hegemony

Title: Nouveau Riche
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: Outdoor Sex, Bondage, Shamelessly unbetaed, Misuse of High Fashion, Public sex, Humiliation kink, Subtle D/S undertones. The list goes on, really.
Word Count: 2350
AN: PWP inspired by Jensen's photo shoot in Hollywood Life Magazine, unbetaed and probably might not make sense because it's about 3:17 in the morning and sometimes shit just has to be hot. Enabled by ze_pink_lady.




Hissing breath, Jensen's heaving as Jared pushes him flush against the tree. His lips part and he lets Jared invade. He turns his head, opening his mouth further to Jared’s tongue, let’s himself go lax against the tree until he gets jerked closer to Jared’s mouth.

“Look at you, pretty little prep boy,” Jared smiles, as hazy as the heat in LA’s hills. Jensen’s still in his khakis and that pink shirt Jared threw on him, and as Jensen lays against the tree, Jared’s head ducks down into the open peek of skin hanging bare in his shirt. It’s hot and Jensen can feel the moisture on Jared’s lips slide down that skin, tongue warm but refreshing as he moans deep in his throat. Jared’s head sinks down further so he can undo the knot in Jensen’s tie with his teeth. He worries at the loose knot, pulling the silk free from Jensen’s neck with his mouth, leading it away to drop in his hands. “Got time to fuck the nouveau riche actor, huh? Or is it time to go back in and study for that law degree?”

“Fuck, Jared,” Jensen pants. “Didn’t even know you knew what that new money shit meant.”

“Cute. By the way, J.Crew called,” Jared smiles, kissing Jensen again, leading the tie around one of Jensen’s wrists, pulling it up and around the tree until Jensen’s standing tall and has to stretch before he pulls something, “said they wanted their catalogue model back.”

Palm to the side of the tree, Jared puts Jensen’s other hand in a noose as well, cinching the knot tight above Jensen’s head and making Jensen jump. There’s a bit of a struggle, but Jensen’s palms are held too close to rigid bark, and there’s not very much leverage anywhere unless he wants one of his arms out its socket before the end of the day.

There’s more slide between lips, tongue to tongue and breath to breath. More kisses, these even more heated, even more forceful, naming Jared in control as he pulls away and Jensen moves to follow even though he cannot. A hand undoes every button on Jensen’s pink shirt, the one he’ll have to return to wardrobe by the end of the day, if not soon, and oh god, it hits him that they’re still on a set, and while his pictures are over, there’s enough people milling around that this could be very bad.

“Let me go,” Jensen whispers, still struggling, the tree bark texture scratching under his fingernails.

“No,” Jared says defiantly, dropping to his knees and sliding an indulgent hand onto Jensen’s fly, teasing the bulge and twirling his fingers around the button at the top of his khakis, underneath his belt. Jensen presses his lips tightly together when Jared slides the belt apart, undoes the button and gently presses the zipper down, breathing heavy as he gets peeled out of his pants and briefs.

Jared sounds downright sadistic, “So a little risk makes daddy’s little businessman horny? What are you afraid of, Jen, a little humiliation? We might have to work on that, later.”

“Jared,” Jensen warns, but to no avail as Jared’s tongue slips down over the crown of Jensen’s cock, and he goes from half-hard to rock-solid and as petrified as the tree he’s tied to within seconds, damp breath surrounding the shaft and pulling it into the vacuum of Jared’s mouth. There’s the scrape of bottom teeth just under the head, just enough to send sparks up Jensen’s spine, renewing his struggles against the tie around his wrists.

“Jared,” Jensen hisses, frantic as Jared pulls away to carefully drag the pants from Jensen’s legs, fitting them over each shoe and freeing them into the grass. Jensen’s underwear follows until he’s just wearing his shirt and the unlaced tennis shoes they gave him.

“Don’t you know these pants have to be taken care of, Jensen? I mean, come on. They’re Versace.” Jared teases. Jensen starts to pant, there’s no turning back now and it’s probably painfully obvious that this is getting Jensen off, the turn and tide and indifference that Jared’s showing as he pulls the lube out of his pants and slowly applies some to his fingers. “And besides, I’d hate for you to have fresh come stains on them. Preppies like you always have to look their best.”

