A/N: This was something I wrote anon for an SPN kinkmeme. Loved the prompt, couldn't let it go unwritten. As always, disclaimers apply. SPN isn't mine, obviously neither are the boys. Their wives are lucky. I will always blame DazedRose for this.
The prompt was: Jared wears leather cuffs to hide his bruised wrists (he likes his wrists held down when Jensen fucks him). Jensen likes seeing them on him because he knows he put them there.
Since it was written for a meme, there was no beta. I tried to edit my own worst mistakes.
They're all sitting around the table for a read, prepping for the episode they'll shoot next week. Jared's tired, so he rests his chin on the palm of his left hand, dropping the other to his lap. He doesn't expect to feel Jensen grip his wrist, his hand firm, encircling the leather cuff resting there.
Jared's cheeks heat as Jensen squeezes down on the cuff, controlled and possessive, owning. Squirming, Jared tries to make room between his legs for his rapidly filling cock. He tries to focus on the script in front of him; tries not to think about the finger shaped bruises under the oil softened leather. Only then, Jensen slips a finger under the cuff and pushes right there, and the dull throb of the bruise goes white hot through Jared's body, and his prick hardens fully, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.
He doesn't think anyone hears his tiny whimper, but in his peripheral vision he sees the upturned corner of Jensen's mouth, and then feels Jensen's finger circle the bruise once more and push. It's too much and not enough. He wants the feel of Jensen's hands around both of his wrists, without the interference of leather. He wants to feel the weight of Jensen pressing him down against the mattress as he fucks into him with long, hard strokes.
Looking up, he realizes that Jensen is laughing at him, that the entire table is staring at him while he's lost in his own thoughts, lost in the lust-filled haze Jensen created. He apologizes and reads his lines, all the while thinking about how much he wants to kiss the smirk off Jensen's face, fill that pretty mouth with his cock, so the lips are stretched wide around him instead being wasted on a smile.
With a last squeeze, Jensen releases his wrist and reads his lines as if he's utterly unaffected, but Jared knows. He knows that Jensen is hot and hard in his Levi's, that seeing the cuffs on Jared's wrists drives him crazy. Jared knows that Jensen gets off on the bruises he leaves on Jared's wrists, as much as Jared gets off on having him put them there. The cuffs are only a reminder, a way to slyly enjoy it a little longer, before the rigors of their shooting schedule require them to be careful. Can't have bruises showing up on camera.
So when the read through is done, and everyone is leaving Jared thinks finally. Finally he's going to have Jensen to himself again, to feel Jensen against him and around him and in him, and Jensen doesn't disappoint.
As soon as they're alone, when the door of his trailer has barely snicked shut behind him, Jared is being pressed up against the wall, Jensen's mouth on his, and the kiss is wet and filthy. Jensen is grinding up against him, and he's hard, so very, very hard against Jared's thigh. As Jensen trails over Jared's jaw, nipping and licking, he whispers, "Fuck, what you do to me. Almost threw you over the table and fucked you in front of everyone."
Jared whines high in his throat, and his hands scramble for Jensen's belt, but Jensen bats them away.
"Off, off, off," he demands, pulling on the cuffs.
Jared rips them off, may have torn the snap of one of them, but he doesn't care, because Jensen is holding Jared's wrists up to his mouth and oh, oh fuck, he's mouthing around the bruises, pressing soft kisses and laving his tongue over them, and murmuring soft, so soft it's almost nothing but breath, mine, mine, mine, and Jared thinks he may just come in his pants.
Then they're moving, stumbling over a coffee table and knocking over the ottoman Misha likes to sit on, until they tumble onto the bed. Everything becomes a blur of movement as they're tugging and pulling at clothes. Jared hears something rip, but he doesn't know if it's his shirt or Jensen's and he doesn't give a shit, because moments later Jensen has slick fingers sliding into him, while his other hand pins Jared's hands above his head. Jensen's squeezing them tight, his hands struggling with the girth of Jared's two wrists, and Jared can feel where the bones are rubbing together, but it feels so good, so right.
Jensen is kissing him again when he moves his fingers right there, and Jared tries to arch off the bed, but he's pinned by Jensen's hands and chest and hips. Instead he starts to beg.
Jen, Jen, please . . . please . . . need . . . I need . . .
Jensen slicks him up a bit more before turning him over and whispering, "Shh, I got ya, baby. I know what you need."
And he does. He knows exactly what Jared needs, because Jared can feel Jensen's thick cock sliding into him in one smooth thrust and his hands wrapped around his wrists, holding him down, squeezing just enough to leave five perfectly shaped marks.
Jensen is pressed against him fully, chest to back and he's fucking Jared in slow, hot slides, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in and bottoming out with a circling of his hips. And Jared, Jared can do nothing but take it. He hisses as his dick slides against the sheets, the friction verging on just this side of painful, but still not quite enough to send him over. Only then, then Jensen tells him, "Can't not anymore, baby, gotta . . . gotta mark you. Don't care if no one else can see it," and he bites down where Jared's neck and shoulder meet, worrying the flesh with his teeth and lips and tongue.
And Jared comes, hard and messy all over the sheets beneath him, and Jensen fucks him through it, mouthing at the mark he's made until Jared feels him stutter and jerk with a long, low, "Oh fuck, baby I'm coming."
The next day they're doing a quick and dirty rehearsal, just walking it through.
Jensen walks up behind Jared, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, Sammy, you okay?"
And its Dean's voice and Dean's lines, but its Jensen's thumb that slides over and presses right there.
Jared knows his resulting stutter is going on a gag reel somewhere.