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beansideSo, I was hoping to have this done for last Friday, but that didn't happen. So, in honor of Friday finally arriving, I give you porn!
Title: Swimming Blindly (To Throw Myself On Your Shore)
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance and beanside
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: You gotta be kidding. This really didn't happen. So much fiction, you can't believe it.
A/N: Genderswitch.
There was one good thing to being in Vancouver, Jeff thought idly. His other jobs always seemed so normal next to being John Winchester. Like today. He was due on set at noon, only to get a harried call at eleven telling him to hold off, technical difficulties, Jesus Christ tell Jensen to stop doing that, gotta go, we’ll call you when we figure it out.
After a couple hours, Eric had called him back. “We’re wrapping for now, Jensen’s on his way over, he’ll explain.”
Eric had sounded…trashed. As in drunk off his ass.
That, was in itself unusual, but when you added in that it was only three in the afternoon…
The knock at the door was soft, almost tentative. With a sigh, Jeff heaved himself off the couch, and headed over, pulling it open. “Okay, what the hell is going on-“
He broke off at the sight of the woman standing in front of him. She wasn’t classically beautiful. Too many angles, high cheekbones, a too-strong jaw. But damn, she was hot. Wide green eyes, outstanding lips, and a body beneath the oversized leather jacket that looked pretty impressive. He forced himself to meet her eyes, smiling. “Sorry, can I help-“ Green eyes, over a nose that had a familiar splash of freckles. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Fuck you, too,” Jensen grumbled, shoving past Jeff into the apartment.
“Jensen, what the hell?”
“Eric picked up this great, weird-looking artifact,” Jensen murmured.
Jeff shook his head, trying to reconcile the light, soft, feminine voice with Jensen's familiar speech patterns. “Okay.”
“It was this little weird jar thing that no one could get open. So I took it, and it opened right away. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the ground with these!” Jensen’s hands cupped his breasts.
“Jen-“
“Shut up. I know shit like this doesn’t happen in real life. I know that!” He flopped onto the couch, shrugging off the oversized coat.
Jeff looked quickly away, hurrying into the kitchen to hide his body’s reaction. He—She? Jensen was wearing a wifebeater. A men’s wifebeater, practically see through, with the oversized armholes. Not only could he see the curve of the underside of a breast through the armhole, he could see the darker areola, and the soft bump of Jensen’s nipples through the thin material. They were really nice breasts, Jeff thought despairingly. Really nice.
Right now, though, Jensen looked like he was about to cry. Jesus, he was being an insensitive bastard.
“Okay, so what do we do to turn you back?”
“Nothing,” Jensen muttered miserably. “Eric called the place he got the thing from. It’s a twenty-one day spell. In three weeks, I’ll be back to normal.”
“Okay. So that’s not horrible. I mean,” Jeff amended as Jensen glared. “Not permanent.”
“I have tits!” Jensen shrieked, hands cupping the offending breasts, shaking them at Jeff.
Jeff closed his eyes. “Please don’t point those at me.”
“What?” Jensen’s breathing sounded hard and fast. It was somehow insanely intimate to hear him get this ruffled, his usual calm broken into pieces. After a long moment, Jensen cleared his throat and said, voice husky, “Hell, Jeff, it’s not like they’re loaded.”
“Good to know.” Eyes opening, Jeff was relieved and disappointed to see that Jensen had let his hands drop. “You a little calmer now?”
“No. I’m trying to remember if I drove past any clocktowers.” Dragging a hand through his close-cropped hair, Jensen sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”
Jeff had a few suggestions, none of them appropriate. He could feel his eyes trying to slide down to the shadows he could see through Jensen’s shirt. The borrowed jeans were riding low on Jensen’s hips, showing a hint of skin.
“Sit down,” Jeff murmured. “I’ll get you a beer.”
“Oh, thank God. I knew you’d be sane about this. Jared-” Flopping down on Jeff’s couch, Jensen winced belatedly and grabbed at his chest. “Nngh. Fucking things.”
Jeff went to his refrigerator, retrieved two beers, and came back to set one in front of Jensen. Then he sat on the couch beside Jensen, close enough that their knees bumped. “Jared what?”
“Oh.” Grabbing his shirt, Jensen used it to open the beer bottle and flashed not a little of his tan, lean belly. It was worse because he was completely, utterly oblivious. “He was worried. And then he was hysterical. And then he wanted to play with them.”
“With the-“ Jeff gestured. When Jensen nodded tiredly, Jeff snorted. “Smart man. Did you punch him?”
“No. I figured the equipment’s on loan. He wussed out, but Sandy said they’re very nice.”
Damn it, Jeff would miss the day where Sandy fondled another woman. Even if that woman happened to be Jensen. Biting back the urge to ask if there was open-mouthed kissing and maybe a strap-on involved, Jeff said, “I think Sandy understated. Jen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got a fantastic goddamn rack.”
“I’m aflutter,” Jensen deadpanned, and put his feet up on Jeff’s coffee table. “Jeffrey
Dean Morgan likes my tits. You want to play with them, too?”
Jeff didn’t choke on his beer, but it was a near miss. Swallowing hard, he put the bottle down and tried sincerely to say ‘no’.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jensen muttered, and reached over. Grabbing Jeff by the wrists, he steered Jeff’s hands over to his own chest. Then there was soft, warm skin under Jeff’s hand, the thin shirt not nearly enough of a barrier. “There. Okay? It’s not that fascinating, so think with your upstairs brain now.”
Automatically Jeff shifted his grip away from a crude junior high grope, cradling the soft curves of Jensen’s breasts in his fingers. He didn’t stroke, though God, he wanted to. Just held the warm weight of them in his hands, trying not to think that if he moved his thumb just so… “Wow,” he said, his voice unexpectedly tight. Clearing his throat, Jeff wet his lip and said, louder, “Um. Very nice.”
“Glad you’re enjoying them.” Jensen sighed, grabbing his beer and taking a swig. The long line of his throat as he tipped his head back, the curve of those obscene lips, all of it combined to make Jeff’s mouth dry out on him. “When they’re attached, they’re a little less interesting and a lot more obnoxious.”
Jeff crooked an eyebrow, knowing he was asking for it, but… “They’re not sensitive?”
Jensen shrugged. “They weren’t before.”
“Have you tried-“
“Feels a little weird to test-drive borrowed equipment.”
Jeff grinned. “C’mon, Jen. You have an obligation to men everywhere to do a little recon.”
“Oh, fuck you. They’re not mine.”
“I’d say for the next twenty one days, they are,” Jeff murmured. “A long time to not…do…anything.” Looking at the clock, he tried to ignore the weight in his hands, the fact that he was still cupping Jensen Ackles’ tits. Jesus.
“I’ll manage,” Jensen muttered sourly. “Besides, I don’t even know if the parts are in working order.”
Before he could think of all the reasons why it was a bad idea, Jeff felt his thumb slide inwards, brushing over a soft nipple lightly.
Jensen’s eyes fluttered shut, his back arching a little, pressing harder into Jeff’s hands, and Jeff nearly swallowed his tongue. Jesus. That shouldn’t be so hot, he thought. “Looks like they work,” he observed, voice rough. With a supreme force of will, he pulled his hands back, rubbing them briskly on his jeans.
“Yeah,” Jensen breathed. “Okay.”
Jeff took a long pull of his beer. “Okay, so. Twenty-one days.”
“Yeah.” Jensen leaned forward, forehead pressed to the cool glass of the beer bottle. “This is so fucked up, Jeff.”
“I know.” Jeff reached over and laid his hand on the back of Jensen’s neck, rubbing lightly. “It’s okay, Jen. Going to be okay.”
Narrowed green eyes glared at him. “I have tits! And no cock!”
“There is that. But it’s not permanent. Twenty-one days. You can handle that.” Jeff reached over, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him over for a one-armed hug. “So I’m guessing that we’re off work for the next twenty one days.”
“Oh, hell no. Eric’s decided that he’ll just write a Hell House-esque one, where Dean pisses off a coven or something and gets-“ Jensen gestured vaguely downwards. “He’s going to call you later to work out schedules, when he finishes the bottle of Crown Royal he’s hitting. He figures that we’ll start shooting in a week or so.”
“He sounded pretty freaked out.”
“Well, c’mon, Jeff. He bought the damned thing. And suddenly one of his leads is a girl?”
“I can see where that would be a problem.” Jeff took a deep breath. “Okay. So, first thing is to get you some clothes that fit. A couple good bras.”
“I figured I’d hit Wal Mart.”
Jeff made a face.
“What? It’s for three weeks. I’m not spending a shitload of money on three weeks. WalMart is fine.”
******
WalMart kind of sucked, Jensen had to admit. The proportions were somehow…off. The jeans hugged his body in all the wrong places, and the tops were tight across his tits. And the bras didn’t fit right at all.
He stomped out of the dressing room, glaring at Jeff, daring him to say something.
Jeff raised his eyebrows, lips twisting.
“I know,” Jensen groused. “This blows.”
“Let’s hit the mall, Jen. This isn’t working for you,” Jeff said dryly.
“Fine.” With a growl of frustration, Jensen ducked back into the fitting room, snarling as his cell phone started ringing again. A quick glance at the screen told him it was Jared. Again. Fuck. “Hello,” he muttered, struggling out of his clothes.
“Jen, how’s it going? I stopped by your apartment, but you weren’t there. Is everything okay? Do you need anything?” Jared’s voice was soft, solicitous. It was the voice that they’d termed over one read-through or another the ‘Sam really cares about your problems, and you want to tell him everything' voice.
It made Jensen want to pop him in the nose. “Jared. Stop. I’m not a girl, body notwithstanding, so stop giving me Sam's caring and sharing voice.”
For a moment, Jared was quiet, and Jensen silently cursed himself for being a dick. Then, Jared laughed. “Jesus, man. Six hours, and the PMS has already hit?”
“Fuck you.” Jensen’s elbow ricocheted off the opposite wall of the narrow dressing room. He swore and heard a young voice draw in a shocked little breath from a nearby cubicle. Great. He was a freak and he was corrupting a minor.
“Hey, Sandy offered us up, but you said no.” Jared’s voice was cheerful again. “And Rosenbaum would lend you his body, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, god.”
“Yeah, I told him there wasn’t a condom strong enough.”
“Thanks,” Jensen laughed softly.
“Don’t thank me yet. He says he’s got hands and batteries. So, where are you, anyway?”
“Shopping.”
“Um. You did change your shirt, right? Cause you ran out too fast, but man, that shirt was…um,” Jared fumbled for the right word.
“Nah, Jeff gave me one of his t-shirts, I’m good.”
“He shopping with you?” Jared asked, voice sharpening.
