Fic: 'Tailormade for you', Jared/Jensen, NC-17 A/B/O

[stripytights]

Title: Tailormade for you
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Content notes: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta, sex, mention of prostitution, mention of noncon (not involving J2)
A/N: written for smpc

Summary: Jensen's a cop. Jared's a beta-rights activist. They shouldn't want each other but they do.

This is a problem. This is a problem standing in front of him and saying, "don't I know you from somewhere else officer?"

"It's detective," he says, and pushes out a chair.

Jared's got three years in jail behind him and probably a few more ahead at some point. He’s also tall, ridiculously good-looking and he smiles like he’s never had anything bad happen in his life. It’s a lie written all over his face, but one that Jensen can’t help wanting to be true. He knows how stupid this is, but he gave up on common sense a long time ago.

Jared drops into the chair. “Coffee?” Jensen asks, dry as anything and Jared gives him a gleaming grin.

“Please,” he says. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, thinner than when Jensen saw him last, and Jensen’s not just buying him coffee to be polite. Guy looks like he needs it.

Standing in line, he watches Jared in the reflection of the mirrored glass, and from habit scans the rest of the room, not knowing what he’d do if there was someone from the station, someone who knew what Jared was. He knows that back at the table Jared’s doing exactly the same thing, with roving restless eyes, because Jared’s got more to lose from this than Jensen does.

He puts a hazelnut latte thing down in front of Jared and two overpriced danish pastries, watches him rip into them as though he’s been starved for a week. “Come to confess?” he asks, dry as dust. It’s the one thing he always asks, and mostly these days it’s to see Jared smile.

“Not a chance,” and there it is, the tired flicker of a smile that makes something in Jensen seize unpleasantly, a sudden throb of his heart. He wants to ask Jared why he’s here, but Jared can’t tell him. If he did, Jensen would have to arrest him for whatever it is. Suborning public peace. Disturbing the comfortable lives of a few million citizens. Jared’s spent three years inside for what he believes in, and Jensen would eat glass before believing Jared’s given up. “What have you been up to?”

“Arresting bad people,” Jensen says with a smile of his own. “Trying to make quota, you know how it is.”

Jared puts forward both his wrists mockingly, presses them together, strong hands vulnerable for the second. “Need an extra?”

“Why, what have you done?” Jensen asks, and takes a long sip of his own coffee.

Jared sits back in his chair and picks up his cup again. “The usual. Jaywalked last week. Ate a grape at the supermarket. Made a face at the President on TV. Should be enough to do me in these days, shouldn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Jensen allows. Every question he wants to ask is on the tip of his tongue. What does Jared know about the bomb threat? Is it his group or some splinter faction that’s responsible? They haven’t claimed responsibility, hell, Jensen doesn’t even know if Jared’s still with them, but he’s a known associate. But he swallows back the questions because to ask would be to make Jared lie. He’s a disgrace to his badge, he knows that. Maybe he’s a disgrace to Jared as well. “You still working with that beta-advocacy organization?” He knows full well Jared isn’t, perks of the position between one of these encounters and the next.

Jared knows he knows. “Nah,” he says, folds his hands around his cup to capture the last fleeting warmth, because the day’s bright outside but cold. Jensen wants to warm his hands for him, but Jared might bite him if he tried. “They’re shills, every last one of them.” There’s a faint ugly light in his face now. “You know how much funding went into their pockets? Because that’s just what we need, a stereotype of the greedy, stupid beta too busy sniffing after the short term than thinking of the long term. What have they done in the past decade? What's gotten better?”

There’s no answer to that, there never has been between them. Jensen knows this mood though, knows the bitter ugliness of hurt. “Again?” he says.

“Again,” Jared confirms. “Marcus this time.” He’s not looking at Jensen, maybe can’t look at Jensen at this second. He’s an alpha. Everyone in the room is an alpha or an omega; Jensen can tell without turning his head. There’s only one blank dead spot in his senses and it’s sitting right in front of him. “Called it pre-heat of course, like that was some excuse.”

