these close quarters (make my skin grow tight) by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
obstinatrix f
Jun. 9th, 2012 11:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
springflingmod.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
spn_springflingTitle: these close quarters (make my skin grow tight)
Pairing: JDM/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Any warnings: None
Written byobstinatrix for writen0w!
Ninety-five fucking degrees down in Tusayan and Jensen's still freezing his balls off up here on the canyon's rim when night falls, the darkness pressing clammy and cold at the walls of their tent, the hair standing up on Jensen's legs.
"Jesus Christ," he gets out through clenched teeth, and Jeff, damn him, laughs, a low sound in the dark.
"Told you," he says, "didn't I? Fuck's sake, Jen." There's a shiny fumbling sound as Jeff's sleeve catches on polyester, and then the burr of a zipper descending, Jeff hitching in closer to Jensen's side. "Zip these together, dude. Come on."
"This is all just a cunning ploy," Jensen huffs, but his shoulders are twitching in anticipation as he tugs at the cold-stiff zipper of his sleeping bag, fumbles for the teeth of Jeff's. "You just wanna -- get some of this, man." He grits his own teeth as the two zippers slot together and the slider grinds them into each other with a satisfying brrrrrrrp.
A foot away in the dark, Jeff snorts. "Like I need a ploy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jensen demands. There's a rock or some shit trying to worm its way in between his hip and his ribs, and he squirms irritably, seeking escape. Then Jeff's big hand creeps across the distance, palms Jensen's waist, and he stops squirming; stops breathing and feels his heart pound.
Jeff says, "Give it up for me easy enough, don'tcha, Ackles?" and Jensen lets out his breath in a heady whoosh, hand coming up to clench around Jeff's wrist where it's braced between them.
"If you ask nice enough," he allows, and Jeff laughs, rough sound like whisky on the rocks.
"Please," Jeff says, but the tone of it's teasing, the sibilant tripping serpentine off his tongue. The big hand slides lower, grips Jensen's thigh, and Jensen's legs fall apart for it easily, body a soft open spill for this, for Jeff. God, he is easy. It's hard to actually give a fuck about that when Jeff is what results.
"Mmmm." Jensen's not hard, but he's on his way, something hot pooling in the pit of his belly as Jeff's fingers follow the seam of his pants up to the crotch, tracing the slack weight of Jensen's balls. By the time Jeff's dragged his firm warm palm up over the bulge of Jensen's dick to his waistband, he's filling, hips shifting, breath catching in his throat when Jeff's fingers find skin.
"Yeah," Jeff says, soft and self-assured, "that's it, gotcha," and his thumb rides warm along the waistband of Jensen's sweats, crooks downward to urge them away from the tensed dip of his navel. "This what you want? Come on, sweetheart; let me warm you up."
The big hand worms its way into Jensen's pants, then, knuckles tenting his boxers up away from his skin, and fuck, but Jeff is good at this, better than anyone. Jeff's jacked Jensen just right since the day Jensen walked into his office for a file and wound up face down on Mr Morgan's desk with his ass in the air. Everything about him is so fucking assured, so capable, palm cradling the spine of Jensen's dick and Jensen whimpers low in his throat, rocking into it, wanting more.
"Jeff," he whispers. There's warmth pounding in his throat, prickling under his arms and in his chest, at the base of his spine. The cave they've made in their conjoined sleeping bag is heating with Jensen's blood, and he clutches at Jeff, his shoulder, his nape, as Jeff's hand tightens, squeezes sparks of sensation out of him. "Fuck!"
"Yeah," Jeff whispers, and then his thumb is swiping soft across the head of Jensen's cock, smearing the first slick pearl of precome around the crown, down onto the shaft. He squeezes again, slides down with the tunnel of his fist and Jensen seizes, hauls Jeff in to muffle a cry against his mouth.
It's quick after that, breathless, Jensen biting at the wet swell of Jeff's mouth as he fucks his fist, thighs tensing as Jeff works him hard and fast to the edge. Jesus, Jeff, all firm hard strokes that make Jensen feel like his head is coming off, thumb to the head and slick-sticky jacks of Jeff's hand from root to tip and back again, over and over. Jensen moans, breathes out hard through his nose, and then his teeth catch hard in Jeff's lower lip as his hips pulse jaggedly, frantic, toes curling in his socks as he comes and comes like fever into Jeff's warm hand.
