dragonspell: (Dean Pretty)
dragonspell ([personal profile] dragonspell) wrote2011-07-29 09:19 am
Entry tags:

A Devil's Grin | Jared/Jensen | NC-17 | 4260 words

Title: A Devil's Grin
Author: [personal profile] dragonspell
Fandom: J2
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU.
Summary: Jensen draws the short straw and ends up having to man the station during the graveyard shift but least there's only one prisoner in the small town jail cell. It shouldn't be too hard to manage.
Word Count: 4260
A/N: Written for a July 2011 [livejournal.com profile] blindfold_spn prompt (deputy!Jensen/prisoner!Jared)

There’d never been another choice for Jensen. He’d been destined to become a police officer. His father was one, his uncle and brother too, and his grandfather before them. The men in his family were cops and that was that. He didn’t think that he’d ever seen his father so proud as when Jensen had been deputized, standing there with a huge smile and waiting to envelope Jensen in a hug that had been a long time in coming. It was like everything that Jensen had ever wanted.

Jensen had dedicated his life to his job. With his family’s overwhelming approval and the job’s intrinsic motivations (his mother said that there was just something hardwired into Ackles DNA that made them crave justice and doing the right thing), Jensen never needed anything else. His mother thought that it was high time that Jensen settled down with a nice girl but Jensen just didn’t see the need. He knew that Mary Lou down the street was ‘giving him eyes’ as his mother was fond of saying but Mary Lou had been doing that since high school and almost ten years later, she still wasn’t his type.

No girl was ever his type. Jensen chose not to think about that. Like how being a cop was genetically encoded, no Ackles could possibly be…that way. The Bible said that it was wrong. So Jensen wasn’t.

A hand slapped against Jensen’s boot, latching on and shaking his ankle. “Think you can hold down the fort?” a dark voice teased and Jensen couldn’t stop the instinctive smile that crossed his face. Greg just did that to him—did that to everybody, Jensen thought. Nobody could resist Greg’s charm for long. He’d suck you in and pull you out of your shell before you even knew he was doing it.

Jensen folded up the newspaper that he’d been reading, setting it down on the desk. He liked giving the people that he talked to his full attention—especially Greg. “I think I’ve got it covered,” Jensen said and wryly waved his hand at the empty station. “Unless we get some wild monkeys in here or something.”

“I don’t know, man,” Greg shot back, perching on the edge of Jensen’s desk. Jensen thought that he ought to move his feet to make room but decided not to: he was too comfortable and there was still room for Greg if he didn’t mind having to sit against Jensen’s foot. “You know those monkeys. They always strike when you least expect them.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Greg had the bluest eyes that Jensen had ever seen. They crinkled around the corners when he smiled.

“So, we still on for tomorrow?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, we’re so on.” It would take a full-fledged apocalypse, complete with meteors and hailstorms of toads to make Jensen miss out on watching the game with Greg. He so rarely had time to hang out with anybody and Jensen always looked forward to Greg’s random invites.

“Good,” Greg said. “Me and the guys would miss you.” Jensen nodded, trying not to think about why he found the idea of the other guys being there disappointing. He shouldn’t. He liked the guys—they were a lot of fun. Greg patted Jensen’s ankle one last time as he stood and Jensen’s eyes caught on the simple gold ring that Greg wore. Jensen had been there when Greg had first put that ring on. He’d been the best man, actually. “Well, I’ve got to go. Stace’s expecting me and you know how she gets if I’m too late.”

“Yeah,” Jensen replied quietly, still staring at his boot where Greg had touched him. “I wouldn’t want to cross her. She’s terrifying.”

Greg laughed and nodded. It was no secret that Greg was completely cowed by Stacey. One of the running jokes around the station was about how fast you could make Greg dash for a phone if Stacey was on the line. “Listen, don’t have too much fun,” he said warmly and then left, leaving Jensen alone to hold down the small station.

Jensen hated the graveyard shift. At best, it was a full night of boredom and staving off sleep. At worst…at worst it was usually fielding off Mrs. Baker’s frantic calls about her cat and how he hadn’t come in for the night. If he had to work graveyard, Jensen would rather be on a patrol than holding down a desk—at least that included the possibility of chasing down some speeding, curfew-breaking teenagers or the town drunks again in between gabbing with Mike down at the local gas station—but, unfortunately, so would the rest of the guys. They all took turns staffing the station and Jensen’s number had come up.