It’s not an excuse. Jensen knows what it’s short hand for. Someone too lazy or horny to consider the different anatomy of the first person they grabbed off the street or paid for. Someone who might take pleasure in knowing they hurt when they shoved their knot into someone who wasn’t designed to take it, whom they’d never been designed to mate with, and that was always the point.

He wants to say we’re not all like that, but they’re the stupidest, saddest words he can imagine. No wonder Jared’s drifted back to the militant arm of the beta rights community. He’s more choked up with anger every time Jensen sees him, because with a criminal record, even the limited access betas have to jobs is closed off to him. Jensen knows the laws. They’re designed to keep the balance. It’s too integral to their society to know there’s betas to fuck or be fucked by, to risk losing that outlet. He knows the laws because he helps enforce them.

Sometimes he wonders why Jared ever comes back.

“Does he need help?” he asks instead.

Jared’s anger dies in a second. “No,” he says. “He got some help, he’ll be fine. For a day, for a week maybe. Next time, who knows?”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Jensen blurts out, wanting to bite back the words in a second. Jared doesn’t scoff though, draws a line through the crumbs on the plate, and looks around him.

“Take me home,” he says, instead of saying any of the things Jensen braces himself for hearing.

In the car, Jensen keeps his eyes on the road, though it freaks him out that every time he looks away, Jared ceases to register as a person to him, mobile deadness, poking at the radio. He doesn’t know why Jared does this. Doesn’t know why he does either. He gets caught, it’s fraternization with the enemy, sleeping with a suspect, and he doesn’t like to think of the fallout. Jared gets caught, he doesn’t even like to think what would happen. They’d take him for a spy, and Jensen saw what they did to the last undercover cop to infiltrate their group. He doesn’t want to think of it happening to Jared.

Jared walks inside. If any of the neighbors see him or smell him, they’ll just think Jensen’s picked up a prostitute, done the uncouth thing of bringing him back home rather than renting a room, but as far as Jensen can tell there’s nobody watching. It’s pitiful how relieved that makes him feel.

Jared’s out of place here, he always is. He’s out of place in Northside coffee shops. He’s out of place in jail cells. There’s nowhere he fits except with Jensen. Before Jared, Jensen was a virgin, not exactly unusual for someone who didn’t have a mate in mind and who didn’t visit betas. He dates a lot of things to before Jared.

Jared makes the first move, always does, pulls Jensen in as though he doesn’t want to wait any longer, wants to crush out the knowledge of everything that waits for them outside the door. It’s not a love story what they do. It’s not romantic. Romance is for alphas and omegas, true mates and real bonds, not the scraps and scrapings of what’s left over. Doesn’t matter how hard they fuck, they’re not going to be together forever because that’s not how this works. When Jensen fucks him, Jared doesn’t become real under his fingertips, the mental deadness and silence doesn’t blossom into connection. He’s not sure how something he’s been told means so little, is everything.

Jared’s warm against him, he always is, perpetual source of heat, mouth on Jensen’s, frightening in its sincerity, He bites at Jared’s lips, nips the smooth curve of his neck, as Jared’s hands dig into his back, and the warmth in Jensen’s belly grows brighter. He’s missed this. Missed the way Jared kisses him, press of tongue against him, insistent, exciting, unfolding and opening. Doesn’t dare think what it might be like to have this every day.

It’s nothing like being with an Omega. The Omegas Jensen’s kissed, never anything more since for both of them it was a ‘you broke it you buy it’ reality, were nothing like this, pecks on the cheek, the lips, then if you kissed long enough, hard enough, the rich release of pheromones, intoxicating, headying, enough to dampen your brain and drive all thoughts out of your head. Jared’s just Jared. He doesn’t smell like mate, there’s nothing distracting or impossible about him, but Jensen wants him more than he’s ever wanted anything. Wants the solid press of Jared’s hips against his, the weight of Jared’s cock in his hands. Wants to bury himself inside, alpha instinct urging him on, to mark Jared and claim him as his, even if no-one recognized it.