"Holy shit," he whimpers, "Jeff, fuck!" and Jeff is laughing at him, the bastard, hand still working in these long, wringing motions that make Jensen's limbs shiver with sensation, right down to the very ends of his toes, the beds of his fingernails.
"Warm enough?" Jeff rumbles, and Jensen laughs stupidly, hair sticking sweaty to his forehead and his legs still lax with orgasm.
"Jesus. Yeah."
"Good," Jeff says, and then his hand is emerging from the cover of the sleeping bag in the dark, scant light glinting off the slick of come in his palm, shining on his fingers. Jeff's tongue comes out to curl around the fingers and Jensen's breath catches, cock giving a last, futile twitch.
"Oh, fuck, Jeff," he says, and then he's groping for the zipper, shoving it down to their toes and throwing the flaps of the sleeping bag open, too fucking hot now for what he wants to do; pushing Jeff's thighs apart and hauling at the waistband of his pants. "You bastard; get these off -- lift your fucking hips you asshole, let me get to you -- oh, God --"
Jeff's hand is warm on Jensen's skull, carding through his hair as Jensen flattens his hands on the spurs of Jeff's hipbones, leans in almost sideways-on to take the fat head of Jeff's gorgeous dick into his mouth. He smells so fucking good, musky and raw, and the hitch in Jeff's laughter is worth how slutty Jensen feels just going for it like this, tonguing at the spread slit of Jeff's dick where there's precome gathering, spurting out wetly. Jeff groans, resettles himself, and Jensen sucks hard, fucks his mouth down harder till his nose is pressed right into Jeff's pubic hair, the head of Jeff's dick nestled in Jensen's throat.
"Christ," Jeff mutters, "You're easy like a fuckin' Sunday morning, Jen, but -- God -- warms you up, right?"
Jensen flattens his tongue to Jeff's underside in answer, hand sliding up to cup his balls, and Jeff groans, fists his hand in Jensen's hair and hauls him in, holds him steady.
"God," Jeff gets out, and Jensen hears the muffled thunk of his head falling back onto the groundsheet as he rocks up into Jensen's mouth. "God, yeah, sweetheart, like that. Your fucking mouth, could fuck it all day, Jensen." He thumbs at the corner of Jensen's mouth where it's stretched tight around Jeff's girth, pulses his hips off the ground and churns them, shoved up far as he can get, sheathed so fucking deep into Jensen's throat. Jensen can't taste him like this, but he can feel him, sticky pulses of precome, and the hand of Jeff's balls shifts backward, pushes upward.
"Fuck," Jeff spits, rearing up, and Jensen half-laughs around him, pulls off almost to the tip and then slams back down again, sucking on the upstroke, breathing on the down. Jeff's fist clenches in Jensen's hair, starts to work him up and down in deep sloppy strokes. "Fuck, that's it, baby. So fucking good for me -- oh --"
Jeff's quiet when he comes, always, body tensing in this perfect arc as he spills and spills into Jensen's throat. Jensen swallows what he can and the rest of it sluices wetly down the length of Jeff's cock as he lets it slip out of his mouth after, crawling up on his hands and knees to where Jeff is passed out loose on what passes for a pillow in a tent.
"Too damn hot in here now," Jensen comments, because it's true and, besides, he couldn't let Jeff just lie there enjoying the afterglow. That wouldn't be playing the game.
"Asshole," Jeff grunts. He fumbles for a second, comes up with a sock and throws it at Jensen's head. Jensen smirks and throws himself down on his back, squirming around in search of a comfortable position on the rocky ground.
"Maybe in the morning," he says, "If you're good."
It's still fucking freezing up here, out on the rim in the desert night, but inside the tent, at least, it's warm, and Jensen falls asleep smiling.
Pairing: JDM/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Any warnings: None
Written by
obstinatrix for writen0w!Ninety-five fucking degrees down in Tusayan and Jensen's still freezing his balls off up here on the canyon's rim when night falls, the darkness pressing clammy and cold at the walls of their tent, the hair standing up on Jensen's legs.
"Jesus Christ," he gets out through clenched teeth, and Jeff, damn him, laughs, a low sound in the dark.
"Told you," he says, "didn't I? Fuck's sake, Jen." There's a shiny fumbling sound as Jeff's sleeve catches on polyester, and then the burr of a zipper descending, Jeff hitching in closer to Jensen's side. "Zip these together, dude. Come on."