“Yeah.”
“Ohhhh,” Jared drawled. “I see.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Jensen pulled Jeff’s shirt back on, feeling the blush climb his cheeks. “He’s a good guy.”
“He’s a good guy whose ass you’ve wanted forever,” Jared said bluntly.
“Jared, Jesus!” Jensen squirmed into the too-large jeans. “I’ve wanted George Clooney’s ass forever, too, but I’m managing just fine in that department.”
“Ask him to help test out your new girl parts.”
“George is out of my league. I’m going now. I’ll give you a call later, or tomorrow. I might just go home and drink tonight.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
“Still not a girl, Jare.”
“Not saying you are. Just. Call, okay?”
Jensen hung up with a growl, and walked out to Jeff’s side. He was talking soothingly to a hyperventilating woman, patting her shoulder a little nervously. When he saw Jensen, he smiled widely. “No luck, Jenny?”
“No.” Jensen seriously debated killing Jeff with his brain. “Where are we going next?”
“La Jolie Madam, in the Pacific Center. They do fittings for bras.” Jeff glanced down, smiling sweetly at the woman. “It was really nice to meet you, Katie. Thank you again for the compliments.”
Jensen gave the woman a smile as Jeff looped his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, steering him towards the car. As soon as the sliding doors were closing behind them, Jensen shoved Jeff away.
“Jenny?” he gritted out.
“Sorry, I panicked.”
“Eat my absentee dick, Morgan.”
Jeff slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans and kept pace with Jensen, irritatingly managing not to make it look like he was slowing his steps at all. Tall bastard. “Hey, she was revving up to cry.”
“Poor baby. All these women flinging themselves at you.”
“Bullshit, dude. I’ve seen you with criers. You’re not much better.” Cocking his head, Jeff sing-songed in what was presumably his Jensen voice, “‘Look over there, it’s Jared. Don’t you want to meet Jared?’”
“Shut up,” Jensen said sourly, and slouched against the side of Jeff’s car. “You can just drop me off. You don’t need to get into a mob scene at La Madam de Pretension.”
Jeff stopped, turning to look down at Jensen. Despite the comfortable slouch of his shoulders, the fucker loomed over Jensen right now. The fact that he did it with big brown eyes and a ‘trust me’ smile just made it worse. “Jen,” Jeff said with a sigh, “you’re freaking out. I’m not going to ditch you in a lingerie store when you didn’t even have breasts twelve hours ago.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Jensen bit off.
“Dude.” Jeff leaned against the car beside him, crossing his legs at the ankle. He slung his arm over Jensen, and Jensen tried hard not to think of his scent or of long fingers stroking over- yeah. Not thinking about that. Or about the way Jeff had wiped his hands on his jeans like he thought Jensen was contagious. “You’re freaking out. But it’s okay. Because if it were me, I’d be in a fetal position under the bed whimpering for my dick back. Besides which, you’re going to get me out of the mob scene.”
Grudgingly, Jensen looked up at Jeff. “How so?”
Jeff’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “You’re going to be my very jealous girlfriend.”
Jensen arched an eyebrow. “The hell I am.”
“C’mon, Jen. I’m not asking you to have my babies. Protect me from the scary fangirls.”
“Your fangirls, your problem.”
“I’ll buy you dinner and beer,” Jeff wheedled. “I’ll be your bitch forever, man. Just, y’know, whine a little and roll your eyes. Get called a bitch behind your back. Not a bad deal.”
Squirming out from under Jeff’s arm, Jensen pulled his door open.
“Does this mean no catfight?” Jeff asked, his voice muffled.
Jensen rolled down his window to punch Jeff in the arm.
“Oh, an abusive girlfriend. I like it, that’s kinky.” Jeff went to his own side, sliding into the driver’s seat. As he was buckling up, he smirked at Jensen. “Tell me I’m a bad boy.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jensen began, then laughed. “Fine. It better be good beer.”
“Promise. Anything you want.” Jeff put the car into gear and headed for the Pacific Center.
La Pretension was every bit as bad as Jensen had expected. First, Jeff spun this utter bullshit story about a flooded apartment, and helping his ‘friend’ get back on her feet.
The women in the store (who naturally recognized Jeff on the spot) bought the line, and began fussing over Jensen hardcore. It was like being attacked by chattering butterflies.
At least when they weren’t cooing over Jeff, who looked utterly miserable, sitting on the little pink chair outside the dressing room, legs practically drawn up to his chest as the women giggled and flirted.
In almost no time flat, Jensen was found to be a thirty two D, whatever the fuck that meant. Apparently, it meant that he had enormous hooters. Whoopee.
Before he could blink, they were following him into the dressing room, shoving their hands into the bra and helping to adjust his loaner tits.
At Jeff’s urging, he bought a few bras in different styles, and roughly a metric ton of panties. He had to admit, the panties were nice. Soft. Kind of slinky against his loaner bits.
God, maybe he was turning into a girl. Enough of this shit. Time to go see how Jeff was doing.
Not too well, if the way he was trying to back through the wall was any indication. Then again, the rather busty blonde who was trespassing way past the boundaries of personal space would have made Jensen step back, too.
Jeff didn’t seem to notice Jensen, absorbed with trying to keep any part of his body from touching the blonde. Good plan, except that Busty wasn’t playing nice, pressing her cleavage practically in his face. Jeff tensed suddenly, and Jensen noticed the blonde’s hand curling loosely over Jeff's ass.
Oh, hell no. You just didn’t do things like that to a guy like Jeff. Jeff was a good guy. One of the few. He didn’t deserve to be groped by some insane fan.
Jensen stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “Jeffrey?”
Jeff looked over, eyes wide. “All done?”
Jensen nodded, then turned a glare on the blonde. “Excuse us,” he snarled, then gave Jeff his best pout. “You were right,” he sighed. “The purple bra was just perfect.” With a wicked grin, he knotted his fingers in Jeff’s hair, pulling him down, and pressing his lips against Jeff’s.
He’d meant it to be a quick, chaste touch. Nothing more. They were actors, after all. They’d done plenty of stage kisses. Then Jeff’s hand settled into the small of his back, stroking lightly. It wasn’t anything sexual, Jensen thought desperately. Just… steadying. But God, Jeff was so warm, every touch along his spine settling into suddenly too-tight skin like a brand.
And was that—? Jensen couldn’t quite still the little intake of breath as the tip of Jeff’s tongue darted out, tracing a barely-there line along the bow of his lip. Funny how it didn’t feel like a stage kiss.
After a long moment, Jensen forced himself to pull back, breath loud in his own ears. Jeff smiled down at him, that lazy, obnoxious smirk. The one that had made women world wide want to climb into their televisions and do wicked, obscene things in Denny’s hospital bed.
“Looks like our audience gave up,” Jensen murmured, ducking his head a little.
“Looks like,” Jeff agreed. Then he bent forward, fingers ghosting along Jensen’s spine. His lips brushed over Jensen’s again, gentle, sweet.
It shouldn’t have felt like that, Jensen thought. Like reassurance. Like a benediction. Like a promise. His fingers slid under Jeff’s shirt, curling around his waist, against that flame-hot skin. God, softer than he’d expected, coarse hair and achingly soft skin.
Jeff made a soft sound, lost against Jensen’s lips, and suddenly Jensen felt callused fingertips scraping against his scalp. Goosebumps bloomed in their wake, and Jensen arched his neck, pressing into the touch. So fucking good.
Before he could over think, or more to the point before he could chicken out, Jensen pressed onto his tiptoes, his tongue slipping over Jeff’s lips, teasing. Jeff's quiet, pleased growl was like a balm on his nerves, and Jensen stepped back after a moment, hands still resting on Jeff’s waist.
Jeff’s eyes were almost completely black, pupils blown. Because of him, Jensen thought, smiling. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft, husky.
“Mmm?” Jeff asked, voice barely a purr. He didn’t seem to be paying a whole lot of attention to the words, and Jensen leaned closer, forcing Jeff to meet his eyes. After a moment, color flooded Jeff’s cheeks, and his eyes snapped up to Jensen’s. “Sorry.”
Jensen grinned wider, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he had in hours. “You’re a good guy, Morgan.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, I’m really not.”
“Yeah, you are. I couldn’t have done this alone,” Jensen admitted.
“If I was a good guy, I wouldn’t have been standing here, imagining you on your knees,” Jeff blurted.
Jensen stared, the mental image flaring to life in his brain like wildfire. His fingertips stroked over Jeff’s skin again, and he pulled his hands back, wondering suddenly if that was what his cock would feel like—velvet skin over iron muscle. Trying to banish the image, so clear he could almost touch it, he wiped his fingers on his jeans. The mimicry of the motion, the same Jeff had made hours earlier when he was wiping off the feel of Jensen’s breasts, wasn’t lost on him. Oh. Oh.
Jeff shook his head, running his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just—you’re a beautiful woman, Jen. Hell, you’re a beautiful man, so I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just. Yeah.”
Color crept into Jensen’s cheeks, and he cursed himself roundly. “Jeff.”
“Sorry,” Jeff repeated, shifting uncomfortably. “You really didn’t need that dropped on you. I’m not—that wasn’t me saying I want—would make that kind of a move on you. I’m not a total asshole. I—“
Jesus. Jeff was babbling. Because of him, Jensen thought. Somehow, that made a little stab of something that felt like pride well in his stomach.
So. Fucked. Up.
“Jeff,” Jensen said sharply, cutting him off. When Jeff stopped, looking at him warily, Jensen reached out and punched his arm. “Give me some credit. If I thought you were being an asshole, you’d know.”
Jeff tipped his head, searching Jensen’s face for a long, inscrutable moment. Then he reached out and dragged the back of his knuckles down Jensen’s arm, absently soothing. “All right. Sorry. I just figure you’re having a bad enough day without-“
“Please. That’s the only good reason for getting out of bed I’ve had so far.” Adjusting his bra strap, Jensen smirked. “What, you think I’m getting off on the whole Rocky Horror thing?”
“Might be. You are from LA. Besides, women get all the soft slinky fabric.” The slow, filthy smile crept up on Jeff. “So how’re those silk panties working out for you?”
“They’re, um. Yeah. Jerk.” Jensen sighed. “I need jeans.”
“Aren’t you lucky I scoped out your options, then. And that I did all those years in graphic design.” Taking his hand back, Jeff slid it in his jeans pocket. “Got half a rack of stuff down there waiting for you.”
“What, am I your personal Barbie now?” Jensen dragged a hand through his hair. “I can dress myself.”
“Really? Must’ve missed that day.”
Jensen punched him again, and Jeff smirked. “Is that a yes to the bad boy thing?” Jeff asked.
