Not quite the 4th of July by amberdreams for <user site="livejo

[springflingmod.livejournal.com]

Title: Not quite the 4th of July
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbetaed, swearing, schmoop, Chad Michael Murray.



It was supposed to be a joke.

After the apparent success of Jared’s eighteenth, when Chad’s special gift for his shy best friend’s birthday was to persuade Goldie the cheerleader (and the school’s favorite bicycle) to initiate Jared into the ways of The Sex, Jared shouldn’t have been surprised that Chad’s idea of a hilarious prank for Jared’s nineteenth was to hire a male stripper.

However, there were two things Chad didn’t know that meant this prank was likely to blow up in their faces. Firstly, Chad was blissfully ignorant of the fact that Harry Welling, leader of Christies’ College Frat Boys, had decided that teasing Jared with a stripper was too tame, so had upped the stakes by hiring a prostitute friend of his big brother’s to not only strip, but perform ‘other services’.

Secondly, Chad didn’t know that Jared’s private time with the lovely Goldie had consisted of Jared politely turning down Goldie’s kind offer of a quick hand-job, followed by the two of them lying on the grass under the clear midnight sky while she regaled him with the raciest of the Greek myths that underpinned the constellations wheeling above them. Jared never thought to mention that he’d enjoyed that much more than Goldie’s small cool hands down his pants, because he knew exactly how much mileage Chad would get out of the perceived failure to get his rocks off. Teasing material for the rest of his life, if he was lucky - if he was unlucky, for the rest of his after-life too.

It wasn’t that Jared didn’t trust Chad enough to tell his crass best friend that he thought he might be a little bit gay; it was just that Chad never really gave Jared a chance to mention it. Chad had a good heart, but a big mouth, and listening wasn’t one of his strong points. Jared on the other hand was a great listener, and while he gave the impression of being all bright colors and simple words, a book written for children, in fact he was more like a Charles Dickens novel, deep and meaty and full of three syllable words. Or so the literature student in him liked to think, anyway.

The net result was that Jared found himself the center of attention, tied to a rickety dining chair Chad had kindly placed in the middle of the room, his shirts crumpled on the floor somewhere, and his upper body decorated like a birthday cake with dollops of whipped cream. For the first minute or two it had been funny; Jared had even laughed when the squirty-cream tickled his nipples. But that was before the apartment door opened and the stripper walked in.

Chad meant well, and that was what Jared was going to get engraved on his gravestone, when he’d expired from embarrassment. He tried not to stare at the heavy-lashed, green-eyed beauty who was currently gyrating his well-endowed star-spangled crotch in Jared’s lap, though moving his gaze elsewhere wasn’t much better, as the room was full of Jared’s very drunk friends, who were getting far too much enjoyment from Jared’s predicament to merit the title of friend any more as far as Jared was concerned. He shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair as the stripper’s sequined pouch brushed tantalizingly over Jared’s denim clad groin, and tried desperately to will down his growing erection.

Because this stripper was the most alluring guy Jared had ever seen.

Until the guy had walked in, Jared had thought faces like that only existed in art books or the fantasy world of the movies. And that was before Green Eyes had started taking his clothes off, revealing honey-pale skin liberally dusted with dark-amber freckles. The guy wasn’t ripped, but he was lean and well muscled, with a softness to his edges that left Jared with a terrible craving to run his hands over those curves. Two things stopped him – first, his wrists were tied to the damn chair, courtesy of Harry Welling, and second, Jared understood Green Eyes was only a fantasy, a construct put together for a few dollars to tease and tantalize him for half an hour. The romantic in Jared was utterly disappointed by that, even while his body couldn’t help but react to the animal magnetism of those mesmerizing dancing moves.

The guy settled himself firmly down on Jared’s lap, leaning forward so their bare chests were touching, carelessly smearing the melted whipped cream that adorned Jared. The heat in Jared’s cheeks rose a few more notches until it reached incandescent when a pink tongue casually licked some cream off the tip of Jared’s nose. The crescendo of catcalls, together with the blood-rush in his head (and elsewhere) meant he almost missed the guy whispering into his ear; a little something meant just for him.

