thatotherperv | heart in your teeth [Jeff/Jensen bondage PWP]

Uh, I wrote porn. I didn't plan to write porn, I just kinda did, haha. \o/

Title: heart in your teeth
Author: Mel (

thatotherperv)
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen PWP
Length: 1800 words
Summary: I have this kink for Jensen humping a mattress all blindfolded and hogtied while Jeff watches. …what, is that weird?
Warnings: D/s-flavored…bondage. Absolutely no plot…so much lack of plot that I can't even tell you what kind of universe this falls in. also, it's possible my subconscious plucked the title out of a Jewel song I wailed over in my youth. *facepalm*

Jensen was sweating.

His skin was thick with dried salt, stiff and tight. It was smothering, and beneath the blindfold, his eyes stung.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but his arms were completely dead, trapped under the small of his back. The silk sheets were soaked through. He shifted painfully, skin crawling with the way the material stuck and clung to his shoulders and ass.

He licked his lips, and his tongue rasped in his mouth. The room was so quiet, all he could hear was his own breath, his own heart.

"Jeff?"

"Still here." Quiet and close. The stillness swallowed the words almost immediately.

Light fingers stroked the slick, soft place between thigh and groin, and Jensen jolted, embarrassed by his own startled sound.

He drew in a ragged breath.

"My arms hurt."

Fingers paused in their lazy pattern, and Jensen imagined Jeff, eyes narrow with thought. "Do they?"

Rather than sigh, Jensen turned his head.

"No. But they will. I can't feel them at all."

He strained to catch the soft exhale Jeff made in the silence.

"Okay."

Even. Inflectionless. The negative space in Jeff's voice made panic rise in Jensen's throat. He swallowed the worst of it down.

"I don't know if I can do this," he murmured. It surprised him to hear his own disappointment.

The air conditioning kicked in, with a hum and a faint whistle because Jeff needed to clean his vent. There was a burst of cold air across his skin but another bead of sweat trickled from his hairline, heedless.

Jeff hadn't moved or spoken, hadn't acknowledged the confession. He didn't offer words of sympathy or encouragement or consolation. He was utterly silent, and Jensen squirmed inside.

Counted the seconds gone by, waiting for something….

"Okay."

Nothing.

He was fucking this up. Jeff wouldn't say, but Jensen knew he was ruining it with his obstinacy. Jeff wouldn't relent, not without the safe word, but he wouldn't enjoy this either.

It was such a simple thing Jeff was asking. But when Jensen pictured himself following through, his pride stuck in his throat. So did the word that would get him out.

"Please," he asked instead. He wasn't even sure what he was requesting.

"Please, what?"

The words were even and empty, but better than nothing. Better than silence. "Please, talk to me." He shifted again, pins and needles starting to sting his fingers. He expected Jeff to refuse. To say that wasn't the deal. Bring yourself off with no help. But he couldn't. "Jeff, ple—"

"I used to have this car."

Jensen sighed through his nose and sank back against the bed. Relieved. The topic was odd, but that was less important than that voice. Low and smooth and soothing.

He drawled. "Canary yellow 1969 Porsche. God, I loved that car. Bought it the summer after I graduated from high school for six hundred bucks. Thought I was getting a steal. Three months after I bought it, I found out it had a carbon monoxide leak. My solution was to drive around with the windows open."

Jensen huffed out a laugh despite himself. Jeff's voice was warm, and all the anxiety slipped away…he let himself be lulled by the sound.

The brush of Jeff's hand against his cock, when it came, was brief and startling and far too light. He murmured a protest and rutted up against the air.

"My dad called me a damn fool, and I guess I was. I shelled out ten times the selling price in repairs, but I didn't want to let it go. She was high maintenance, but she was so fucking sexy…."

He wanted that hand. There was warmth and movement nearby, the distinct impression that touch was just beyond his reach. "Jeff—"

"Sssssshh. I'm talking. Anyway, I'd never had a car before. I had a bike in high school, but no way that prepared me for this temperamental, touchy…fucked up, beautiful thing. And I didn't care. Hell. I saw it, I wanted it. Was gonna have it."

Warm fingers skated close to Jensen's nipple, the barest brush before sliding away. Touched again a moment later, feather-light down his side.

Along the inside of his thighs. He spread his legs and bit his tongue against begging.

"Anybody could have told me it was the worst car I could have picked as a first. Shoulda gotten something easier to handle. Shoulda gotten, I don't know…a Honda."

Another touch, so close to his balls that Jensen wanted to cry. It was obvious that Jeff wasn't going to touch him anywhere that counted. Any way that counted.

"God, please—"

"I didn't want easy. Never did, never will. C'mon, sweetheart, you know what I want."

The bed shifted and the air got cold. Jeff moved away. Jensen's head fell back against the mattress, hard. His whole body shuddered.

That was all he was gonna get.

The air hurt his lungs.

It was a struggle to roll over unassisted. Clumsy, floundering while Jeff watched. He flopped onto his stomach and here, the sheets were cool. Dry.