“Such an ass,” Jensen muttered, paying for his clothes and letting Jeff steer him to the shop next door, where a rack of clothes waited for his perusal.
Goddammit. Did Jeff have to be so good with women’s clothes? Out of about twenty pieces, there was only one he rejected out of hand.
“Not buying pink, Jeff.”
“You wear pink all the time!” With a roll of his eyes, Jeff took the offending shirt and tucked it back on the rack.
“That’s when I have a dick,” Jensen muttered.
“Okay, crazy person,” Jeff grinned, patting his shoulder. “Then, we can head to get you shoes.”
“Boots.”
“Boots,” Jeff agreed, hoisting Jensen’s bags.
To Jensen’s shock, the afternoon didn’t suck nearly as hard as he’d expected. Jeff treated him like he always had, teasing and taunting Jensen out of each little panic attack as they came. It reminded him of why he’d always loved it when Jeff was onset.
Aside from the way Jeff filled out a pair of jeans. Cause goddamn. His body must’ve missed the ‘women don’t think obsessively about sex’ memo, because he couldn’t seem to tear his attention away from Jeff’s ass. Or his long, tan fingers. Or the line of his cock in those perversely tight jeans. Or (God help Jensen) his smile.
Jeff wasn’t helping any. Every once in a while, he’d slip and Jensen would catch him looking, his eyes hot and half-lidded as they dragged over Jensen like a touch. Or, worse, Jeff would slide an arm around Jensen and tug him in close as they walked, staring evenly at some poor jackass Jensen hadn’t even noticed was looking at him. If Jeff could’ve stamped ‘mine’ on Jensen’s forehead, he probably would’ve.
As good as that protective touch felt, it grated, too. It wore on Jensen slow, like standing in front of the parade of dressing room mirrors, looking at the naked girl in them and thinking, that’s me. That’s my body. Those are my tits. I’m not going to wake up.
He’d lost muscle mass, which sucked, and gained a softness that made him look vulnerable and younger. He needed to shave in places. As the day wore on and the underwear rubbed in unmentionable ways, he could feel that he was getting slick, could see the black silk clinging as it got damp. He left the underwear on. He didn’t want to explore that particular new territory until he got to his apartment, but the rubbing of the seam of his jeans made him dizzy, brought his breath faster in his throat. As he shimmied in and out of clothes, his male brain caught the scent of slick, swollen pussy and just made everything that much worse. He ached, deeper than when he got hard and had to wait for it. His skin felt raw and tight.
Genderfucking was such a pain in the ass.
Sliding into his jeans again, Jensen pulled on Jeff’s shirt, stepped out of the dressing room and said, “Done. I need dinner, beer and pot. Not necessarily in that order. If you want to drop me off-”
“No, you’re coming home with me,” Jeff said, effortless, but the weight of his stare made Jensen wonder sharply if Jeff could smell it on him. “We’ll pick up dinner on the way. C’mon.”
****
Somehow, Jeff had expected more of a fight from Jensen, but he’d just nodded. Maybe he was more freaked out than he’d thought.
They’d made two stops along the way, one for food, one at the drug store to grab Jensen some necessities. He flat out refused to get a deodorant labeled “powder fresh,” but let Jeff pick out some makeup basics, and a razor. For a guy who wasn’t overly hairy, his girl-self seemed to have missed the memo.
Finally, they were at Jeff’s comfortable extended stay hotel room. “Can I borrow your shower for a couple minutes?”
Jeff nodded. “Go for it. I’ll get the food on plates, and crack some beers.” He watched Jensen head for the bathroom, and tried to shut the mental image of that body naked under the spray, of those tapered fingers stroking over freckled skin.
“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, pressing the beer bottle against the fly of his jeans. He could do this. He could be supportive guy. His cellphone rang, and he grabbed it quickly. “Morgan,” he murmured.
“Hey, Jeff,” Eric murmured, still sounding a little tipsy. “How’s Jen?”
“Okay. In the shower at the moment.”
“Good. Okay, so Ben’s doing a script for us, he’ll have it in a few days, so we’re looking at starting shooting on…it’s what? Thursday? So, on Tuesday. Do you think Shonda would be willing to work with you on the time-frame?”
“I can call her.”
Turned out, thankfully, that Shonda was more than willing to work with him. Technically, they weren’t shooting til October, so this was mostly the pre-series costume fittings, the publicity shots, meetings, casting. Shonda really wanted him there for some of the readings, to gauge chemistry with his potential co-stars.
In other words, the kind of stuff that made Jeff want to spork his eyeballs out. But for Shonda, he’d do it. Fuck that, for a shot like this, he’d do damn near anything. Even the fact that it was a great role was secondary.
His little girl needed to eat, after all.
He called Eric back, told him that it was fine, and to go to sober up, for fuck’s sake. By the time he hung up, the shower had stopped.
He was slapping the pizza on plates when the door opened, a puff of steam preceding Jensen into the room. When those long legs finally stepped out, Jeff had to take a long swallow of the beer to keep from staring.
He was still wearing Jeff’s shirt. And those black silk boy-shorts. Jesus. It shouldn’t have been that hot. But with the spiky wet hair and the freckles standing out on Jensen’s cheeks, it was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg.
Instead, he offered Jensen a plate and forced an easy grin. “Eric says that we’ll be starting shooting on Tuesday. So I called Shonda, and worked out the schedule. I’ll head out tomorrow, be back Monday afternoon.” He swallowed as Jensen bent over, digging in the bottom of the fridge for a cold beer. It hiked his shirt up past Jensen’s ass, leaving the black silk that clung to wet skin the only thing shielding Jensen from view.
After an eternity, Jensen stood up again, giving Jeff a little nod, and holding out a beer. “Cool. I’m glad you’re able to come up for it. Dean needs her daddy in a time like this.”
Jeff grinned. “I wish I could just stay up until Tuesday, but Shonda’s got a couple girls she wants me to do read throughs with.” He shrugged. “At least I’ll get to see my baby for a couple days. I hate leaving her with the sitter.”
“You could bring her with.”
“Not many hotels near the set that take pets. None that I’ll pay for, at least,” he added with a grin.
“Cheap bastard.”
“Damn right.”
Jensen settled on the couch with the remote and flipped through channels. “There’s got to be something decent on.”
Jeff settled next to him, sitting two more beers on the coffee table. “It’s got cable, there should be at least one craptastic movie on.” He reached into the end table drawer and pulled out a joint. “I believe someone requested pot?”
“Oh, I love you, man.” Jensen slid it between his lips and let Jeff light it, then sucked in a deep breath. After a moment, he let it out, and Jeff saw him relax, sinking lower into the cushions. “Much better.” His voice came out slow, slurred, and he laughed. “Jesus, I’m a frigging lightweight.”
Jeff laughed, and took the joint back for a hit. “You weigh less,” he said reasonably, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and rubbing gently at the dissolving knots of tension there.
Turned out, the tension was the only thing keeping Jensen upright. Without it, the beer and the pot took its toll, and he dozed halfway through the movie, head lolling heavy against Jeff’s shoulder.
With a fond smile, Jeff gathered Jensen into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. It was beyond odd to think that the tiny frame belonged to Jensen, Jeff thought.
Jeff settled Jensen into his bed and stroked the short hair off his forehead. “Night, Jen,” he whispered.
Jensen mumbled in his sleep, rolling over and shoving at Jeff's face with his hand.
Biting back a laugh, Jeff headed back into the suite's little living room and stretched out on the sofa with a sigh.
It felt like he'd barely been to sleep when he woke up again to the feeling that someone was watching him. He rolled over, propping himself onto one arm.
"Jeff?" Jensen's voice murmured. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out Jensen standing at the edge of the living room.
"Yeah." Scrubbing at his face with a hand, Jeff sat up. "What's wrong?"
Jensen crossed the room silently, kneeling next to the couch. "I can't sleep."
"Oh." Jeff reached for the remote. "Want to watch television? ESPN probably has something crack-addled on."
"No." Jensen's hand wrapped around his wrist. "I want." Jensen paused, considering, then brought his other hand to Jeff's mouth.
Jeff tensed as a slick finger slid over his lower lip, leaving the unmistakable scent of feminine arousal. "Jensen?" When Jensen just looked at him, eyes dark and level, Jeff swallowed. His body was one raw nerve, cock throbbing in his boxers. This was crazy, but-- he licked his lips, had to, biting back a moan at the flavor. "Are you-"
Surging up into Jeff's space, Jensen kissed him hard, tongue sliding between his lips. It wasn't a seduction; it was a demand. Jensen's hands pressed against Jeff's jaw, cradling his head and holding him still, trying to devour him from the mouth down.
Jeff was a good guy, but he wasn't a freaking saint. He reached out, feeling his way down Jensen's arms to his waist, bracing his hips and pulling him up. Jensen groaned into the kiss, teeth scoring Jeff's lower lip, a vicious little nip as Jeff pulled Jensen on top of him. It was clumsy, a tangle of limbs and blankets and too many clothes. Jensen went to sit on his lap, but the hell that was happening; Jeff didn't trust himself not to just come like a teenager. He spread Jensen out instead, their legs twining, Jensen's breasts pressed against his chest.
"You're wearing too many clothes," Jensen muttered, nipping at Jeff's jaw, sliding up to nuzzle his throat, tongue tracing the hard tendons, rasping over stubble.
Jeff shuddered as Jensen's teeth fastened on his earlobe, hips arching up into Jensen. "God, like that, Jen."
"Yeah." Jensen chuckled against his throat, letting his teeth scrape again. "That what you want, Jeff? You like it a little rough?"
Well, look who was getting smug. Sliding his hands down Jensen's back, Jeff cupped his hips, his ass. "I like you wild," he drawled, lingering in the way Jensen shivered and pressed tighter into him. "But you'll get yours. I'm gonna take my time on the important stuff."
Jensen huffed out a breath, an almost-laugh that shifted as Jeff stroked the small of his back, and moved to pull at Jeff's shirt. He kept squirming, restlessly grinding his hips into Jeff's thigh. "Come on," Jensen murmured, "let me touch you, want to feel skin. Fuck, I want you."
"Goddamn," Jeff breathed. "So fucking wet, Jen. I can feel you. Gotta touch you, baby. Want to taste you, feel you all slick under my tongue."
Jensen's hips bucked against him as his eyes closed on a long, low moan. Even as a girl, his voice had that edge of gravel, a husky purr that went straight to Jeff's cock.
"S'that what you want? You want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours with my tongue?" As he spoke, Jeff sat up, nudging Jensen over onto the couch.
