
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1665542.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Jared_Padalecki
  Character:
      Jensen_Ackles, Jared_Padalecki
  Additional Tags:
      Mpreg, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Knotting, ballplay, Fingering,
      nippleplay, Facial, blowjob, Dubious_Consent, Age_Difference, Size_Kink,
      Sharing_Clothes, clothes_sharing_kink, Dirty_Talk, Manhandling
  Series:
      Part 2 of Mouth'verse
  Collections:
      ABO
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-21 Words: 3667
****** Love You Like X.O. ******
by skeletncloset_(alexa_dean)
Summary
     “Um, my mom wants me to thank you,” Jensen calls out to Mr.
     Padalecki. He sets his cellphone down on the kitchen island and rubs
     the back of his neck. Jensen would be lying if he said he’d not been
     counting on it. He’d seen his mother’s red-slicked mouth, the naked
     expanse of her legs and he’d known he’d have no one waiting on him at
     home.
     “Um, my mom wants me to thank you,” Jensen calls out to Mr.
     Padalecki. He sets his cellphone down on the kitchen island and rubs
     the back of his neck. Jensen would be lying if he said he’d not been
     counting on it. He’d seen his mother’s red-slicked mouth, the naked
     expanse of her legs and he’d known he’d have no one waiting on him at
     home.
      
     “There’s no rush,” he adds and fumbles with the top button of Mr.
     Padalecki’s shirt, pushing and pulling it through its eyelet; turning
     it over like a die.
      
     Out of modesty, Jensen had reached for the nearest article of
     clothing and slipped it on. The shirt is huge. Jensen is all but
     treading water in it. The hem reaches mid thigh. About as long as the
     trail of come leaking out of him. And maybe that there--that Jensen
     might never stop seeping Mr. Padalecki’s seed-- is what roots Jensen
     in place.
      
     There is really no place for Jensen to hide. Mr. Padalecki’s flat has
     an open floor plan. Divided in half. One side functions as a studio
     and the other as an apartment. So at the moment, the only thing
     between Jensen and Mr. Padalecki’s assessing gaze is a kitchen
     island.
      
     Even if Jensen had had the opportunity to make a beeline for the
     bathroom, he would’ve had to go through Mr. Padalecki’s bedroom to
     get to it and he wasn’t about to play at Hansel and Gretel, dripping
     come like white pebbles in his wake.
      
     When Mr. Padalecki emerges from his bedroom, naked, Jensen swears
     under his breath. An average person might have thought to cover up.
     But then again there’s nothing average about Mr. Padalecki. He is
     nothing at all like the boys Jensen knows. No bony spine or ripple of
     ribcage. No softness to him save the wet curls behind his ears and
     over his forehead, his sweetly pink mouth, the gentle way he’d
     touched Jensen.
      
     It makes Jensen hard and wet when he’s already hard and wet. Two
     things he wishes he weren’t. He squeezes his legs together, tries to
     rub Mr. Padalecki’s come into his skin by shifting his thighs back
     and forth and succeeds only in smearing it around. At this rate,
     Jensen will never walk again. The thought of what might flood out of
     him if he does mortifies him.
      
     He stares at the roll of paper towels to his left. For the moment, it
     appears to hold all the answers to everything Jensen can’t even bring
     himself to think about. But Jensen is not about to clean himself up
     in front of Mr. Padalecki.
      
     So he white-knuckles the marble top and waits for Mr. Padalecki’s
     lead. He doesn’t wait long. Mr. Padalecki is quick to brush against
     Jensen as he sets a water glass on the countertop. For him, Jensen
     assumes. Jensen thanks him. It comes out as nothing more than a huff
     of air.
      
     There’s no room between them. Probably never will be the way Mr.
     Padalecki presses tight along the length of Jensen’s spine. His chest
     hair crinkles against cotton and the naked, totem shape of his dick
     rides the small of Jensen’s back.
      
     “You should never stop wearing my clothes,” Mr. Padalecki says to
     him. His stubbled chin grazes Jensen’s temple and his hand rests over
     Jensen’s heart, thumb sliding into the space between buttons to find
     Jensen’s goose-bumped skin. He traces slow unbroken circles there,
     like promises.
      
     “I have something for you,” he says and pulls away enough to allow
     Jensen to take a breath. The weight of a charm thumps Jensen’s
     breastbone--over the place Jared’s hand had been--warmer than the
     chain Mr. Padalecki rings around his neck.
      
     “I want you to have this. It was my mother’s.”
      
