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Author: Crazydiamondsue
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Rating/Warnings: Explicit, Top Jensen/Bottom Jared
Word Count: 5,895
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Jensen or Jared or the greater Austin Energy company.
Summary: Central Texas is hit with a freak February blizzard causing record snowfall, a collapse of the power grid, freezing temperatures, and burst pipes. Austinite Jensen Ackles is keeping warm in his lakeside home with his fireplace, chef quality gas stove, and warm winter activewear. The arrival of snow-covered Jared Padalecki dressed in beanie, shorts, and compression tights to 'rescue' Jensen with an ATV full of water, Power Bars, and condoms will warm things up considerably.
Notes: This is not to make light of the February 2021 Texas-Oklahoma blizzard and cold weather state of emergency. I am currently experiencing the post-storm damage and wrote this for one of my Austinite mutuals on Twitter. Here's a little blizzard-set J2 AU to warm things up for all of us!
Thank you to DarlingFlyingFox for the beta. Written for Amanda.
AO3
There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.
~ Sir Ranulph Fiennes
February 16, 2021
Austin, Texas
“This is Erica López with KVUE Austin. The National Weather Service has issued a Hard Freeze Warning...I’m forecasting temperatures across Central Texas as low as 0 degrees…winds are going to be as high as 10 miles an hour…there are currently 212,000 Austin Energy customers without power…traveling is not advised at all…UT Austin cancelling all classes through at least Thursday …”
Jensen thumbed the app closed to conserve his phone’s battery. He rubbed the back of his neck with a quiet groan. He was feeling stiff as the house got colder, so he leaned down, lit the pilot light on the oven and turned the temperature to 350 degrees.
Worse than the cold, though, was the quiet. No boats on the frozen lake, no neighborhood sounds of yard work or children playing. Jensen flexed his cold toes inside his thick hiking socks and decided he had never been more grateful to have a mother who insisted on outfitting her adult children in Patagonia each Christmas as if they each lived out of a kayak.
He picked up his cutting board again, and the onions, tomato, and jalapeños hit the butter with a satisfying sizzle as they slid from the knife into the sauté pan. His thick, blunt fingers curved over fresh brown eggs on the countertop and then clenched around them as a fist slammed into his kitchen door.
“Yo!” called a deep voice from the lakeside porch. “Everybody doing okay in there? Y’all need water, blankets, Hot Hands?”
Jensen wiped a broken egg yolk on the apron around his waist and grimaced. “Yeah, just a minute.” He lowered the heat under the skillet and yanked the back door open, his bicep bunching as he fought against the ice-swollen door frame.
“Hey, man, y’all guys doing all right?” A tall – very tall – guy about Jensen’s age stood on the small back stoop, bouncing his knees as he shivered and blew into his bare hands.
Jensen’s eyes dropped to the guy’s big feet, which were covered in soaking wet fur-lined suede boots that didn’t quite cover camo-pattern U.T. socks, then up over massively cut calves and knees wrapped in black and grey compression tights. Jensen’s eyebrows lifted with his gaze as he took in snow-flecked cargo shorts, and then a lean and seemingly endless torso insufficiently wrapped in a navy hoodie with a purple tee peeking from beneath the hem.
Jensen’s head jerked slightly as he reached the guy’s handsome face, wind-burned above well-maintained scruff, bright blue-green eyes grinning at him below a slouchy beanie.
The guy coughed. “I’d, uh, feel like I just got checked out if you didn’t look so confused.”
Jensen huffed a laugh and leaned casually against the kitchen door as if the wind chill weren’t -4 degrees F. “Dude, what are you wearing ?”
Tall Guy boomed a laugh, slapping his red-knuckled hands against his knees. “Oh, man, well, you know. Texas . I’ve seen snow before, but I didn’t figure on wind blowing off the lake hard enough to shrink your balls. This usually keeps me warm enough with temp drops after my workouts…so….” he stumbled to a stop and cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “So, anyways, we were comin’ by to make sure y’all were staying warm, see if you needed water or blankets…?”
Jensen wagged a finger past Tall Guy toward the empty, frozen lake and his equally empty backyard. “Who’s ‘we’?”