He sighed, unfolding his newspaper again and settling in for the long haul. At least there was only one occupant in the cells tonight—a drifter who’d just been pulled over for a broken taillight until they’d realized that there was a warrant out for his arrest two states over. They were just holding him until he could be picked up and so far, he hadn’t said a word. With a little luck, Jensen would make it through the night with no problems at all. Even Jim, the local rabble-rouser that seemed to spend more nights in jail than out, was having an unprecedented streak of good behavior.

It was sure to be boring as all hell. With no one left in the station to see him do it, Jensen dropped his head back against his chair and stared at the ceiling.

Somewhere in the middle of trying to count the number of dots in the ceiling tiles, the shouting started. Jensen jerked upright, his boots slamming onto the floor as his chair damn near dumped him out. Momentarily confused, he stared straight ahead until the scream made him turn to look behind him. At the entrance to the cells. “What the hell?” Jensen snarled.

He unbolted the sets of heavy, barred doors, closing each one behind him again as he entered the small jail that was attached to the station. As he neared the last gate, he could see his lone prisoner standing at the edge of his cell, his fingers wrapped around the bars and looking positively pleased with himself as he continued shouting, “Guard! Guard!” A big guy, he stood taller than Jensen himself, seeming to fill out the cell completely. Jensen glared and the guy—Jared something or other—grinned at him.

“What the hell is your problem?” Jensen snapped and Jared’s smile grew bigger, turning into the Devil’s own grin.

“I needed to talk to you, officer.” His eyes dropped to Jensen’s chest and then wandered back up in a way that made Jensen’s skin prickle in discomfort though Jensen wasn’t sure why. “Officer Ackles.” The way that Jared said his name, it was more of a purr than a statement and Jensen knew that it was deliberately calculated to goad him.

He refused to let it. “And what did you need to talk to me about?” he asked, his voice level.

Jared cocked his head, his longer hair falling to the side. “The weather.”

Jensen blinked. “The weather?” he repeated and Jared nodded, his perfectly white teeth still bared, like a shark scenting blood in the water. “You can’t even see the weather!” The walls of the cells were two feet thick and not a one had a window in it.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared said with a shrug.

Un-fucking-believable. Jensen rolled his eyes and turned around.

“No, wait! Officer Ackles, there’s something else I need to tell you!” Knowing that it was most likely going to be another fountain of bullshit but unable to ignore the prisoner just in case it was something serious, Jensen spun half way back and arched an eyebrow. Jared smiled again, his dimples flashing. “You have got the prettiest eyes.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Jensen muttered, stomping out of the cell block and slamming the gate behind him.

“I like your ass, too!” Jared yelled after him.

So much for a quiet night. Jensen dropped his newspaper over his face as Jared started yelling from the cells again. It was a game for Jared and Jensen knew it but there’s was no way that he could put up with any more. Jared had been going for an hour. Jensen was sure that the man would have screamed himself hoarse by now but there seemed to be no end to Jared’s ability to yell.

Jensen swore. And it was going to be at least two days before Nebraska picked him up, too. “Shut up, already,” Jensen muttered as Jared changed the pitch of his shouting again.

After listening for another few minutes, Jensen ripped the paper off his face and tossed it onto the desk. Fine. If Jared wanted to talk about stupid shit all night, Jensen didn’t care—it was better than listening to him scream.

Jared quieted down the moment that Jensen stepped into view. “Officer Ackles!” he said as Jensen opened the gate again. “You came back!”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jensen growled, trying to cut through the bullshit. The gate clanked back into place behind him.

Jared shrugged. “Just bored, I guess.”

“Bored?” Jensen replied incredulously. “You’re bored? Count the fucking bricks or something!”

“But I don’t like counting bricks.” Jared tilted his head again, going for charming, but Jensen wasn’t in the mood.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before conned those little old ladies out of their money in Nebraska,” Jensen reminded him.

Jared pouted—a full-on, little boy jut of the lip and it should have looked ridiculous on him but, somehow, it sort of worked. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not a very nice person.”

Jared stumbled back at the words, a hand flying to press dramatically against his chest. “Officer Ackles!” He caught himself against the bars of his cell and sagged. “And to think I just wanted to have a nice conversation with you.”