Shuddering under Jeff's hands, Jensen raised his hips and tugged his way out of the silk shorts. Jeff hadn't seen him this clumsy, this desperate and split wide open. "Yeah," Jensen said raggedly, stroking Jeff's arm, the back of his neck. "C'mon, please, Jeff, please. Jesus, this is- I want- I've wanted--"
Jeff turned his head into Jensen's hand, rubbing against it. He couldn't seem to get enough of Jensen under his hands, touching him. It was probably rude as hell, but he took Jensen by the hips and moved him, spread him open, cradled Jensen's hips in his hands. He planned to settle in for the long haul, to touch and pet and take his time.
At the first gentle stroke of his fingers, Jensen bucked up, fingers sinking into Jeff's hair, trying to pull him closer.
Goddamn. He was going to be a wild ride. Without waiting for Jensen to relax, Jeff looped his arms under and around Jensen's thighs, holding him open and still.
"C'mon, you motherfucker," Jensen growled. "Jesus, I don't know how girls stand it, this ache."
Jeff didn't answer him, just dove in, letting his tongue tease its way along his pussy, brushing lightly over Jensen's clit, hearing him suck in air, then down to fuck into him.
God, Jensen was drenched Jeff realized. Slick and swollen and ready. He slid back up, gently sucking, letting just the tip of his tongue flicker over the skin.
Surprisingly strong hands slid into his hair, holding him in place. "Jeff." Jensen's voice was wrecked. "Please."
Never let it be said that Jeff Morgan disappointed a lady, he thought. Even if the lady was a guy.
He went to work, tongue teasing and retreating, driving Jensen higher with each pass.
"Shit. Shit--oh fuck, your mouth," Jensen whimpered.
Jeff hummed happily against Jensen's clit, abruptly sucking and flicking his tongue against the underside harder, feeling Jensen's nails dig into his scalp.
Jensen tensed, his breath coming quickly. "Ohfuck, ohfuck, oh--Jeff," he moaned. He shuddered in Jeff's grip, shaking and gasping and bucking. Jeff kept a steady pace, staying with Jensen until he settled.
****
Jesus, is that why all of his girlfriends gave him that little smirk when he went down on them? Cause that shit was addictive. Jensen lifted his head, smiling at Jeff. "Fuck, you're good," he blurted, feeling the color coming to his cheeks even as he said it.
Jeff leaned his head on Jensen's thigh, and smiled up at him. Sharks smile like that, Jensen thought, even as Jeff slid up his body until he could press his lips against Jensen's throat. "Taste so good, Jen. Could do that forever." One finger slid down, stroking him lightly, fingertip teasing his entrance.
"Nnngh?" Jensen replied. Jesus, Jeff had sucked his brain out. The thought made him giggle, until the sound of his voice, high and girlish stopped him. Fuck.
"You okay?" Jeff asked.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine." Jensen's eyes slid down Jeff's body, fingers following, stroking over the hard lines of his chest, the hard muscle and soft skin, then lower. Jeff was in awesome shape for a forty-something year old. His hands reached Jeff's boxer-briefs, tracing the line of his cock lightly, touching the damp spot at the front.
Jeff made a soft tearing sound, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck. You're going to kill me."
"Nah." Jensen slid the briefs down over Jeff's thighs. "Jesus, Morgan. No wonder you don't wear tight jeans."
Jeff blushed, actually blushed, and ducked a little.
"Goddamn." Jensen curled his hand around the hard length of Jeff's cock and stroked it slow and easy. He leaned forward to catch the drop of moisture that beaded at the tip with his tongue, and Jeff moaned, his hips jerking.
Jensen opened readily, letting Jeff fuck his mouth.
"Sorry," Jeff apologized, trying to pull back. "Maybe I should sit, so I don't-"
"I want you to," Jensen purred. "I want you to fuck my mouth, just like that. Good and hard. Then, you're going to fuck me."
Jeff shuddered, and Jensen smiled, bending forward to lap at his cock. It took a few tries, but eventually Jensen found the right angle, and Jeff found a rhythm. Then Jeff started talking, voice dropping into that whiskey-edged drawl that never failed to do it for Jensen. "That's it, Jen. God, your mouth. So good. Gonna fuck you, spread you open for me and take you hard."
A thought struck Jensen and he pulled off with a wet noise, looking up at Jeff. "God, please tell me you have condoms."
Jeff reached over to the drawer in the end table, and produced a package. He held it up and grinned.
"Damn good thing. Fuck, I want--" Jensen grabbed the box, yanking one of the foil packets out.
Jeff smirked as Jensen struggled with the packet, fumbling in his haste. Finally, the packet tore open, and Jensen gently slid it on, rolling it down Jeff's length.
As Jensen sat back, Jeff covered him, wrapping strong arms around Jensen and picking him up like he weighed nothing. Then the rough fabric of the couch was against his back, and Jeff knelt between his thighs, leaning in until Jensen felt the blunt pressure of Jeff's cock.
It was... odd. It didn't feel like getting fucked up the ass. Less prep, less burn. It was more yielding, softer, slicker. More urgent. The slick slide against him as Jeff teased, rubbing the head of his cock up and down, brushing his clit, dipping inside him just enough to drive him insane.
Gritting his teeth, Jensen asked, "You want to die for real?"
Jeff laughed, pressing the head of his cock just inside. Then he reached down with one hand and rubbed along the side of Jensen's clit, a firm touch.
"What're you-" Jensen jerked, still raw from Jeff's mouth, feeling the flutter of his muscles around Jeff's cock. Jeff eased his fingertip down, brushing the place where their bodies met, getting it slick and coming back to keep rubbing firm, maddening circles. "Jesus," Jensen breathed, but he raised his hips into the touch. Rocking up into Jeff got him nowhere, just little thrusts that made things so much worse, but god, it felt good. It built, shorting out thought and anything that wasn't Jeff. "Jesus."
"Yeah," Jeff murmured, eyes hot and intent on Jensen's face. Every twitch of Jensen's hips had to be getting to him, making his voice ragged and dirty. "Just like that. I'll get you there. So goddamn good, Jen, I can feel you trying to pull me in. Little wet noises. Go on, sweetheart, that's right. Fuck yourself on my cock."
The orgasm wrenched through Jensen, harder that time, tearing him open and wringing him out. He cried out, too slow to bite his lip and choke it back, shuddering as Jeff stroked him through it and--
The look on Jeff's face as he slid home would be with him forever. Raw need, awe, lust, and maybe something else, all wrapped into one moment. He felt Jeff sliding in, each millimeter penetrating him, heard Jeff's heartfelt groan. He could feel Jeff's heartbeat inside him.
Finally, Jeff's hips were pressed against his thighs. He held still for a moment, and Jensen shuddered, trying to adjust. "Holy fuck, you're big," Jensen finally managed.
"You okay?" Jeff gritted out. "You need me to back out, tell me now. So goddamn tight."
"No," Jensen managed, grabbing onto Jeff's shoulders. The muscles there were tense, drawn taut under his hands. He rubbed absently at them. His pussy was throbbing, a weird feeling on its own, still twitching from the second orgasm. He was drenched, he could feel smeared slick between their thighs. "God. Go. Just... start slow."
Jeff's hips flexed against him, and Jensen shivered. Anyone but Jeff, he wouldn't have done this. Wouldn't be able to handle being out of control. But it was Jeff, and all Jensen wanted was for him to fucking move.
Then he was moving, and all thoughts went away. Holy shit. It was... oh god.
"All right?" Jeff asked tightly, watching Jensen's face. "Do I need to-"
"Harder," Jensen gasped.
Jeff didn't seem to have a problem with that. He leaned down, capturing Jensen's mouth. The movement changed the angle just a bit, and pleasure streaked through Jensen, stealing his breath even as Jeff's tongue slid against his. He hitched his legs higher, arching into the next thrust, and felt Jeff grin against his lips. "Oh, it's like that," Jeff purred. He lifted up for a moment, and Jensen was shocked to hear an unfamiliar whine slide from his lips. "Shh, I've got you, baby."
"Fuck. Now, Morgan," he demanded. "Or do you need a fucking diagram?"
Jeff grinned, ducking his head down to nip at Jensen's lip. "I think I can figure it out." In one quick move he was coming to his feet, lifting Jensen up with him.
"Hey! What--" Jensen grabbed at Jeff's shoulders as he left the couch, hoisted against Jeff like he was a ragdoll. "Put me down, dude."
"In a minute. Just-"
Jensen shivered as his back was pressed against the wall. "Jeff?"
"Mmm?" Jeff grinned, hands resting on either side of Jensen's head, leaning them into the cool paint. "You ready?"
"I. Yeah? How are you going to-" Jensen broke off as Jeff moved, hips pistoning against him, shoving him harder against the wall. Something in the angle was just right, he guessed, because it felt like his head was about to come off. "Oh," Jensen whimpered. "Oh, oh god. Yeah, please-"
Jeff growled low in his throat, ducking his head to bite at Jensen's throat even as his hips moved, fucking Jensen hard and merciless.
It was... God, too good. He dug blunt nails into Jeff's back, leaving bruises like the ones he'd have on his hips and ass, but who cared? All that mattered was the fire racing through his veins, the rush of knife-edged pleasure coiling through him, pulling tighter and tighter. His fingers dug into Jeff's hair, pulling his head up to devour him, tongues sliding slick against teeth.
Without warning, the world splintered, coming apart around him, the pleasure winging through him until the only thing that existed was Jeff's strong body. Even he didn't exist, Jensen thought wildly. He was nothing more than the sensations, the white hot shudder of pleasure.
Jeff groaned, the stroke stuttering, and Jensen found his voice, urging him on. "That's it, Jeff. Fuck my tight pussy. God, want to feel you come for me. So good, you like that, baby?"
One last hard thrust, and he felt Jeff shaking, his hoarse shout echoing through the room.
After a long minute, Jeff slid down the wall, bringing Jensen with him, gathering him close, onto his lap. "I was planning to try the bed," he chuckled. "Sorry."
"Mmm. Why?" He'd deny it to his dying day, but Jensen was pretty sure he snuggled on Jeff's lap, tucked his head under his chin and all. But it felt good, all warm and comfy and fucked out. He ruthlessly suppressed the little voice that said "safe."
"Not a clue," Jeff laughed. "You okay?"
"Mmmhmm."
"You gonna fall asleep on me?" Jeff lifted him again, and Jensen only gave a token squirm, letting Jeff tuck him into bed and snuggle next to him. It was kinda nice.
"You smell good," he muttered.
Jeff snorted softly. "Go to sleep," he said. "In the interest of your self respect, I'll pretend I never heard that."
Sleep rolled over him, and Jensen let it, his mind finally quieted in Jeff's arms.