“Jared!” Jensen says, trying to pull down until the tie undoes it’s self and he can slide his wrists from the noose that hold them flat palmed to that tree. He should be looking away, pausing to see if anybody’s peeking in on this from behind that window or from around this corner, but he can’t take his eyes off Jared, and that pretty little smile Jared gives as he’s on his knees.

A single cold finger slip-slides around his entrance, breaching softly. Jensen feels it, feels the heat from the LA sun rolling onto his body in waves, feeling the heat inside him build slowly as Jensen’s legs slowly turn outward, making more space between Jensen’s entrance and the tree.

“C’mon, do it,” Jensen says, and Jared looks up at him, more hot breath damp across the head of his cock. Too tight and warm and insane for Jensen to handle. Jensen’s ultra-awareness of everything has faded away to the finger inside him as it slithers out and comes back with another, fingers curving in to the second knuckle and bending until they can double back, and Jensen can feel the tips slip out again, stretching and scissoring him wide. Jensen’s eyes go down to look at Jared’s lips stretching to take Jensen’s cock all the way in, as far as it can reach in the back of his throat. He cries out, enough to realize how out of control this situation is.

Jared purrs as he straightens his fingers inside Jensen, and backs away from Jensen’s cock. “Do something for me, baby,” Jared asks.

Jensen can feel the third finger circling around it’s entrance, now, and Jensen’s already begging and sobbing. Jensen wrenches against him, full force, and struggles to speak. “Ah…a-nything.”

“Just sit there real pretty and scream for me,” Jared orders, as controlling as Jensen’s ever heard him, and suddenly, Jared’s managed all of Jensen’s cock in his mouth, his hand on Jensen’s hip holding him down as he rubs his nose into the patch of pubic hair in Jensen’s lap. In Jensen’s ass, the third finger stretches him open, spidering wide and prodding against his prostate, Jensen moves, stands wider, grips his hands hard onto the tree he’s been tied to, and he comes, grunting loud but low. It seems like nature stops around him, and everything goes quiet as Jensen comes back to his senses temporarily, checking to see if anybody’s paying attention to this scene. Jared doesn’t relent, though, choking on Jensen’s cock, popping his fingers against Jensen’s prostate until Jensen’s bucking against Jared’s face and his hand, fucking himself one way and then the next until he’s whimpering, sagging against the tree. He’s pliant and tired and just where he knows Jared wants him.

“Jared,” Jensen warns, half-heartedly as Jared spreads his legs a little far and slips his mouth off Jensen’s cock. His fingers reluctantly slide out, and Jensen feels shockingly empty due to the loss.

“I don’t care if anybody sees you like this. You’re mine anyway, rich boy. Pout those lips and look trapped. If they’re back from lunch early, they’ll just have to deal with it,” Jared insists, rising to his knees and undoing his own fly. He pulls out his cock, and with a little more lube, it’s glistening in the midday sun, no matter how much this could all go wrong.

“Fuck me,” Jensen begs, “Jared, fuck me.”

“I will,” Jared says, a smile splitting his face wide open. All of a sudden, the posh ‘label whore’ attitude of the whole photo shoot is gone, there’s no record of Jensen picking these clothes off the wardrobe rack, and there’s no worry they’ll get caught. Jared, in a stupid feat of strength, picks up Jensen by the knees and lifts him to rest on his hanging hands and his knees linked in Jared’s arms.

Jensen’s hands scratch for purchase as Jared meets Jensen’s entrance with his head and pushes himself in relentlessly. It’s a solid sensation, not-quite a burn but a tingle as the lube stretches him open further. He’s sweating, and Jared bends down to lick up some of the sweat dangling off his chin, ending with his lips on Jensen’s as he pulls out slowly and fucks in hard.

Jensen’s hands are wrapped tight enough that they can’t even make fists, and he scrambles as he’s laid out, squished between the tree and Jared Padalecki’s cock and he gets fucked, hard. Every thrust has an upward snap at the end, every withdrawal slow and soft like it’s meant to lure Jensen into a false sense of security.

