tebtosca | FIC: Across This Flesh (Jared/Jensen NC-17)

Title: Across This Flesh
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2008 words
Warnings: God!Jared, Hooker!Jensen, face-fucking, magic jizz, soulmate tattoos

Summary: Some people search a lifetime for love. Jared has searched several.

Author's Notes: Inspired by this INCREDIBLE ART [NSFW] that the wonderful

niightmoves drew me ages ago. Hope you enjoy like it, bb, and sorry it took so long to write! ♥

Cross-posted to

smpc as my August entry. Thanks to

fiercelynormal for the usual middle-of-the-night beta!

Jared quite likes his current vessel.

It’s…sturdy is probably the appropriate word. Larger than most average humans that he’s met, both in height and width. There is a measure of respect inherent in that: every time other people have to glance up to look him in the eye.

It is a respect that Jared is used to, being the solitary son of the Padalecki Goddess of Flora and Fauna.

Being a deity, however, isn’t as easy as opera composers or Greek playwrights would have one believe. No, there are still rules governing Jared’s kind, and one of them is that he is to continuously call upon the human form until the time that his true mate is found amongst them.

Jared sighs, shaking the strands of his rather leonine mane out as he looks into the mirror above the bathroom sink. He holds out his arms and flexes his biceps, the colored patterns upon the skin bursting with their vibrancy.

Another constant in Jared’s existence is that no matter what form he takes, the brightly-patterned symbols of his mother’s guardianship cover his body from neck to thigh. It’s a reminder of where he comes from and who he represents, but also a guide to finding the exact mate created especially for him.

Jared walks out of the bathroom and looks around PadaInk, the tattoo parlor that he’s owned and operated for the past three years of his current quest. If there is one thing that Jared has learned over the years, it’s that hiding in plain sight is usually the best way to go. Here, instead of inspiring fear or disdain, the intricate patterns on his skin inspire awe and requests for similar designs.

Jared shudders as he remembers that one summer in the 1930s when his vessel was a banker forced to wear full sleeves made out of wool for propriety’s sake to cover up his coloring. Never again would Jared make that mistake.

“Hey, Jayman. You calling it a night?” Chad asks, pulling a leather jacket on over his ratty t-shirt. Chad’s one of the more popular tattoo artists working in the shop, and Jared finds him personable, if at times perplexing.

“That I am,” Jared replies, agreeably, smiling just enough for pleasantries but not enough to waste the full flash of dimples his vessel possesses.

“Wanna come to Kane’s with me? Danni promised me I could do tequila shooters out of her belly button if she gets drunk enough,” Chad says, making lewd hand movements that Jared still hasn’t entirely deciphered.

Danneel, yes. The bartender from the nearest roadhouse. Jared fucked her over the bar after closing the first night he met her, one of his hands twisted in long red hair and the other pressing down on the butterfly tattoo above her ass-crack.

Alas, she was not his mate, so he ended up sighing sadly after orgasm and telling her that one day a man she deserves will come along and treat her right. She proceeded to look at him like he had two heads, but he gave her full-dimples and it took her but a fortnight to get over it.

Jared tilts his head and stares at Chad a moment. He’s been tempted a few times over the years to fuck Chad, considering that his mate could technically be anyone among the humans. However, those times were usually followed by the thought that if Chad was his mate, Jared would be stuck with him for eternity, and perhaps these things are better off not being known.

Some things are worth the impatient wrath of the Plant Goddess.

“Yo, Earth to Padawhack? Danneel’s wet belly button, don’t tell me this is not an enticing visual.”

Jared smiles again and waves his hand dismissively. “Been there, done that. You go have fun.”

Chad snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t brag, bitch!” he says one last time, before the door shuts firmly behind him.

Jared turns back to his station and starts cleaning up for the night. A mid-level deity’s work is never done.

==

An hour later, Jared is walking out of the shop, locking the door behind him and pulling down the grated front. The neighborhood isn’t the worst that Jared’s ever searched in, but it’s still rough enough to make a tattoo parlor seem a natural fit.

He heads around the side of his building, towards his car. The night air is on the touch cool side, which feels good against his skin. The body temperature of his current vessel tends to run on the warmer end of the spectrum, and any relief is welcome.

“Hey there, Mister. Need a date?”

The dulcet voice uttering such coy words stops Jared in his tracks. He slowly turns around to see a young man leaning against the brick wall, one leg propped up behind him and hips pushed out invitingly.

Jared steps closer to get a better look, and senses some of the bravado from the kid’s stance wavering a bit with the approach.

“You’re beautiful,” Jared says, simple because it’s true. Dark blond hair gelled to jaunty spikes, pink mouth already slightly puffy from Goddess knows what, and a fine mist of light brown freckles blanketing his nose and cheeks.

The young man startles at that, like he doesn’t get compliments like that, and it frankly confuses Jared. If this man was his mate, he would shower him with praise for his beauty with every breath that sprung from his lips.

The man pushes up off the wall, pulling in on himself for a just a minute as he seems to consider something, before standing back up to his full height and sauntering right over into Jared’s personal space.

“I can be anything you want me to be, cowboy,” the man murmurs, pouty lips pulled up into what Jared assumes is his best enticing manner. “And it’ll only cost you fifty bucks.”