Title: Swimming Blindly (To Throw Myself On Your Shore)
Authors:
nilchance and beansideRating: NC-17
Disclaimer: You gotta be kidding. This really didn't happen. So much fiction, you can't believe it.
A/N: Genderswitch.
There was one good thing to being in Vancouver, Jeff thought idly. His other jobs always seemed so normal next to being John Winchester. Like today. He was due on set at noon, only to get a harried call at eleven telling him to hold off, technical difficulties, Jesus Christ tell Jensen to stop doing that, gotta go, we’ll call you when we figure it out.
After a couple hours, Eric had called him back. “We’re wrapping for now, Jensen’s on his way over, he’ll explain.”
Eric had sounded…trashed. As in drunk off his ass.
That, was in itself unusual, but when you added in that it was only three in the afternoon…
The knock at the door was soft, almost tentative. With a sigh, Jeff heaved himself off the couch, and headed over, pulling it open. “Okay, what the hell is going on-“
He broke off at the sight of the woman standing in front of him. She wasn’t classically beautiful. Too many angles, high cheekbones, a too-strong jaw. But damn, she was hot. Wide green eyes, outstanding lips, and a body beneath the oversized leather jacket that looked pretty impressive. He forced himself to meet her eyes, smiling. “Sorry, can I help-“ Green eyes, over a nose that had a familiar splash of freckles. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Fuck you, too,” Jensen grumbled, shoving past Jeff into the apartment.
“Jensen, what the hell?”
“Eric picked up this great, weird-looking artifact,” Jensen murmured.
Jeff shook his head, trying to reconcile the light, soft, feminine voice with Jensen's familiar speech patterns. “Okay.”
“It was this little weird jar thing that no one could get open. So I took it, and it opened right away. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the ground with these!” Jensen’s hands cupped his breasts.
“Jen-“
“Shut up. I know shit like this doesn’t happen in real life. I know that!” He flopped onto the couch, shrugging off the oversized coat.
Jeff looked quickly away, hurrying into the kitchen to hide his body’s reaction. He—She? Jensen was wearing a wifebeater. A men’s wifebeater, practically see through, with the oversized armholes. Not only could he see the curve of the underside of a breast through the armhole, he could see the darker areola, and the soft bump of Jensen’s nipples through the thin material. They were really nice breasts, Jeff thought despairingly. Really nice.
Right now, though, Jensen looked like he was about to cry. Jesus, he was being an insensitive bastard.
“Okay, so what do we do to turn you back?”
“Nothing,” Jensen muttered miserably. “Eric called the place he got the thing from. It’s a twenty-one day spell. In three weeks, I’ll be back to normal.”
“Okay. So that’s not horrible. I mean,” Jeff amended as Jensen glared. “Not permanent.”
“I have tits!” Jensen shrieked, hands cupping the offending breasts, shaking them at Jeff.
Jeff closed his eyes. “Please don’t point those at me.”
“What?” Jensen’s breathing sounded hard and fast. It was somehow insanely intimate to hear him get this ruffled, his usual calm broken into pieces. After a long moment, Jensen cleared his throat and said, voice husky, “Hell, Jeff, it’s not like they’re loaded.”
“Good to know.” Eyes opening, Jeff was relieved and disappointed to see that Jensen had let his hands drop. “You a little calmer now?”
“No. I’m trying to remember if I drove past any clocktowers.” Dragging a hand through his close-cropped hair, Jensen sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”
Jeff had a few suggestions, none of them appropriate. He could feel his eyes trying to slide down to the shadows he could see through Jensen’s shirt. The borrowed jeans were riding low on Jensen’s hips, showing a hint of skin.
“Sit down,” Jeff murmured. “I’ll get you a beer.”
“Oh, thank God. I knew you’d be sane about this. Jared-” Flopping down on Jeff’s couch, Jensen winced belatedly and grabbed at his chest. “Nngh. Fucking things.”
Jeff went to his refrigerator, retrieved two beers, and came back to set one in front of Jensen. Then he sat on the couch beside Jensen, close enough that their knees bumped. “Jared what?”
“Oh.” Grabbing his shirt, Jensen used it to open the beer bottle and flashed not a little of his tan, lean belly. It was worse because he was completely, utterly oblivious. “He was worried. And then he was hysterical. And then he wanted to play with them.”
“With the-“ Jeff gestured. When Jensen nodded tiredly, Jeff snorted. “Smart man. Did you punch him?”
“No. I figured the equipment’s on loan. He wussed out, but Sandy said they’re very nice.”
Damn it, Jeff would miss the day where Sandy fondled another woman. Even if that woman happened to be Jensen. Biting back the urge to ask if there was open-mouthed kissing and maybe a strap-on involved, Jeff said, “I think Sandy understated. Jen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got a fantastic goddamn rack.”
“I’m aflutter,” Jensen deadpanned, and put his feet up on Jeff’s coffee table. “Jeffrey
Dean Morgan likes my tits. You want to play with them, too?”
Jeff didn’t choke on his beer, but it was a near miss. Swallowing hard, he put the bottle down and tried sincerely to say ‘no’.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jensen muttered, and reached over. Grabbing Jeff by the wrists, he steered Jeff’s hands over to his own chest. Then there was soft, warm skin under Jeff’s hand, the thin shirt not nearly enough of a barrier. “There. Okay? It’s not that fascinating, so think with your upstairs brain now.”
Automatically Jeff shifted his grip away from a crude junior high grope, cradling the soft curves of Jensen’s breasts in his fingers. He didn’t stroke, though God, he wanted to. Just held the warm weight of them in his hands, trying not to think that if he moved his thumb just so… “Wow,” he said, his voice unexpectedly tight. Clearing his throat, Jeff wet his lip and said, louder, “Um. Very nice.”
“Glad you’re enjoying them.” Jensen sighed, grabbing his beer and taking a swig. The long line of his throat as he tipped his head back, the curve of those obscene lips, all of it combined to make Jeff’s mouth dry out on him. “When they’re attached, they’re a little less interesting and a lot more obnoxious.”
Jeff crooked an eyebrow, knowing he was asking for it, but… “They’re not sensitive?”
Jensen shrugged. “They weren’t before.”
“Have you tried-“
“Feels a little weird to test-drive borrowed equipment.”
Jeff grinned. “C’mon, Jen. You have an obligation to men everywhere to do a little recon.”
“Oh, fuck you. They’re not mine.”
“I’d say for the next twenty one days, they are,” Jeff murmured. “A long time to not…do…anything.” Looking at the clock, he tried to ignore the weight in his hands, the fact that he was still cupping Jensen Ackles’ tits. Jesus.
“I’ll manage,” Jensen muttered sourly. “Besides, I don’t even know if the parts are in working order.”
Before he could think of all the reasons why it was a bad idea, Jeff felt his thumb slide inwards, brushing over a soft nipple lightly.
Jensen’s eyes fluttered shut, his back arching a little, pressing harder into Jeff’s hands, and Jeff nearly swallowed his tongue. Jesus. That shouldn’t be so hot, he thought. “Looks like they work,” he observed, voice rough. With a supreme force of will, he pulled his hands back, rubbing them briskly on his jeans.
“Yeah,” Jensen breathed. “Okay.”
Jeff took a long pull of his beer. “Okay, so. Twenty-one days.”
“Yeah.” Jensen leaned forward, forehead pressed to the cool glass of the beer bottle. “This is so fucked up, Jeff.”
“I know.” Jeff reached over and laid his hand on the back of Jensen’s neck, rubbing lightly. “It’s okay, Jen. Going to be okay.”
Narrowed green eyes glared at him. “I have tits! And no cock!”
“There is that. But it’s not permanent. Twenty-one days. You can handle that.” Jeff reached over, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him over for a one-armed hug. “So I’m guessing that we’re off work for the next twenty one days.”
“Oh, hell no. Eric’s decided that he’ll just write a Hell House-esque one, where Dean pisses off a coven or something and gets-“ Jensen gestured vaguely downwards. “He’s going to call you later to work out schedules, when he finishes the bottle of Crown Royal he’s hitting. He figures that we’ll start shooting in a week or so.”
“He sounded pretty freaked out.”
“Well, c’mon, Jeff. He bought the damned thing. And suddenly one of his leads is a girl?”
“I can see where that would be a problem.” Jeff took a deep breath. “Okay. So, first thing is to get you some clothes that fit. A couple good bras.”
“I figured I’d hit Wal Mart.”
Jeff made a face.
“What? It’s for three weeks. I’m not spending a shitload of money on three weeks. WalMart is fine.”
******
WalMart kind of sucked, Jensen had to admit. The proportions were somehow…off. The jeans hugged his body in all the wrong places, and the tops were tight across his tits. And the bras didn’t fit right at all.
He stomped out of the dressing room, glaring at Jeff, daring him to say something.
Jeff raised his eyebrows, lips twisting.
“I know,” Jensen groused. “This blows.”
“Let’s hit the mall, Jen. This isn’t working for you,” Jeff said dryly.
“Fine.” With a growl of frustration, Jensen ducked back into the fitting room, snarling as his cell phone started ringing again. A quick glance at the screen told him it was Jared. Again. Fuck. “Hello,” he muttered, struggling out of his clothes.
“Jen, how’s it going? I stopped by your apartment, but you weren’t there. Is everything okay? Do you need anything?” Jared’s voice was soft, solicitous. It was the voice that they’d termed over one read-through or another the ‘Sam really cares about your problems, and you want to tell him everything' voice.
It made Jensen want to pop him in the nose. “Jared. Stop. I’m not a girl, body notwithstanding, so stop giving me Sam's caring and sharing voice.”
For a moment, Jared was quiet, and Jensen silently cursed himself for being a dick. Then, Jared laughed. “Jesus, man. Six hours, and the PMS has already hit?”
“Fuck you.” Jensen’s elbow ricocheted off the opposite wall of the narrow dressing room. He swore and heard a young voice draw in a shocked little breath from a nearby cubicle. Great. He was a freak and he was corrupting a minor.
“Hey, Sandy offered us up, but you said no.” Jared’s voice was cheerful again. “And Rosenbaum would lend you his body, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, god.”
“Yeah, I told him there wasn’t a condom strong enough.”
“Thanks,” Jensen laughed softly.
“Don’t thank me yet. He says he’s got hands and batteries. So, where are you, anyway?”
“Shopping.”
“Um. You did change your shirt, right? Cause you ran out too fast, but man, that shirt was…um,” Jared fumbled for the right word.
“Nah, Jeff gave me one of his t-shirts, I’m good.”
“He shopping with you?” Jared asked, voice sharpening.
“Yeah.”