Jensen ignored the theatrics. “I’m not here to talk to you. I’m here to make sure that you don’t leave before they get a chance to ship your ass back across the state line.”

“Well, I need someone to talk to,” Jared said. “I’m bored and lonely and it’s cruel and inhumane to leave a man like that.”

“You’re in jail,” Jensen shot back. “You’re supposed to be bored and lonely.”

Jared smiled again and Jensen tried not to think about the extra thump it made his heart beat. “Just because I’m on this side of the bars and you’re on that side, Officer Ackles, doesn’t mean that I should be lonely. In fact, I’m not lonely any more, are you?”

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t lonely in the first place.”

“Oh, no. Manning the station by yourself is just full of company.”

A shock rippled up Jensen’s spine and he went with his first instinct to deny, deny, deny. “I’m not manning the station by myself,” he lied. It was always a bad move to let a prisoner know that they only had one cop between them and freedom. It was a good way for a cop to get himself shot.

Jared called him on the lie with a snort. “We both know that’s not true. There’s only two people in this entire station tonight and that’s you and me. A station this small and an empty jail? They wouldn’t waste the money.” It was true. The captain preferred two guys to be in at all times but he couldn’t convince the people that held the purse strings to staff the extra man at night—not in this sleepy little town. “Look,” Jared said, his voice dropping down low. “There’s no one else around so no one’s going to know if you talk to me. And that’s all I want.”

“To talk,” Jensen said flatly. Jared nodded.

“About whatever.”

Jensen moved closer to the bars, watching how Jared’s eyes lit up with interest, thinking that he’d won. Jensen stopped a foot from the cell and then leaned in. “We,” Jensen said, pointing a finger between the two of them, “have nothing to talk about. Criminal.”

Jensen was yanked off balanced, slamming face-first against the bars, Jared’s fist knotted in his uniform. Jensen struggled, shoving against the bars, the hand, anything he could reach. Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! He never should have let himself get that close. He knew better! The hand that was holding him spun him around, pulling him back against the bars, and an arm lodged itself across Jensen’s throat. It tightened and Jensen immediately abandoned everything else in favor of grabbing a hold of the constricting limb as it choked off his air supply. He gasped, mouth open wide, but couldn’t get anything. “Oh, I don’t know,” Jared purred in his ear. “I think we have lots to talk about.” Jared yanked him back again, banging his head against the bars and pain exploded in the back of Jensen’s head, stunning him.

Just as Jensen thought that he was going to pass out—cop killed by still jailed prisoner, the headline was going to say—Jared’s arm loosened slightly. He gulped greedily, his chest rising and falling with each harsh pant as he hung limply from Jared’s grasp.

Until a hand started walking itself over Jensen’s chest, sliding over his stiff uniform. Jensen grabbed at it. “Stop.”

Jared chuckled, his hand moving despite Jensen’s order. “Like this little repression thing you got going on. It’s kind of cute.” Jared popped open a button on Jensen’s uniform, slipping a finger inside to rub against Jensen’s undershirt. It felt as if a firebrand was skittering over Jensen’s skin. He sucked in his stomach but Jared followed him. “All stiff and proper…what would the guys say if they knew who you were underneath?”

Jensen yanked Jared out of his uniform with both hands, growling, “You have no idea who I am.”

Something hard and wet slipped over Jensen’s ear and he jerked to the side, trying to get away. He pulled at the hard iron bar of Jared’s arm again but found it just as unmovable as last time. “Sure I do. I saw you looking at one of your buddies earlier. The blond one? You’re not hiding as well as you think you are.”

Ice water ran through Jensen’s veins as his brain sputtered and then stopped before rewinding, trying to think of what Jared might have seen, what might have given Jensen away. He recalled when Greg had first marched Jared in, how Greg had stopped to throw a one-liner to Jensen—one of those stupid Greg things that Jensen always ate up with a spoon. The blood drained from his face. If Jared had been able to guess just from that then…then who else knew? The guys? Greg? Jensen’s father?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jared said, and a few more buttons popped open. “I only knew because I was looking for it. I bet that no one else even has a clue.” He blew on Jensen’s wet ear, making him shiver. “It can be our little secret.”

