Work Text:
“What is this?” Jensen snapped out. The new guy didn't even get up, just rolled his chair around and sprawled his legs in a way that was almost obscene, not to mention disrespectful.
“What is what, sir?”
“This!” Jensen slapped the pile of case folders hard on Mr. – Padalecki, geez, what a mouthful – on Mr. Padalecki's desk. The guy had the temerity to shrug and drawl, “looks like the case files you wanted, Mr. Ackles.”
“Really.” Jensen smiled insincerely. God, he hated incompetency; his job was stressful enough without having to fix everyone else's stupid or lazy mistakes. That was why he made it a policy to always put new hires through the ringer these days. Jensen had learned the hard way that if you gave people an inch, they walked all over you. And then did it again for good measure. “How...interesting.” He said 'interesting' like it was code for 'moronic.' “Because as I recall, I asked for copies with all pertinent case information highlighted. I'd say that includes key descriptions in the witness affidavits, wouldn't you?”
“Yes,” Mr. Padalecki replied warily, stopping the incessant chair rolling. About damn time.
“Then how do you, as a supposedly qualified hire, justify leaving this crucial sentence completely ignored?”
“The witness' description of...her dog's nail polish.”
Jensen smiled silkily. “Need I remind you that even the most seemingly insignificant environmental details can prove crucial in the courtroom? This is not your local Starbucks, Mr. Padalecki. The quality of the work we do at this firm can mean the difference between rescue and ruin for our clients. I don't know what shoddy standards you got away with at your last employment, but I expect better.”
The man finally looked uncomfortable. Good. But not good enough. By the time Jensen was done with him, he'd be terrified to make so much as a punctuation error. “Do you understand me, Mr. Padalecki?”
The new hire's face went completely blank, but he answered “Yes, sir” politely enough.
Jensen narrowed his eyes suspiciously, in spite of the polite tone. Well, he'd find out soon enough if Mr. Padalecki couldn't hack it. “Hmm. I hope so. You can demonstrate your new-found understanding by reviewing the rest of the new case files for me by...oh, let's say lunchtime. But first,” he added, as Mr. Padalecki made to bolt towards the file room, “get me some fresh coffee. The last cup tasted like burnt rubber.” Then and only then did Jensen pivot on his heel and stalk back to his office. If he had to be noticed, he might as well do it with style.
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Jared slammed his apartment door closed and flung his keys into the side basket so hard it wobbled.
“God, what a fucking week!” he snarled. His new boss was the asshole to end all assholes. Even for a lawyer, the guy was a dick; Jared had spent the entire week on tenterhooks, thanks to being sniped at or lectured at every turn for insignificant non-errors, overloaded with petty chores, and generally treated like he was one step up from a crap-flinging monkey. No, more like one step below one. God, he desperately needed to unwind – preferably with a beautiful sub writhing under him. Now, where had he put that printout of the local BDSM clubs?
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~Hi Jensen, it's Dave from last Friday...Umm, listen – it was great chatting with you, and you're a really great guy, very smart. But I don't really think we clicked, you know? It's nothing personal; sometimes two people's...styles, just don't mesh. So, um, yeah, good luck with work and everything, and I guess I'll, uh, see you around. Bye.~
His phone cut over to the automated voice rattling out his save options, and he clicked the 'end call' button. Jensen stared morosely into his container of orange chicken. Dave was the latest failure in a distressingly long string of hookups that started fine, then seemed to crash and burn once they got to the bedroom. He knew what Dave had been polite enough not to say, because other, less diplomatic dates and boyfriends had told him to his face:
“You're like a fucking mannequin in bed.”
“Spanking? What am I, your dad?”
“You never take the initiative – why should I have to do all the work?”
“Oh god, you're not into all that wacko fetish shit, are you?”
So here he was, once again, sitting alone in his apartment eating Chinese takeout while torturing himself with yet another symbol of his flaming ruin of a sex life. He was sick of it – sick of dates treating him like 'bros' in the bedroom and looking at him like a circus freak when he asked them to tie him down. Probably doesn't help that I feel like a freak for wanting to ask.
And on top of that, there was the damned new hire at work. Jensen couldn't quite pin down what was driving him up the wall about this guy; he wasn't overtly disrespectful, and he got the work done. But Jensen felt tense and nervous every time he so much as saw Padalecki down the hallway.
He took a sip of his wine, then another sip, then chugged the whole glass and set it down with a thump. Fuck it. He'd had enough. Time to go out on a limb and actually visit the BDSM club he'd been waffling on trying out for the past few months.