“Ohhhh,” Jared drawled. “I see.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Jensen pulled Jeff’s shirt back on, feeling the blush climb his cheeks. “He’s a good guy.”
“He’s a good guy whose ass you’ve wanted forever,” Jared said bluntly.
“Jared, Jesus!” Jensen squirmed into the too-large jeans. “I’ve wanted George Clooney’s ass forever, too, but I’m managing just fine in that department.”
“Ask him to help test out your new girl parts.”
“George is out of my league. I’m going now. I’ll give you a call later, or tomorrow. I might just go home and drink tonight.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
“Still not a girl, Jare.”
“Not saying you are. Just. Call, okay?”
Jensen hung up with a growl, and walked out to Jeff’s side. He was talking soothingly to a hyperventilating woman, patting her shoulder a little nervously. When he saw Jensen, he smiled widely. “No luck, Jenny?”
“No.” Jensen seriously debated killing Jeff with his brain. “Where are we going next?”
“La Jolie Madam, in the Pacific Center. They do fittings for bras.” Jeff glanced down, smiling sweetly at the woman. “It was really nice to meet you, Katie. Thank you again for the compliments.”
Jensen gave the woman a smile as Jeff looped his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, steering him towards the car. As soon as the sliding doors were closing behind them, Jensen shoved Jeff away.
“Jenny?” he gritted out.
“Sorry, I panicked.”
“Eat my absentee dick, Morgan.”
Jeff slid his hands in the pockets of his jeans and kept pace with Jensen, irritatingly managing not to make it look like he was slowing his steps at all. Tall bastard. “Hey, she was revving up to cry.”
“Poor baby. All these women flinging themselves at you.”
“Bullshit, dude. I’ve seen you with criers. You’re not much better.” Cocking his head, Jeff sing-songed in what was presumably his Jensen voice, “‘Look over there, it’s Jared. Don’t you want to meet Jared?’”
“Shut up,” Jensen said sourly, and slouched against the side of Jeff’s car. “You can just drop me off. You don’t need to get into a mob scene at La Madam de Pretension.”
Jeff stopped, turning to look down at Jensen. Despite the comfortable slouch of his shoulders, the fucker loomed over Jensen right now. The fact that he did it with big brown eyes and a ‘trust me’ smile just made it worse. “Jen,” Jeff said with a sigh, “you’re freaking out. I’m not going to ditch you in a lingerie store when you didn’t even have breasts twelve hours ago.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Jensen bit off.
“Dude.” Jeff leaned against the car beside him, crossing his legs at the ankle. He slung his arm over Jensen, and Jensen tried hard not to think of his scent or of long fingers stroking over- yeah. Not thinking about that. Or about the way Jeff had wiped his hands on his jeans like he thought Jensen was contagious. “You’re freaking out. But it’s okay. Because if it were me, I’d be in a fetal position under the bed whimpering for my dick back. Besides which, you’re going to get me out of the mob scene.”
Grudgingly, Jensen looked up at Jeff. “How so?”
Jeff’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “You’re going to be my very jealous girlfriend.”
Jensen arched an eyebrow. “The hell I am.”
“C’mon, Jen. I’m not asking you to have my babies. Protect me from the scary fangirls.”
“Your fangirls, your problem.”
“I’ll buy you dinner and beer,” Jeff wheedled. “I’ll be your bitch forever, man. Just, y’know, whine a little and roll your eyes. Get called a bitch behind your back. Not a bad deal.”
Squirming out from under Jeff’s arm, Jensen pulled his door open.
“Does this mean no catfight?” Jeff asked, his voice muffled.
Jensen rolled down his window to punch Jeff in the arm.
“Oh, an abusive girlfriend. I like it, that’s kinky.” Jeff went to his own side, sliding into the driver’s seat. As he was buckling up, he smirked at Jensen. “Tell me I’m a bad boy.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Jensen began, then laughed. “Fine. It better be good beer.”
“Promise. Anything you want.” Jeff put the car into gear and headed for the Pacific Center.
La Pretension was every bit as bad as Jensen had expected. First, Jeff spun this utter bullshit story about a flooded apartment, and helping his ‘friend’ get back on her feet.
The women in the store (who naturally recognized Jeff on the spot) bought the line, and began fussing over Jensen hardcore. It was like being attacked by chattering butterflies.
At least when they weren’t cooing over Jeff, who looked utterly miserable, sitting on the little pink chair outside the dressing room, legs practically drawn up to his chest as the women giggled and flirted.
In almost no time flat, Jensen was found to be a thirty two D, whatever the fuck that meant. Apparently, it meant that he had enormous hooters. Whoopee.
Before he could blink, they were following him into the dressing room, shoving their hands into the bra and helping to adjust his loaner tits.
At Jeff’s urging, he bought a few bras in different styles, and roughly a metric ton of panties. He had to admit, the panties were nice. Soft. Kind of slinky against his loaner bits.
God, maybe he was turning into a girl. Enough of this shit. Time to go see how Jeff was doing.
Not too well, if the way he was trying to back through the wall was any indication. Then again, the rather busty blonde who was trespassing way past the boundaries of personal space would have made Jensen step back, too.
Jeff didn’t seem to notice Jensen, absorbed with trying to keep any part of his body from touching the blonde. Good plan, except that Busty wasn’t playing nice, pressing her cleavage practically in his face. Jeff tensed suddenly, and Jensen noticed the blonde’s hand curling loosely over Jeff's ass.
Oh, hell no. You just didn’t do things like that to a guy like Jeff. Jeff was a good guy. One of the few. He didn’t deserve to be groped by some insane fan.
Jensen stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “Jeffrey?”
Jeff looked over, eyes wide. “All done?”
Jensen nodded, then turned a glare on the blonde. “Excuse us,” he snarled, then gave Jeff his best pout. “You were right,” he sighed. “The purple bra was just perfect.” With a wicked grin, he knotted his fingers in Jeff’s hair, pulling him down, and pressing his lips against Jeff’s.
He’d meant it to be a quick, chaste touch. Nothing more. They were actors, after all. They’d done plenty of stage kisses. Then Jeff’s hand settled into the small of his back, stroking lightly. It wasn’t anything sexual, Jensen thought desperately. Just… steadying. But God, Jeff was so warm, every touch along his spine settling into suddenly too-tight skin like a brand.
And was that—? Jensen couldn’t quite still the little intake of breath as the tip of Jeff’s tongue darted out, tracing a barely-there line along the bow of his lip. Funny how it didn’t feel like a stage kiss.
After a long moment, Jensen forced himself to pull back, breath loud in his own ears. Jeff smiled down at him, that lazy, obnoxious smirk. The one that had made women world wide want to climb into their televisions and do wicked, obscene things in Denny’s hospital bed.
“Looks like our audience gave up,” Jensen murmured, ducking his head a little.
“Looks like,” Jeff agreed. Then he bent forward, fingers ghosting along Jensen’s spine. His lips brushed over Jensen’s again, gentle, sweet.
It shouldn’t have felt like that, Jensen thought. Like reassurance. Like a benediction. Like a promise. His fingers slid under Jeff’s shirt, curling around his waist, against that flame-hot skin. God, softer than he’d expected, coarse hair and achingly soft skin.
Jeff made a soft sound, lost against Jensen’s lips, and suddenly Jensen felt callused fingertips scraping against his scalp. Goosebumps bloomed in their wake, and Jensen arched his neck, pressing into the touch. So fucking good.
Before he could over think, or more to the point before he could chicken out, Jensen pressed onto his tiptoes, his tongue slipping over Jeff’s lips, teasing. Jeff's quiet, pleased growl was like a balm on his nerves, and Jensen stepped back after a moment, hands still resting on Jeff’s waist.
Jeff’s eyes were almost completely black, pupils blown. Because of him, Jensen thought, smiling. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft, husky.
“Mmm?” Jeff asked, voice barely a purr. He didn’t seem to be paying a whole lot of attention to the words, and Jensen leaned closer, forcing Jeff to meet his eyes. After a moment, color flooded Jeff’s cheeks, and his eyes snapped up to Jensen’s. “Sorry.”
Jensen grinned wider, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he had in hours. “You’re a good guy, Morgan.”
Jeff shook his head. “No, I’m really not.”
“Yeah, you are. I couldn’t have done this alone,” Jensen admitted.
“If I was a good guy, I wouldn’t have been standing here, imagining you on your knees,” Jeff blurted.
Jensen stared, the mental image flaring to life in his brain like wildfire. His fingertips stroked over Jeff’s skin again, and he pulled his hands back, wondering suddenly if that was what his cock would feel like—velvet skin over iron muscle. Trying to banish the image, so clear he could almost touch it, he wiped his fingers on his jeans. The mimicry of the motion, the same Jeff had made hours earlier when he was wiping off the feel of Jensen’s breasts, wasn’t lost on him. Oh. Oh.
Jeff shook his head, running his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just—you’re a beautiful woman, Jen. Hell, you’re a beautiful man, so I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just. Yeah.”
Color crept into Jensen’s cheeks, and he cursed himself roundly. “Jeff.”
“Sorry,” Jeff repeated, shifting uncomfortably. “You really didn’t need that dropped on you. I’m not—that wasn’t me saying I want—would make that kind of a move on you. I’m not a total asshole. I—“
Jesus. Jeff was babbling. Because of him, Jensen thought. Somehow, that made a little stab of something that felt like pride well in his stomach.
So. Fucked. Up.
“Jeff,” Jensen said sharply, cutting him off. When Jeff stopped, looking at him warily, Jensen reached out and punched his arm. “Give me some credit. If I thought you were being an asshole, you’d know.”
Jeff tipped his head, searching Jensen’s face for a long, inscrutable moment. Then he reached out and dragged the back of his knuckles down Jensen’s arm, absently soothing. “All right. Sorry. I just figure you’re having a bad enough day without-“
“Please. That’s the only good reason for getting out of bed I’ve had so far.” Adjusting his bra strap, Jensen smirked. “What, you think I’m getting off on the whole Rocky Horror thing?”
“Might be. You are from LA. Besides, women get all the soft slinky fabric.” The slow, filthy smile crept up on Jeff. “So how’re those silk panties working out for you?”
“They’re, um. Yeah. Jerk.” Jensen sighed. “I need jeans.”
“Aren’t you lucky I scoped out your options, then. And that I did all those years in graphic design.” Taking his hand back, Jeff slid it in his jeans pocket. “Got half a rack of stuff down there waiting for you.”
“What, am I your personal Barbie now?” Jensen dragged a hand through his hair. “I can dress myself.”
“Really? Must’ve missed that day.”
Jensen punched him again, and Jeff smirked. “Is that a yes to the bad boy thing?” Jeff asked.
