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 I'm Slowly Turning into You

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Jared used to go to school, years ago. He remembers it, even though the details are a little hazy. He remembers terrible blue blazers with gold embroidered insignia, and his family’s cook putting those chocolate gold coins in his lunch. He remembers uncomfortable shoes, spelling drills and the thrill of summer vacation.

But then he got sick. He doesn’t remember a lot of that; only the pale, drawn look on his mother’s face when she emerged from the doctor’s office one sunny, warm afternoon, and his parents’ heated and whispered fights behind closed doors. His mother doesn’t smile as much anymore, and Jared figures that’s somehow his fault.

The thing is, Jared’s never felt bad. The normal, run of the mill cold from time to time, a few bouts of the flu, but that’s it. Until now, anyway.

Jared sits in his study, idly spinning a pencil between his fingers. It’s a classroom built for one, with tall, bright windows that overlook the glassy pool and the primly manicured formal gardens beyond. No expense has been spared: a long, mahogany desk, two deeply cushioned Italian leather chairs—one for him and the other for his tutor—and a flat-screen television hidden behind a panel that opens with a push of a button. His father is a high and mighty foreign emissary and his mother impeccably plays the part of the aristocratic wife. If love can be measured in dollar signs, then Jared is more than adored.

A light sheen of sweat covers every inch of Jared’s body and he feels a little nauseated. He’d woken up this morning that way, with a dull itch under his skin and a strange, unaccountable ache deep down in his stomach. He’s got an outdated essay on kinship studies spread out on the table in front of him, but his attention is scattered and he can’t force himself to read more than three words at a time.

Following a brief, perfunctory knock, his tutor enters the room, a sheaf of papers beneath his arm and his nose stuck in an ever-present book. Jensen latches the door behind him then seems to miss a step, his papers falling to the floor, and that’s strange too. Jensen’s usually not clumsy.

Jared feels a flash, like the temperature in the room has suddenly jolted north twenty degrees, and a sort of tightness zips across his chest. Jared’s not stupid; he knows a cliché when he sees one, and particularly when he’s being one. It’s understandable, this schoolboy crush. He doesn’t have a lot of material to draw from. Jared’s world is a tiny thing since he got sick, restricted to an inner orbit of family and a small army of people who are paid to like him: drivers, housekeepers, cooks and, of course, his tutor.

Jensen bends slowly to pick up the papers, his pressed shirt stretching just right across the rounded muscles in his arms. He loosens his tie a fraction, head tipped back and his nostrils flaring, mouth falling open slightly as he takes a deep breath. He looks at Jared, and there’s something guarded, almost closed off about the expression on his face. Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, Jensen takes his seat opposite from Jared, the width of the table separating them, rather than pulling the chair over to sit beside him like he always does.

The air in the room is a dense thing and only grows worse when Jensen slides a composition book across the table. “Pop quiz,” he says, his voice deep, an unfamiliar, thick quality to it. “Write me an essay on Malinowski’s methods of participant observation.”

He pushes the chair into the corner of the room and crosses his legs. His tongue flickers out to moisten his fingers before turning to a new page in his book. For a moment Jared loses track of gravity; it seems like he’s plummeting, and he feels his dick start to thicken and press against the inseam of his pants. He shifts, shoves a palm to his crotch and tries to will it back down. He’s sixteen and almost anything can set him off, but this is a stretch even for him.

Jared narrows his eyes at the man across the room. Jensen’s the last in a long series of private teachers, and the best by far. He takes Jared’s hatred of busy work in stride, prefers open discussion to tests and rote memorization, and seems genuinely sympathetic to the claustrophobic nature of Jared’s life within these four walls. Best of all, he lets Jared be a teenaged kid, sneaking him comics between journal articles and mixing sci-fi and pulp mysteries in among the stacks of classics that Jared slogs through. He’s funny and engaging, and the fact that Jared thinks he’s hot as hell is another huge nod in his favor.

“I think I’m getting sick,” Jared says, and it earns him a sharp glance from Jensen.

“Do I need to call in your nurse?”

“No,” Jared says quickly. “It’s probably a stomach bug. I’m... just not quite right today.”

Jensen marks the place in his book and rises. He circles slowly to where Jared still sits. Closer now, Jared can smell him, the clean, citrus tang of Jensen’s soap and shampoo that Jared knows very well, only now there’s another scent underlying it, something dark and cloying. Jared sets his jaw and grips the edge of the table, fighting the almost undeniable urge to latch his mouth onto Jensen’s neck.