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Ten seconds inside the club door and Jensen was practically reeling. It wasn't like he'd never been to clubs before, and there were usually even a few “fetishy” people hanging around in the average gay friendly scene. But this – Jensen seesawed between arousal and terror. Every last corner of the high ceilinged main hall was crammed with people clearly embracing their preferred role, whether it was take-no-prisoners dominant or fawning submissive. He caught snatches of conversation that was at once typical club fare and overwhelmingly foreign.
“Yeah, I prefer S and M too. My specialty is clamping, but I wouldn't mind whipping your ass either.”
“Oh God, she was amazing. I've never been so deep in my subspace before, it was like – transcendental, man.”
“Ooh, check out the hottie dom, ten o'clock! I'll lick his boots anytime he wants me to.”
In the midst of the writhing sea of bodies that covered the first floor, there were two raised, circular platforms spotlighted. On the nearest one, two men and a woman were kneeling, practically naked except for some very strategically placed leather bikinis and a loincloth, respectively. A man in head to toe leather stalked behind them with a crop in his hand, and from time to time his arm whipped out and struck one of the kneeling subs on their exposed backs. Jensen couldn't seem to stop his jaw from hanging open. It was one thing to read about this, another entirely to see it.
The second platform had a sort of scaffolding from which a blonde girl was suspended with heavy black ropes. The dominant controlling her bonds leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and Jensen saw her flush all the way from across the dance floor. It was terrifying. He was half hard already.
Jensen found himself wishing fervently that he hadn't been too in denial about this whole thing to do even some basic Google research, because he had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Go up to somebody dom-ish and flirt? Except that he hated having to do the chasing, and anyway wouldn't that be too forward for a, a...
Jesus Jensen, a submissive. If I can't even think it, how the hell am I supposed to do it?
He hitched his breath and pushed back against the wall, torn between wanting to giggle hysterically and wanting to turn tail and run. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, strobe punctuated lighting of the club proper, he noticed an adjoining hallway off to one side – maybe a quiet area? That sounded perfect – he could get a drink, actually sit down and talk with someone, figure out how this was all supposed to go.
The fact that leather fashion had gone mainstream meant that at least half of the so called subs in here didn't know the first thing about the lifestyle. He was here to blow off steam, not baby some newbie along. He skillfully wove his way over to the nearest bouncer. The guy looked him over carefully as he got within striking range. In response, Jared broke out an easy smile and politely made his inquiries.
“So I heard that you guys have some real play rooms here, and a separate bar for experienced players. Could you point me in the right direction?”
The bouncer nodded with equal politeness and pointed to the right and over Jared's shoulder. “Back right entryway, can't miss it. Just talk to Manny at the bar if you and your sub wanna room.”
“How are you so sure it's gonna be a sub? I could be a switch.” Jared raised an eyebrow. Sure, he was dominant through and through, but he didn't go for the typical “dom” wardrobe, other than his black leather jacket. A good leather jacket was something every man needed. The bouncer just smirked back.
“It's my job to know. Hope you find what you're looking for.”
“Me too.”
Holy fuck. Jared's jaw practically hit the floor in disbelief. Surely it couldn't be? But then the man tentatively looked down the length of the bar, and that side profile was unmistakable. His boss. Jensen fucking Ackles. Seated at a dom-sub bar and clearly green as grass, judging by the way he was eyeing the bar stools like they might jump up and bite him. He shouldn't talk to the guy, he really shouldn't. He was probably here by accident, and even if he was actually looking, the micromanaging asshole probably thought he was dominant. Yeah, he should give Mr. Ackles a wide berth, just find a nice sub for the night and pretend he never saw him.
Jared strode up to the bar and yelled out to the bartender, loud enough to make Mr. Ackles – Jensen – jump in startled surprise beside him, rattling his martini glass. He damn well wasn't gonna call the man Mr. anything off company time.
“Hey Matty! Grey Goose on the rocks, and another round for my friend here.”
Jensen gaped at him like his eyes were going to bug out of his head.
“You – what – what are - ” he spluttered weakly. Jared smiled slowly, his best eat-you-up shark smile, and his boss paled in a truly satisfying manner.
“Well, same as you, I imagine, looking for a little action on a Friday evening. I haven't seen you hear before...just how long have you been in the scene?”
Just as Jared had hoped, Jensen drew himself up haughtily and snatched up the gauntlet Jared had blatantly thrown down. “Long enough. Maybe you just don't get invited to the right circles, Mr. Padalecki.”
