Current mood:	anxious
Entry tags:	fanfic, kept, rps

Fic: A Kept Boy 51/?
Fandom: CWRPS
Pairing: Jeff/Jensen, Jared/Jensen
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Slavefic AU. Language. Dark themes. Sexual situations & mentions of abuse.
Disclaimer: This is in no way a true story.
Word Count: 2,089
AN: Previous parts found here. Cast of characters can be found here. Banner by the lovely and generous bloodquartz. And don't forget the other really awesome stories to be found at whatwekeep.

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"I told you I'm not much like them."

Actually, at a base level, Jensen can see how much Jeff is like his family; the desire to intervene, to nudge their loved ones toward what's better for them. It's mainly in the details that they differ, but from Lord Cruise, Jensen knows how crucial those details are. He also knows that's not what Jeff wants to hear from him. He spits toothpaste into the sink and rinses his mouth, considering what's best to say.

In the end, though, he doesn't have to say much of anything. Jeff is stretched out in the bed, glass pipe clasped loosely in his fingers but unlit. When Jensen appears in the doorway between bathroom and bedroom, a slow smile wakens on his tired face. "C'mere."

Jeff scoots over on the mattress and Jensen settles on the bed's edge gingerly, his stomach trembly with butterflies. Jeff discards the pipe carelessly on the nightstand and reaches for him, cupping Jensen's face in both hands and drawing him in for the kiss.

Jeff had stuck to ice water through dinner; his lips are still cool, making the heat from his tongue and further in all the more startling. Jensen sighs out, a shaky, yearning noise and Jeff's thumbs tighten behind Jensen's ears, his own quiet groan filling up the spaces between their mouths.

"I could do that all day," Jeff drawls slowly, pulling back with his eyes still mostly-closed.

"You could," Jensen agrees.

Jeff tips his head back against the headboard and laughs, exhausted but rich. "God. What a fucking day." All at once, his head snaps up again and he gazes at Jensen, a look that goes into Jensen like rainwater in dry soil. "Does your back hurt?"

"Yes," Jensen answers promptly. Then, when Jeff's expression flickers uncertainly, "But it feels good. It. It's a good hurt."

Jeff's mouth quirks, an unhappy looking line, and Jensen feels the flutter in his belly get stronger.

"I can't help what I am," Jensen whispers, the pain of just saying the words piercing.

"No." Jeff shakes his head, craning up to run his fingers down Jensen's arm from shoulder to wrist, where he clasps the bone. "Jensen, it's not you." He tugs and Jensen eases down, half-falling into Jeff's arms. Quiet falls for a few moments while they shift and jostle, looking for comfort as they tangle together. Jeff ends up with one arm bunched up, curled half around Jensen's head and the other thrown over Jensen's waist, fingertips strumming lightly across his stomach, catching in Jensen's navel.

Softly—so softly that Jensen's not sure if he's meant to hear the words—Jeff says, "I don't know what to think about today."

"Which part?" Jensen asks finally, when the silence seems to acquire weight.

Jeff's huff heats the nape of Jensen's neck. "Any part. All of it."

His arm shifts, to allow his fingers to stroke the length of Jensen's back instead, a tracery of ice and fire. Jensen closes his eyes and abandons himself to the touch, a contented, humming sound working its way up from his chest.

"You really do like this, don't you?" Jeff sounds wondering, amazed, as though Jensen is something remarkable. A new heat brushes through Jensen: anger at Kane, at Sam, Mary-Louise…even Jared. They're all supposed to care for each other so much and nobody. Nobody's been giving a damn about Jeff—what he wants, what he needs. Jeff has been starving to death in front of them and nobody's done a damn thing about it. Nobody's even noticed.

"Yes," Jensen answers thickly, his breath catching as one of Jeff's fingers jabs accidentally into one of his bruises. His hips push down into the mattress, cock skimming across the sheet.

"Jensen—"

Jensen rolls back far enough to look over his shoulder. It's dim, so he can't see Jeff's eyes as well as he'd like, but he's also spent years interpreting faces in darkness or near-darkness and Jeff's expression is so naked, no interpretation required. "W-will you touch me?" Jensen asks, fumbling over the words in his haste to get them out. He gestures vaguely at the hardness of his cock without actually touching himself. "Would you…? Like you did today."

Jeff grunts and the lines around his eyes tighten, as if he's in pain. "Jesus. Jensen."

"You told me to ask." Jensen's heart is going about a million beats per second and his skin feels too tight, tingly, like he's bracing for the lash. "If I wanted…you said I should ask for it."

Please, Jensen thinks, unsure if he's praying to Jeff or something—someone—bigger. Please. Let this work.

"I did." Jeff sounds uncertain, but not doubtful, leaving off his exploration of Jensen's bruises to let his hand fall across Jensen's thighs. Just that feather-light, tentative touch makes Jensen shudder, shoulders and ass pushing back into the solidity of Jeff behind him. "I did say that. God. Jensen—"

Bitter panic starts to seep into Jensen's mouth, metal on his tongue. "If you're too tired, or, or you don't want to…"

"Jensen." As ever, Jeff has a way of saying Jensen's name that's like ringing a bell, everything in Jensen going still around it. And then, when Jeff cups and curls around Jensen's cock, the feeling splits, half of Jensen feeling like he couldn't move or think if both their lives depended on it and the other half feeling like he's shaking so hard he'll bring all of Los Angeles down around them. "I want to, okay?" Jeff's voice is quieter, but it's also deepened, scraping Jensen's nerves raw, turning him to honeycomb sweet liquid everywhere except in Jeff's hand. Jeff huffs and Jensen chokes back a moan. "How do you not get that I always want to?"

"I…I don't know." The words trail off, gasping, as Jeff draws his fingers slow and tight along Jensen's shaft, his thumb brushing hard against the head.

