Word Count: ~2400
Warnings: prostitution, infidelity, references to homophobia
Summary: Jensen has spent his entire life living a lie. A man at a bar helps him be honest with himself, if only for one night.
Author's Notes: Written for smpc inspired by an old prompt from spnkink_meme
Thanks to fiercelynormal for the beta! This is probably way too angsty for a happy porn challenge, but it kind of just came out this way. I'm sorry lol!
He’s beautiful, the boy. Curve of shoulders and tilt of eyes, hair long enough to curl around his collar like a vine on a tower.
Jensen sips his whiskey. It burns like regret going down his throat.
He looks at Jensen that first night and smiles. That smile knows too much.
Perhaps not so much a boy after all.
Jensen’s Mama learns about another boy the hard way.
Jensen is sixteen, blond and shiny, on the cusp. Already a veteran of a Sears catalog shoot and that cereal commercial that promises to pay enough that the residual checks are going to supply Mama with a brand new washer and dryer.
Mama is proud, Jensen tells himself. Mama wants the world to know what she knows, that Jensen is a star lovingly put there by God Himself to shine bright and illuminate all the hard work she’s put into raising him.
Okay, perhaps cereal commercials aren’t a direct line to Jesus, but that’s what Sunday school is for.
So it is on a Sunday when Jensen’s Mama finds Jensen pressed up against a brick wall behind the church with Pastor Hartley’s oldest boy on his knees in front of him.
The tray of cupcakes for the bake sale didn’t quite survive the fall from her arms to the ground below.
Camp is hard.
Jensen knows that surviving it is the only way that he’ll ever get that look of pure devotion back in his Mama’s eyes. So when the sermons begin, the ones full of fire and brimstone and repentance in faith, he surrenders to them, body and soul.
He invites Danneel Harris to the prom. She smiles shyly and nods her head.
Jensen’s Mama cries when Jensen pins the corsage on Danneel’s pale pink prom dress. The camera shakes in her hands, and Jensen smiles his best Sears catalog smile.
She’s lovely and full of grace as she dances in his arms. Her weight is slight pressed up against him, slip of a body bleeding warmth through the taffeta.
She’s beautiful when he kisses her, her round face slack with trust. Her cheeks heat pink and it spreads all the way down to the tops of her breasts.
Jensen’s Mama doesn’t speak to him for three days when he and Danneel break up the week before graduation.
Danneel ends up married to Matt Cohen from English class. They have three ginger babies and the happily ever after that Jensen doesn’t let himself think about.
“You look lonely,” is what the man-not-boy says to Jensen the third night at the bar.
“You have no idea,” is what Jensen replies.
He meets his wife in acting class.
He’s just gotten a part as the oldest son on a pilot being pitched to ABC Family, but his manager, Mark, says he needs to keep his skillset sharp, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Mark has a British accent though, which to a nineteen-year-old Jensen means that he knows what he’s talking about.
Jensen’s Wife asks him out for coffee after the first class, her smile Crest-White and fearless. Jensen demurs, not used to girls being so forward where he comes from.
She keeps asking though, and Jensen likes the sound of her laugh and the way her ponytail swings when she does it, so he says yes.
He especially likes the way his Mama’s eyes light up when he slips his grandmother’s gold wedding band on his Wife’s finger in front of fifty of Richardson’s best.
Pastor Hartley is kind enough to officiate.
“You remind me of someone.”
Jensen looks over at the man-not-boy sitting on the bar stool next to him. It’s the fourth night and this is the first time the hint of recognition has come up. If he knows then she will know and then they will know and then it’ll be too late.
Jensen’s gut tightens and his first instinct is to flee from the bar, from the town, from this oddly chaste double life.
The man-not-boy puts his hand on Jensen’s forearm, and Jensen can sense panic warring with the sting of how right that singular touch feels.
“You remind me of someone who hasn’t been getting what he needs.”
The man-not-boy’s hand is huge, knuckles pronounced, nails short and clean. It curls around Jensen’s arm, staining Jensen with his fingerprints as surely as a smudge of ink.