“Really?” He smirked. “Well, maybe so. This is the top BDSM club in the city, so our doms are a little more...discriminating. Don't worry. There's no shame in not quite making the cut.” Actually it was one of the only clubs in the city, but he doubted Jensen even knew that.
Jensen narrowed his eyes and clenched down on his glass in temper. “I'll have you know I'm a phenomenal sub,” he hissed.
Jared threw back his head and laughed mockingly. “You?!” he chortled. “The control freak who triple checks every last memo and wants his coffee to be exactly 110 Farenheit? You couldn't be a good sub if your life depended on it.”
“How dare you! Just because I have an ounce of pride in my work – you, I bet you're a terrible dom! I bet you couldn't get me off with two hands and a paddle!” Jensen was up in Jared's face, green eyes spitting flames. Just how Jared wanted him.
He tossed back the rest of his vodka and slammed down the glass. “You're on. Lead the way, oh peerless sub.”
Breathe Jensen, breathe. He's probably just as new as you are, the arrogant jerk. I mean, he's in jeans and a T-shirt! And okay, a really hot leather jacket, but still! Obviously bluffing. I'll just ride him out, put him in his place. Yeah.
“Hey Matty,” Jensen called out. See? He could play the bullshit Look-I-Know-the-Bartender card too. “Hook us up with a room, would you?”
“Sure thing. What kind of equipment do you two want?”
Shit.
Jared cut in silkily. “Oh, I think the works, if you've got them. A swing, St. Andrew's cross, a restraint chair, flogging tools, clamps, maybe some electroplay – we're gonna go all out tonight.”
Jensen gulped involuntarily and cursed himself once again for not doing a shred of fucking research. Denial was a bitch. Fine, so Mr. Padalecki knew how to Google, but he was still bluffing. He had to be bluffing, right?
Right. Chin up, Jensen. No one gets the better of you, not ever again. “Sounds perfect,” he replied frostily. The bartender smiled politely, unphased by the antagonistic atmosphere. He probably thought it was foreplay.
“All right then, gentlemen, one of the full service dungeons. If I could just get a credit card for the tab?”
Before Jensen could fish out his wallet, Jared snapped out a card and held it towards the bartender with two fingers, smooth as butter. When Jensen opened his mouth to bark that he didn't want Jared's money, the slick bastard cut him off with a quick, “I insist. Dom's prerogative.”
Jensen snapped his mouth shut testily. The asshole probably made that up too, but Jensen didn't want to risk it. He'd had enough work-related humiliation to last two lifetimes.
Manny took the card over to the till and swiped it, added it to the other held cards, and fished out a tagged key from a lockbox on the wall. “All set. Here you go; Dan can show you to the room.”
“That's not necessary,” Jared replied. “We know the way, right baby?”
Jensen flushed all the way to his hairline at being called baby. “Of course,” he choked out. Right, rooms, rooms, they'd probably be even further to the back, right? Jensen started walking slowly, trying to scan the surrounding architecture without looking like he was looking. Maybe that hallway to the left? But about halfway there a woman walked out from one of the doorways and Jensen caught a glimpse of a wash basin. Shit, restrooms then. So that left the set of stairs leading down and to the right, or the set going up and to the left. Fuck, fuck, shit. Dungeons would be, well, underground, right? He slowed almost to a standstill, then started when Jared's hand pressed up to the small of his back.
“Something wrong?” the man breathed into his ear.
“N-no, of course not,” he snapped. “Just enjoying the ambiance. But if you're in a hurry, lead the way, by all means.” Hah. Got you now, jackass. His sense of triumph was partially negated by the involuntary shiver that passed through his body as Jared slid his hand across his back, down his left arm, finally grasping his hand firmly.
“My pleasure.”
He strode forward so quickly Jensen stumbled forward from the yank to his hand and almost fell before catching up to his – partner? Maste – oh HELL no. No way I am calling him that. Jared confidently led them towards the set of stairs leading up, while Jensen gleefully anticipated ripping him a new one when it became clear that Jared had gone the wrong way. Right up until Jared stopped them at a door that clearly matched the number on their key. Bastard.
Jensen scowled at him. “Good guess.” Jared raised an eyebrow in a way that screamed condescending humor. “Oh, give me those,” he snapped, snatching the key from Jared and flinging the damn door open already.
“Oh!” He squeaked before he could stop himself. His eyes felt like they might just short out from massive sensory overload.