A shiver wracks through Jared when Jensen places his wrist to Jared’s forehead. Jared hisses through his teeth at the surprising shock of warmth that comes with Jensen’s skin against his. Jensen’s gaze flickers down to Jared’s lap, and he licks his lips, leaving them shiny and wet, opens his mouth like he’s about to say something then clicks his teeth shut with visible effort.

Spinning on his heel, Jensen dismisses him. “Go. Take a cold shower and lay down.”

Jared’s to the door in a flash, books and notebooks left forgotten on the desk. He’s almost out of the room when Jensen calls out to him.

“Don’t worry, Jared. You’re gonna be fine. It’ll pass.”

“What--” Jared starts to say, but Jensen waves him off and buries himself behind his book once more.

His shoes squeak on the polished wood floor as Jared flies toward his rooms, speeding around corners and dashing down hallways. He’s panting by the time he gets his bedroom door locked safely behind him. Throwing himself onto his bed, Jared shoves at his pants, wrapping his hand tight around his cock and jacking himself, quick and rough. He comes seconds later, two fingers sucked into his mouth and Jensen’s face planted stubbornly in his mind.


The day passes restlessly. Jared paces through his rooms, tries to listen to music, but the sound grates in his ears. Video games leave him feeling motion sick; he picks up books, only to put them down seconds later.

It’s well past midnight when Jared rouses from an uneasy doze. He must have gotten hot in his sleep. The covers have been torn from the bed and he’s taken off his t-shirt, leaving it looped around one wrist. His skin is clammy all over, and his hair is pasted to his skull. His pulse pounds in his ears and his cock throbs as it lays hard and flushed against his stomach.

Jared starts to sit up, intent on taking his third shower of the day, but then freezes. The sheet beneath him is soaking wet, the backs of his thighs drenched with something slicker than sweat.

He can smell himself, a scent close to spunk but not quite the same, and his stomach twists, panic starting to settle in. Jared reaches between his legs and further back, fingers sliding through the wetness between the cheeks of his ass. Hesitant, he presses a finger to his hole, gasping against the sensation that shoots through him, a deep down need to be full, some misfiring biological imperative that Jared doesn’t understand.

Jared closes his eyes and his mind keeps circling back to Jensen, to the way Jensen looked at him, the way he smelled, and Jensen’s puzzling last words. He slides from the bed, dodges furniture from memory and digs in a dresser drawer. His shorts stick uncomfortably to his ass, so he trades them out for a looser fitting pair. He starts to put on a fresh t-shirt, but the soft cotton scrapes against his over-sensitive skin and he skips it.

Fumbling in the dark, Jared locates his satellite phone, the screen offering a dim blue glow. His parents are half a world away, his father brokering some sort of trade agreement on behalf of the UN. His thumb hovers over the button for a few seconds, and then he tosses the phone onto his bed. There is only one person he can go to, and it’s not his father.

Jensen occupies a small apartment above the garage, and although he’s been part of the house staff for three years, Jared’s never been there. Now, as Jared pads silently through the hallways, he feels a pull that’s almost magnetic. A line of light seeps out from beneath Jensen’s door, and Jared can hear low music coming from Jensen’s quarters. Something mellow, jazzy.

Jared knocks quietly and the music softens.

“Not now, Jared.” It’s Jensen’s voice and it’s close, right on the other side of the door, the sound of it sending a rush through Jared’s nerves.

“Please,” Jared says. “I need...” He’s not sure where he’s going with it, not too sure exactly what it is that he’s trying to say. He flattens his palm to the surface of the door, as if he can somehow touch Jensen straight through it. “Please.”

A soft growl comes from Jensen’s throat. Jared hears the lock click and he all but tumbles into the room.

Jensen usually is the consummate professional, neatly groomed and dressed, never appearing in Jared’s study without a tie and perfectly arranged clothing. Here, though, the sight of Jensen is staggering. His hair stands up in sloppy spikes. Soft, worn jeans hang loose and low on his hips, bare feet below the frayed cuffs. The thin, sleeveless undershirt he’s wearing does nothing to hide the toned shape of his chest, and creeps up a fraction when he crosses his arms in front of himself, exposing a dusty line of hair trailing into the waistband of his pants.