“Oh!” Tall Guy said with a jerk. He gestured with a careless flap of his arm, a baseball glove-sized hand just breezing past Jensen’s cheek. Jensen’s gaze followed the flailing hand to a snowy Rhino ATV with cases of Hill Country Springs water and space blankets strapped to the back basket. “I’ve been volunteerin’ since I’ve got the ATV, helpin’ people ‘round the lake who’ve lost power. The Rangers got a set-up over at Mt. Bonnell Park—”
Jensen leapt back as the screech of the smoke alarm cut off Tall Guy mid-sentence.
“Oh, shit! My jalapeños!”
Jensen slid back across the kitchen and shoved the pan off the flames, reached up, and smacked the smoke alarm silent. He looked down at his charred peppers and onions and sighed.
“So…you good?” Tall Guy had crept up to the kitchen island. “Looks like you got gas still. Good on water? Need blankets for, er, any of y’all? Wife? Kids? Husband? Boyfriend? Out-of-town company?”
Jensen turned slowly, his head tilted toward Tall Guy as he leaned back against his LG Convection Oven and crossed both his arms and ankles. “You know, I can’t decide if you’re flirtin’ with me, or if this is just your baseline awkward.”
Tall Guy cleared his throat and shoved his massive fists into the pockets of his hoodie. “Little of both.” He shifted uneasily, his threadbare shorts swishing against his compression tights. “If I were, ah, flirting, would that be a thing that you took issue with?”
Jensen reached up and scratched at the dark ginger stubble on his chin, his head tilting further. “If I’m being flirted with, I prefer it to be someone who’s vaguely your shape,” he said, gesturing up about six and half feet of Tall Guy. “Mild issue with the clothes, mainly ‘cause you look like you’re freezin’ your nutsack off. Bigger issue with the fact that you’re supposed to be takin’ water and warm stuff to people who need it and…” he gestured broadly around his oven-warmed, well-stocked kitchen, gallons of water lining the backsplash.
“Fuck,” Tall Guy said with a start, and then spun toward the still open backdoor and skidded down the porch steps on his rubber-soled boots.
“Hey!” Jensen burst into motion, his double-socked feet squishing in Tall Guy’s melted snow path. “Can I least get your name?”
He leaned out the backdoor to see Tall Guy scrubbing his beanie on the crown of his head as he and an attractive man in a quilted Ranger jacket made their way toward him.
The Ranger nodded. “Good to see you’re doing okay here. I was just letting Jared here know to tell you that we’re calling everyone back in. Snowfall’s getting heavier and even though the ATVs and 4-wheel drives can get through the streets, temperature’s going too low for people to be out in this. Are you set? We’ve got a warming center set up—”
Jensen shook his head with a wave. “Naw, I’m good. I’ve got the upstairs closed off, fireplace going, and I’ve got plenty of water – mainly just watching for burst pipes at this point.” He nodded toward Jared. “Think your partner here’s plenty cold, though.”
The Ranger snorted, his brown eyes fond as they looked at Jared. “Yeah, he is. Dr. Padalecki’s one of our first calls when we’re looking at structural issues; not sure how an engineer can’t figure out pants go over boots and coat goes over hoodie...”
The Ranger danced away from the half-hearted punch Jared aimed at his shoulder and headed back to his snowmobile with a laugh.
“You should be kissin’ my ass, Aldis,” Jared muttered with a blush. He glanced back at Jensen from beneath his beanie. “Okay, man, glad you’re doing okay, guess I’ll head back over to Mt. Bonnell and get warm for a bit.”
Jensen stepped back, holding the kitchen door open. “Or you could come in here and mop up the snow you tracked all over my new tile.”
Jared’s grin lit up his snow-burned face.
....::::**•° ☸ °•**::::....
Jared hefted the last case of water into the arms of the last of Jensen’s in-need neighbors and waved them out the front door. He tiptoed quickly across the ice-cold Mexican tile foyer until he hit the soft pile carpet of the darkened dining room and then slid into the warm kitchen on his stockinged feet.