Jared’s eager against him as well, drags Jensen in for kiss after clinging kiss, as though he’s missed this as much as Jensen has, tilts back his head and lets Jensen drag his teeth down his neck, suck hard at the skin, until Jared shivers from the force of it, pushes back into the graze of teeth, moves restlessly against Jensen. Jared’s hot and hard against Jensen’s hip, on a knife’s edge from the word go, Jensen can hardly believe that he’s done that, that he’s made Jared want him from this alone.

Stripping takes seconds, finding the bed takes less, Jensen on top of Jared, rutting helplessly downwards, could finish in minutes just like this, smooth glide of their cocks, Jared heavy and thick between his thighs, and Jensen can’t resist, gets his hands on Jared, and pulls, nice and slow and smooth, until Jared’s gasping and panting, hips writhing upwards, begging for more than the slow torture Jensen’s handing out. He’s wet with precome, spills it helplessly and Jensen wants every bit of it he can get, strokes him insistently now and with purpose until Jared shakes underneath him, fucking up into his hand as Jensen touched him, no teasing, just a sweet inevitable conclusion at his fingertips. He gets the angle just right, kisses Jared at the same time, wet thrust of his mouth as he thumbs along the pretty slick head of Jared’s cock, other hand clutching at Jared’s neck, can feel the thundering pulse of Jared’s blood pounding, human, alive, as real as anything else in the world.

Jared comes like that, taut and quivering, from his tensed shoulders down to his feet, so on edge that Jensen wonders if he hasn’t got off since the last time they did this. The thought sends a pulse of blood to his own cock, at the idea of Jared waiting, of Jared saving this for him. He doesn’t know what he wants, too many options spread out before him, Jared eager and ready and if only in here, Jensen’s.

Jared decides for him. Knocks him over with a twist of his shoulder, rolls him smoothly in a way that makes Jensen’s hackles stand on edge, instinctive feral growl in his throat. “And they say we’re not real people,” Jared says, but it’s not cruel, his fingers are on Jensen’s throat as though to hear him vibrate. He’s sitting astride, beautiful and strong, nothing Jensen should value, but the sum total of what he does. He leans forward, grinds against Jensen’s dick, sweet press hard and sure in the right place. “I’m going to suck you,” he says, unconsciously bites his lip as though just thinking about it flood his mouth with need. “Then I’m going to fuck you.” He’s not offering a choice here. This is how it happens, he’s telling Jensen, this is what he needs.

Jensen goes limp under him, startled. It’s not unusual. He of all people knows that there’s a difference between what people say they do and what they actually do, when they’re paying money for the privilege. To a certain mind there’s nothing wrong with taking everything you want from a beta, not when you can turn around and wreck them with the knot they’ll never have, but they’ve never done that between them. First time they fucked, Jensen had thought it would be handjobs, blowjobs, that Jared with all he’d seen and done would never want Jensen to fuck him. He’d been wrong, Jared had taken him apart and put him back together, made Jensen rim him, and work slippery fingers into him until he could take it, came around his knot like he loved it. Broken himself open and shown Jensen what was inside, risked everything for honesty. That’s how they’d played it from then on.

He watches Jared, watches the nervous swallow of his throat, the way he holds himself so still and steady, all the things he has to squint for, because he’ll never smell Jared, never feel him in the way he does with everyone else. Wonders when Jared became so vital and dear to him. “Yes,” he says, permission given, and Jared wastes not a second more time, gets his mouth around Jensen’s dick and sucks, the way he always does, full mouthed and full on, swallows him down, fingers compressing the base where his knot will swell. He’s so good at it that Jensen doesn’t want him to stop, wants the deep pressure and slickness of Jared’s mouth to last forever, the wide warmth of his lips around the head of his cock, the way Jared touches him, small touches down the spread of his thigh, in the cut of his hip, as though he’s forming Jensen into reality with his touch, not the other way round.