     Jensen lifts the pendant into his line of sight. It gleams, star-
     colored. A cross. The flood of guilt is instantaneous and Jensen
     stiffens all over.
      
     Jensen couldn’t be more undeserving. He has broken his vows.
     Nevermind it was his first time. It was out of wedlock. What Mr.
     Padalecki must think of him. What Jared must think of him.
      
     “I can’t take this,” Jensen says and reaches up to unclasp the
     necklace. Jared stops him. Grabs hold of his wrists. Jensen can’t say
     he wasn’t hoping for it.
      
     “Think of it as a pre-engagement engagement.”
      
     “But my mom—“ Jensen interrupts. “She’s not going to make it easy.
     She might expect some form of restitution.”
      
     Jared chuckles. His hands hover over Jensen’s shaky arms before
     gripping them firmly. Jensen’s belly is warm but his chest is tight.
      
     “Money I have in excess. But you, I can never give away enough worthy
     of you. I’m lucky your mother will be easily satisfied.”
      
     The material over Jensen’s hips bunches as Jared balls it into his
     fists. Jensen isn’t sure if he wants to go where they’re going, but
     he may be over-thinking it. After all, he started this. Couldn’t
     imagine not having it only hours ago. But it’s different now. He can
     still feel the ghost of Jared’s knot closing him up.
      
     He sways back on his heels. Rests his head on Jared’s shoulder. The
     air is cool on his bloodheavy dick, but Jared is hot on the swell of
     his ass. He concentrates on the sensation: the sound of Jared’s skin
     hissing against his, the spreading possessive hand on his belly. Its
     open palm, full of Jensen. For a dreadful moment, Jensen thinks
     Jared’s going to push down and Jensen will give up the ghost for sure
     if he’s forced to spill all over Jared’s floor.
      
     “I meant all of it,” Jared whispers into his ear and pushes his cock
     between Jensen’s cheeks, all the way up, until his balls rest at the
     tip of the cleft. They rock forward together until Jensen’s hips kiss
     the marble in front of him.
     Jared’s words become heavier, slower, like he’s speaking around a
     mouthful of honey. “Besides, there’s a good chance I’m a Daddy now.”
      
     “What?” That’s not exactly what Jensen expected to hear. In the heat
     of passion, Jared’s rhetoric had been unbelievably hot, but Jensen
     was not prepared for the reality of it. “I wasn’t even in heat. I
     mean--I’m not.”
      
     Jared doesn’t laugh, not exactly. But the quiver at Jensen’s back
     suggests otherwise. “Is that what they taught you in school? I’m
     pretty sure sex Ed said otherwise.”
      
     “My mom,” Jensen’s entire body tingles with the flush of color.
     Jensen’s never held anything against his mother. She’d been a young
     mom and a single one at that. Estranged from her family once her
     pregnancy became known, she’d been given the choice between an
     abortion and the door. Right now however, Jensen is reconsidering his
     relationship with her.
      
     “She didn’t sign my permission slip. Said I didn’t need it. I mean
     I’m Christian so I’m expected to abstain. Or at least I was.” He
     frowns and sags with the weight of a bottomless unknowing feeling in
     his gut when Jared guides him into facing him. Jensen focuses on
     Jared’s face. Grounds himself.
      
     Outside the slanting light shifts from the mirrored warmth of Jared’s
     skin to the velvet of approaching twilight. Up close, Jensen can
     forget why he should feel scared. He can’t remember why he ever had
     any doubts about Jared. In pursuit of an orgasm, people will say
     anything. But Jared isn’t one of them.
      
     In spite of their inherently mischievous slant, Jared’s eyes are
     earnest: new-leaf greens and clear blues recede into the greater
     darkness of his pupils. Jared’s nostrils flare delicately, like an
     animal’s keen to capture the dank odor of mingled sex.
      
     Jensen reacts to it, too. Rises to the balls of his feet to lick at
     the moist red gleam of Jared’s inner lip with the tip of his tongue.
     Holds onto Jared’s biceps for balance. Slips a hand into his hair and
     pulls to deepen the kiss, mouth widening.
      
     Jared surges, his powerful grip like a girdle around Jensen’s waist,
     squeezing until Jensen is elevated off the floor and onto the
     countertop. Tacky dribbles of come trickle from Jensen’s ass. No way
     Jensen didn’t rupture a few capillaries from the rush of blood to his
     face. His legs snap closed with a loud, resounding clap.
      
     “No, don’t,” Jared reacts immediately, “No. Let me see. I want to see
     it. Wanna see the mess I’ve made out of you.”
      