He paused for a minute to appreciate Jensen’s back to him as the other man stood at the stove dishing up plates. From the spread of Jensen’s shoulders in a light blue henley, Jared’s gaze dragged down to the absolutely obscene swell of his perfectly rounded ass, covered in what should have been shapeless navy sweats.
“You gettin’ it all?” Jensen asked.
Jared blinked and stammered, “Um, yeah, sure. What? Oh, yeah.” He nodded as Jensen pointed a finger at the emergency crate Jared had brought in from the ATV. “Yeah. Of course. I gave out all the water and space blankets, but just some of the MREs. People aren’t that desperate yet, I guess,” he snickered. He leaned forward over the kitchen island and watched as Jensen chopped something super-fast and even like Bobby Flay. “Nothin’ much left except some Hot Hands, Power Bars, condoms and lube, some battery packs…”
Jensen turned around, a steaming plate balanced in each hand. “Go back one?”
Jared fidgeted and then ran a hand through his still damp hair. “Condoms? And single use lube packs? ‘Cause my sister-in-law is a nursing prof and she keeps ziplocked bags of them on hand and she tossed them in my pack?” Jared ripped open the Velcro top of the emergency case and two bulging, gallon bags full of brightly colored condoms and pull-and-tear packets of Astroglide shimmered dully in the blinding glare of sunlit snow from the windows.
“Huh,” Jensen said, his face mildly stunned and his eyelashes flared wide against his winter pale skin. “All I’ve got for you are eggs.”
Jared glanced down at the stoneware in Jensen’s hands and his jaw dropped. “Dude. Is that Migas? Like, Cisco’s migas?!”
Jensen pulled the plates back against his chest, the cilantro garnish quivering with his indignation. “No. Like Magnolia Café migas.”
Jared laughed as he followed Jensen and his plates of tortilla egg magic toward the crackle of a fireplace. “Right, right,” he said, “don’t ask people from Austin where the best migas are, just where the best breakfast tacos are.”
“Tamale House,” they said in unison.
The den Jared followed Jensen into was not as warm as the kitchen, but a large stone fireplace lit up most of the room and cast their shadows large on the pale grey walls. Jensen had already arranged some pillows and cushions around a fluffy white rug in front of the fire, and a soft-sided cooler filled with bottled water and bottles of a local IPA sat on a low table.
Jared drew up short with a soft, “Hey…” as he took in the room’s other occupant. A plaid dog bed covered in soft throws held a furry white face with a smile full of pink tongue. Jared forgot about Jensen in sweats and how much he loved migas as rushed to the dog bed.
“Hey, buddy,” he said softly as he took in the dog’s quiet panting and his carefully wrapped leg joints. He rubbed a gentle hand through the soft white fur around the fluffy face.
“That’s Icarus,” Jensen said as he set their plates and forks on the low table in front of the couch. “He’s my oldest friend here in Austin. He’s gonna be 15 this year, aren’t you, buddy?” Jensen dropped to a crouch next to Jared and ran his palm over the velvety fur on the cockapoo’s head, his thumb meeting and rubbing against Jared’s knuckles as they gently petted the dog. “He’s survived cancer and surgery for an ACL tear in the last couple of years, and he’s not doing real good with this cold.”
Jared sat back against the arm of the couch and kept a careful hand on Icarus’s side. “Just you and the little guy here?” he asked as he lifted his fork with his other hand.
“Yep,” Jensen said shortly as he sat opposite Jared and pulled his own plate toward himself.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said quietly and he twisted his fork in the strands of cheese on his plate. “I forget you’re just being nice to some dumbass who went out in arctic temperatures in a pair of shorts and Tommy Johns. You don’t even know me.”
Jensen looked up at him, and the laugh lines around his eyes deepened as he grinned and opened one bottle of beer with the cap of another and passed it to Jared. “Well, let’s fix that. Who are you, Dr. Dumbass?”
Jared took a long pull from the IPA and nodded. “Fair enough,” he laughed. He lifted a forkful of his eggs to his mouth and chewed and then half-covered his lips with his hand as he said, “Oh, my fucking God, I didn’t know you could make migas like this in a kitchen kitchen. I thought they only came from places with 'Local Farmer’s Market Only' and 'Aquí Se Habla Español' on the door!”
