audrarose

So my family_secret story is kicking my ass, and my kids spent the night taking turns getting the flu. I wrote this because I figured someone should be in bed. :D

Title: Enough For Me
Author: audrarose
Words: 2,000
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Summary: Jensen really should go home.

Notes: Pointless fluff because I wanted schmoopy cuddle-fic with cute boys in bed. For wendy, b/c she said she wanted it, too. No previous reading is required, but technically this is more whistler!fic. Hee.



Jensen doesn’t know what wakes him. One minute he’s sleeping like he’s been drugged and the next he’s staring up through Jared’s bedroom sky-light at the moon, watching bright silver light slant over the bed in long ragged bars. It could have been the moonlight, or the car that he can hear pulling away on the quiet street outside, but most likely it was Jared, moving in his sleep. When Jensen glances over he can see that Jared’s rolled over onto his back, sprawled out with his face turned away and the sheet barely covering his hips, like a black and white photo in a book of really tasteful porn.

Jensen should go home.

Should have left hours ago, actually – but when the alarm went off at one he found he didn’t have anywhere near enough determination to drag his sated, sleepy body up from Jared’s zillion-thread-count sheets and away from Jared’s warm presence, heat he can feel even from the other side of the bed. They’d fallen asleep tangled up together, but that didn’t last long -- Jared’s like a furnace, radiating heat like he carries it inside him, so hot it could burn them both up.

Jensen looks at the clock on the dresser. Four a.m. Definitely time to go.

His clothes are a loss, dumped into the washer with about half a bottle of detergent and probably still sopping wet, but Jared left a pair of plaid flannel pants folded on the dresser. They’re soft and warm against his skin, worn and faded with the fabric still smelling like laundry soap; but they’re also Jared-sized so they barely stay on his hips and drape stupidly over his feet when he pulls them on. At least Jared’s Seahawks sweatshirt’s a little better, snagged from where Jared had dropped it next to the bed and only slightly huge on Jensen’s body. It’s still damp around the collar from Jared’s wet hair and Jensen thinks he can still smell Jared’s shampoo; he lets himself just stand there and breathe it in for a second.

And god, he must have it pretty bad to be getting off on Jared’s scent clinging to his clothes, especially with Jared sleeping just four feet away.

Going home. Right now. While he still can.

Jensen picks his way through the dark hallway, feeling almost completely blind after the bright moonlight in Jared’s room, and practically stumbles into the living room. It’s sheer luck that he falls over his shoes near the couch, stopping to shove his feet into them without socks while he grabs his keys off the coffee table. He feels vaguely amazed that they’re actually there -- he’d been so focused on seeing Jared the night before that he doesn’t even remember taking them out of the car.

It’s just a few steps to the door and this is it; he’s leaving, finally, and he almost makes it off the front porch, but –

it’s just such a goddamn beautiful night.

All moonlit and silent with a view of the distant skyline, and he can’t help it -- he has to stand there and breathe for a minute, take in crisp air that’s sharply cold but completely still, cooling his flushed face and his headlong rush out the door.

And maybe he needs to think for a minute, too, which he’d studiously avoided doing up until this very second because he knows the whole thing is insane.

All of it.

From the simple fact that he’s standing on Jared’s porch at four in the morning, stealing Jared’s clothes and missing Jared’s body, all the way up to the mind-bending concept that he and Jared are together at all -- just begging for trouble in about a hundred different ways.

Jensen takes a deep breath and looks around at the moonlight. Remembers how Jared looked, sprawled out beneath it. Decides the most insane part about the whole insane situation is that he doesn’t seem to care how crazy it is.

He really does need to go home.

But he should at least say good-bye first.

Somehow he makes his way back to the bedroom without injuring himself, but then he has to stop at the edge of the bed to just look, because that’s something he never gets to do for long enough, not when it always seems like half the world is watching him watch Jared.

Art-book porn.

Definitely. Just long lines and soft shadows, falling over Jared’s jaw, his hair – and his throat. Jensen moves in closer to look. A bruise, where Jensen kissed him too sharply – it’s not too deep, but it’s just dumb-ass luck that it’s below the collar line, where Jared won’t get bitched out in make-up and where they can still claim plausible deniability.

Insane. Jensen sighs.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching Jared’s shoulder. “I’m gonna take off.”

Jared opens his eyes a little and shifts his body like he’s posing for a different photograph; gives Jensen a sleepy-sexy smile that almost makes Jensen climb back into bed with him. But then he immediately closes his eyes again and Jensen starts wondering why he even bothered coming back.

“Okay, well. See you,” he says, right before Jared grabs his wrist and just tugs.

Jensen isn’t expecting it, which he tells himself is the only reason that move actually worked, and he ends up tumbling back down into the bed and collapsing into Jared’s body. Jared doesn’t even open his eyes, just settles Jensen between his legs like he belongs there.

“You’re cold,” Jared informs him, rubbing his face over Jensen’s in a snuggly, completely un-porn-like way.

Jensen catches his breath in surprise. “It’s cold out.”

“So why did you go outside?” Jared asks like Jensen woke up particularly dense.

