attention. He’s glad to do it more slowly now.

“It’s… strange,” Jensen murmurs, his voice very low like he’s about to fall asleep. “I can feel you getting hard against my back.”


Jared doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that information, but his first instinct is to move his hips: it doesn’t change anything, not in the position they’re in.

“Don’t, I like it,” Jensen cuts him out. “Sorry,” he adds. “Dilaudid and pot? My mouth filter is gone.”

“I like it,” Jared replies playfully.

“Like. I was thinking, right now, that you could jerk me off and play with my ass like yesterday,” Jensen sights.

Jared finds it hard to breath for a couple of seconds. He doesn’t say anything, because, knowing him, it would come out as a squeak.

“And then, later,” Jensen goes on in the same distant, dream-like voice. “After you get me to bed, I could suck you. I like sucking cock, it’s been a while.”

“Oh,” Jared lets out, and yes, it’s a squeal. He feels his cock jump, trapped between his own stomach and Jensen’s back.

That’s the fucking best idea of the century, his reptilian brain decides, as if it needed to be stated.

Jared doesn’t really know what is supposed to happen next, but definitely not Jensen saying. “I don’t know if I can.”

What? Suck me? Jared thinks. Luckily, he’s too aroused for his own filter not to do a pretty good job. There is a long second of silence where he thinks that maybe Jensen is really waiting for his opinion on the matter, and Jared even has a little bit of time to panic. No idea how he’s supposed to answer to that.

“What you said,” Jensen finally murmurs. “Trying. You know, what you proposed to me.”

“What? Trying to get to know each other better? See if we’re going somewhere with it?”

“Exactly.” Jensen snaps his fingers. “I’m… I’m not really in a good place right now to have a relationship. Even if it’s only to try.”

Okay, Jared thinks, immediately relieved. There is nothing in there that suggest Jensen doesn’t like him. He can work with the rest. He’d known with the physical issues the guy has there must be at least as many psychological ones.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies easily, letting his hand glide down Jensen stomach slowly.

He stops to circle the almost flat navel, then let his fingers intertwine themselves in Jensen’s pubic hair. Then, he just can’t help himself anymore. Wraps the same hand around the other man’s burning shaft. Jensen lets out a long sigh. He has both of his hands on Jared’s thighs and starts pressing, softly. Jared takes his time, just holds Jensen’s dick in his hand, feels every vein, every ridge on it, plays with the skin so soft over the shaft that's so hard underneath.

“You say it doesn’t matter,” Jensen whispers, his hips lifting from the bottom of the bath in a slow, soft motion. “But what if that’s it? What if I use you for what I need, nothing more? Oh, fuck, play with my ass, please.”

Jared is more than eager to comply. His free hand finds its way to Jensen’s hole, tight and closed. He begins slowly there too, just rubbing the muscle, feeling it twitch under his fingers. His own pleasure is a lazy burning fire that is just from feeling Jensen coming apart. There is no hurry, the water is just the right temperature, and the water jets are massaging him like ghostly, capable hands. He doesn’t want Jensen to ruin their moment by thinking too hard –by thinking at all, as a matter of fact. Luckily, whether it be the pot or Jared being that awesome, wondering out loud what they think they’re doing together doesn’t seem to prevent Jensen from reacting really well to Jared’s touch. Jared wonders how far he can take him, before he finds himself unable to speak.

“Oh, god,” Jensen goes on with that raspy whisper that’s enough to have Jared’s dick twitch in its fleshy prison. “Your hands… They’re so fucking big.”

To reward him for his praise, Jared prods more intently at Jensen’s hole, until he can slide the tip of his index finger inside. It’s so hot and tight: burning velvety flesh molding to Jared’s finger perfectly, making him think about how good it would feel to replace it with his dick.

“I mean, you know, right?” Jensen hisses like he’s in pain but in the same time he pushes down to get Jared’s finger deeper. “You see people like me all the time, poor bastards whose lives have been destroyed in freak accidents, or plague by illnesses, all lost in their own fucking misery, smiling like retards when they accomplish something as stupid as filling a glass of water without spilling it everywhere. I’m no good for you. I know it.”

“Shut up and enjoy,” Jared whispers in Jensen’s ear, jacking his cock with a sudden brutal rhythm.

“I can’t.” Jensen protest in a childlike voice. “Wanna be honest with you. Which is… huh… good, faster, please. I mean, I’m playing the bad boy here, hard to get, while in my head, I’m thanking the fucking universe that a guy like you isn’t too repelled by the visual horror of my legs. Who am I kidding? Get away from me, Jared, I’m poison,” Jensen declares in a exaggeratingly whiny, dramatic voice. “Yeah right, and in my head I’m screaming at you to stay and never leave, ever.”