Jensen laughed quietly, pleased. “It’s just eggs and old tortilla chips.”
Jared cleared half his plate in the next bite. “But you did it with no power or water! Like there’s even a state of emergency!” He lifted a cilantro leaf. “With garnish! How did you learn how to do that?”
Jensen looked at him over the lip of his beer bottle. “Dude, I’m 42 and single. I can read a cookbook.”
“So you’re single,” Jared said, and slouched back with a slow grin and a cheesy nod.
Jensen threw a Lone Star patterned sofa pillow at him. “Not talking about me. This is me gettin’ to know you . We’ve already got that you’re a dipshit who wears shorts in an ice storm, but also a perv with a massive cache of what looked like flavored condoms. Go on.”
Jared paused fork to mouth. “Were they flavored?” He chewed and swallowed, then clapped his hands briskly. “So. I’m Jared Padalecki. 'M thirty-eight, grew up in San Antonio, moved up here to Austin to go to UT. Got my degree in engineering, worked for a firm in the city for a few years, got tired of corporate bullshit and chasing the dolla bills, went back to UT and got my doctorate, and I’ve taught at UT for the past 9 years. You got any more avocado?”
“Oh, wow. So…Dr. Padalecki is Professor Padalecki.” He slid a couple of his avocado slices onto Jared’s plate.
“I know, right?” Jared said with a grin. “It’s my baby face. No one expects me to be impressive.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jensen said with a shrug. “I was kinda expectin’ MD Padalecki, not PhD Padalecki. I mean, if I fall the down those stairs,” he said with a nod as he wiped his mouth, “you’d be useful to explain the slope and pitch of the steps should I need to sue the architect, but pretty useless when I end up busted-ass-over-broken-elbows at the bottom of it.”
“Fuck you,” Jared laughed. “I only use Dr. Padalecki academically – you won’t see me getting called to your seat when you’re having a heart attack on a plane. Dick,” he snorted, throwing his balled up paper towel at Jensen. “Okay, do you now.”
Jensen stood. “Let me clear this up and take care of some stuff in the kitchen and I’ll get right to it. Have another beer if you want.” He looked at Jared for a moment, started to speak, and then turned back toward the kitchen.
Jared shifted uneasily and reached over to pat Icarus when the old dog lifted his head. He glanced down at his watch and grimaced. “Hey, man,” he called to Jensen as he shoved himself to stand. “I’ve already taken up over an hour of your time; I’ll get out of your hair and let you take care of what you need to do.”
Jensen appeared in the doorway, a flour covered towel in his hands and a scowl on his face. “Sit!” he commanded, waving Jared back toward his papasan cushion. “You’re wearing my newest pair of Patagonia britches, and I know my Mama didn’t get those on clearance. You’re not leaving until I get your shorts and hose washed and back on you.”
Jared looked down at his lap, which was covered in Jensen’s organic cotton fleece, and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay until my clothes are washed.”
Jensen grinned and then nodded slyly. “And since my water’s frozen, who knows when that will be. Amirite?” He cocked a brow and disappeared back to the kitchen.
....::::**•° ☸ °•**::::....
Jared turned from the fireplace mantel as Jensen shuffled noisily back into the room. Jared lifted a 5x7 portrait of a pair of identical smiles and green eyes beaming out from pre-school faces and turned it toward Jensen. “I’m guessin’ they didn’t come with the frame?”
Jensen’s arms sagged, the overflowing crate he was carrying pulling his shoulders down as he slumped. “Man. I went to get tunes and booze and now shit’s all serious.”
Jared smiled and replaced the picture frame. He shrugged. “We’re adults. We’ve got history. Looks like you got his story and her story.”
Jensen set the crate down next to the table and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he sighed. “All right, I was planning to give you the highlights, but if we’re getting into the real stuff, I’m doing it with booze.”
He liberated a bottle of Tanqueray, a bottle of McCallan, a lemon, and two shot glasses from the crate.
“Nice,” Jared muttered, edging closer on his knees.
Jensen shrugged. “If we’re gonna freeze to death, we’re doing it top shelf.” He popped open a cocktail shaker half full of melting ice, poured in equal parts gin and whiskey, gave it shake and then gestured for Jared to hold the shot glasses while he poured.
