scribblinlenore | WB RPS: When in Doubt, Consult the Stars

This is a "sequel" to You Break It, You Bought It, and Other Rules to Live By, if we understand "sequel" to mean a shameless excuse to write about pretty boys having sex.

Title: When in Doubt, Consult the Stars
Fandom: WB RPS
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Notes: I was hungover on Super Porn Sunday, so I'm a day late!
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of delusion. Taking it more seriously than that is taking it way too seriously. No offense to any actual human being intended.

Warnings: Special hell, some liberties taken with details of place because...it's really all about the smut.

When In Doubt, Consult the Stars
By Lenore

Jensen drives, because it's a rental and he's the only one listed on the contract and the least he can do when he's fucking his co-star is exercise reasonable caution in other parts of his life. Jared gives directions when he remembers, usually somewhat after the fact, "get in the right lane, go, now, now, we've got to turn!" Their route takes them winding past neat houses with sun-seared lawns. Jared fiddles with the radio, stops when he hits maximum twang-itude, and leans back in his seat with a satisfied air of "my work here is done." He drums his fingers on the car door as Billy Ray Cyrus warbles about his achy-breaky heart, and Jensen keeps glancing over, looking, hoping for some glint of irony. No such luck, even when he squints really hard, and he thinks it's a good thing that Jared really is something to look at, because his taste in music is for shit.

"Make a left up here on Calvado," Jared says, all easy and casual, like they're just two friends out for a drive, kicking back, having some fun.

Like they're not going to be in each other's pants at their earliest possible convenience.

Jensen is no such paragon of coolness. He can't help noticing that Jared is all legs in the cramped confines of the rental car. Even with the seat pushed back as far as it will go, his body spills over into Jensen's space, not quite touching, but the possibility is always there if they take a turn too fast, brake a little too sharply. If Jared wonders whether Jensen's driving like a jackass on purpose, he doesn't mention it. If he realizes that Jensen's been hard since they left his parents' driveway, he sure as hell doesn't do anything about it.

"Oh!" Jared snaps to attention, points his finger. "Up here, Jen!"

Jensen gives him an incredulous look, even as he's pulling into the parking lot. "Your very special, personal tour of San Antonio starts at the 7-11?"

Jared grins cheerfully as he flips him off. "Last one in pays for the Big Gulps."

"Hey! No fair--"

But Jared is already scrambling out of the car, halfway to the door before Jensen can even turn off the engine. Jensen takes his time, going for dignified indifference, and Jared grins like a maniac as he holds the door for him.

"Let me help you out there, old man," he says with mock deference.

Jen elbows him as he passes, and Jared breaks into a laugh so loud it startles the girl behind the counter. When she gets a good look at Jared, though, her wary expression melts into googly-eyed forgiveness, twining her bleached cotton-candy hair around her finger. Jared doesn't seem to notice that he's made a friend. He beelines it over to the soda fountain, smirks at Jen as he picks up a 44-ounce cup and presses the button for Dr. Pepper. He fills a second one and hands it to over. "You'll thank me for that later," he says.

Jen raises an eyebrow. "When my bladder explodes?"

"My geriatric friend here is paying," Jared tells the cash register girl, putting on his good-Southern-boy smile for her benefit.

The girl giggles like this is the funniest thing she's ever heard and rings up their sodas. Jensen hands over two bucks and gets change.

"It's a good value," Jared tells him, with an expression that might actually be serious.

Jensen nods. He'd happily agree with just about anything right now if it meant they could get back on the road, get on with what's really important. He heads for the door expecting Jared to follow, looks back to make sure and finds...nothing. He cranes his neck and spots Jared wandering the aisles, scanning the racks, like there's something to see here, like every convenience store in America doesn't have exactly the same stuff.

Jen takes a breath and holds it. He's not going to act all desperate, not going to do it, unh-uh. He takes off on an expedition of his own, pretending he doesn't know exactly where Jared is (standing by the beef jerky, checking out a can of Pringles). Jensen mentally inventories the shelves as he drifts down the aisle, dog food, cat good, Pine-sol… Against the back wall is the magazine display, Car and Driver, Southern Living, Sports Illustrated... The nudie magazines are safely tucked behind covers to protect young eyes from bare boobs, a concession to the moral majority, and Jensen has an unhappy flashback to being fourteen, desperate to get a look at what was hidden beneath those plastic obstacles, the guy at the counter watching his every move, ready to yell out in front of the whole store "get your hands off that Playboy, son" if Jen got too close.

Funny how life could circle back on a person, and you could end up horny and frustrated at the 7-11 like it was just yesterday.