“Jensen, don’t say things like-“

“I’m close,” Jensen cuts through Jared’s comforting words. “Please, please just… make me come.”

Jared obeys with alacrity. It’s not even about his pleasure of giving Jensen pleasure anymore. It’s like the water has suddenly cooled down, and Jensen’s scratchy voice is full of despair, not arousal. Don’t talk about yourself like that, Jared thinks, rubbing Jensen’s prostate at the same rhythm he jacks his cock. You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

And lonely, and scared, and already despairing that his life will ever be what it was before.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jensen moans, starting to tense. “Fuuuck, Jared, you… you’re not real, right? Timothy is crazy enough to pay an aspiring actor to pretend he’s a freaking nice guy… interested in me… oh… I’m…”

“Let go, please,” Jared presses. “Jensen. I’m here. I’m not anything else than what you know. I’m in your bath with you, and I want you to come. I want you to come because of me, it’s… just knowing I can do that to you, it’s maddening.”

Jared feels the hitch in Jensen’s quick breathing rhythm, and he’s surprised to feel his own pleasure taking him over when Jensen tilts his head backward and comes, loudly, shakily, tears streaming down his red cheeks. Jared’s orgasm deprives him of any form of control over his body. He groans and bites Jensen’s neck, hoping his lover is holding onto him, because Jared… Jared feels his mind spill in a thousand pieces like an echo to his semen spilling in the water. There is pain, too. He can’t quite understand it at first, but when he comes down from his orgasm, he locates it. His thighs, Jensen’s fingernails are digging in the skin. Jared barely has the time to think that he’s going to bleed if it doesn’t stop soon when Jensen lets go. He lets go so that he can shove his head in the cup of his hands and cry silently.

Which is one of the saddest images Jared has ever witnessed in his adult life: a poor guy with his crooked legs lying back in cooling water where small globs of sperm are being rocked by the water jets, crying loudly, with his deflating dick not sure if it can float still.

Fuck, is all Jared can think. What he can do, though, is to wrap both his arms around Jensen’s waist. Feeling his upper body losing some of its tension almost immediately is so relieving that Jared wonders if this is what love does to a guy –he’s simply going crazy.

“I’m sorry, it’s the fucking pot,” Jensen hiccups. “Seriously, dude. I don’t…”

Jensen stops crying as suddenly as he’s begun. He grabs a washcloth on the side of the bath and wipe his nose, snorting nervously. “Great average of crying when we have sex: two times out of three.”

“It’s okay,” Jared protests softly, kissing the top of Jensen’s head.

Jared is known to talk a lot, and loudly, but he’s also known to be able to tell when it’s time to shut up and listen.

“What…I don’t understand,” Jensen shakes his head softly, and, looking down, Jared can guess he’s smiling. Kind of. “What do you want from me? I’m not saying that to be a little bitch, I swear, but you’ve looked at me, you read my medical file… Are you… you know, some people are turned on by all sorts of things like a British accent or being fat –not them, see, but their girlfriend or boyfriend and… What I mean is, do you have some kind of Mother Theresa kink? Is that what this is?”

Jared tries not to show his amusement, because it is kind of funny. He knows, though, that behind the ridiculousness of the question, Jensen is dead serious.

“No. I don’t get turn on by other people’s… misery or whatever, or by your scars, or anything that seems to be straight out of a David Lynch movie.”

“Okay,” Jensen laughs again, less nervously.

“Listen I don’t… Let’s just… “

This is the problem with having a big mouth, Jared sometimes thinks. Choosing the right words can be tricky. Too many are ready to tumble out of your mouth.

“We’re basically strangers,” he states slowly, circling around what he think might be Jensen’s issue about their earlier conversation. “Physically, we’re definitely attracted to each other.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jensen agrees.

“And I think –for me at least, I think there might be something other than just physical attraction, and I only want the chance to get to know you, see how we feel about all this. I haven’t… “

Calm down, deep breaths, Jared admonishes himself. You were doing okay. Keep going, not too fast, not too slow, don’t scare him off.

“What I mean to say is, this is not a marriage proposal. It’s barely a want-to spend–some-time-with-me suggestion. Like you said, I read your file, I work where you’re treated. I know your life is far from being easy right now, and I don’t want to add more anxiety… or, I don’t know, problems? On your shoulders. So, that’s all there is to it. Do you want us to spend some time together, doing something else besides sex? Just to see if it lead us anywhere.”