     Jensen shakes his head. Fuck that.
      
     “Please.” Jared could have easily pulled the alpha card on Jensen.
     Maybe the fact that he doesn’t is what gets Jensen to grudgingly
     acquiesce. He allows Jared to pry his thighs open, but Jensen refuses
     to meet Jared’s gaze.
      
     Not that it matters because Jared isn’t looking anywhere except the
     glossy swale between Jensen’s legs, the home he’s made for himself
     there. Ostensibly, it’s a bit worse for wear, if Jared’s expression
     is anything to go by. Which makes sense considering the way Jared
     worked him over. Or the way Jensen worked himself over. Nothing but
     instinct and months of frustration jerking Jensen around until Jensen
     flung himself at Jared, dismissing all consequence.
      
     Jesus, what had Jensen been thinking?
      
     A pitiful yelp escapes him when Jared shoves Jensen’s knees to his
     chest, hard enough Jensen falls on his elbows. He’s jarred more from
     Jared’s shameless curiosity than his own exposure. It’s like nothing
     Jensen can do will ever make him wide enough, open enough, for Jared.
      
     “Beautiful,” is the first thing out of Jared’s mouth as he runs his
     fingers over Jensen. It burns like a welt and Jensen slits his eyes
     through it, fights a snarl. He’s smarting and his reaction is
     involuntary.
      
     Eyelids gone half-lidded and feline, Jared doesn’t appear to notice.
     Jared’s lips part as he swallows, like his throat is too dry to work
     properly. Like it’s him having his ass played with and not Jensen.
     Jensen softens under Jared’s fingers as Jared’s free-hand rides the
     pulse in Jensen’s cock, all the way up to the slit and back down
     again.
      
     “Look at you,” Jared groans. “I would’ve waited forever for you, but
     I’m a weak man. Never stood a chance against you, wanting to fill you
     up and bounce you on my cock. Wanna watch your belly grow and your
     tits jiggle when you ride me, feel them up through my shirts-
     - because that’s all I’ll ever let you wear when we’re alone. Want
     you reeking of me all the time. Want everyone to smell me on you.
     Wanna watch you glow with my babies. You gonna do that for me? You
     gonna glow?”
      
     Jared might have Jensen panting, have his shoulders falling back and
     his stomach punching forward, back arching, but Jensen can’t bring
     himself to answer. Because it’s not pillow talk this time, he knows.
     But it’s hard to remember something that important when Jared is
     making him howl and squirm and grind back into the marble and up into
     the air, lifting straight through the heels of half-perched feet,
     hips heaving and driving Jensen’s dick through the gaps of Jared’s
     knuckles, balls lewdly pink against olive skin.
      
     Jensen reaches out to Jared searching for boundaries that may have
     never existed. He spreads his fingers over the bunch and flex of
     Jared’s pecs. Rubs circles into Jared’s nipples. Jensen’s ass feels
     like a salty mess of wet.  His dick isn’t doing any better. And
     Jared’s grip feels like a mouth closing in on Jensen’s sac. It’s that
     hot and sloppy with Jensen’s slick and Jared’s come and sweat and
     everything in between.
      
     Jared gleams against approaching shadows. Takes up all of Jensen’s
     vision, blurring everything that isn’t him so it’s as if Jensen is
     looking through a fogged window. On Jared’s chest, damp curls shimmer
     with sweat. And Jared’s hips fuck forward through air, like he’s
     already riding Jensen’s ass with his cudgel-thick dick, like it isn’t
     bouncing against his lower abdomen, martial red tip raining precome
     over Jensen’s spread legs.
      
     He crooks his fingers inside Jensen, strokes him. Presses a thumb
     into the place behind Jensen’s balls. And Jensen feels himself
     twitching and then opening, giving in. Jensen chokes on a sob that
     could have been an oh my god or what the fuck, or anything equally
     mundane but heavy with feeling. But most likely would’ve been
     something stupid like do that again, Mr. Padalecki, which would not
     have gone over very well now they’re on a first name basis.
      
     Desperate want climbs up and down Jensen’s spine, remembering the
     sloppy feeling of Jared’s lips on his neck, his shoulders, the way
     he’d taken sips from the corner of Jensen’s mouth between cries.
      
     Betrayed again by his selfish, needy body--a pliant, whiny thing,
     that doesn’t even have the decency to hide its face—Jensen is shamed
     to tears. Jensen tries to turn away. Wishes he could will himself
     soft. He feels stupid with base desire. Oh, Jensen tries, but it’s
     Jared and it’s foolish to turn away from someone like him, patient
     and formidable as a mountain cat.
      