Jensen goes back up front and finds Jared parked in front of a video game, forehead scrunched up in concentration. The machine blares with the sounds of racing engines and squealing tires, and Jen wonders if there was some memo he missed, something that would explain why they're whiling away the evening at America's favorite convenience store instead of fucking under the stars.

"I made it to a million once," Jared boasts.

Jen leans in to look. Jared's current score is 10,530.

"I fucking hate you," he says in a hiss.

Jared's gaze slides over to meet his, and there are depths in those eyes, malicious, laughing depths.

"You fucker!"

Jen hates to be screwed with.

Jared takes his hands off the controls, and there's a spectacular crashing effect as the car goes up in flames. Jared grins and leans close and says against Jen's ear, "It's better when you really want it."

If that's the case, Jen thinks, this may be the kind of good that rips a hole right through the space-time continuum. Not that he says this out loud, not with that smug expression on Jared's face.

He heads for the exit once again, and once again looks around to find Jared not there. "What the hell?"

Jared holds up a hand, a silent "just a minute," and he favors the clerk with another aw-shucks smile. "I'll need this," he picks up a little bottle of aloe vera gel from the countertop display, "and a box of Trojans."

The girl just blinks for a moment, then slowly turns to the shelf behind her. Jensen's face goes hot. He's so hard right now it takes actual concentration to be able to breathe.

They don't touch on the way out to car, because if they do, odds are they're going to have sex right there in the 7-11 parking lot, by the sign advertising "Pepsi 12 Pack $5.99!" Not the best plan. Jensen pulls the car out, and Jared leans forward in his seat and watches the road with all his attention, giving clipped, precise directions. Finally focused on fucking, Jensen thinks. This is good. He can work with this.

Strip malls give way to dusty fields as they drive. They turn off the main road, keep going until they hit dirt, and then a few more rights and lefts and they're there, the honest-to-God middle of nowhere. Jared pushes open his door and scrambles out, motions to Jen to follow. Jen walks around the front of the car, and the brown, dried grass comes up almost to his knees. He can smell the river, out there somewhere.

Jared hops up on the hood of the car, leans back against the windshield, Big Gulp at his side. He eyes the spot next to him, an invitation if Jensen has ever seen one. He joins him, and Jared tilts his head back to stare up at the sky, and, hey, when in San Antonio. It's dark enough now and they're far enough outside the city that the heavens are alive with light, steady pulses and brief flickers, a whole, swirling cosmos.

"See those three stars?" Jared points, and Jensen tries to follow the line of his fingers. "The three brightest ones in the sky. They call it the Summer Triangle. And the brightest one of those? That's Vega. It's part of Orpheus' Lyre." He traces the shape of the constellation in the air.

"You seem to know a lot about this," Jen say.

Jared nods. "My granddaddy used to bring me out here to stargaze."

He goes back to narrating the night sky, something about Hercules' belt and the Northern Cross. Jensen crooks his arm beneath his head and lets the words wash over him. The hood is warm beneath him, but not unpleasantly so, and Jared's voice and his nearness is like every comforting thing Jen has ever known distilled down to its purest state.

When Jared stops talking, Jen turns to see why, and there's a smile in Jared's eyes. They turn toward each other, and it's like falling, in the best sort of way. Their lips press together, and that's a different sort of heat than the blaze that still lingers in the air. Jared tastes like himself and fried chicken and the sticky sweetness of Dr. Pepper, like home, and Jensen licks at his lips trying to get more of that.

Jared runs his hand over Jensen's head, fingers rubbing at his scalp, soft edge of his nails. He murmurs "Jen," but doesn't stop kissing.

"I thought--" Jensen says against his mouth.

Jared circles his thumb over Jensen's neck. "What?"

"That you'd changed your mind. Back there at the store."

Soft dimples as Jared smiles. "Nah." His hand rests on Jen's thigh, and the heat of that touch penetrates through denim, through skin and flesh and bone. "Just messin' with ya."

And Jensen gets it then. Messing with him, because that's what they do, how they are, and just because they're breaking the rules doesn't mean everything has to change.

Jensen pulls him close. "Not just a pretty face."

Jared bites him on the lip, and they both laugh.

They tangle together, and Jensen thinks, I haven't made out with anyone in a really long time. He's still hard, but not in that "I might die from this" way. It feels good being able to press his face against Jared's neck and breathe him in, to find that little place behind his ear that makes him surge closer every time Jensen kisses it, to feel like they have all the time in the world.