"This is all just a cunning ploy," Jensen huffs, but his shoulders are twitching in anticipation as he tugs at the cold-stiff zipper of his sleeping bag, fumbles for the teeth of Jeff's. "You just wanna -- get some of this, man." He grits his own teeth as the two zippers slot together and the slider grinds them into each other with a satisfying brrrrrrrp.
A foot away in the dark, Jeff snorts. "Like I need a ploy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jensen demands. There's a rock or some shit trying to worm its way in between his hip and his ribs, and he squirms irritably, seeking escape. Then Jeff's big hand creeps across the distance, palms Jensen's waist, and he stops squirming; stops breathing and feels his heart pound.
Jeff says, "Give it up for me easy enough, don'tcha, Ackles?" and Jensen lets out his breath in a heady whoosh, hand coming up to clench around Jeff's wrist where it's braced between them.
"If you ask nice enough," he allows, and Jeff laughs, rough sound like whisky on the rocks.
"Please," Jeff says, but the tone of it's teasing, the sibilant tripping serpentine off his tongue. The big hand slides lower, grips Jensen's thigh, and Jensen's legs fall apart for it easily, body a soft open spill for this, for Jeff. God, he is easy. It's hard to actually give a fuck about that when Jeff is what results.
"Mmmm." Jensen's not hard, but he's on his way, something hot pooling in the pit of his belly as Jeff's fingers follow the seam of his pants up to the crotch, tracing the slack weight of Jensen's balls. By the time Jeff's dragged his firm warm palm up over the bulge of Jensen's dick to his waistband, he's filling, hips shifting, breath catching in his throat when Jeff's fingers find skin.
"Yeah," Jeff says, soft and self-assured, "that's it, gotcha," and his thumb rides warm along the waistband of Jensen's sweats, crooks downward to urge them away from the tensed dip of his navel. "This what you want? Come on, sweetheart; let me warm you up."
The big hand worms its way into Jensen's pants, then, knuckles tenting his boxers up away from his skin, and fuck, but Jeff is good at this, better than anyone. Jeff's jacked Jensen just right since the day Jensen walked into his office for a file and wound up face down on Mr Morgan's desk with his ass in the air. Everything about him is so fucking assured, so capable, palm cradling the spine of Jensen's dick and Jensen whimpers low in his throat, rocking into it, wanting more.
"Jeff," he whispers. There's warmth pounding in his throat, prickling under his arms and in his chest, at the base of his spine. The cave they've made in their conjoined sleeping bag is heating with Jensen's blood, and he clutches at Jeff, his shoulder, his nape, as Jeff's hand tightens, squeezes sparks of sensation out of him. "Fuck!"
"Yeah," Jeff whispers, and then his thumb is swiping soft across the head of Jensen's cock, smearing the first slick pearl of precome around the crown, down onto the shaft. He squeezes again, slides down with the tunnel of his fist and Jensen seizes, hauls Jeff in to muffle a cry against his mouth.
It's quick after that, breathless, Jensen biting at the wet swell of Jeff's mouth as he fucks his fist, thighs tensing as Jeff works him hard and fast to the edge. Jesus, Jeff, all firm hard strokes that make Jensen feel like his head is coming off, thumb to the head and slick-sticky jacks of Jeff's hand from root to tip and back again, over and over. Jensen moans, breathes out hard through his nose, and then his teeth catch hard in Jeff's lower lip as his hips pulse jaggedly, frantic, toes curling in his socks as he comes and comes like fever into Jeff's warm hand.
"Holy shit," he whimpers, "Jeff, fuck!" and Jeff is laughing at him, the bastard, hand still working in these long, wringing motions that make Jensen's limbs shiver with sensation, right down to the very ends of his toes, the beds of his fingernails.
"Warm enough?" Jeff rumbles, and Jensen laughs stupidly, hair sticking sweaty to his forehead and his legs still lax with orgasm.
"Jesus. Yeah."
"Good," Jeff says, and then his hand is emerging from the cover of the sleeping bag in the dark, scant light glinting off the slick of come in his palm, shining on his fingers. Jeff's tongue comes out to curl around the fingers and Jensen's breath catches, cock giving a last, futile twitch.