“Such an ass,” Jensen muttered, paying for his clothes and letting Jeff steer him to the shop next door, where a rack of clothes waited for his perusal.
Goddammit. Did Jeff have to be so good with women’s clothes? Out of about twenty pieces, there was only one he rejected out of hand.
“Not buying pink, Jeff.”
“You wear pink all the time!” With a roll of his eyes, Jeff took the offending shirt and tucked it back on the rack.
“That’s when I have a dick,” Jensen muttered.
“Okay, crazy person,” Jeff grinned, patting his shoulder. “Then, we can head to get you shoes.”
“Boots.”
“Boots,” Jeff agreed, hoisting Jensen’s bags.
To Jensen’s shock, the afternoon didn’t suck nearly as hard as he’d expected. Jeff treated him like he always had, teasing and taunting Jensen out of each little panic attack as they came. It reminded him of why he’d always loved it when Jeff was onset.
Aside from the way Jeff filled out a pair of jeans. Cause goddamn. His body must’ve missed the ‘women don’t think obsessively about sex’ memo, because he couldn’t seem to tear his attention away from Jeff’s ass. Or his long, tan fingers. Or the line of his cock in those perversely tight jeans. Or (God help Jensen) his smile.
Jeff wasn’t helping any. Every once in a while, he’d slip and Jensen would catch him looking, his eyes hot and half-lidded as they dragged over Jensen like a touch. Or, worse, Jeff would slide an arm around Jensen and tug him in close as they walked, staring evenly at some poor jackass Jensen hadn’t even noticed was looking at him. If Jeff could’ve stamped ‘mine’ on Jensen’s forehead, he probably would’ve.
As good as that protective touch felt, it grated, too. It wore on Jensen slow, like standing in front of the parade of dressing room mirrors, looking at the naked girl in them and thinking, that’s me. That’s my body. Those are my tits. I’m not going to wake up.
He’d lost muscle mass, which sucked, and gained a softness that made him look vulnerable and younger. He needed to shave in places. As the day wore on and the underwear rubbed in unmentionable ways, he could feel that he was getting slick, could see the black silk clinging as it got damp. He left the underwear on. He didn’t want to explore that particular new territory until he got to his apartment, but the rubbing of the seam of his jeans made him dizzy, brought his breath faster in his throat. As he shimmied in and out of clothes, his male brain caught the scent of slick, swollen pussy and just made everything that much worse. He ached, deeper than when he got hard and had to wait for it. His skin felt raw and tight.
Genderfucking was such a pain in the ass.
Sliding into his jeans again, Jensen pulled on Jeff’s shirt, stepped out of the dressing room and said, “Done. I need dinner, beer and pot. Not necessarily in that order. If you want to drop me off-”
“No, you’re coming home with me,” Jeff said, effortless, but the weight of his stare made Jensen wonder sharply if Jeff could smell it on him. “We’ll pick up dinner on the way. C’mon.”
****
Somehow, Jeff had expected more of a fight from Jensen, but he’d just nodded. Maybe he was more freaked out than he’d thought.
They’d made two stops along the way, one for food, one at the drug store to grab Jensen some necessities. He flat out refused to get a deodorant labeled “powder fresh,” but let Jeff pick out some makeup basics, and a razor. For a guy who wasn’t overly hairy, his girl-self seemed to have missed the memo.
Finally, they were at Jeff’s comfortable extended stay hotel room. “Can I borrow your shower for a couple minutes?”
Jeff nodded. “Go for it. I’ll get the food on plates, and crack some beers.” He watched Jensen head for the bathroom, and tried to shut the mental image of that body naked under the spray, of those tapered fingers stroking over freckled skin.
“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, pressing the beer bottle against the fly of his jeans. He could do this. He could be supportive guy. His cellphone rang, and he grabbed it quickly. “Morgan,” he murmured.
“Hey, Jeff,” Eric murmured, still sounding a little tipsy. “How’s Jen?”
“Okay. In the shower at the moment.”
“Good. Okay, so Ben’s doing a script for us, he’ll have it in a few days, so we’re looking at starting shooting on…it’s what? Thursday? So, on Tuesday. Do you think Shonda would be willing to work with you on the time-frame?”
“I can call her.”
Turned out, thankfully, that Shonda was more than willing to work with him. Technically, they weren’t shooting til October, so this was mostly the pre-series costume fittings, the publicity shots, meetings, casting. Shonda really wanted him there for some of the readings, to gauge chemistry with his potential co-stars.
In other words, the kind of stuff that made Jeff want to spork his eyeballs out. But for Shonda, he’d do it. Fuck that, for a shot like this, he’d do damn near anything. Even the fact that it was a great role was secondary.
His little girl needed to eat, after all.
He called Eric back, told him that it was fine, and to go to sober up, for fuck’s sake. By the time he hung up, the shower had stopped.
He was slapping the pizza on plates when the door opened, a puff of steam preceding Jensen into the room. When those long legs finally stepped out, Jeff had to take a long swallow of the beer to keep from staring.
He was still wearing Jeff’s shirt. And those black silk boy-shorts. Jesus. It shouldn’t have been that hot. But with the spiky wet hair and the freckles standing out on Jensen’s cheeks, it was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg.
Instead, he offered Jensen a plate and forced an easy grin. “Eric says that we’ll be starting shooting on Tuesday. So I called Shonda, and worked out the schedule. I’ll head out tomorrow, be back Monday afternoon.” He swallowed as Jensen bent over, digging in the bottom of the fridge for a cold beer. It hiked his shirt up past Jensen’s ass, leaving the black silk that clung to wet skin the only thing shielding Jensen from view.
After an eternity, Jensen stood up again, giving Jeff a little nod, and holding out a beer. “Cool. I’m glad you’re able to come up for it. Dean needs her daddy in a time like this.”
Jeff grinned. “I wish I could just stay up until Tuesday, but Shonda’s got a couple girls she wants me to do read throughs with.” He shrugged. “At least I’ll get to see my baby for a couple days. I hate leaving her with the sitter.”
“You could bring her with.”
“Not many hotels near the set that take pets. None that I’ll pay for, at least,” he added with a grin.
“Cheap bastard.”
“Damn right.”
Jensen settled on the couch with the remote and flipped through channels. “There’s got to be something decent on.”
Jeff settled next to him, sitting two more beers on the coffee table. “It’s got cable, there should be at least one craptastic movie on.” He reached into the end table drawer and pulled out a joint. “I believe someone requested pot?”
“Oh, I love you, man.” Jensen slid it between his lips and let Jeff light it, then sucked in a deep breath. After a moment, he let it out, and Jeff saw him relax, sinking lower into the cushions. “Much better.” His voice came out slow, slurred, and he laughed. “Jesus, I’m a frigging lightweight.”
Jeff laughed, and took the joint back for a hit. “You weigh less,” he said reasonably, looping an arm around Jensen’s shoulders and rubbing gently at the dissolving knots of tension there.
Turned out, the tension was the only thing keeping Jensen upright. Without it, the beer and the pot took its toll, and he dozed halfway through the movie, head lolling heavy against Jeff’s shoulder.
With a fond smile, Jeff gathered Jensen into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. It was beyond odd to think that the tiny frame belonged to Jensen, Jeff thought.
Jeff settled Jensen into his bed and stroked the short hair off his forehead. “Night, Jen,” he whispered.
Jensen mumbled in his sleep, rolling over and shoving at Jeff's face with his hand.
Biting back a laugh, Jeff headed back into the suite's little living room and stretched out on the sofa with a sigh.
It felt like he'd barely been to sleep when he woke up again to the feeling that someone was watching him. He rolled over, propping himself onto one arm.
"Jeff?" Jensen's voice murmured. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out Jensen standing at the edge of the living room.
"Yeah." Scrubbing at his face with a hand, Jeff sat up. "What's wrong?"
Jensen crossed the room silently, kneeling next to the couch. "I can't sleep."
"Oh." Jeff reached for the remote. "Want to watch television? ESPN probably has something crack-addled on."
"No." Jensen's hand wrapped around his wrist. "I want." Jensen paused, considering, then brought his other hand to Jeff's mouth.
Jeff tensed as a slick finger slid over his lower lip, leaving the unmistakable scent of feminine arousal. "Jensen?" When Jensen just looked at him, eyes dark and level, Jeff swallowed. His body was one raw nerve, cock throbbing in his boxers. This was crazy, but-- he licked his lips, had to, biting back a moan at the flavor. "Are you-"
Surging up into Jeff's space, Jensen kissed him hard, tongue sliding between his lips. It wasn't a seduction; it was a demand. Jensen's hands pressed against Jeff's jaw, cradling his head and holding him still, trying to devour him from the mouth down.
Jeff was a good guy, but he wasn't a freaking saint. He reached out, feeling his way down Jensen's arms to his waist, bracing his hips and pulling him up. Jensen groaned into the kiss, teeth scoring Jeff's lower lip, a vicious little nip as Jeff pulled Jensen on top of him. It was clumsy, a tangle of limbs and blankets and too many clothes. Jensen went to sit on his lap, but the hell that was happening; Jeff didn't trust himself not to just come like a teenager. He spread Jensen out instead, their legs twining, Jensen's breasts pressed against his chest.
"You're wearing too many clothes," Jensen muttered, nipping at Jeff's jaw, sliding up to nuzzle his throat, tongue tracing the hard tendons, rasping over stubble.
Jeff shuddered as Jensen's teeth fastened on his earlobe, hips arching up into Jensen. "God, like that, Jen."
"Yeah." Jensen chuckled against his throat, letting his teeth scrape again. "That what you want, Jeff? You like it a little rough?"
Well, look who was getting smug. Sliding his hands down Jensen's back, Jeff cupped his hips, his ass. "I like you wild," he drawled, lingering in the way Jensen shivered and pressed tighter into him. "But you'll get yours. I'm gonna take my time on the important stuff."
Jensen huffed out a breath, an almost-laugh that shifted as Jeff stroked the small of his back, and moved to pull at Jeff's shirt. He kept squirming, restlessly grinding his hips into Jeff's thigh. "Come on," Jensen murmured, "let me touch you, want to feel skin. Fuck, I want you."
"Goddamn," Jeff breathed. "So fucking wet, Jen. I can feel you. Gotta touch you, baby. Want to taste you, feel you all slick under my tongue."
Jensen's hips bucked against him as his eyes closed on a long, low moan. Even as a girl, his voice had that edge of gravel, a husky purr that went straight to Jeff's cock.
"S'that what you want? You want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours with my tongue?" As he spoke, Jeff sat up, nudging Jensen over onto the couch.