“You’re like the Anthony Bourdain of glamping,” Jared said wonderingly.
Jensen grinned. “Check this shit out.” He slipped a pocket knife from his sweatpants pocket, flicked it open to the v-shape, picked up the lemon, spun his wrist, and then dropped a perfect twist into Jared’s shot glass.
“How are you single?” Jared breathed.
“Queer, Texas, over-forty, bitter?” Jensen rattled off, and then lifted his glass and clinked it with Jared’s. “Cheers.”
“So,” Jared said, after he tossed back his shot, “are you an artist?” He nodded toward the Western triptych above Jensen’s head.
“Am I a...” Jensen craned his head back and then laughed. “No, man, that’s a Mark Maggiori set. He did a BLM exhibition at the Briscoe in San Antonio, and I loved his work keeping black cowboy history alive. I offered a commission, and he countered with a BLM donation suggestion, and hooked me up with that set." He considered. “Although if I were an artist, it probably would be of hot cowboys.” He poured another shot for them both and then near-giggled. “ Are you an artist ,” he quoted breathily. He looked up from the cocktail shaker and captured Jared’s gaze. “No,” he said, his voice deepening and going whiskey dark and gin smooth, “just a traveler searching for…purity.” He lifted the glass to his mouth and rubbed the heavy cut crystal against his wet lips. “What do you search for?”
“Motherfuck,” Jared breathed, leaning forward. “That made my dick jump.”
Jensen laughed and fell back into his pillows, cracking his elbow on the edge of the crate and rolling into a ball with a gasping moan.
“Dude,” Jared said, slamming his shot and then leaning forward to grab Jensen’s forearm and clutch it. “Dude, when I was 15 I fucking worshipped The Saint. I burned through like two DVDs. How did you know?”
Jensen wheezed and then sat up, fending Jared’s arms off. “I didn’t,” he laughed. “You just set up me with those big Elisabeth Shue eyes all earnest, ‘are you an artist’?” He licked his lips and then smiled at Jared. “You don’t play much close to the chest, do you?”
Jared shrugged. “I overshare. And,” he picked up the cocktail shaker, rattled it to make sure it still had contents other than ice and then poured, “it’s your turn to share. What can Jensen do besides sexy accents, authentic Tex-Mex, and survive an arctic blast with a silver cocktail shaker and a pocket knife?”
Jensen accepted the shot glass from Jared and drank it down, rolling the lemony clash of liquors in his mouth as he considered. “Jensen Ackles can crash and burn and still end up wintering the worst weather on record in a Texas Tuscan McMansion.” He waved a hand at the just-this-side-of-easy-going, hip décor around him.
Jared glanced around and shrugged. “I like it.”
Jensen sprawled out on his side on the fireside rug. “Guitars mounted on the walls and discreet, shirtless cowboys? I’m like 13 pieces of flair away from becoming a post-divorce Hard Rock Café.”
Jared lifted a brow and then eased down to prop his head up on his elbow as he matched Jensen’s pose. “Divorce, huh?”
Jensen nodded and stared into fire for a moment. He bit his lip and then said, “But that was just a couple of years ago. We need to go back, way back, to when Jensen Ackles was just a UT freshman trying to do things the right way. I got my degree in sound engineering and then went out to L.A. to stay with some buddies while I tried to find a job. I wanted to sing, but I figured my parents were right with that ‘something to fall back on’ degree. Stuff happened, none of it musical stardom, I met a guy I thought was the guy…” he trailed off and met Jared’s open gaze. “Enough that I sacked up and came out to my parents, moved us back to Texas because he wanted to get in on the Austin sound scene and I could produce music anywhere…found this house, got married, asked my sister to be our surrogate. We were happy for a long time.” He shrugged. “And then we weren’t.”
Jared sat quietly while Jensen plucked at tufts on the incredibly plush white carpet. He reached over a cautious hand and covered Jensen’s. “I’m sorry, man.”