“Jay, it’s almost dawn. I’ve got to go.”

“Hmmm. Okay,” Jared says. He pulls Jensen closer so he can put lazy kisses over his jaw and run his hands in slow circles over Jensen’s back, like he’s trying to warm him up. Every touch makes it harder for Jensen to remember why he needed to leave in the first place.

“Only -- and I’m really sorry about this,” Jared continues, “-- I can’t let you take this sweatshirt.”

Jensen starts in surprise, embarrassed, like maybe Jared knew he grabbed this one because Jared was wearing it after their shower. “My clothes are trashed…”

“Yeah, I know.” Jared sounds deeply regretful. “That sucks.”

Then he does something with his body, a quick, athletic move involving weight and leverage and the totally unfair advantage of surprise that ends up with Jensen on his back and Jared just covering him, nipping at his mouth and dragging the sweatshirt up to his chest. “But you still can’t leave here with this.”

“Okay, for one thing -- you know you only pinned me because I wasn’t ready. And dude, it’s not like I’m gonna keep it --.”

Whatever he was going to say gets lost, muffled in folds of cotton as Jared pulls the shirt over his head. Jensen really wants to complain but Jared kisses him the second his mouth is free, deep and sweet and obscene enough to make him gasp. And then he just keeps going, pushing Jensen’s arms over his head as he slides the shirt up, tangling their hands in the material and searching out Jen’s fingers to weave them together. He lets his teeth graze Jensen’s bottom lip as he pulls back a little. “This one’s my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Jen says when he can breathe. The slide of Jared’s bare chest against his own is making it hard to think. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it before…”

“Sorry. Can’t live without it,” Jared says, pulling the shirt free and tossing it off the bed one-handed, teeth scraping at Jen’s neck. Jensen closes his eyes and lowers his hands with a vague idea of pushing Jared off him but ends up touching him instead; the warm, soft skin over Jared’s back just too tempting to resist.

Especially when Jared’s kissing him like he wants to taste him everywhere, mouth moving in a slow tease over Jensen’s collar bone, his throat, biting gently at his shoulder. Jared’s hands are wandering everywhere, too, but he seems especially fascinated with the slide of flannel over Jensen’s thigh, rubbing the soft fabric back and forth against Jensen’s skin until his nerves start to sing, until finally Jensen just drags his leg up to rest against Jared’s hip. Jared stops kissing Jensen long enough to look down.

“Hey. These pants are mine, too.”

Jensen laughs, a short, breathless huff against Jared’s cheek and bites him softly beneath his ear. “Don’t tell me. Your favorite.”

“Mmm. Not really.” Jared slides smoothly down Jensen’s body, licks at one of Jen’s nipples until he squirms. “They’re kinda short on me.”

“I hate you.”

“But I still can’t let you take them,” Jared says from somewhere around Jen’s ribs, curling his fingers into the waistband of the flannel and tugging the pants down Jen’s hips.

Jensen suddenly finds it a little hard to breathe. “You’re weirdly attached to your wardrobe, you know that?”

“Not really,” Jared tells Jensen’s stomach. The tip of Jared’s nose traces a smooth line straight down from Jensen’s navel, tickling enough that Jensen would laugh if the brush of Jared’s cheek against his dick wasn’t spinning everything else out of his head.

“I think I just get kinda possessive…” Jared whispers, sending a soft puff of air over the tip of Jensen’s cock that makes him groan. “… when I think something’s mine.”

Wet, enveloping heat, sudden and searing, and the only thing Jensen can do is arch over Jared and hold him tight, touch him anyplace he can reach and try not to thrust too hard into Jared’s amazing mouth. That’s just about it, it’s almost over right there -- but Jared stops to shove the stupid pants off his ankles and then he’s moving, unfolding his long body to kiss Jensen’s mouth and drag their bodies together in one smooth slide of cock against cock that has Jensen shaking.

Naked. Together. Skin and heat and urgent movement, and Jared’s still smiling, still sweetly amused at his own joke and Jensen doesn’t think he could find the right words even if he could get his mind working straight. So he winds his hands tight into Jared’s hair, pulls that laughing mouth close and tries anyway.

“You don’t even know,” he says between kisses, around the smooth rocking of their bodies together. “You do this stuff and you don’t even know.”

“Know what, Jen?” A little breathless, now. A little serious.

“What this is. What it means.” But that still isn’t right. Isn’t enough. “To me,” he adds. Finally.

Then he watches Jared’s face change, sees happiness like a light going on, right before Jensen has to push him to his back. Jensen just pins him down and adds his hand to the grind of Jared’s hips, makes him laugh and makes him come; and that’s almost enough to make Jensen come, too, even before Jared touches him back.

**

“So.” Jared’s mumbling into Jensen’s neck, draped over Jensen’s chest heavy as a boulder so Jensen couldn’t move even if he wanted to. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“At this point, I’m just trying to breathe. You’re a boat.”

He can feel Jared smile against his skin, settle in closer. “Good.”

Jensen smiles, too. He really should go home. Eventually.

End