+0+0+

Jensen didn’t advertise his services, didn’t need to. All his custom these days was word of mouth, (and often about his mouth too) he was that good as what he did; so agreeing to this gig at the college was a big fucking favor to his old friend Tom. Seemed Tom’s little brother had a friend who wanted to surprise another friend and of course Tom didn’t mention until after Jensen had tentatively agreed to take the job that said brother and this gaggle of friends of friends were all fucking undergrads. Man, Jensen hated Frat Boys. They couldn’t hold their liquor, had the underdeveloped brains of lab rats experimented on for their entire lives, and thought the height of humor was mooning old ladies in the town center while driving by in their Mom’s SUV.

“Fuck, Tom, you’re a jerk. I’m gonna charge double for this – call it danger money for throwing me to those college student wolves.”

Tom just grinned, the stupid great lummox, and slapped Jensen on the back. “You were an undergrad yourself once, remember? Go on, I know you love a challenge. Deflowering a nineteen-year-old straight virgin is just up your street.”

Jensen coughed, staggering under the blow. The man didn’t know his own strength sometimes. Still, for once Tom wasn’t wrong. Apart from the play-acting stripper bit, this job wasn’t unattractive. The idea of ‘corrupting’ some probably homophobic, straight-laced frat boy into having sex with a guy was the sort of challenge Jensen reveled in. Didn’t stop him complaining though.

“The kid had better be pretty, that’s all I’m sayin’,” were his parting words as he stomped out. Of course, with hindsight, pride coming before a fall and all that, Jensen supposed he was due.

Because the kid – Jared Padalecki – wasn’t pretty. He was stunning. Jensen spotted him as soon as he walked into the overcrowded apartment, where he was greeted by some blond squinty guy called Chad, who handed him the money for the stripping, and Harry Welling, Tom’s overly-large little brother, who stuffed a fat brown envelope into his hand to cover the deflowering part of the evening. From the look on Chad’s face, it seemed Harry had failed to share about the additional curricular activities, so Jensen left the two by the door arguing about it in lowered tones.

It wasn’t hard to work out which kid was his trick, since he was the only one who was half naked, loosely tied to a dining chair in the center of the room with fetching little pyramids of whipped cream on his up-tilted nose and each nipple. The victim, Jared, had long, silky brown hair, currently tousled in a manner that was not immediately getting Jensen hot, not even slightly, thanks very much. Jared’s chest had been sculpted by Phidias, Jensen would swear to it, and where the cream wasn’t, was covered with dark hair and gleaming sweat. But that wasn’t the worst thing. Christ. This job was going to kill him. Jared was laughing, large white teeth glinting in the lamplight, and he had dimples. Fucking dimples.

Sadly, both the laugh and the dimples disappeared as soon as the kid laid eyes on Jensen, and more particularly, on Jensen’s first dance moves. Admittedly, stripping wasn’t part of his usual repertoire, but Jesus, kid; he wasn’t that bad a dancer! Despite the growing look of terror on Jared’s face, Jensen persisted. The crowd was pretty much as bad as he’d expected, but he was starting to think this Jared kid didn’t have much in common with these loud, boorish idiots who didn’t seem to be able to keep their sweaty hands to themselves. The music pounded out its rhythm, Jensen slinked and sashayed and gyrated his way out of his clothes until all that was left was the Stars and Stripes sequined posing-pouch Harry had insisted on when booking Jensen. Pervert. Jensen was never going to admit that the Texan boy in him was secretly fond of its patriotic fervor.

Jensen straddled Jared’s rather fine, meaty thighs, taking a moment to appreciate those long, long legs, before grinding down. Mm, nice. Felt like Jared was enjoying this more than his panicked, flushed face was letting on. Ignoring the cacophony in the room, Jensen leaned in and delicately licked the cream off that adorably sharp nose. He didn’t miss the way Jared’s crotch jerked up at the touch, or the unmistakable hard line of the boy’s cock pressing into him where he sat. From feel alone Jensen thought the kid’s jeans must be getting a mite uncomfortable. Jared was packing, that’s for sure. Maybe this gig wasn’t going to suck so badly after all.

Close up, Jensen could see Jared’s eyes – hard to determine their color in this light, which was intriguing – were showing arousal, sure, but predominant was not the lust Jensen expected. Nope, those slanted foxy eyes were, he was sure, terrified. Hmm. Jensen thought maybe this evening should play out a little differently than planned. He leaned in again, breathing deeply of Jared’s scent. It was clean sweat and something citrusy – and on the strength of that heady fragrance, Jensen made his decision. He whispered in Jared’s ear.