Jensen turns his head and tilts it upward so he can –kind of- look at Jared. His eyes are swollen, and there are blotches on his cheeks, but he doesn’t look sad. There is a little light in his green irises.

“But there will be sex too, right? I mean, stuff other than sex, but still sex, because it would be stupid not to fuck like bunnies when it’s evident we’re compatible,” Jensen declares very seriously. Then he winks, and he’s so beautiful, looking like a little kid without a care in the world.

Jared smiles. “Of course there will be sex.”

“Okay then,” Jensen says. “I’m in.”

Jared, who has just stated that what he was asking wasn’t a marriage proposal, feels his heart explode a little in his chest, and a mental champagne bottle pops open in his mind.

::: :::

Jared takes his time to massage both of Jensen’s legs once he’s lying in bed, ready to go to sleep. There are several instructions in the file as to how to proceed without causing pain instead of relieving it. Afterward, Jensen’s legs have to be settled into a the blood circulation machine, which is composed of two sets of cushions connected to a machine that will blow them up and apply different pressures throughout the night to prevent the formation of clots.

Jensen, who had been so talkative before, is now silent, his eyes half shut, looking relaxed and peaceful. Which means Jared must be doing something right. Theoretically, he doesn’t have to do it: it’s not in the list of the daily care Jensen must receive, but everyone who works or studies physical therapy knows how much good a massage can do.

“I would let you massage me for hours,” Jensen admits, stretching his arms over his head when Jared finally stops. It’s past ten, and according to his work schedule, he should already be gone. He doesn’t care, though. Yesterday, they lay in bed until past midnight before Jared had finally installed the blood pressure machine and left. One word from Jensen would have made him stay, but the other man was already mostly asleep, his breath soft and regular against Jared’s neck. Even the installation of the machine hadn’t succeed in waking him up.

“I would do it,” Jared declares seriously.

He has class tomorrow morning, then he works the evening shift at the rehabilitation center before he comes back here. Long day.

Jared checks once more that Jensen has his evening pills on the nightstand with a glass of water. He’s delaying.

“Oh. The TV remote,” he remembers, snapping his fingers.

He finds it on the ground where it lays and sits it next to the pills. Jensen is observing him, half a smile playing on his lips.

“You know I can actually get up, right?”

“I know.”

Removing the blood pressure machine is way easier than putting it on. Jensen told Jared that one night out of three, he needs to use the bathroom and has to take it off. He’s tired of wearing it, but his neurologist wants him to use it for another month. “I’ve always hated sleeping on my back. Makes me feel like a cadaver,” he had told Jared the night before.

“Okay, so, let’s do it,” Jared declares when he’s certain there is nothing else he can do.

He’s about to bend down to grab the plastic cushions when Jensen lift a hand.

“Not yet,” he declares playfully.

“Why? What do you need?”

“I remember clearly offering you a blowjob. I’d prefer not to have my legs trapped in the freaking plastic cuffs while I do it.”

Jared doesn’t react, but his cock does. He doesn’t remember going from soft to almost completely hard so fast, not since he was fourteen.

“You don’t have to,” he says in a tone that’s way less convinced than he’d want it to be.

Jensen smiles wider. “I want to. I want… You’re going to lift the head of my bed a little. Forty five degree angle would be nice. And then you’re going to take a condom from the nightstand and then, you’re gonna hop up here and feed me your nice big cock.”

“Shit,” Jared whispers, feeling his inside tense like he’s been punched.

“Look at my mouth, it can do wonders,” Jensen goes on. “And I owe you, for crying like a baby and having an existential crisis while you were getting me off so nicely in the bath.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Okay,” Jensen sighs like this whole conversation is boring. “I don’t owe you anything, but I told you I miss sucking cocks. What if I don’t remember it right? I need practice. Wanna do it. Are you gonna deny me, Jared?” He adds, letting his hand trail down his stomach to press the light bulge that tents his sleeping pants.

“Nope, not gonna deny you anything, ever,” Jared replies.

He doesn’t regret it, and given that it takes all but five minutes before he comes, giving head is not something that Jensen needs to practice. Jensen’s mouth can do amazing things.

Jared has not even left, but he’s already eager to come back the next day. Still two evenings to spend together. God bless Tim Omundson’s agent.

The End

- - - -
Tags: comfort sex, j2 au, pwp, sequel, therapy 'verse, vulnerable!jensen

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