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smackenzie: (jensen)
[personal profile] smackenzie
(this part's nc-17. i think it's the last smutty bit.)

Jensen hadn't lied to Jared on the phone - he really did love playing with the band, and he really did love playing for a live audience, and he really did love getting to meet other musicians and talk shop with them, and he hadn't mentioned it but he kind of liked getting to see other parts of the country. But he also really hated being away from his bed and his own place and most especially he hated being away from his boyfriend. And talking to Jared on the phone, listening to him stroking himself off in the bathtub, knowing Jared was thinking about him as he did so - that didn't help. Jensen was a little surprised and a lot upset to discover that phone sex actually made the separation worse.

And he didn't think he'd really mentioned it, because he'd rather make light of things on the phone so as not to make Jared worry, but he was getting tired of traveling. He was getting tired of being away from home. He was getting tired of showering in motel showers, and sharing a bed with someone he wasn't dating, and sitting in the van trying to read the map or get directions on his phone when the GPS got them lost, and counting miles and gas money, and having to meet new people (club owners, promoters, sound guys, local fans, whoever) every damn night.

As much as he loved getting to sing and play his guitar on a regular basis, he was also really, really tired.

Which was how he found himself sitting at a table drinking with some local fans one night, the locals having convinced him to hang out with them at the bar after the bands had finished for the evening. Two girls and two guys, all music fans in general and fans of Oklahoma Ford in particular, all kids who could talk about the local scene with passion and intelligence and perceptiveness. It was the kind of conversation Jensen could have with people - performers and music fans alike - and if he hadn't been so far into the tour, and if he hadn't been so god-damned tired of being on tour, and if he hadn't been so tired of having to talk to people, he might have been able to really contribute to the conversation.

And if they hadn't kept buying him drinks, he might have been able to form enough coherent sentences to add to the discussion.

One of the girls, a cute brunette in a pink spaghetti-strap top, sat next to him and couldn't stop touching him - his arm, his hand, his thigh - in ways that he recognized as come-ons, which he could only see because he was thinking about Jared so much, and thinking about how much he wanted that kind of intimate human touch. She wasn't overly aggressive, she was sweet and friendly and excitable and a genuine fan of country music, not just some groupie who latched on to any musician who came through town. Her touch was light on his arm and her face lit up when she talked, and nothing about her did anything to ease the fact that Jensen was tired and achingly lonely and now, as he realized when he stood up, pretty drunk.

Which was why he didn't protest when she took his arm - just to make sure he didn't fall over on his way to the bathroom, she said, laughing - and followed him to the back of the bar and into the men's room and into the stall at the far end.

He missed Jared so very badly, and wanted him here so desperately, that when the cute music fan kissed him and squeezed his cock through his jeans, he didn't stop her, and when she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly and sank to her knees on the men's room floor, he didn't stop her, and when she pulled out his cock and pumped it with a surprisingly strong, small hand, he didn't stop her, and when she leaned in and swallowed him down, he closed his eyes and imagined she was someone else.

He thought maybe, just maybe, if he wished hard enough, he'd open his eyes and see Jared on the floor in front of him, Jared's head bobbing up and down on his cock, Jared's face upturned to his. He tried valiantly to pretend the mouth on his dick was Jared's, but drunk as he was, and even so lost in his own head, Jensen could tell. He knew it wasn't Jared, and it couldn't be.

Part of him wanted to tell the girl to stop, she wasn't who he wanted, but he couldn't. Because part of him wanted her to keep going, wanted her to get him off, wanted someone to touch him because his boyfriend wasn't there to do it himself.

He thought maybe he murmured Jared's name as she sucked him off, but he couldn't be sure. He leaned back against the wall of the bathroom stall, breathing through his mouth, listening to the wet, determined noises of this cute, sweet, dedicated music fan sucking his cock, and he missed Jared so much it was like a hole opened in his chest.

And yet he didn't want to make this girl stop, even though he wasn't super responsive and she had to work to get him hard and make him come. He didn't care. He rested his hand on her head, moaned softly, pretended she was someone else. Any port in a storm, right? The seas had been very stormy of late, and he needed a rest.

He groaned in the back of his throat when he finally came, and after the girl had sucked him clean and folded him back into his jeans, she stood up and kissed him on the mouth. Maybe it was the touch of her lips, so clearly the mouth of a smaller person than Jared, so clearly a girl's lips, that finally snapped Jensen back to sense, because he pushed her away - trying to be gentle, because under other circumstances he thought he might really like her - and muttered that he was sorry, he had to go, he wasn't that guy, he had to get back to the motel.

She looked a little hurt and a little worried, and said she'd call a cab or she could give him a ride - where was the band staying? He insisted that no, he'd get a cab, he had a boyfriend, he wasn't.... She steered him to a bouncer at the front of the bar, told the guy to call a cab, and sat there and waited with Jensen until the cab showed up.

He was weirdly grateful, and apologized to her again before she made him get in the car and go.