Something dark and dangerous uncurled in Jensen’s belly as Jared’s fingers traced downward, heading towards his waist line. It made Jensen’s blood run hot, his heart beat harder, and it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. “I just want to have a good time, don’t you?” Jared asked and Jensen’s resistance shattered. He didn’t have the strength to refuse this—to give in just this once. Jared was a con artist, a hardened criminal lying sack of shit, and no one would take his word for it, not if Jensen didn’t leave any evidence. And he was offering.

Jensen pulled up his undershirt, letting Jared’s warm fingers touch skin, hissing as Jared purred. Jared flattened his big hand—bigger than anybody’s Jensen had ever been with and making him shudder because of it—against Jensen’s stomach, pushing down firmly. There was no mistaking that it was a man palming him, feeling him up, holding him immobile against the bars. Jensen couldn’t stop his hips from rolling or his little accompanying whine.

“Yeah,” Jared said, encouraging him. “It’s hot, isn’t it? You’re hot.” His fingers pushed underneath Jensen’s belt, catching on the tight loop. Jensen panted as his fingers flew over his own uniform, undoing all the buttons that were left from his throat to his waist and completely baring his chest. He rucked up his white undershirt and Jared groaned into his ear, taking Jensen up on the unspoken invitation. His big hands roamed over Jensen’s chest, fingers tracing up every line. Jared cupped Jensen’s pectoral muscle like a woman’s breast, holding it while Jensen squirmed. His palm rubbed against Jensen’s nipple in firm, deliberate circles, making the bud pucker and push outward. Jensen moaned, his hips bucking as Jared pulled at his nipple, fingers grasping at it, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Jared’s mouth on it. To have Jared’s big, masculine mouth nipping and sucking at him.

Jensen pulled desperately at Jared’s arm. “Let me go,” he rasped. “Let me go, I need to…” Jared’s tongue licked over the back of Jensen’s neck and Jensen arched. “I need to turn around!”

Jared didn’t let him go, not completely—the slight slack implying only a limited amount of trust—but Jensen took advantage of everything that he got, turning against the bars to press himself back against them. He ground himself forward, pressing his dick against the solid iron and rubbing in tight, needy circles. “Hot,” Jared pronounced and licked his tongue across Jensen’s now accessible lips. He stood inches taller than Jensen and up this close, the difference was obvious. Jensen whined as he had to tilt his head up to meet Jared’s eyes.

There was no way for them to kiss, not with the iron bars in the way, but there was enough room for them to lick. Jensen’s tongue pushed out of his mouth to hungrily swipe against Jared’s and he wished that he could be closer—that he could have Jared’s big arms wrap around him and bend him over as Jared took what he wanted. He crushed himself against the bars, trying to get as close as he could.

Jared’s hands were running over his back—pulling his uniform shirt out from under his waist band to roam over Jensen’s bare skin. They skimmed downward and possessively clutched at Jensen’s ass, strong fingers digging into the muscle and Jensen whined, rocking forward against the barrier between him and Jared. “Yeah,” Jared whispered, squeezing Jensen’s ass. “You want it, don’t you?” He yanked hard at Jensen’s belt loops, forcing Jensen’s pants down a few inches. “You want me in you…”

“Fuck,” Jensen hissed, his fingers flying to fumble at his belt. Jared purred as he dipped his head, licking through the bars at the parts of Jensen that he could reach. His tongue moved over Jensen’s shoulder then dipped down to lap against Jensen’s hard nipple. Jensen gasped at the sparks running across his nerves, his eyes closing, and he finally managed to pull his belt free. He flicked open his fly one-handed, shoving his pants down as he felt Jared’s tongue traveling lower and lower.

When he opened his eyes again, Jared was on his knees, licking at Jensen’s belly while his hands cupped Jensen’s ass. Jensen whined and banged his head against the bars, unable to look away. Jared was inches away from Jensen’s cock, still trapped in his boxers, and Jensen couldn’t believe that this was happening. His mind was spinning, unable to comprehend.

Jared growled, sending a full body shudder rippling down Jensen’s spine, and gripped the elastic band of Jensen’s underwear. He pulled and Jensen’s cock finally sprang free, bobbing against Jared’s jaw. Jensen moaned helplessly as Jared wrapped his fingers around the base, squeezing tightly. He flicked his eyes up at Jensen. “You’re gonna like this part,” he said. The understatement of the century, Jensen’s scattered mind remarked before all of his higher order thinking skills were taken offline.