“Jared,” the man-not-boy says, like it’s simple.
Jensen closes his eyes, but doesn’t pull away.
Jensen and his Wife have their first real fight on the night of the premiere of his movie debut. It’s a small film, playing the festival circuit, but his part is meaty and the buzz is right. His Wife looks beautiful, all blonde curves and support as she beams from the side of the red carpet where the photographers put her to take pictures of Jensen alone.
The acting thing hasn’t really worked out for her like it has Jensen, so she’s been staying home more. Doing charity work, looking at houses, taking care of the dog.
She kisses the outline of Jensen’s ear in the limo on the way home and whispers that maybe it’s time to think about having a baby.
Jensen has a panic attack on the side of Hollywood Boulevard.
The driver pointedly ignores when she slaps him out of it, her face a level of hurt that Jensen hasn’t seen since his Mama on that Sunday.
Jensen sleeps in the guest room that night, but as he stretches out in the bed and feels only empty space, he breathes easier than he has in months.
“I’m not free,” Jared says, his voice matter-of-fact. “But I’m worth it.”
Jensen swallows hard, and can’t bring himself to look at him. He looks around the darkened space of the bar, trying to determine if anyone recognizes him as that guy from that doctor show, the one with the billboard and People’s Choice award. Tries to see if they are watching him, studying him and judging him and really seeing him.
The hum in the bar is low. No one looks. No one cares.
“Why me?” Jensen asks, although it’s a stupid question. The guy’s a hooker, it’s his job to proposition closeted losers sitting in a bar at 2am because they're too scared to go home and look their wives in the face.
That huge hand is on the back of Jensen’s neck before he realizes what is happening. Hot breath puffs against his ear and Jensen’s entire body shudders violently.
“Because I want to see if I can get that same reaction while you’re face down with my cock up your ass.”
People get divorces every day in Hollywood.
His co-star Aldis gets caught with a stripper in Vegas and Jensen sees his face on every tabloid in the supermarket for a solid month as his wife takes his kids, his house, and his yacht.
Jensen takes his Wife to Napa instead. They don’t talk much anymore and her Crest-white smile is dimmer than it used to be, but that’s not unusual.
The sun is shining, but Jensen is so damn cold.
“I’ve never done this before,” Jensen says. He’s standing in the middle of a spare but clean hotel room, and doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them on his hips, then slides them down his sides before finally just crossing his arms across his chest.
It’s a defense mechanism, he knows. He can’t quite help himself.
He shuts his eyes and they are all there. His Mama. His Wife. His Manager. His Pastor. The Pastor’s Son on his knees in the dirt, mouth warm and wet and cursed. The Devil himself, screaming in his ear.
He’s shaking when Jared comes over to him and takes him into his arms. Jensen’s are still crossed, pressed up tight against Jared’s chest until he can barely breathe with the pressure.
He huffs, and the sound is wet. Jared holds him tighter and kisses his hair.
“I’ve seen you looking at me,” Justin Hartley says to him, nudging close to Jensen, who looks around worriedly.
“What do you mean?” Jensen asks, though he knows exactly what Justin means and it scares and excites him in equal measure.
The sound of Jensen’s Texas belt buckle clanking is the last thing he remembers before the cupcakes drop to the ground.
It’s his first sexual experience, and he doesn’t even get to come.
There’s a confidence in Jared’s nude form that causes something close to awe to rush through Jensen’s belly. Jensen doesn’t know how he ever thought this man was a boy now that he’s looking at the chiseled shape of muscle and sinew.
His skin is golden, kissed by the California sun in a way that can only be natural. It shapes itself over a form so beautiful that Jensen hesitates to reach out and touch it in fear that it’s ephemeral and will disappear with contact.
Jared’s cock is long and thick, a weapon of mass destruction in pleasurable form. It’s half-hard now, filling steadily with blood and shifting towards taut abs like a plant seeking sunlight.
Jensen can’t believe that he might be responsible for any of this, and tells himself that it’s the cash in his wallet that is filling that lovely cock with blood and not Jensen’s pasty body splattered with freckles and shame.