     He yanks Jensen partway off the countertop; slots himself between
     Jensen’s thighs. Grips Jensen hard, uses his strength to haul
     Jensen’s legs over his shoulders until his dick nestles between
     Jensen’s asscheeks and his hands are free to pull Jensen’s hole open
     with his thumbs. Jared drags his sac right over it, his half-formed
     knot, like he can get past the ring by determination alone.
      
     Jensen’s shoulders--his only source of leverage--skid as he’s jostled
     back and forth over the marble. He covers his face with his hands,
     teased by delicious friction, by the snag of skin, the broad sweeping
     strokes of Jared’s balls. Sensitive enough to discern a change in
     texture: every ridge, every seam, the dark thatch of hair at the
     root.
      
     Jensen wants more than he’s given, frantic with it, wants to press
     his face to the fragrant hollow underneath Jared’s jaw, pop buttons
     and have Jared tease his nipples to hardness. Jensen tugs at the
     chain around his neck and slips the cross into his mouth. He tongues
     it. Sucks it. Purses his lips around it, tasting Jared’s violence,
     his sex, the acid tang of them together.
      
     “Oh, fuck, Jensen,” Jared moans, edging Jensen’s legs back on the
     counter.
      
     Jensen spreads his thighs and bares his throat in submission.
     Postures as well as he can in his current state. Everything about
     Jensen is too heavy: his breath, his eyes, his dick, pebbled nipples
     rubbed raw by cotton.
     Glowing and golden, Jared arcs over him, solid muscle of stomach all
     but crushing Jensen’s dick. Jared wrenches Jensen back across the
     surface of the countertop, crowds him until they’re mouth to mouth
     and tangled limbs. Jensen’s ankles lock over the small of Jared’s
     back. The two of them reduced into an unrecognizable mass of muscle
     and skin and brute strength.
      
     Bucking against Jensen, Jared pitches his tongue into Jensen’s mouth,
     savage and desperate, as though he could shove his heart right down
     Jensen’s throat. Jensen is the first to pull away, breathless with
     what he’s about to say.
      
     “I think . . . I think I want you to suck me again.” Jensen pauses,
     displeased with the way he sounds, too plaintive and indecisive.
     “Please?” Then as if he couldn’t be clear enough, Jensen adds, “I
     want you to put me in your mouth. Mr. Padalecki--Jared.“
      
     Retreating, Jared brushes his lips across Jensen’s cheekbone, smiling
     all the way down. And Jensen’s eyes follow, fearful that he’d gone
     too far and his body goes sullen with thwarted want. But Jensen’s
     disappointment vanishes once Jared starts talking again.
      
     “Wanna slide right into my mouth, Jensen? Wanna melt in it? Want your
     slick all over my face? Wanna come on it? You gonna, baby? You gonna
     do that for me? Gonna mark me? Gonna come all over me, inside my
     mouth and over my lips? Gonna lick yourself right offa me? I want you
     to, Jensen. Want you to let go for me. Don’t hold back. Gonna take
     care of you like you take care of me.”
      
     Jared doesn’t wait for Jensen’s answer because seriously? Who in
     their right mind would say no? Jesus, Jared is hot--that smile--holy
     and mad, rapturous and dimpled. It makes Jensen dizzy but not as
     dizzy as when Jared takes Jensen deep into his mouth, all the way
     down to his sac, scratch of stubble, the hot shunt of his breath.
     Jensen can all but hear the hot whisper of Jared’s mouth sucking on
     his wet little slit as he comes up for air and suckles the tip.
      
     Jensen bites his lips. His world siphoned down to Jared’s blade-
     shaped eyes and sunken cheeks. Jared slurps fat drops of precome from
     Jensen’s dick. And it’s really fuckin’ good having everything wrung
     out of him without an orgasm, feeling the tug right down to his
     balls, right down to Jared’s hand as he clutches Jensen’s sac,
     keeping him from blowing his load too soon. No way Jensen wouldn’t
     have. Jared pulls on them, rolls them, near squeezing.
      
     And Jensen feels it all. Oh, he feels it. If not for the brick walls,
     Jensen is sure Jared’s neighbors would hear Jensen losing his fucking
     mind right down the rabbit hole of Jared’s throat, past his gag
     reflex. Jared lets him, moaning like he can’t get enough of it, like
     he loves Jensen grinding himself against his face. And Jensen wants
     to come, can feel the pressure building. It begins to hurt.
      