“Holy fuck. Jared,” Jensen whispers. His mouth looks plush and swollen, his lips flushed red and his eyes are impossibly dark, half-lidded and heated. High spots of color bloom on his cheeks. The hard ridge of his cock is plainly visible, and Jared wants to touch it, bury his face between Jensen’s legs and never, ever come up for air.

The smell of Jensen in this small space is everywhere, thick, intense and almost too much, and Jared sways as another bout of want washes over him. He almost comes right there, completely untouched, a new flood of warm slick painting the insides of his thighs. His knees threaten to give out. Jensen’s gorgeous, beautiful, is everything in the world that Jared needs and wants and has to have. The final vestiges of rational thought start to slip away, replaced with the urgent need to just fuck and get fucked.

Jared begins to move on stiff legs. For every step forward that Jared takes, Jensen takes two back until he stops, back against the wall and nowhere to go but up. “Stop,” Jensen says, his voice a broken, torn up thing. Desire and heat radiates from Jensen in waves, one crashing right on top of the other. “You’re just a kid, you don’t know.”

“I know enough,” Jared tells him, and now he’s just a few feet from Jensen, almost close enough to touch. “I won’t tell anyone,” he pleads, “I promise. I swear.”

Jensen flings his hands out in front of him, palms open. “Stop,” he commands, a new timbre to his voice and Jared halts suddenly, rooted to the spot. Confusion breaks through the haze of lust in his head. He couldn’t take another step, not if his life depended on it. If the place was on fire, he’d have no choice but to burn right along with it. “Drop. Now.”

Immediately Jared complies, falling to his knees, his hands in a loose clasp in his lap and his head tipped slightly back, exposing his throat.

“You’re a Breeder. A fucking male Omega. They said you were a special case and that’s why you weren’t in school...” Jensen muses, but his eyes never leave Jared’s face and the heat in them doesn’t diminish. “I triggered you.”

Jared’s heard rumors, snatches of conversation that always cut off too quickly. His limited exposure to society has been the polite version, and there are some things that you just don’t talk about. A slow, dawning clarity starts to replace Jared’s confusion. “You’re a Knot,” he says.

“Alpha,” Jensen corrects him, and Jared’s dick grows even harder, hips shoving up at the sound of the word. “Rare,” Jensen continues. “Who needs Darwinism when you have eugenics?” He inches closer to Jared, his feet scuffing on the carpet.

“How?” Jared’s not sure what he’s asking, but Jensen seems to get the drift.

“Papers can be faked, Jared.” Jensen stops on a moan, shamelessly cupping his cock through his jeans and running his hand up and down. “Goddamnit, you smell good. I wanna--”

Jared whines, a strange, animalistic, needy sound shoving past his vocal chords.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Jensen says. “You’ll be tied to me.”

Jared’s mind screams yes and please and perfect perfect perfect, and what he says next comes as a surprise. “You’re the only one who’s never lied to me.”

It breaks something loose in Jensen, his breath whistling into his lungs with an audible gasp. “C’mere,” he orders and Jared leaps forward, not taking the time to stand and crawling toward Jensen on his hands and knees. He nuzzles at Jensen’s crotch, feeling the hard, hot length of Jensen’s cock against his cheek, licking at him through his jeans, and drawing in a huge, gasping breath of Jensen’s scent.

Above him, Jensen growls and takes a handful of Jared’s hair in his fist. He pulls Jared in close and holds him there, rubbing his cock against Jared’s open lips, filth spilling from his mouth. “You’re mine. Fucking mine. No one’s ever gonna touch you. No one’s gonna want to when I’m done with you. Gonna fill you up so hard you’ll feel me for days.”

It’s the tipping point. Jared’s untouched orgasm rips through him, violent and searing, and he leans heavily into Jensen, ruining the inside of his shorts and releasing his breath with a high-pitched sigh. Sensation zips through his body, his nerve endings on fire.

“Fuck,” Jensen curses and shoves at his shoulders, nearly tossing him. Jared’s back collides with the floor with a muted thunk. Jared struggles to sit up, and falls back down when Jensen points at him and says, “Stay.”

