spn_springfling | I Am the Shadow on the Moon at Night by cleflink for <user site

Title: I Am the Shadow on the Moon at Night
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A

Night was falling thick and fast over the city and Jared was going hunting.

He chose his clothing carefully. The black tee stretched snugly over his shoulders, emphasizing their breadth and clinging to his muscles. His jeans were dark and sinfully soft from repeated wear; the low sweep of the waistband showed off both the cut of his hipbones and the restless coil of the tattoo snaking up under the hem of his shirt. Cuffs went around each of his wrists: supple leather etched deeply with sigils of power. The leather cord around his neck was simple and deceptively thin.

His hair he left loose around his face, because he could do that in this day and age. And it was a look that suited the curve of his lip and the fox-like slant of his eyes, besides. He always had worn wildness well.

Jared looked himself over in the mirror and grinned.

"Tis now the very witching time of night," he told his reflection, admiring the wolfish gleam of his teeth. He'd bet he knew someone else who'd appreciate it, too. "And I could drink hot blood."

---

Jared caught a cab from his hotel and ignored the driver's idle chatter as it carried him through the night-ridden city. The streets grew busier as he approached his destination, and Jared watched with interest as people in twos and threes and small crowds strode fearlessly through the darkness in search of revelry.

In Jared's younger days, people had had more sense than to be abroad at this hour. Some of it had been the practical issues of lack of adequate lighting, true, but mankind had known to fear the things that thrived in the darkness. It made Jared's life much easier that man had forgotten that.

The autumn wind bit deeply into Jared's skin as he alit from the cab, but he didn't feel the chill. Dead leaves swirled around his feet at the mercy of the wind and the tang of the dying year was thick on the air. Jared glanced upwards at the harvest moon overhead, drinking in its light, its power. Few nights in the year were so potent as this, and Jared could feel the energy cresting inside him, looking for an outlet.

Everything was in readiness. Jared was prepared.

There was a line outside the club - another one of those things that happened to people who weren't Jared. He strode up to the door and the bouncers let him in without a word.

'These aren't the droids you're looking for,' Jared thought to himself. If only they knew.

Inside, the club was a pulsing mass of writhing bodies and pounding music. Jared paused for a moment to get used to the hum of activity before forging onwards, eyes peeled for a familiar face.

His prey was easy to spot: carelessly stunning in soft cotton and worn denim, standing at the centre of a crowd of helpless admirers, his head thrown back on a laugh that made the breath catch and the heart quicken. Just as gorgeous as Jared remembered.

Jared moved unhurriedly across the crowded room; impatience was never a valuable trait, and he had no desire to spook his prey at this stage in the game.

His measured advance didn't avoid notice, naturally, but it kept his prey from realizing that he ought to be paying attention. Jared got right up into the crowd of awestruck sycophants and, before the other could decide how to react, leaned in close.

"Found you," Jared murmured into one perfect ear.

Ever so slowly, his prey turned to face him. The shock in his green, green eyes was almost comical.

Jared smiled. "Jensen," he added, and felt muscles turn to iron under his fingers.

He wondered how long it had been since Jensen had last been Named.

"Jared," Jensen said after a moment, and Jared felt the reciprocal Naming shiver down his spine. Jensen was looking at him now, really looking, his fanclub forgotten in an instant. "It's been a while."

"It has," Jared agreed.

"Thought you might have been too busy hanging in Salem to have time for me."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Funny."

Jensen flashed a smile that was all teeth. "I try."

"Obviously not hard enough," Jared shot back, just to see Jensen glare at the reminder.

He should have known that he couldn't run forever. And Jared didn't begrudge him his opportunities for freedom every now and then, but enough was enough.

This was Jared's time of night. Jensen wouldn't be leaving this place without him.

"Dance with me," Jared said, not bothering to wait for Jensen's agreement before hooking a hand around his waist and steering him bodily towards the dance floor.

"Bossy," Jensen said, with a little sniff, but he didn't resist as Jared pulled him into the throng.

The music blasting through the air wasn't something that Jared recognized, but the steady, driving baseline was easy to fall into. He settled his hands on Jensen's hips and smirked as, with an absolutely filthy wriggle, Jensen obediently started to dance with him.

They moved together effortlessly, as in tune now as they always had been. Jensen was hot and hard in his arms, moving with an obscene grace that drew eyes from every angle. Sweat darkened his hair and gleamed on his upper lip, the hollow of his throat. Jared wanted to lick it off.

Jensen wasn't the only appeal of dancing. Frenetic power bled into Jared from all sides, sparking and humming through his veins. All of these people would be just that much more tired tomorrow, would ascribe their fatigue to too much drink and not enough sleep, and never realize that it was Jared who'd stolen away a piece of their lives.

"Mmm," Jensen purred, as Jared's hands slid from his waist to cup his ass, molding their bodies even more tightly together.

Jensen's erection was a hot bulge against Jared's hip, a match to the length that Jared was grinding against him in return. Jared mouthed at Jensen's neck when Jensen's arms came up to hook around his shoulders.

"I'd forgotten how good you feel." Jensen's voice was a low rumble in the din, meant for Jared's ears alone. A hot tongue darted along the line of Jared's shirt collar as Jensen moaned, "You taste like magic."

With an effort, Jared pried one hand away from where he was digging fingerprint bruises into Jensen's ass cheeks. He followed the curve of Jensen's body up across his shoulder and along his arm, fingers trailing careful patterns in their wake.

Jensen lifted his head, a belated sort of fear creasing his face.

Too little, too late.

"I know," Jared said, and clamped down hard with both hands as Jensen's entire body jerked with the force of the spell that Jared had just cast on him.

Jensen's yowl of outrage was lost in the belly of the club. Jared slanted his mouth over Jensen's before he got it into his fool head to try and attack, stealing Jensen's breath and sealing the compact in one swift move.

"Better?" Jared asked, when he pulled back several blissful minutes later.

Jensen's eyes flashed cat-green in the strobing lights. "I hate you," he muttered, but it was hard to take him seriously when he was red-mouthed and panting, and his hips were still bucking into the heat of Jared's body. "A binding? Really?"

"That's what you get for running," Jared said, unconcernedly. He tugged one of Jensen's arms down so that he could check the cuff now wrapped around his wrist, the cuff that had had laces when Jared had worn it but was now a single seamless piece of leather that Jensen wouldn't be removing unless he felt like losing a hand in the process. Jensen's mouth twisted sourly at the sight. Jared looked forward to seeing his reaction to the one around his neck. "Good luck doing that again."

"I didn't miss you," Jensen said, stubborn and haughty to the core.

So Jared kissed him again, until Jensen's hands were digging into his skin because his legs wouldn't support him and they were both flirting with oxygen deprivation.

"The witching hour's not over yet," Jared reminded him. "Ready to paint the town red?"

And Jensen's hot, wicked little smile was all the answer he needed.