The press of his cock between flesh and silk was like heaven. That first long press…instinct. Without effort or embarrassment.

After that, it wasn't so easy.

"Jeff…."

"No."

That was all.

His arms burned in the small of his back, now that his weight was off them. The sheets smelled faintly of Jeff, cologne and skin and aftershave. They were warming to his body temperature already, getting damp with perspiration.

He pressed his hips to the mattress again with a small huff of air. Not enough. Not nearly enough. There was no way to retain dignity if he was going to do this.

He tried again—no arms, no leverage. He arched his ass, dragged his dick against the sheets, long and hard as he could manage. Gritted his teeth that it wasn't—better. His whole body slid with the effort, inept and ungainly. His neck prickled with frustration, and he imagined how ridiculous he must look. To Jeff. Humping the bed like some kind of….

He turned his face into the sheets and breathed his own stuffy air.

But he kept on. Found a rhythm. His hips rotated clumsily, better and better. Almost good enough. He dug his toes into the mattress, turned his face aside and gasped for air. For more. More, more, more—

Jeff swore. A soft curse, almost buried under the frantic squeaking of the bedsprings.

Jensen clung to it. Clung hard to the memory of Jeff's lust-fucked voice.

Fuck. Fuck. Just wanna see you helpless for once, Jen. I just wanna see you half as desperate as you always get me.

It was ridiculous; he was. He always was, but he tried so hard to bury it. To pretend he didn't need it. There was no disguising it now, when he couldn't choke back the frustration tearing at his throat. The need strong enough to have him rutting against the bed.

…twisting like a cat in heat, and I won't touch you. I swear, sometimes I can come just thinking of that ass, and for once I want you to be drunk on me like that. Desperate.

He was. God, he was, and he wanted this for Jeff, even if it made his own skin burn with shame. Even if it railed against his better sensibilities. Good Christian boys keep control of themselves, and shut up about it.

Fuck them. Fuck.

He didn't care if he sounded pathetic or weak. Not right now, because it wasn't enough. He couldn't make it enough. Couldn't go any harder or faster and he was right there, but it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he whispered, and then because it wasn't enough, because he needed more, because he knew Jeff, he let it out again. Laid it all out, pathetic and bare.

"Fuuuck."

He shuddered. Strained his shoulders. He couldn't stop the whine now, any more than he could stop the hard screw of his hips against the bed.

"God…God, Jeff—please, fuck. Please. Please, please, please—"

There, God, fuck, Jeff, and it burned. Three fingers burned and he screamed, hoarse and wordless and Jesus fuck, fuck fuck fuck, it hurt to come.

He shook with it, ground his teeth, screamed his vocal cords raw.

He was limp. Drugged. Barely felt the knots pulled free then, his arms…just distant pain as the blood was massaged back into his limbs. They landed at awkward angles and he opened his eyes, no blindfold, stared at them like they belonged to someone else.

He could see. He had arms.

Jeff was talking urgent against his skin and then he slammed home and Jensen's body rocked with the impact. He was limp. Boneless on his belly, and he blinked to see his own hands fisted tightly in the sheets.

There were sounds he made, couldn't squelch, because he was empty and limp and the bed was banging into the wall. They were going to wake the neighbors. He shoved a handful of sweaty sheets in his mouth and bit down hard, smothered the sounds he couldn't stop and hung on tight because Jeff was jackhammering his prostate and he wasn't a kid and Christ, he was limp and fucked and when Jeff fell hard like a tree and pushed all the air out his lungs, it was almost a relief.

The tiny sound in the back of his throat was self-preservation, because he had to breathe again sometime.

"Sorry," a gruff voice buzzed in his ear, and wet lips kissed him, sloppy. The weight was gone and he could breathe.

He sighed. And listened to Jeff breathe, too.

His mouth tasted odd, and he realized dully that there was something…he spat out the silk and started to chuckle. Once he started, he found he couldn't stop.

He opened his eyes and Jeff swam into focus, too-close. Just close enough. He wore an indulgent grin, and laughed along for a minute or two before he finally said, "What?"

"We're gonna have to burn these sheets," Jensen said, and that made him laugh all over again. His head felt light and frothy.

Jeff grinned like it was a joke they shared. "Fuck em."

And Jensen laughed. He laughed til it hurt.

"I already did."

Jeff guffawed. Big belly laugh that shook the ground, or the mattress at least, and Jensen cackled til he was choking on his own spit. He coughed into the bed, and when he turned back, Jeff's eyes were smiling.

Jeff was smiling.

"Thank you."

His voice was thick with something good, and Jensen let his eyes drop away because if he thought too hard, he'd say something stupid and ruin it. He hummed an agreement instead.

Jeff pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose and breathed into Jensen's skin. Jensen let it all go. Slid off into the deep end of sleep.

Note: true story, that Porsche belonged to my sister, haha. Carbon monoxide leak and all. She still drove it, but I wasn't allowed to tag along after she found out.

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THAT WAS FREAKIN' HOT.

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heart in your teeth [Jeff/Jensen bondage PWP]

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