Mere feet separate them, but the distance is awful, a hollow emptiness creeping into Jared’s bones and settling in his stomach. Jensen towers over him, chest heaving. He rips his shirt over his head and kicks off his pants. Jared finds himself transfixed and licking his lips, glued to the sight of Jensen’s cock, huge and thick, wet and dripping pulses of precome from the tip, the skin at the base a little bunched but starting to swell. Jared’s head spins and he wants to get Jensen’s cock in his mouth, wants to lick and suck and swallow him right down.

Jensen sinks to his knees, fingertips skimming the floor, his muscles pulled tight, his back dipping and his stance predatory. “Last chance. God help me. This is it.”

Mutely, Jared reaches for him, almost sobs with relief as Jensen yanks his shorts off, then crawls up the length of him. Jensen shoves his legs apart with his body and works his open mouth along Jared’s skin, finally latching onto his nipple. He sucks on it, tongue a hot, rough swirl. He bites down hard, worries the small nub of flesh between his teeth and pulls at it. Jared arches into him, rubbing his cock off on the soft, feverish skin of Jensen’s belly.

The deep down ache in his gut skyrockets when Jensen kisses him, claims him with his tongue and lips, licking along Jared’s teeth and at the roof of his mouth. The taste of him is addictive, heady and sweet. Jared dimly realizes that this is his first kiss, the one that all others will be compared to, and he knows with certainty that nothing will ever match it. He fits his thumbs beneath Jensen’s jaw and opens wider for him, wanting Jensen deeper, wanting Jensen all over him, inside and out.

Jensen ruts against him, their chests sweaty and slippery, his cock nudging at Jared’s balls. He shoves a hand between them, ignores Jared’s cock and goes further back, fingers trailing along the soft skin behind Jared’s sac and seeking out his rim. The first touch sends a spiral of satisfaction straight down and into Jared’s core, and he whines, a breathy, keening sound.

“Fuck,” Jensen says. “You’re so wet. Fucking sloppy wet.” He teases at Jared’s hole, lets one fingertip barely breach the ring of muscle before backing out.

“It’s you,” Jared stammers. “Fuck. Christ. It’s for you.”

Jensen bites his neck, grinds his teeth into Jared’s skin, flattening his tongue against Jared’s pulse point. It’s painful and bruising and Jared never wants him to let go. Jensen sinks one finger easily into Jared, straight up to the knuckle, and Jared’s whole body trembles with it. Jared’s toes curl against the carpet and he rakes his nails along Jensen’ back, feeling the fluid shift of Jensen’s muscles beneath his hands.

Kissing and nipping his way back down Jared’s stomach, Jensen hooks Jared’s knees up and back, forcing his thighs tight against his ribs. “Hold ‘em,” he says. “Keep ‘em up.”

Jared follows the command, any sort of protest completely out of mind. Cool air hits the damp skin of his ass, goosebumps breaking out all over.

“So gorgeous, fucking perfect,” Jensen mutters, his teeth grazing the spot where Jared’s thigh meets his ass. Something rips out of Jared’s throat at the first touch of Jensen’s tongue to his hole. His scream is a weak thing; he can’t get a full breath, his thighs pressing to his chest too constricting. His cock leaks a steady stream onto his belly, and another orgasm slowly builds, drawing his balls up tight and close to his body. Jensen presses his thumb to Jared's rim, stretches and pulls, opening him up for his demanding tongue.

Glancing up from between Jared’s thighs, Jensen says, “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

Jared drops one of his legs, lets it fall in a wide splay and reaches down. He touches the flesh of his rim, already spread wide and swollen around Jensen’s fingers and tongue, and slips a finger inside, slides it in between Jensen’s.

With a harsh laugh, Jensen’s says, “Damn, Jared. I meant your dick.” His shiny, wet lips spread in a grin. “Fuck me, this works too.  Don't stop,” he says, fingers working even quicker. He dives down and licks a slow stripe along the underside of Jared’s cock, sucking at the head of it for a brief moment before swallowing him in.

Jared can feel the curve of the roof of Jensen’s mouth, the soft flesh of the inside of his cheeks, the hardness of his teeth and then he’s coming again, shooting down Jensen’s throat with his head thrown back and every muscle in his body pulled rigid. Jensen sucks him through it, Jared’s come spilling from the corners of his mouth and mixing with the wet mess that Jared’s already left on his chin.