He was a little surprised he didn't pass out in the cab, and when it got to the motel he couldn't remember what room they were in. The cabbie dropped him off, left him to his own devices, and Jensen called Chris for help.

Chris sounded grumpy and kinda pissed when he answered his phone - he'd been asleep - and Jensen apologized for waking him up and for forgetting what room they were in and for drinking so much and Chris told him to shut up, room 216, he'd be standing in the doorway so Jensen could find it.

And when Jensen finally did find the room, Chris leaning against the doorframe looking half-asleep, he apologized again and might have kept apologizing for every stupid, thoughtless thing he'd done since the tour started and probably even before then, but Chris just pushed him into the bathroom, told him to pee and brush his teeth and drink a lot of water, and then crawled into bed.

Once relieved and brushed and watered - well, relieved and watered, since he didn't think he could handle toothpaste right now - Jensen climbed into bed next to Chris, and told him "Chris - I fucked up. I really. Really. I fucked up."

And "You're drunk, Jen," Chris said. "Go to sleep."

But Jensen had to confess his sin, had to unburden his soul, had to share his monumental mistake, so he told Chris everything, his words running together, the events out of sequence but hopefully enough for Chris to know, really know, what exactly Jensen had done.

In the morning he was sick with hangover and exhaustion and self-disgust, and an hour after the van pulled away from the motel on the way to their next gig, he made Aly pull over - she was driving - so he could puke. He hated himself. He'd cheated on his boyfriend, had let a cute girl get him drunk and take advantage of him - but as soon as his brain started down that road it stopped, realizing that he hadn't been taken advantage of, he'd let it happen. He could've stopped the girl at any time, and he didn't. He let her go down on him. He wanted her to get him off.

And he had never, in his entire life, not even in his wild college years when he was newly sexually awakened and eager to see what was on offer, ever been that kind of person. His whole dating life he'd been faithful to his partners. He'd never gone with someone wishing they were someone else. And that was why he'd let her do what she did - because he was so damn lonely and missed Jared so damn much, he wanted her to be someone else. And if she couldn't be someone else, maybe he could still pretend.

The pretense had failed him but her mouth had not. And now he hated himself. And Chris was telling him not to say anything to Jared, and Aly was telling him to say something, and Gus was telling him not to go off with cute groupies unless he was prepared for them to ply him with beer so they could get him a dark corner and have their way with him.

Jensen could not get his act together at the show that night, still a little hungover and still kind of exhausted and still so disgusted with himself and worried about how Jared would react, and after the gig Chris pulled him aside and told him "Look, you're my best friend and I love you and I appreciate that you've got this relationship angst, but you fucking well better get your head together because we're not done and you're not leaving. You wanna be a professional, Jensen, act like one."

So Jensen tried. He pushed the cute girl to the back of his mind and concentrated on the songs and the stage and the audience, and a couple days later, when they'd finally finished the tour, he asked Gus - who wanted to drive the last leg - to drop him off at Jared's house instead of his own.

"You sure?" Gus asked.

"I'm sure," Jensen told him.

"Your call. Just tell me how to get there."

So Jensen gave him directions, and when the van pulled up in front of Jared's house and he got out, Chris handed him his bag, said they'd take care of his gear, and if Jensen didn't come home later, Chris would take that as a good sign.

Jensen walked down to Jeff's to borrow Jeff's spare key, as he and Jared had discussed, and he let himself into the house, said hi to the dogs - they both jumped on him and barked and licked his face and seemed to have really missed him - took a shower in Jared's bathroom, put on a different t-shirt and shorts, and lay down on Jared's bed. Sadie jumped on the bed right away, Harley following after, both of them turning in circles before lying down at Jensen's back.

He had no idea what he was going to say to Jared. He had no idea how to say it. He should have been kept awake by worry, but Jared's house was home to him now, as much as his own apartment was, and he fell asleep almost instantly and for the first time in two weeks, he slept hard and well.



words: 2059
total words: 51,496

Date: 2010-11-28 02:53 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] crotalus-atrox.livejournal.com
words: 2059
total words: 51,496


I know you're not done yet, BUT.

*confetti!* congrats. :D

Date: 2010-11-28 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] smackenzie.livejournal.com
it's exciting! thank you!

Date: 2010-11-28 04:02 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wrenlet.livejournal.com
Oh, Jensen :(

(I join S in the confetti-tossing, too, whoo!)

Date: 2010-11-28 11:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] smackenzie.livejournal.com
all this confetti, man. woot. :D

(yeah, poor jensen, tho.)

Date: 2010-11-28 05:20 pm (UTC)
fleurrochard: A black and white picture of a little girl playing air-guitar and singing (Default)
From: [personal profile] fleurrochard
OMG, Jensen, sweetie. :(

(Over 50,000 words! Yay!)

Date: 2010-11-28 11:07 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] smackenzie.livejournal.com
jensen: man, i suck.
jared: no, that girl sucked, that's the problem.
jensen: :p

(i actually did a happy dance. :D )

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