When Jared pulls away and slips off the hood, it's confusing until Jensen realizes that Jared is holding out his hand. Jared maneuvers him around to the back of the car, opens the door, and pushes Jen down onto the seat, angled toward him. Jensen would not have guessed that Jared's next move would be to unbuckle his belt, yank his jeans and briefs down over boots in one fell motion, push him back against the seat and loom over him, staring. But Jared was a wild card that way. Predicting never did you any good.

"Push your shirt up," Jared tells him.

Orders, really.

Jensen does it, and refuses to consider what it means that Jared being the boss of him makes him that much harder.

"You don't want me to take these off?" He nods toward his feet.

Jared shakes his head. "I'm going to fuck you wearing nothing but your boots."

Jensen says "fuck" under his breath and squeezes his eyes closed.

'Cause the thing is: Jared has these ideas about them. He's been thinking about shit, for who knows how long, and hearing about it is so unbelievably hot that if Jared doesn't shut his mouth about it right this minute that's how soon it's going to be over.

Jared strips off his shirt, muscles rippling in his arms as he lets it fall to the ground. He ducks his head and climbs on top of Jensen, and then he's just everywhere, mouth hot on Jen's lips, his neck, all over his chest.

It goes on like that long enough that Jensen kind of forgets that anything else is supposed to happen, so fucking good all on its own. When Jared crawls back out of the car, gets down on his knees, Jen has that same giddy feeling he used to get riding roller coasters, dead drop in his stomach, ecstatic thrill all through his blood. Jared pulls him by the hips until he has him right where he wants him, legs spread, hanging out of the car. He bends his head, and then hot and wet is Jensen's whole world.

"Jared, Jared," he moans in the back of his throat, and Jared does this thing with his tongue, this thing that makes Jensen insane.

Jared pulls off him just long enough to beg, "Say it again!"

So Jen does, Jared, over and over, frantically, his hands thrust into Jared's hair, wanting to be gentle, not even coming close, so fucking desperate to have him, to get more of that.

"I fucking love the way you say my name," Jared mutters against his skin.

Right now, Jensen loves the way Jared does pretty much everything. He leans up on his elbows, so he can watch, slide of his cock past pretty, pretty lips. He rubs his thumb along Jared's jaw, and then, just because he's curious, he lets his fingers slide over to where they're connected, soft mouth, slick cock.

It's funny now that he ever wondered if he could do this, ever went around thinking, "But I like girls!" That was the one good thing about Cancun, all that time and all those strangers to work through his identity bullshit. There was a club near the house he was renting, and he'd go there every night, pick out a different boy, blondes or redheads, never anyone with dark hair or hazel eyes, because he was saving that. They'd kiss and grope their way through a song, and then they'd head out back to the alley. Jen would get on his knees, trial and error, not that the guys he blew ever seemed to notice. Or maybe they were just too stoned to care. Practicing for Jared, because he had to make sure he could really do it, give as well as receive, had to make sure he really wanted that.

Which seems laughably quaint in retrospect, now that he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Jared pulls off his cock, chest rising and falling sharply, eyes glittering. He reaches down in the floorboard, roots around, and comes up with the bag from the 7-11. Jen's cock is purple in the dull orange light of the car, glistening with come and spit, resting against his belly. They both stare, like they're admiring Jared's handiwork. Jared strokes the inside of Jensen's thighs, urges them apart, guiding one ankle over the front seat, the other onto the ledge behind the back seat. The boots make it awkward, but Jared's got that determined streak in him, and eventually he gets Jensen spread out to his satisfaction.

He pops the top on the aloe, squirts it onto his fingers, hesitates. "You ever let anyone do this before?'

Jensen licks his lips, shakes his head. He half expects some jokey comeback about his cherry, but Jared just gets a look of supreme concentration, like making this good is way up on there on his list of important life goals. He rubs his finger in circles, sticky and cool, teasing, and Jen tries to push forward, make him just do it already. Jared holds him down with one hand and keeps going on his way, and by the time he finally puts his finger inside, Jen is stringing together expletives. Jared watches his expression carefully, and then there are two fingers inside him. That really feels weird, but in a good, wow kind of way.

"Fuck, no!" Jensen says, rather loudly, when Jared pulls away.

Jared flashes an apologetic look as he moves back out of the car to stand up. Jensen forgives him the moment he pushes his jeans down around his knees. Long, hard cock, and Jared pumps it once, twice before rolling on the condom. Then he's back between Jensen's knees, more sticky stuff for both of them, and he leans into a kiss as he pushes inside.