Jared’s weight presses him into the mattress, and they are finally skin to skin. Jensen’s body feels too tight, like there is another, bigger person inside of him trying to get out but his skin won’t let it. It hurts, this pressure, an alien, a parasite, foreign and evil and the truest thing he’s ever known.
Jensen opens his mouth to say that it’s too much, that he can’t do it, that it’s not right.
Jared presses the words back into Jensen’s mouth with his tongue, their first kiss sealing everything that will come after it.
Jared is heavy, solid, flesh and bones weighted and real. His tongue is sure, the muscle as slick and confident as his walk or his smile, and Jensen opens to him the way he wished he had opened his mouth to his Mama and his Pastor and his Wife and said enough already.
They kiss until Jensen is drunk with it, sucking down Jared’s oxygen hungrily, eyes blurry when he cracks them open, just to make sure that Jared is real.
Jared begins biting his way down Jensen’s body, teeth worrying pressure points that Jensen never even knew he had. The third rib down, the tender underside of his left nipple, the tiny yet deep dip of his bellybutton. Jared plays his body like a Stradivarius, and Jensen comes alive with it, nerve endings playing a song long since out of tune.
Wet heat is suddenly covering Jensen’s brutally hard cock, and it’s exactly the same as the first and only time, and yet completely different. This time is sure, Jared’s head bobbing steadily as he takes Jensen all the way to the back of his throat and then pulls off just enough to swirl his talented tongue around the crown and into the slit. He does it again, and then one more time, and Jensen tries to bat him away before finally giving in and pouring white into Jared’s mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles, mortified, feeling like a pimply teenager going through his first wet dream.
Jared chuckles, and Jensen can feel the vibrations on his now-sensitive dick. Jared licks his lips with a loud smacking sound, and Jensen is lost again.
“It’ll take the edge off.”
Jared barely gets the words out before Jared shifts an orgasm-dizzy Jensen to his belly like a rag doll. Huge hands grasp Jensen’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart, exposing everything that Jensen’s tried to hide since he was sixteen years old.
Jared licks up the crack, around the furled opening, back down to edge of Jensen’s sack.
He’s washing away a lifetime of shame and sublimation with a mouthful of saliva, but he’ll never know it and Jensen will never tell him. Jensen presses his face into the pillow underneath it and pushes his ass back into Jared’s mouth without regret.
Jared’s fingers are cold and slick as they push into the tiny space alongside his tongue. They don’t beg for entrance, they demand it, breaking open a space in Jensen that he doesn’t know will ever be able to recede again.
The snap of latex is sharp in the air and Jensen bears down, wanting the pain of intrusion so bad that he bites down and tastes iron on his tongue. Then Jared is there, filling him up so good, filling that space inside of him better than any sermon or gold band or award show. Jensen grunts with the fire inside of him, confesses his sins with every shift of his hips back into the dick impaling him.
“You are beautiful, Jensen. So good for me.” Jared bites words into Jensen’s skin, his teeth a brand in between his shoulder blades and along the tender meat of his back where the world won’t be able to see the beauty of what they’ve done.
Jared shifts himself until he’s hitting exactly the right spot, the key to a universe that Jensen had locked himself out of years ago. He’s relentless, fucking down into Jensen like it was the last thing he would ever do, holding Jensen’s body tight to his own with one hand and threading his fingers through Jensen’s with the others. Jensen holds onto him like a lifeline, letting himself drown in order to finally be able to swim.
Jensen doesn’t even make a sound as his spent dick explodes onto to the starched hotel bed sheets for the second time that night. He’s too overwhelmed for sound, his vocal cords frozen in the pleasure that courses through him.
Jared’s not quiet though, as he pounds his way to his own completion. He growls words of lust and praise and filth, promising things that they both know will never come to fruition.
Jared comes on a sigh. Jensen can feel him everywhere.
Jensen can feel.
Jared kisses Jensen’s knuckles before taking the bills from Jensen’s fist.
Jensen closes his eyes, so he can’t see what happens next.