Jensen rears up on his knees, brings Jared’s legs up to rest on his thighs. A flush covers his neck and chest, his cock arches obscenely against his stomach. “You’re so fucking--I gotta.” Jensen doesn’t complete the thought. Instead he uses Jared’s hips to pull Jared toward him. Jensen lines himself up and Jared blanks out with anticipation, covers Jensen’s hands with his own and holds on tight.

He yells Jensen’s name when Jensen enters him, just the smooth rounded head of Jensen’s cock slipping inside. Jared’s mouth falls open and his arms go lax to fall uselessly to his sides. In one long stroke, Jensen sinks into him, the slight bulge of his knot nudging against the outside of Jared’s rim. He pulls out slowly, eyes fixed on the spot where they’re connected, only to rock back in fast. It hurts a little, feels sudden and intrusive and so goddamn good. The greater force shoves Jared along the floor, the rough fiber of the carpet scratching at his back and sure to leave a burn.

Jensen thrusts into Jared twice more then stills. Jared blinks up at him, trying to clear his vision. It’s as if he’s staring at two people at the same time: the man that he’s spent hours everyday with over the last few years, normal and known and nonetheless gorgeous, only now he’s superimposed with another image, unfamiliar but flawless, almost aglow with warmth and adoration. Right then, Jared knows that this is it for him. Forever and ever, amen, Jensen is it for him.

Jensen presses his hand to Jared’s chest, right over his heart, a touch that is as branding as any of the other marks that he’s left on Jared’s skin. “Jared,” he says, his tone almost reverent. “God, kid. I. I never knew.” Jensen pulls him up by the neck and kisses him thoroughly, fucking and licking into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip. He thumbs at his jaw and runs his other hand up and down along the dip of Jared’s spine, before settling him back to the floor.

With a wince, Jensen pulls out, steering Jared onto his stomach. The emptiness is unbearable, and Jared’s hips hitch upward, his ass clenching and relaxing as he claws at the floor. “It’s your first time. It’ll be easier,” Jensen murmurs, canting Jared’s ass just so and lining himself up again. Jared breathes through the resistance, the burning when Jensen slams in hard. His hips connect with Jared’s ass in a stinging slap that makes his teeth click together, and Jensen sets a rhythm of deep, hard thrusts.

“That’s it,” Jensen encourages him, speeding up. “Open up for me, kid. You’re so fucking tight.” He blankets Jared’s body with his chest and sets his teeth to the back of Jared’s neck. The skin there tingles, and Jared knows another bruise will mark the spot soon enough. He pushes back to meet each of Jensen’s thrusts, in love with the way their balls slap together, and all the little gasping noises Jensen lets loose.

“Now,” Jensen says against the meat of Jared’s shoulder. “I’m gonna. Fuck.” Jensen rocks almost all the way out and slides right back in, deeper than before. Jared’s body opens up, stretching around the full length of Jensen’s cock. Jensen shudders and quakes, hips driving in with tiny bursts. The sensation of fullness increases tenfold as Jensen’s knot swells inside him, so huge and hard and filling him so completely that Jared thinks he can taste him in the back of his throat. Jensen starts to come, thick spurts painting his insides and spreading heat through every single one of Jared’s cells. It’s amazing, this feeling of being wanted and needed, and so so full. Jared never knew it could be this way. Nobody ever told him.

Jensen tips him, settles Jared on his side and curves his legs until they match up to Jared’s. The new angle triggers a spot deep inside of Jared, blazing white-hot and he shivers through it, his dick pulsing dry and weak as he squirms on Jensen’s cock and tries to urge him deeper. It’s impossible, Jensen’s already buried to the hilt. Thick come and Jared’s own slick drips in a slow trickle from where they’re joined, and Jensen’s body feels slippery with it at the contact points, his thighs and his lower stomach, as he slides them together in fits and starts.

The hectic, immediate need has moved on, replaced with a sort of low burn that thrums beneath the surface of Jared’s skin. Everything that is not Jensen feels very far away, the tangible, real universe of house and family existing in some other distant and unimportant orbit. The sole heir of the family fortune, now turned prodigal son.

“We can’t stay here,” Jared whispers.

“Don’t worry, Jared,” Jensen soothes him, brushing his stringy, damp hair off of his face. He rubs small circles on Jared’s skin, fingers spread wide and possessive on his lower belly. “The world’s a very big place. I’ll show you.”



Thank you for reading.