"Oh, fuck, Jeff," he says, and then he's groping for the zipper, shoving it down to their toes and throwing the flaps of the sleeping bag open, too fucking hot now for what he wants to do; pushing Jeff's thighs apart and hauling at the waistband of his pants. "You bastard; get these off -- lift your fucking hips you asshole, let me get to you -- oh, God --"
Jeff's hand is warm on Jensen's skull, carding through his hair as Jensen flattens his hands on the spurs of Jeff's hipbones, leans in almost sideways-on to take the fat head of Jeff's gorgeous dick into his mouth. He smells so fucking good, musky and raw, and the hitch in Jeff's laughter is worth how slutty Jensen feels just going for it like this, tonguing at the spread slit of Jeff's dick where there's precome gathering, spurting out wetly. Jeff groans, resettles himself, and Jensen sucks hard, fucks his mouth down harder till his nose is pressed right into Jeff's pubic hair, the head of Jeff's dick nestled in Jensen's throat.
"Christ," Jeff mutters, "You're easy like a fuckin' Sunday morning, Jen, but -- God -- warms you up, right?"
Jensen flattens his tongue to Jeff's underside in answer, hand sliding up to cup his balls, and Jeff groans, fists his hand in Jensen's hair and hauls him in, holds him steady.
"God," Jeff gets out, and Jensen hears the muffled thunk of his head falling back onto the groundsheet as he rocks up into Jensen's mouth. "God, yeah, sweetheart, like that. Your fucking mouth, could fuck it all day, Jensen." He thumbs at the corner of Jensen's mouth where it's stretched tight around Jeff's girth, pulses his hips off the ground and churns them, shoved up far as he can get, sheathed so fucking deep into Jensen's throat. Jensen can't taste him like this, but he can feel him, sticky pulses of precome, and the hand of Jeff's balls shifts backward, pushes upward.
"Fuck," Jeff spits, rearing up, and Jensen half-laughs around him, pulls off almost to the tip and then slams back down again, sucking on the upstroke, breathing on the down. Jeff's fist clenches in Jensen's hair, starts to work him up and down in deep sloppy strokes. "Fuck, that's it, baby. So fucking good for me -- oh --"
Jeff's quiet when he comes, always, body tensing in this perfect arc as he spills and spills into Jensen's throat. Jensen swallows what he can and the rest of it sluices wetly down the length of Jeff's cock as he lets it slip out of his mouth after, crawling up on his hands and knees to where Jeff is passed out loose on what passes for a pillow in a tent.
"Too damn hot in here now," Jensen comments, because it's true and, besides, he couldn't let Jeff just lie there enjoying the afterglow. That wouldn't be playing the game.
"Asshole," Jeff grunts. He fumbles for a second, comes up with a sock and throws it at Jensen's head. Jensen smirks and throws himself down on his back, squirming around in search of a comfortable position on the rocky ground.
"Maybe in the morning," he says, "If you're good."
It's still fucking freezing up here, out on the rim in the desert night, but inside the tent, at least, it's warm, and Jensen falls asleep smiling.
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no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 05:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 06:21 am (UTC)Eeee! I really like the games they play!
This was perfect, really. I love the dynamic between them, how Jeff sees right through Jensen's act, and how you hinted at their backstory, and the sex is so hot. But your writing style... wow! It's made reading the fic an absolutely pleasure! You set the scene so well, and your words are perfect and on-point, and the whole story is just flawless.
Thank you so, so much <3. I absolutely love it!
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Date: 2012-06-10 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 10:16 am (UTC)This was fabulously hot, and I loved all the mentions of the backstory - Mr Morgan's desk etc.
I would love to read a whole verse of this - brilliant job.
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Date: 2012-06-11 10:18 pm (UTC)b) Sleeping bag sex, yes! Having to huddle for warmth in a sleeping bag is one of my favourite fic tropes, so I loved this! :)
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Date: 2012-06-25 08:53 pm (UTC)The big hand slides lower, grips Jensen's thigh, and Jensen's legs fall apart for it easily, body a soft open spill for this, for Jeff.
Might possibly contain my favourite JDM/JA stuff right there, particularly when combined with the "sweetheart" a coupla lines later.
Mostly, though, all of it <3.
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Date: 2012-06-26 06:18 am (UTC)/coherent okay shh.
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Date: 2013-08-25 04:42 pm (UTC)