Jensen smiled tightly and then sat up. “Three shots must be my maudlin threshold. ‘Sposed to be gettin’ you liquored up so you’ll tell me all your Professor Indiana Jones secrets, not crying in my whiskey.”
Jared watched as Jensen deftly mixed another batch of Silver Bullet shots. “’M guessin’ they’re a big part of the maudlin,” he said, flicking his head back to the picture of the two kids.
“Yeah,” Jensen sighed. He pointed at the girl and then the boy. “Our twins. They’ll be five next December: Legend and Zephyr.”
Jared choked on his shot. “L-Legend and Zephyr. Wow, you really did live in L.A.”
“Fuck off,” Jensen snickered. “I was a Jensen married to a Rustik. We weren’t going to have Jason and Jennifer.”
“Rustik,” Jared said flatly.
Jensen twisted his lips. “He’s from Oklahoma originally.”
“No shit,” Jared deadpanned.
Jensen punched him on the shoulder. “What’s your ex’s name? Wylie? Waylon?”
“Sandy,” Jared snickered. He rolled over onto his stomach and laughed into his crossed arms.
“Of course it is,” Jensen nodded. “Former cheerleader, big titties?”
“Former cheerleader,” Jared agreed, “former Miss Texas. Medium-sized titties.”
“So am I a ‘bit of strange’?” Jensen asked, as he sprawled out next to Jared and rested his head on his crossed arms. “Or have you gone –”
“You say ‘strictly dickly’ and I walk out of here in your $80 sweats,” Jared growled playfully.
“Ooo,” Jensen breathed, edging closer, "now that voice made my dick jump.”
Jared wrapped his hand in Jensen’s messy, light brown hair and hauled him forward, crashing a kiss down onto his mouth while rolling them over so that Jared was on top.
Jared lifted his head to look at Jensen’s puffy red lips, and Jensen snagged a handful of Jared’s collar-length hair, yanking him down into another kiss and rolled them again so that he was on top. Jensen pressed between Jared’s sprawled thighs. He ground down against Jared, sucking Jared’s bottom lip between his until Jared moaned and bucked up under him.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Jared moaned into Jensen’s mouth. “Want to taste all of you,” he added on a rasping breath, and Jensen whined and pulled out of the kiss to stare at him with wide, lust-blown eyes.
“Thank fuck,” Jensen sighed as pressed harder against Jared and felt their cocks meet, stiff and damp, between two pairs of thin sweatpants. “I was about to put on Spotify and ask you to dance if you didn’t make a move soon.”
Jared gasped a laugh against Jensen’s jaw and then mouthed a line of kisses down Jensen’s throat.
Jensen’s hands began moving as he rutted against Jared, wandering over his ribcage and hips and then behind himself to travel over Jared's thigh, which was now wrapped around Jensen’s waist. “Shit,” Jensen choked.
Jensen sat up abruptly and straddled Jared’s hips. He reached for the zipper of Jared’s hoodie and yanked it down, and then grasped the hem of Jared’s t-shirt and yanked it up to Jared’s collarbone.
“Oh, goddamn,” Jensen moaned, spreading his big hands wide to map over Jared’s deep-cut abs, thick pecs, dark chest hair, and deep rose nipples. “You looked so lean in your clothes, I sure as shit wasn’t expecting all this.”
He lifted his hips to rock the split of his ass against the swell of Jared’s dick. “Or that.” Jensen braced his hands on Jared’s shoulders and leaned in for another kiss.
Jared reached a hand between them, feeling his knuckles brush against the hard ridge of Jensen’s thick cock. He slid his hand inside Jensen’s sweats, wincing as he wondered how cold his fingers were, and pulled Jensen’s straining prick out.
Jensen let go of Jared’s shoulders, where he’d begun digging his fingers into the hard muscles there, and fumbled with the drawstring of Jared’s pants and shoved them down over his hips, baring Jared’s ass to the cold of the room and his cock to the warm heat between their bodies.
Jared was so hard that his erection slapped against Jensen’s groin as it was freed, and Jensen panted hotly against Jared’s neck. “Oh, God.”