Shuddering under Jeff's hands, Jensen raised his hips and tugged his way out of the silk shorts. Jeff hadn't seen him this clumsy, this desperate and split wide open. "Yeah," Jensen said raggedly, stroking Jeff's arm, the back of his neck. "C'mon, please, Jeff, please. Jesus, this is- I want- I've wanted--"
Jeff turned his head into Jensen's hand, rubbing against it. He couldn't seem to get enough of Jensen under his hands, touching him. It was probably rude as hell, but he took Jensen by the hips and moved him, spread him open, cradled Jensen's hips in his hands. He planned to settle in for the long haul, to touch and pet and take his time.
At the first gentle stroke of his fingers, Jensen bucked up, fingers sinking into Jeff's hair, trying to pull him closer.
Goddamn. He was going to be a wild ride. Without waiting for Jensen to relax, Jeff looped his arms under and around Jensen's thighs, holding him open and still.
"C'mon, you motherfucker," Jensen growled. "Jesus, I don't know how girls stand it, this ache."
Jeff didn't answer him, just dove in, letting his tongue tease its way along his pussy, brushing lightly over Jensen's clit, hearing him suck in air, then down to fuck into him.
God, Jensen was drenched Jeff realized. Slick and swollen and ready. He slid back up, gently sucking, letting just the tip of his tongue flicker over the skin.
Surprisingly strong hands slid into his hair, holding him in place. "Jeff." Jensen's voice was wrecked. "Please."
Never let it be said that Jeff Morgan disappointed a lady, he thought. Even if the lady was a guy.
He went to work, tongue teasing and retreating, driving Jensen higher with each pass.
"Shit. Shit--oh fuck, your mouth," Jensen whimpered.
Jeff hummed happily against Jensen's clit, abruptly sucking and flicking his tongue against the underside harder, feeling Jensen's nails dig into his scalp.
Jensen tensed, his breath coming quickly. "Ohfuck, ohfuck, oh--Jeff," he moaned. He shuddered in Jeff's grip, shaking and gasping and bucking. Jeff kept a steady pace, staying with Jensen until he settled.
****
Jesus, is that why all of his girlfriends gave him that little smirk when he went down on them? Cause that shit was addictive. Jensen lifted his head, smiling at Jeff. "Fuck, you're good," he blurted, feeling the color coming to his cheeks even as he said it.
Jeff leaned his head on Jensen's thigh, and smiled up at him. Sharks smile like that, Jensen thought, even as Jeff slid up his body until he could press his lips against Jensen's throat. "Taste so good, Jen. Could do that forever." One finger slid down, stroking him lightly, fingertip teasing his entrance.
"Nnngh?" Jensen replied. Jesus, Jeff had sucked his brain out. The thought made him giggle, until the sound of his voice, high and girlish stopped him. Fuck.
"You okay?" Jeff asked.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine." Jensen's eyes slid down Jeff's body, fingers following, stroking over the hard lines of his chest, the hard muscle and soft skin, then lower. Jeff was in awesome shape for a forty-something year old. His hands reached Jeff's boxer-briefs, tracing the line of his cock lightly, touching the damp spot at the front.
Jeff made a soft tearing sound, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck. You're going to kill me."
"Nah." Jensen slid the briefs down over Jeff's thighs. "Jesus, Morgan. No wonder you don't wear tight jeans."
Jeff blushed, actually blushed, and ducked a little.
"Goddamn." Jensen curled his hand around the hard length of Jeff's cock and stroked it slow and easy. He leaned forward to catch the drop of moisture that beaded at the tip with his tongue, and Jeff moaned, his hips jerking.
Jensen opened readily, letting Jeff fuck his mouth.
"Sorry," Jeff apologized, trying to pull back. "Maybe I should sit, so I don't-"
"I want you to," Jensen purred. "I want you to fuck my mouth, just like that. Good and hard. Then, you're going to fuck me."
Jeff shuddered, and Jensen smiled, bending forward to lap at his cock. It took a few tries, but eventually Jensen found the right angle, and Jeff found a rhythm. Then Jeff started talking, voice dropping into that whiskey-edged drawl that never failed to do it for Jensen. "That's it, Jen. God, your mouth. So good. Gonna fuck you, spread you open for me and take you hard."
A thought struck Jensen and he pulled off with a wet noise, looking up at Jeff. "God, please tell me you have condoms."
Jeff reached over to the drawer in the end table, and produced a package. He held it up and grinned.
"Damn good thing. Fuck, I want--" Jensen grabbed the box, yanking one of the foil packets out.
Jeff smirked as Jensen struggled with the packet, fumbling in his haste. Finally, the packet tore open, and Jensen gently slid it on, rolling it down Jeff's length.
As Jensen sat back, Jeff covered him, wrapping strong arms around Jensen and picking him up like he weighed nothing. Then the rough fabric of the couch was against his back, and Jeff knelt between his thighs, leaning in until Jensen felt the blunt pressure of Jeff's cock.
It was... odd. It didn't feel like getting fucked up the ass. Less prep, less burn. It was more yielding, softer, slicker. More urgent. The slick slide against him as Jeff teased, rubbing the head of his cock up and down, brushing his clit, dipping inside him just enough to drive him insane.
Gritting his teeth, Jensen asked, "You want to die for real?"
Jeff laughed, pressing the head of his cock just inside. Then he reached down with one hand and rubbed along the side of Jensen's clit, a firm touch.
"What're you-" Jensen jerked, still raw from Jeff's mouth, feeling the flutter of his muscles around Jeff's cock. Jeff eased his fingertip down, brushing the place where their bodies met, getting it slick and coming back to keep rubbing firm, maddening circles. "Jesus," Jensen breathed, but he raised his hips into the touch. Rocking up into Jeff got him nowhere, just little thrusts that made things so much worse, but god, it felt good. It built, shorting out thought and anything that wasn't Jeff. "Jesus."
"Yeah," Jeff murmured, eyes hot and intent on Jensen's face. Every twitch of Jensen's hips had to be getting to him, making his voice ragged and dirty. "Just like that. I'll get you there. So goddamn good, Jen, I can feel you trying to pull me in. Little wet noises. Go on, sweetheart, that's right. Fuck yourself on my cock."
The orgasm wrenched through Jensen, harder that time, tearing him open and wringing him out. He cried out, too slow to bite his lip and choke it back, shuddering as Jeff stroked him through it and--
The look on Jeff's face as he slid home would be with him forever. Raw need, awe, lust, and maybe something else, all wrapped into one moment. He felt Jeff sliding in, each millimeter penetrating him, heard Jeff's heartfelt groan. He could feel Jeff's heartbeat inside him.
Finally, Jeff's hips were pressed against his thighs. He held still for a moment, and Jensen shuddered, trying to adjust. "Holy fuck, you're big," Jensen finally managed.
"You okay?" Jeff gritted out. "You need me to back out, tell me now. So goddamn tight."
"No," Jensen managed, grabbing onto Jeff's shoulders. The muscles there were tense, drawn taut under his hands. He rubbed absently at them. His pussy was throbbing, a weird feeling on its own, still twitching from the second orgasm. He was drenched, he could feel smeared slick between their thighs. "God. Go. Just... start slow."
Jeff's hips flexed against him, and Jensen shivered. Anyone but Jeff, he wouldn't have done this. Wouldn't be able to handle being out of control. But it was Jeff, and all Jensen wanted was for him to fucking move.
Then he was moving, and all thoughts went away. Holy shit. It was... oh god.
"All right?" Jeff asked tightly, watching Jensen's face. "Do I need to-"
"Harder," Jensen gasped.
Jeff didn't seem to have a problem with that. He leaned down, capturing Jensen's mouth. The movement changed the angle just a bit, and pleasure streaked through Jensen, stealing his breath even as Jeff's tongue slid against his. He hitched his legs higher, arching into the next thrust, and felt Jeff grin against his lips. "Oh, it's like that," Jeff purred. He lifted up for a moment, and Jensen was shocked to hear an unfamiliar whine slide from his lips. "Shh, I've got you, baby."
"Fuck. Now, Morgan," he demanded. "Or do you need a fucking diagram?"
Jeff grinned, ducking his head down to nip at Jensen's lip. "I think I can figure it out." In one quick move he was coming to his feet, lifting Jensen up with him.
"Hey! What--" Jensen grabbed at Jeff's shoulders as he left the couch, hoisted against Jeff like he was a ragdoll. "Put me down, dude."
"In a minute. Just-"
Jensen shivered as his back was pressed against the wall. "Jeff?"
"Mmm?" Jeff grinned, hands resting on either side of Jensen's head, leaning them into the cool paint. "You ready?"
"I. Yeah? How are you going to-" Jensen broke off as Jeff moved, hips pistoning against him, shoving him harder against the wall. Something in the angle was just right, he guessed, because it felt like his head was about to come off. "Oh," Jensen whimpered. "Oh, oh god. Yeah, please-"
Jeff growled low in his throat, ducking his head to bite at Jensen's throat even as his hips moved, fucking Jensen hard and merciless.
It was... God, too good. He dug blunt nails into Jeff's back, leaving bruises like the ones he'd have on his hips and ass, but who cared? All that mattered was the fire racing through his veins, the rush of knife-edged pleasure coiling through him, pulling tighter and tighter. His fingers dug into Jeff's hair, pulling his head up to devour him, tongues sliding slick against teeth.
Without warning, the world splintered, coming apart around him, the pleasure winging through him until the only thing that existed was Jeff's strong body. Even he didn't exist, Jensen thought wildly. He was nothing more than the sensations, the white hot shudder of pleasure.
Jeff groaned, the stroke stuttering, and Jensen found his voice, urging him on. "That's it, Jeff. Fuck my tight pussy. God, want to feel you come for me. So good, you like that, baby?"
One last hard thrust, and he felt Jeff shaking, his hoarse shout echoing through the room.
After a long minute, Jeff slid down the wall, bringing Jensen with him, gathering him close, onto his lap. "I was planning to try the bed," he chuckled. "Sorry."
"Mmm. Why?" He'd deny it to his dying day, but Jensen was pretty sure he snuggled on Jeff's lap, tucked his head under his chin and all. But it felt good, all warm and comfy and fucked out. He ruthlessly suppressed the little voice that said "safe."
"Not a clue," Jeff laughed. "You okay?"
"Mmmhmm."
"You gonna fall asleep on me?" Jeff lifted him again, and Jensen only gave a token squirm, letting Jeff tuck him into bed and snuggle next to him. It was kinda nice.
"You smell good," he muttered.
Jeff snorted softly. "Go to sleep," he said. "In the interest of your self respect, I'll pretend I never heard that."
Sleep rolled over him, and Jensen let it, his mind finally quieted in Jeff's arms.
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