Jensen’s hard again, and the head slides free between the layers of his pink dress shirt and Jared’s soft t-shirt, jersey against starched linen. Jared opens his legs wider, pinning them to different sides of the tree, holding them up and apart so hard that Jensen’s pelvis feels like it could snap in two. Jared’s slow and methodical, like he knows how to pace himself and how much time he really has. Jensen’s groaning, the words he used to speak completely abandoned for guttural moans, fits of squealing, and the kind of hysteria that often comes when Jensen knows that Jared’s not going to back off unless they’ve both been fucked into oblivion.

It’s a mid-tempo, now, and even though Jensen’s pleading with every ounce for faster, for harder, for meaner, Jared seems okay with just being inconspicuous, for a man holding down another captive man to a tree and fucking him hard. Jared does it like it doesn’t matter if they get caught, like it’s just another stupid rumor on the six-o’clock news. He fucks like he’s aware how much he wants Jensen to know who’s in charge on days like these, like he wants Jensen to feel it even in just looking at the innocuous tie that started this whole escapade.

“Jared, oh god, Jared, fuck, harder, I can’t even…” Jensen starts, but Jared throws in a particularly violent thrust and the whole universe picks itself up back into motion. Jared starts fucking quicker, snapping harder, holding him closer and bending over to join himself to Jensen’s mouth, eating moans and swallowing squeals.

“Fuck,” Jensen begs, and his hips start snapping in tandem, too, like there isn’t a care in the world beyond them.

“Wish you could touch yourself, huh?” Jared says, and Jensen nods, “Wish you could touch me?”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods, struggling to form words between the rhythm of the hips crashing into his, and the panting that’s filled the air around them in the shade of the tree he’s been tied to since this began. Proof of Jared’s all over him now; he’s sweating, he’s undone the casually knotted tie and perfect press on the pants, and he’s certainly not getting paid to scuff up his palms on the tree’s bark, as loving as it is. There’s possession all over, like he’s never going to get to come again if it’s not by Jared’s hand and there’s no better word for it. Especially when his whole day has consisted of ogling for the camera and being ogled over.

“Just gonna have to take what you get, Jen. Not familiar to that, right?”

Jensen shakes his head, tries to withstand it for a little longer, and when he hears Jared jerking and coming inside him, he knows it’s over. There’s no more game, he’s going to spend the rest of the day in soiled clothes feeling like a whore.

“Daddy’s little pretty, preppy whore,” Jared groans, and lets Jensen’s legs drop. It’s sticky all across himself, the proof of a good lunch-time fucking. He stands still and noble and tall when Jared lets him go.

Jared gives him a hand to fuck into, pushing tight into the fist until he’s coming for the second time, this time much more insane, hot and tight and wrong as he comes screaming and tired and raw, Jared’s come slipping down his thighs.

Jensen ends up pleading not to be left like this, struggling for seduction instead of fear, and whispers of bindings hand and foot to Jared’s bed if he’ll just let Jensen go and finish this shoot quickly. Jared picks at the knot while still kissing Jensen, dirty promises and curled toes inside shoes, and a hand sliding into Jensen’s hair as Jensen’s fingers fall from their positions on the tree. Jensen’s wrists are rimmed with a splash of red from a bit too much struggle and a scuff mark here and there from the tree, but he looks at Jared dreamily as he slides his shirt cuffs to hide them, a secret between the law student and the actor.

The tie gets readjusted, and the shirt rebuttoned, and Jensen’s release from the tree means he can scramble into his pants again, ready to take the second roll of film with the photographer as Jared watches from afar behind the scenes. There’s still come leaking out of Jensen, and he’s pretty sure he can smell it on himself, but at the same time he’s marked, branded right across the backside and it’s obvious where his possession might lie. He has to act tough in this set, all butch and hero-esque, but he feels languid and blissed-out, like he’s been dragged in the dirt and fucked so hard, Jared’s going to make him remember it for months. A quick breath, a bite to his bottom lip, and he wills the feeling away, the only thing to remind him is Jared’s cocky smile behind the photographer and the come slowly dripping out of Jensen’s ass.

Jensen wonders if Jared should come to photo shoots with him more often.