Jared wriggled, shoving his sweats further down and then kicking them off. He toed off his socks clumsily and then Jensen’s hands were clutching his bare ass in a deep, lifting squeeze. “Shit,” Jensen mumbled around Jared’s nipple. “Thirty-eight years old, built like a brick shit house, and got an ass like a seventeen year-old boy.”
Jared muffled a laugh in Jensen’s armpit, rucking the Henley up and over Jensen’s head. “Thanks?”
“Not a boy, though,” Jensen groaned as he rubbed his bare chest against Jared’s blood-hot and hair roughened one. “You don’t need to be told what to do, do you?” Jensen pressed a knee between Jared’s thighs and slotted himself between them.
“And you’re just a natural at everything you do, aren’t you?” Jared gasped back at him, the cords and veins standing out in his arched neck, his voice going impossibly low as he rubbed his body against Jensen’s. The head of his cock dragged wetly up Jensen’s abs and Jared shuddered. “You’re so good at it, Jensen Ackles, just made to fuck me.”
A strangled, needy sound escaped Jensen, and he squeezed his eyes shut, face tense and wound up. His cock, grinding in the cut of Jared’s groin, gave a warning throb and smeared pre-come in Jared’s neatly trimmed pubic hair.
Jared’s arms wound around Jensen’s neck and he kissed Jensen messily. Jensen lifted his head and gasped for air, his breath hot and visible in the still chilly room. He ducked his head and worried one of Jared’s nipples to a tight point, making Jared’s knees clutch harder around him.
“Hey,” Jensen whispered as he slid slowly down Jared’s torso, wriggling slightly in the tight grasp of Jared’s thigh muscles. “Loosen up around me, darlin’, let me get down here and make you feel good.”
“Fuck,” Jared groaned and his head thumped back against the fuzzy rug. His next breaths were punched out of his throat as Jensen’s stubble razed a line of fire down Jared’s abs, across the cut of his hips, his inner thighs, and then danced teasingly over his balls.
“What do you know, Jared, you do taste good everywhere,” Jensen said breathlessly, smug when Jared’s whole body shuddered. Jensen reached up with a practiced hand and began to stroke Jared’s cock with a steady rhythm. He lifted his other hand to his mouth, met Jared’s firelit eyes and laved two fingers with his tongue until they were dripping. He lowered them beneath Jared’s balls and then swiftly pressed them to Jared’s entrance. They slipped in easily enough, and he parted them slightly, twisting them around in the give of Jared’s soft, pink flesh.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, fuck, please just fuck me now, do it, I’m ready, I can do it,” Jared babbled, his body trembling as Jensen added another finger and massaged circles around his hole.
Jensen laughed lightly and his dick jumped in his lap again. “Baby, I’m not even using lube yet,” he teased, fingers pressing hot and sweet at Jared’s rim. Keeping one hand pressed against Jared’s opening, Jensen gave Jared’s cock one last stroke and then reached over him to the crate, where he pulled out a couple of opened Hot Hands warmers, peeled them apart, and let two packets of warmed Astroglide drop onto Jared’s quivering abs.
“You are a golden god,” Jared gasped.
Jensen picked up one of the packets, ripped it with his teeth, squirted the contents onto his still working fingers and winked. “Not my first time,” he teased. He carefully pressed three lubed fingers into Jared’s hole, and then twisted them, flipping his hand upward, and made a beckoning gesture with them. Jared moaned and his cock lurched up from his belly, growing impossibly thicker and darker.
“Mmm,” Jensen said appreciatively. “I think you’re ready.”
“Fuck,” Jared said, his hips thrusting up restlessly. “I was ready when you offered me eggs.”
Jensen huffed a laugh and then smiled, the corners of his mouth creasing with small lines in the firelight. Jared surged up to kiss Jensen again, their tongues tangling hotly as Jensen’s hand worked between to roll the condom on.
Jared fell back, his body restless and dark against the white rug, and Jensen slid his arms beneath Jared’s legs and lifted them up onto his shoulders. He leaned forward, pressing against Jared’s fluttering hole and said, “This condom is bright yellow and banana flavored, you are gorgeous and ridiculous, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to let you go.”
Jared’s breath caught at the burning slide of Jensen’s cock and then he moaned aloud at his words.