Harry chose that moment to butt in on the two protagonists in this little entertainment.

“So come on, whore, when’re you gonna fuck the virgin?”

In the uproar that followed – Chad yelling about Harry being a fucker and that wasn’t what the evening was supposed to be about, Harry’s Frat Boys baying for the deflowering of Jared’s virgin ass like drunken satyrs instead of humans, a couple of the burlier meatheads grabbing Chad and sitting on him – Jensen untied Jared and stood up.

He held up a hand demanding silence, and surprisingly, the whole room quieted down.

“Firstly, when you book a very expensive whore, you should do your research about the services available for hire and try not to insult said whore. Second, there’s no amount of money in this world that you could pay me to fuck someone who isn’t one hundred per cent willing. Thirdly, Harry Welling, you so much as look sideways at Jared again and I’ll share every shitty detail with your big brother.”

+0+0+

Jared was caught between wonderment and a burning sense of betrayal. At the moment, the wonder was winning, because this utterly gorgeous man – Jensen, his name was Jensen – had just told Jared he wanted to go get a drink somewhere more private with him. And not only that, Jensen was now standing, near enough stark naked, in the middle of a bunch of obnoxious Frat Boys, telling them to stuff the money they’d paid him to perform.

It was magnificent, and if Jared hadn’t been so angry and yes, aroused, he’d have cheered out loud. As it was, it took him a few minutes to realize Jensen was already dressed and nearly ready to leave. Jared hurriedly grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head. For a second he thought he caught a moue of disappointment on Jensen’s perfect features when Jared covered up, but then Jensen was propping the apartment door open and beckoning Jared over. He must have been mistaken.

“Oh, yeah,” Jensen growled back at the shell-shocked room in a low rumble that absolutely did not do terrible things to Jared’s dick. “I nearly forgot. Here’s your money, losers. Me and Jared are leaving now.”

With that, Jensen flung the open envelope stuffed with money into the center of the room, showering ten-dollar bills everywhere. Grinning wide and bright, Jensen grabbed Jared’s hand and dragged him out of there. All hell broke loose behind them as an unseemly scramble for the money kicked off.

“Just how much had they paid you anyway?” Jared gasped out, breathless with laughter as they ran down the stairs, still holding hands. Well, Jared wasn’t going to let go if Jensen wasn’t. Until Jared stopped dead in his tracks when Jensen told him exactly how much he’d just thrown away.

“A thousand bucks?” Jared absolutely did not squeak when he said that. Jensen blushed. Adorably. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, ducking his head and suddenly the self-assured ball-crusher of moments ago was replaced by a bashful boy-next-door.

“Yeah, well, I told Tom I wouldn’t do this gig for less than double my usual fee – and I never do stripping, least of all for brainless Frat kids. That’s why I kept this,” and Jensen waved a considerable wad of notes under Jared’s cream-free nose.

“I’m not in the Fraternity,” Jared said, suddenly afraid this beautiful man would walk away now, and he’d never see him again. Why would such a high-class prostitute want to spend time off the books with a scrawny undergrad, after all? Jared was shocked as well as delighted when Jensen looked up at him and flashed him that white-toothed grin. There was a wicked glint in Jensen’s eyes and his voice seemed to drop another octave until its rumble was vibrating through Jared’s every nerve.

“I know that, Jared. I wouldn’t be contemplating the things I’m contemplating if you were one of those dick-for-brains.”

Jared swallowed nervously. “Okay, er…what exactly are you contemplating?”

Jensen tapped the side of his nose, a wicked smirk curling those lush lips. Then he grabbed Jared’s hot sweaty hand again and tugged. Jared felt that pull everywhere, irresistible, inexorable. He went with it, because he could do nothing else.

+0+0+

Jensen never took clients back to his place. Never. But then, Jared wasn’t a customer, was he? It might have been clichéd, but Jensen never kissed a john either, but suddenly he was more than happy sticking his tongue as far down Jared’s throat as he could, couldn’t get enough of Jared’s beer-flavored sweetness and smiles.

Jensen never topped. Yet here he was, balls deep inside Jared’s virginal heat, Jared’s ridiculously long legs wrapped round Jensen’s waist because the kid had refused to have his first time fuck any way but face to face.

Jensen never fell in love…

But there was always a first time for everything, wasn’t there.