Then Jared’s mouth is lifting off, fingers still holding the base of Jensen’s dick, mouth bruised red and wet, and Jensen drags him up for a kiss, buries his fear inside Jared, breathes it out straight into him, the one person he shouldn’t trust but does. It’s not fear Jared will hurt him, it’s not fear of being fucked. It’s the fear that all Jared had to do was ask him. He thinks of all the things Jared could ask him to do, how Jared can walk into a coffeeshop and turn Jensen’s world upside down each time, and he’s afraid.

Jared doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. There’s lube on his fingers, the same one Jensen uses to spread Jared open each time and burrow inside, and he does the same thing to Jensen now. Doesn’t use his mouth first like Jensen usually does, and from the way Jared looks at him, Jensen suspects it’s because he doesn’t want to miss a thing. He’s pinned beneath that gaze, can’t do anything but stare back glassy eyed, writhe on Jared’s fingers, all too full, panicked in the moment by the sensation. Jared presses deeper and wipes the panic from him, everything else as well, makes him shudder from the deep hot pulse of want that runs through him, as though Jared’s fingers are making him into someone else. This isn’t Jensen, he thinks remotely, as Jared bites his thigh, and hides his own face against Jensen’s skin. He can feel the wetness of Jared’s face, considers the possibility of what this is doing to Jared, loses all train of thought as Jared presses his fingers up and close, draws them out and fucks them back in, makes Jensen’s mind go blank, desperate from need, dick still ready and wanting as Jared mouths at the tip , and Jared’s got a hand between his own thighs, is massaging himself back to hardness.

When Jared urges him over, Jensen goes without a second thought, feels Jared touch him with gentleness that Jensen’s not certain he’s ever extended back, not like this, and when he pushes in, Jensen almost swallows his tongue against the peculiar burn and stretch, mitigated by Jared’s mouth on his skin. He wonders if this is a punishment, Jared’s teaching moment of the day, a practical demonstration of everything he says. Then he hears the hitch of Jared’s breath as though he’s near tears and dismisses the thought, braces himself for everything Jared can give him.

He doesn’t expect it to be good, but it is. Jared knows how to touch him, knows how to take it slow until Jensen wants it fast, gives him everything he’s got in the thrust of his hips, the way his hands touch Jensen, the trace of his lips over his skin, the way he says nothing at all, as though he knows words will shatter whatever this is. Jensen pushes up a little, gets his hand around his dick, feels the swell of his knot already, and Jared does it for him, skilled fingers that know, perhaps better than Jensen, how to handle a knot, squeezes it just right until Jensen’s bombarded with sensation, Jared’s dick and fingers wringing it from him, bucks into his hand, loses control of himself, as Jared fucks deeper and harder, forgets how to be tender and sure.

He comes before Jared does, long aching pulses, knot denied, and Jared gnaws at his back, doesn’t break the skin before he comes as well, short and snappy, a miniscule amount compared to Jensen, his semen is infertile by nature, a pointless footnote to his body’s design. Neither fish nor fowl, not made for anything, no point to them at all, Jensen’s colleagues would say, alpha and omega both, secure in the knowledge that it was a genetic mutation, a recurring anomaly that produced Jared and his kind.

Jared feels like nothing of the sort as he gasps against Jensen’s back, slips out easily, no knot to hold him in place, and they lie together, silent for a moment.

“Was it what you wanted?” Jensen asks. He’s curious about that at least.

“I don’t know,” Jared says, voice battered and distant. He runs fingers up Jensen’s arm, watches the goosebumps that spring up in his wake. “I don’t know.”

Jensen acts on instinct, pulls him into his arms, surrounds him for the moment with the pretense that everything will be all right. He wants to ask him to be safe. To stay away from danger, all the wild impossible things he knows Jared and his friends are going to do. He wants to ask him to stay. He doesn’t, because he can’t bear to hear the no.



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