Jensen gave a little rolling pump of his hips and then quick little thrusts and swivels, clenching his ass hard on each inward stroke. Jared pressed his hands flat against the wall behind his head and groaned, canting his hips up in time with Jensen’s thrusts.
“There?” Jensen asked, leaning forward to bite the curve of Jared’s pec. He wound his arms tighter around Jared’s sweat slick thighs to hold him close.
“Yeah,” Jared murmured. He gasped again. “ There .” His eyes opened, tip-tilted, sly and sultry in the firelight flickering across his face. “Do I feel good?” he asked with a roll of his hips.
“Oh, you are a sneaky bastard,” Jensen groaned, his hips snapping. “Nothing shuts you up but my cock in you, and then you tease me like a virgin prom date. Fuck yeah, you feel good. Almost too good, and stamina is about the only plus I’ve got these days,” he laughed breathlessly.
Jared’s fingers curled against the wall and he nodded frantically. “Touch me. Please.”
One of Jensen’s hands found Jared’s cock and it slapped hot and heavy against his palm. He gripped it tight, and Jared whimpered with relief as Jensen jerked him firmly, no finesse, just working them both toward the orgasm building with each snap of their hips.
Jensen’s hips pounded recklessly, and he leaned forward and groaned promises and profane worship against Jared’s gasping mouth. I like you. Thank you. I never want to stop. Fuck, what’re you doin’ to me ? Then Jared was coming, back scooping away from the floor, arms pushing off against the wall and Jensen’s fist was covered in jets of warm come. Jared’s slick hole convulsed, twitching and tightening and Jensen pounded desperately, grinding in hard to get as much friction as he could, and then he was coming too, gasping and swearing in surprise at how quickly Jared had gotten him off. “Son-of-a-bitch,” Jensen groaned as he dropped down onto Jared’s still twitching body.
Jared’s warm, heavy arms curved around Jensen and pulled him closer and then he took a deep breath and groaned, “It is fucking freezing in here.”
“Dude,” Jensen muttered, his face buried in Jared’s neck, “you are SO hot and sweaty, I’m stunned there’s not steam rising up like a cartoon.”
....::::**•° ☸ °•**::::....
Jared watched in awe as Jensen lifted the flour-flecked towel and revealed a perfectly smooth ball of pizza dough. Jensen split it into two sections and then quickly spread each piece onto a greased baking stone.
“That’s what you were doing in the kitchen earlier?” Jared asked as he absently nibbled at the mozzarella he had just grated. “You were making pizza dough from scratch?!”
Jensen shrugged, his socked foot lifting to rub the back of his calf. “Not like it’s hard, Not like it’s hard, all you need are tireless forearms...or a working food processor.” He spread sauce over the smooth dough and quickly scattered the beef and sausage Jared had browned, topped those with slices of Canadian bacon and pepperoni, deftly covered those with slices of black olive and fresh jalapeño, then finished with a sprinkle of freshly-grated cheese. He slid both baking stones into the oven and then leaned back to grin at Jared.
Jared braced an arm on either side of Jensen and kissed him briefly but firmly on the lips. “I cannot believe it’s 14 degrees F outside, with six inches of snow in fuckin’ Austin, we’re keeping warm with space heaters and a gas stove, I’ve got dried come all over me because your pipes are frozen, you’re over here using boiled Evian to make gourmet food like that’s just a thing people do and,” he grinned at Jensen’s crooked half-smile, “and I’m happier than I can remember being in a really long time.”
Jensen kissed him back and wrapped an arm around Jared’s narrow waist, tugging him closer. “You haven’t even seen what I can do with snow ice cream, Grand Marnier, and an orange.”
Jared cupped the side of Jensen’s face and dragged his thumb across Jensen’s bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. “It’s gonna be really hard to walk out of here when the power comes back on.”
Jensen nipped lightly at Jared’s thumb. “I figure you probably got enough condoms in that emergency bag to get us through the spring thaw; by the time we need to do a supply run, it’ll be April and well into tornado season, and then I’m gonna need rescuing again.”
Jared quirked a grin. “Texas,” he sighed.
“Yee-fuckin’-haw,” Jensen agreed.
FIN