Jared licked his tongue out, getting a preliminary taste of Jensen as he teased as the slit of Jensen’s cock. Jensen writhed and cried out, his hands gripping the solid iron bars to try and keep himself upright as he leaked precome onto Jared’s waiting tongue. The warm wetness against his sensitive head was nearly too much already and he almost lost it entirely when Jared groaned and swallowed Jensen down.

Jared’s mouth was hot and wet as Jared sucked at Jensen’s dick, his head twisting after each stroke so that his tongue could lick up Jensen’s shaft. Jensen’s knees trembled, threatening to buckle, and he panted against the bars. He could still feel Jared’s hands on his hips, large and holding him in place, but encouraging Jensen’s little thrusts. Jared’s fingers tickled at Jensen’s balls, pushing them, playing with them, and Jensen felt them tighten.

Something wet but solid pressed against Jensen’s ass, slipping up inside of him and Jensen threw his head back as he came, his body shuddering in Jared’s hands. He jerked forward, driving his dick into Jared’s mouth as Jared hummed, his one finger still fucking into Jensen hard and fast.

Jensen sagged when he was through, his grip on the bars the only thing keeping him upright as Jared continued to suck him dry, milking him past the aftershocks. He shuddered and whimpered, soft and weak but he couldn’t do much more. Jared let him go with one last swipe of his tongue, but thrust his finger as deep inside Jensen as he could get it as he grinned up at Jensen’s slack face. “Was that good?” he asked and Jensen dropped to his knees.

Jensen reached through the bars and pried open Jared’s own pants, freeing his erection and jerking him off. His brain half-fried from his orgasm, Jensen was only partially comprehending what he was doing, what his mind was telling him. It should have felt wrong. It should have felt disgusting. It didn’t. All Jensen could think about was just how good Jared’s hot dick felt sliding smoothly in and out of the circle of his hand and how good Jared looked as he rode out the pleasure, his mouth slack but his neck straining. How good Jared looked when spilled with a harsh groan into Jensen’s waiting hand, his head falling forward against the bars. “Yeah, that was nice…” Jared breathed.

The words freed Jensen from his haze of lust, like a fairy tale character waking up from a spell and Jensen felt sick. He knelt there for a moment, next to the man that he’d just jerked off—that he’d allowed to suck him off before returning the favor with a hand job—with his thoughts circling in a tailspin. He’d tried so hard his entire life to deny what he was, to deny that he’d wanted something other than what he’d been told he did, only to give it all up in a moment of weakness. Worse yet, to give in to a criminal’s unsubtle coaxing. Jensen felt as if he’d been lured to the dark side and then pushed off a cliff.

He was definitely going to be sick.

Jensen pushed himself to his feet, cupping his hand awkwardly around the mess of Jared’s come that he was still holding on to as he pulled his pants up with his other. He stumbled sideways before his brain finally got the message, putting one foot in front of the other, faster and faster as Jensen neared the gate.

“Hey, where you going?” Jared called after him, amusement laced through his tone. No doubt he thought that this was the best part of all. “Call me!”

Jensen made it to the bathroom and dunked his hand under a hot spray of water. His stomach rolled but he forced himself not to give into it, just kept staring straight down into the sink where Jared’s come was slowly washing down the drain. Jensen wished that he could go with it.

Two days later, Jared was gone and Jensen told himself that he didn’t care. He also told himself that nothing had changed—that nothing had happened. He had his game night with the guys and there wasn’t anything awkward. They all had a good time, laughing and cheering and drinking beer: guy stuff. Straight guy stuff.

And if Jensen paid extra attention to Greg’s hands—finding them to be a bit too small for some unknown reason—it didn’t mean anything.

Jensen even went out on a date with Mary Lou but when she invited him in—for coffee, she said—he only kissed her cheek and walked away. She deserved better. The job was all he needed.

For a solid month, Jensen had himself convinced. He worked and went to church and hung out with the guys and he was just fine. Until one report made it all come crashing down. An escaped convict, one Jared Padalecki, was believed to be heading their way and there was no pretending when all Jensen could think about was flashes of Jared’s wet mouth wrapped around Jensen’s cock with his lips curved upward in a smile.

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