"Jensen." Again that quietly quelling voice, sugared with just a thread of amusement. "Hush, sweetheart. You don't have to try and talk."

Jensen's breath rushes out of him in sighed relief, only to catch again as Jeff makes the same tight-good stroke, Jensen swelling even harder in Jeff's grip.

"I don't deserve you," Jeff says, his tone a little unsteady over the words. "Goddammit, Jensen."

The arm curled under Jensen's head moves, rolling Jensen back into Jeff, giving Jeff the space to pull Jensen tight against him, that arm snaking over Jensen's shoulder, around his chest, hauling him up, back. Jensen's feet slide on the sheet, trying to move however Jeff wants him, trying to keep Jeff's fingers around his dick.

He ends up cradled between Jeff's legs, head lolling back against Jeff's collar bone as his master strokes him hard and fast, taking him from hard to desperately hard in what feels like no time at all.

"When you're ready," Jeff says, sounding almost as out of breath as Jensen, "when you think you can, when you want to, I want you to come. All right?"

Jensen nods, barely able to control his body enough to do that. It's not that no one's ever touched him before; he doesn't know why he feels so out of control this time around, why it's so hard for him to think at all. He can't even dig too deep into his worry, the ends of it slipping slickly from his grasp every time he tries to reach for them. So he stops trying. "J-jeff? Jeff?"

"I already said…it's okay, Jensen."

"I…ah. I liked when Violet…when she hurt me."

"I know." Jeff's fingers tighten over Jensen's pectoral, possibly the only thing that holds Jensen's heart in his body. His other hand jerks Jensen with as much skill as any body-slave. "I know you did."

"Nuh. No." Jensen shakes his head. "I just…gnngh oh oh fuck!" Jensen's back arches hard as Jeff's palm twists around his cock-tip, exquisite friction. "It's you," he gasps out, wrapping his fingers around Jeff's wrist, clinging hard. "I liked it better when it was you. I…uh…I just want you. Just you."

Jeff's lips grind against Jensen's temple, his beard and mustache burning the thin skin. Jensen's neck doesn't want to move, but he wrenches his head sideways anyway, craning after Jeff's mouth with his own. The resultant kiss is awkward, bordering on painful, but the nip of Jeff's teeth against his lower lip is just the accelerant Jensen needs to hurtle those last millimeters of sensation, pulsing out wetly over his master's fingers and his own belly and thighs. Jeff suckles the choked, desperate cries from Jensen's mouth, tugging him through the orgasm until Jensen is limp and stunned, spread across his master like a second skin.

"That was…" Jeff squeezes Jensen tight and lets out a shuddery laugh. "Wow, Jensen. Wow."

Jensen tries to make himself think again but gathering the scattered pieces of his brain seems nearly as impossible as stuffing the orgasm back into his body again. He tries to lift up, to roll over. "Can I… Do you want me to…?"

Jeff's arm seems to gain in weight, holding Jensen where he is. "Nah. That was perfect just like it was."

He traces down Jensen's chest, cutting tracks through sweat and semen and Jensen can't help the small, helpless noise that comes from his throat. Jeff chuckles again, sounding as sated as if he'd come himself.

"You are…" Jeff sighs, sounding pleased. "Incredible."

Jensen smiles, as pleased by the compliment as by the fact that he doesn't need to get up just this second.

"Jensen?"

Jensen struggles to raise his eyelids, realizing tardily that he's drowsing. On top of Jeff. "M'sorry," he mumbles, his tongue as uncooperative as the rest of him. "I c'n move…"

"No." Jeff's hands soothe Jensen down again gently but firmly. "You're fine. I was just thinking."

"Hmm?"

"This…this thing with my mom."

Jensen opens his eyes, drowsiness cutting away as if sliced from him by a razor. Overhead, the fan turns lazily, a contrast to the rapid skitter of Jensen's heart. "You." He flexes his mouth, trying to make it work. "You don't have to…" He doesn't even know how to finish that sentence. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't." Jeff shifts a little bit, his fingers flexing over Jensen's skin as if he's afraid Jensen's going to leap up and run away. "And…I know that I'm just the shithead that bought you. The latest shithead in a long line of them."

Jensen's abs tuck to propel him upright, mouth opening in protest. Jeff's hand—faintly tacky, smelling of Jensen as much as Jeff—brushes across his lips, silencing him.

"No, wait," Jeff says. "Just hear me out. You have no reason to believe in me. I know this. I know that I'm going to spend the rest of my—our—life trying to…to be the guy that I tell you I am. And. I don't know what's going to happen. My mom…she can be pretty damn persuasive." The noise Jeff makes is probably technically a laugh, but there's not much humor in it. "But I want…" Jeff sighs. "It would be nice if you could…could believe me when I say that this is all I want. This. Right here. With you."

"I believe you."

Jeff hehs, sounding more like a laugh this time as he threads his fingers through Jensen's. "I think I'm going to leave that one alone," Jeff says finally. "I like my illusions. But." His knuckles squeeze in against Jensen's. "I will do everything in my power to take care of you, Jensen. Everything. And I'll do everything I can to keep you with me, as long as that's what you want."

"I'm just your slave," Jensen says. He licks his lips, tastes the faint tang of blood. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Jensen—you're not 'just' a slave. Not to me," Jeff answers promptly. "And I want to tell you—explain to you. That was the deal we made, right? I tell you what you need to know."

"I don't need to know this."

Jeff wraps both arms around Jensen. He feels solid. So solid. "You do. I need you to know this. I need you with me." Jeff shifts and Jensen feels Jeff's mouth brush hotly against his crown. "I just need you, okay?"

"Okay," Jensen agrees, willing to agree to damn near anything if it means Jeff will keep holding him the way he is.