Jensen scrabbles at his shoulders, not that it hurts exactly, just who knew that's where all the nerve endings in his body were? Jared goes slow, biting his lip, and Jen can feel the sweat start to drip from his forehead into his eyes. He wipes it away impatiently with the back of his hand.

"Talk to me," he tells Jared.

And Jared being Jared doesn't ask what should I say? He just starts to ramble in that low, sweet-rough voice of his, something about stars, not that Jensen can really pay attention to the exact words, not that they really matter.

All the way in, and Jared takes a moment so they can both breathe. Then he pulls out, fraction by little fraction, so slowly that every cell in Jensen's body feels raw, played like a violin string. Jared pushes back in, not quite as slowly as before, and then that rawness turns to heat.

"God," Jared moans, "you have no idea how good you feel."

The sensations layer on each other--the burn and the pleasure and the exquisite sense of being impossibly opened up to another person--and Jensen has no clue how women can fuck strangers. He's pretty damned sure he'll never want to do this with anyone he doesn't really, really like. A lot.

Jared is still talking, "so fucking hot, so fucking tight." He shifts Jensen's hips with his hands, and his cock hits that place, and then Jensen can't hear anything, a roar like the ocean in his ears. His cocks jerks in his fist, splatters all over his chest.

It takes a few seconds before it's quiet in his head again, and then he hears Jared, the slip and catch of his breath, soft groan in the back of his throat. He runs his nails over Jared's back and kisses him and pushes his hips up to the meet each thrust. Jared seizes hard and sinks his fingers into Jensen's arms and says his name as he comes.

He doesn't move for a while, and Jensen wraps his legs around him, boots leaving streaks of dirt on his skin. Finally, Jared lifts his head from Jen's shoulder, and they smile like a couple of goofballs and kiss.

Jared carefully untangles them, and they get out, reclaim their clothes. After they're dressed, they pick the weeds off each other, because no matter where they go from here, they don't need to look like they were doing this.

Jared fumbles a touch to Jensen's cheek, tenderly awkward, and Jen smiles like everything's going to be all right, because he honestly believes that. They kiss, a tacit agreement that it's the last one before they head back to the city. Now Jared tastes like himself and Dr. Pepper and Jensen, and that's really more right than anything should be.

They settle back into the car and pull on their seatbelts. Jensen tilts his head, studies Jared in the shadows.

"What?" Jared wants to know.

"Just wondering if your folks would believe we lost track of time and now it's kind of late for me to drive you home..."

Jared flashes a quick grin. "...and your cousin, the imaginary one, said it was fine if I crashed on the couch." His voice drops into a lower octave, "I think I can work that out."

Jensen is contemplating how best to demonstrate his gratitude when a sharp rap on the driver-side window makes them both practically jump out of their skin. There's a state patrolman, standing right there, giving them the interrogative once-over, his expression blankly serious.

Jensen rolls down the window. "Can I help you, officer?" he asks with all the politeness his mama ever taught him.

He prays the smell of sex isn't overpowering, that the cop just arrived on the scene and didn't actually witness anything. He can just see the headlines now, WB Co-Stars Caught in Gay Sex Tryst. Jen has never prayed so hard in his life.

"It's kind of late," the trooper says. "What ya'll doing out here so far from town?"

Jared pipes up, "My friend's visiting, and I was just showing him where my grandfather used to bring me to look at the stars."

"Uh-huh." A flashlight beam moves along the interior of the car. "You boys haven't got any open containers in here, now do you?"

Jared holds up his Big Gulp. "Just this, sir."

The cop gives them a hard, assessing look, and then nods. "All right. We been having some problems with drunk driving out this way, and we got to check these things out. You boys stay safe now." He nods at them and returns to his cruiser.

Jensen puts the car in gear and drives with excruciating care back to the main road, just in case. Once they're safely on the highway, they start laughing and don't stop until they're well inside the city limits.

"Shit," Jared says in a classic bit of understatement.

Jensen shakes his head. "I tell you what. We are breaking out that Do not disturb sign first thing when we get to the hotel."

Jared laughs, slips his hand onto Jensen's thigh. "Sex only when there's no chance of anybody walking in on us. How about we make that our new rule?"

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

stone-princess.livejournal.com

"Sex only when there's no chance of anybody walking in on us. How about we make that our new rule?"

AHAHA! But JT, where's the fun in that?

YAY! I love them all dirty inthe middle of nowhere! I love you for writing it! Poor Jenny, all frustrated in the 7-11. You and Jared, both so cruel to him! It's a good thing he likes it!

From:

Not a homecoming queen

WB RPS: When in Doubt, Consult the Stars

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