     “I’m going to burst,” he wails. But if Jared hears him he doesn’t
     show it. Jensen knows he’s sopping wet when Jared slides his thumb
     between Jensen’s cheeks, frictionless. Jensen is so slippery, there
     is no need to ease into it. Jared's knuckle simply pops right past
     the ring. Thrusts in and out, in and out, pinning Jensen to the stone
     beneath him. Sketches patterns like a kid fingerpainting.
      
     When Jared lets go of Jensen’s nuts, pushes his forefinger right
     alongside his thumb and tries to pull him open, Jensen comes
     promptly, just as Jared’s mouth pops off. Ropes catch on Jared’s
     cheek and manage to shoot into the roof of his mouth. Pearls on his
     tongue. True to his word, Jared crawls up Jensen’s body and kisses
     him, deep and heavy and full of bitter saltwater taste; only to break
     long enough for Jensen to lick come off his face.
     Some of it must have gotten on Jared’s chest because Jensen’s shirt
     goes immediately damp, rasping against his oversensitive nipples.
     He’s about to complain when he feels the blunt head of Jared’s cock,
     fat and hot.
      
     “Wait,” Jensen rushes to say, not exactly finding the words.
     Something like, I’m scared, or I don’t want to get pregnant, but
     fuck, Jensen might already be on his way.
      
     What coyness there had been, his pucker is beyond that now, rippling
     as it swallows Jared down in stutters and slurps. An endless ride all
     the way down to Jared’s half-formed knot, head and veiny shaft
     sliding right past his sweet spot so Jensen’s spent dick dribbles
     pitiably.
      
     Jensen’s stomach muscles ache from the residual contractions of his
     orgasm. He shuts his eyes tight and presses his face to Jared’s neck,
     pulls on his hair with his hands. This time there is no intermission,
     just Jared dicking him, snapping his hips forward, trying to feed
     Jensen his knot.
      
     “It’s not gonna fit, Mr. Padalecki,” he cries out, wretched, because
     he wants it to, but he also doesn’t want to deal with the
     ramifications. “I can’t.”
      
     “You can,” Jared hisses, “You’ve done it already, baby. You’ve taken
     all of me. You’ve been so good to me. So perfect for me. Such a good
     boy.”
      
     But Jensen can’t. Jared pulls out, drags Jensen off the countertop,
     spins him and bends him over. Jared’s paw closes over the back of his
     neck--fingers nearly touching the hollow of Jensen’s throat-- and
     fucks right in. Jensen is stunned by how hot he finds it, goes limp
     for Jared to use, pumping into him, making Jensen scream. It’s faster
     and harder than the first time, rough and merciless. And Jensen knows
     why. Knows Jared wants Jensen’s complete submission. Wants to pound
     his knot right through Jensen’s body.
      
     “That’s it. Let me hear you,” Jared groans. “You’re gonna take it.
     Just gotta get deep enough, get you wet enough.”
      
     Jensen makes up his mind, reaches back to grab hold of Jared’s flanks
     and yanks him tight against his ass, squeezing a startled shout from
     Jared. Jensen’s sweat follows his hairline and falls in beads against
     the countertop where he’s fogged up the surface with his breath. He’s
     done it. And he feels a bit of pride, taking Jared’s knot and making
     him scream. Feels even better when Jared’s hand sneak under his shirt
     to feel the line of his cock inside of Jensen from the outside.
      
     **
      
     Jared’s fingers snag on Jensen’s pushed-out belly button, stomach
     swollen and ripe and too big for Jared’s hands. Now tentative, now
     tender, when Jensen could do with rougher handling.
      
     Jared is shy and worried all the time now. Afraid to hurt the baby.
     Afraid to hurt Jensen. Jensen has had to learn to encourage, to lure,
     to guide Jared into him. Learns words like spells. Want you to come
     in me, he says. Let me feel it. Make me remember. Need it so much,
     Jay. Need you so much. Love you. Love you. Love you.
      
     Offers up his nipples and his sweet little cunt, the necklace and
     pendant so much cooler than his skin, sometimes swinging underneath
     him as he rides Jared--rocking slow, rocking fast--sometimes resting
     in his mouth. He's hot all the time now, wanting it. Wanting
     Jared. The stretch so much more different too, but he never lets it
     show, thrusts his newly-formed breasts into Jared’s tight mouth,
     feeds him strength and promise, winds pleasure all around them, cages
     them in, becomes a temple, becomes a prison.
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