“You’re a prostitute,” Jared states, as the man gives him what Chad would call a “duh” face.

Jared feels warm suddenly, the skin of his vessel tightening until it feels like rubber bands are being snapped against his skin. He realizes suddenly that what he’s feeling is anger.

“C’mon, I promise I’ll make you feel good,” the man says, and now his hands are trailing their way lightly up Jared’s chest.

“What is your name?” Jared asks, suddenly feeling the need to know the man that he knows he will soon possess.

The man looks like he’s considering whether to tell the truth, before finally shrugging. “Jensen. My name’s Jensen.”

Jared’s hands go up quickly, trapping Jensen’s own against where they lie right over Jared’s heart. “I’m Jared. Say it.”

Jensen licks his lips nervously, and Jared watches the shine of wetness that appears on them as they form the shape of his name. “Jared.”

The anger is still there, little vicious waves of shock that someone else has touched Jensen before him, but it’s being muted by the sensation of pure bliss from hearing that singular word come out of Jensen’s mouth.

“Want me to suck your dick? I’ll be good for you,” Jensen says, earnestly. His hands vibrate in Jared’s grasp, little tremors that make Jared feel like both the powerful god that he is, and just a man wanting to wrap his lover up in his embrace.

Jared doesn’t really want their first time to be here, in an alleyway with his boy’s knees in the gravel, but he’s not sure he would be able to resist long enough to get Jensen to his car and back to his house.

The decision is taken away from him when Jensen drops gracefully to his knees and starts undoing the button fly on Jared’s Levis before Jared can get another word in edgewise.

“Yeah, mmm, big boy,” Jensen hums, one hand pulling Jared’s already diamond-hard cock out of his briefs as the other hand tugs the denim farther down Jared’s thighs. “Nice tats, too.”

“My mother’s design,” Jared manages to get out before Jensen is leaning forward and licking a stripe straight from the base to the crown with a tiny swirl of flourish up top.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be talking about your mother while you’re getting your dick sucked,” Jensen’s says, his voice much too amused for Jared’s liking and the current situation.

“Don’t say that, or she’ll turn you into a fawn,” Jared mumbles, but luckily Jensen is too busy concentrating on pressing languid, almost tender, kisses along the shaft of Jared’s dick.

“Just getting started, handsome,” Jensen murmurs, opening those beautiful lips wide and fluttering his eyes closed as he takes the rather large member right to the edges of his throat.

“Oh, Goddess!” Jared yelps, the feel of Jensen’s throat muscles massaging the ring of the crown almost too overwhelming to bear. As many people as Jared has fucked over the course of his mating quest, nothing has ever felt as perfectly right as this beautiful boy on his knees in the dirt before him.

Jensen is making wet, filthy sounds, humming around Jared’s dick as his head bobs up and down in slick, sliding movements. His eyes are squeezed tight but his face is totally relaxed, and Jared stares down at him in awe as he recognizes the first signs of absolute bliss.

Jared can’t help himself, has to wrap his fists in the crunchy locks of hair so that he can press that face, that expression, that beauty closer to him. Jensen just takes it, rides through it, even as Jared punches his hips in vicious stabs until his dick is so far down Jensen’s throat that Jared’s unsure of how he’s still able to breathe.

Finally, Jared is coming, right down Jensen’s throat, into the core of him. The rush is unbelievable, millennia worth of pining flowing from this borrowed body.

Jensen swallows, throat still working, but pulls off finally with a wet gasping sound. Jared looks down at Jensen, his mouth red and abused, and face wet with exertion-laced tears. Jensen appears dazed, but he still reaches down to his own pants and pulls out his own cock, stripping it wildly until he grunts once and then again and slumps over himself, still on his knees.

“Fuck,” Jensen says, voice wrecked and tone low. After a short pause, a squeaking sound comes from him and then he’s scrambling to his feet and backing up against the brick again.

Jensen’s holding his arms out, face laced with shock and fear as he takes in the brightly-colored floral patterns magically snaking their way across his skin.

“My mate,” Jared says simply, as hushed and solemn as an occasion this long in the making deserves.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jensen cries out, the pitch getting higher and higher into hysteria levels. He’s starts scraping at his forearms with fingernails, until finally Jared stomps over to him and takes him firmly by the shoulders.

“Jensen,” Jared says, calmly, trying to open the mental communication that he knows will come eventually once their bond is secure.

Jensen is shaking like he’s about to have a seizure, and his eyes are open so wide that Jared can finally see the flecks of gold within the green.

“You drugged me. This is…I must be high. You must have drugs in your jizz!”

“Jensen,” Jared repeats, forceful this time, the entire weight of his otherworldly being forcing a timbre that the vocal cords of this vessel can barely handle.

What is happening to me?

The voice is small, like it’s in a wind tunnel. But it’s Jensen’s voice, and it’s in Jared’s head.

You are the one true mate of a god. Jared’s voice is clear and true, and he can see Jensen realizing what is happening the moment he hears Jared's voice inside his own head.

Jensen slumps against him, and Jared cradles him in his arms and finally understands why his mother made him search so hard for so long.

Welcome to your immortality, my love.