The room was...beyond Jensen's wildest dreams and nightmares both. Like a modern day reenactment room of the Spanish Inquisition, complete with whips, chains, racks, and – oh holy fuck, was that a body bag?! What the hell did someone do with that? Jared stepped up next to him and Jensen belatedly remembered that he was supposed to be familiar with all this shit. Not an inch, Jensen. Not one single inch.
Nah. No way he didn't do at least a little research. This is the guy who triple checks everything, even fucking dog grooming habits. It's probably just the gap between reading about the lifestyle and actually experiencing it up close and personal.
Still, Jared ought to check, just in case. He might think Ackles was a grade A dick, but regardless of how pissed off he was, Jared wasn't that kind of dom. The one who ignored little things like safety and putting the sub first. He had a fucking conscience, even if he was finding it annoying at the moment.
Panic fleetingly flashed in Jensen's eyes before he drew himself back up, thrusting his chin out in a way that Jared unwillingly found adorable. He looked determined and vulnerable all at once, a golden retriever puppy growling at a full grown mastiff.
“What are you, a waiter taking my fucking order? You're supposed to be running the show here, not me. Assuming, of course, that you have a tenth of the skill in domination that you claim. If your abysmal work performance is anything to judge by, I'm betting that's a 'no.'” He flicked at his shirt sleeve like just being near Jared had soiled it.
Jared actually growled, stepping forward involuntarily. “You fucking arrogant blowhard – ”
He cut himself off viciously, clamping down so hard on his tongue the skin nearly broke. Reckless, arrogant son of a bitch, prancing into a full-on hardcore scene with no fucking idea of safe play. That was how people ended up seriously injured or worse, because the dom was abusive or just because of sheer fucking miscommunication.
Jared decided to follow through with the idea almost the second it formed. It was probably gonna get him fired, maybe even sued, but no fucking way was he letting Jensen leave this room before teaching him a lesson on the importance of playing safe. He grinned ferally, grinned even wider when Jensen paled and leaned back slightly. So Jared was supposed to run the show, huh?
I'll give you a show all right. I'll give you the full-on IMAX 3D experience.
Now he just had to bait his trap before snapping it shut.
“You want a hard top, you got it. Strip. Now.”
“What happened to being a 'phenomenal sub?' Surely you can manage to follow a simple order.” He scoffed softly and starting walking towards the door. “Pity. I figured you were exaggerating, but I thought you'd at least be competent.”
Jensen saw red. No one called him incompetent. He'd rather die than be known as the ignorant fool ever again. He unlatched his belt and ripped it off, flinging it so hard it smacked the wall. That got Jared's attention. Hah.
He pivoted sharply and locked all his attention onto Jensen with a degree of intensity that was almost frightening. Jensen shivered and quickly started unbuttoning his shirt, rushing to finish his task.
“Stop.”
That voice. Jared had never used that voice at work. It was hard as granite, but electric somehow, driving sparks up and down Jensen's limbs in intoxicating waves. God, he didn't know what he'd do if Jared ever used that voice in the office. Because here and now, he suddenly wanted to obey – get down on his fucking knees and do anything, follow any order that implacable iron-edged voice gave to him.
Jared stepped closer. It was like he was north to Jensen's south, every step closer increasing the pull of his magnetic appeal. Jensen shivered again. He couldn't seem to stop.
“Good. Now start again, slowly.” Jensen resumed undoing buttons with trembling fingers, unconsciously asking with his eyes for Jared's approval. “Yes, that's perfect.” Perfect. Jensen flushed warmly at the praise and looked away. He finished unbuttoning his shirt, let it slip off his shoulders in a whispering caress of fabric, stripped off shoes and then socks. That left only his pants and briefs. Jensen straightened back up, rubbed his neck nervously, and traced down the crease of his stomach to start on his slacks.
He sucked in a breath at the feel of the zipper sliding down past his erect cock. Oh god, he was so damn hard. Jared could see everything. Getting undressed had never felt this dirty before, almost a sexual act in and of itself.
His pants puddled around his ankles, a puddle of black blending into the equally dark floor. He stepped out of them a little clumsily and reached for the elastic band of his boxer briefs.
“Wait.” Jared stepped close, close enough for Jensen to feel the heat of his broad body, and circled around until he was spooning up to Jensen from behind.
How had he never realized Jared was that large? He felt massive pressed up against Jensen's back, like he could trap the smaller man entirely in an all-consuming embrace, surround him and steal him away, never to be seen again. Like so many of the sensations created by Jared tonight, it was as tempting as it was frightening.
Well, I'm sure not being treated like a 'bro' now. He almost laughed at the thought, then gasped when strong, calloused hands covered his own where they lay poised at the waist of his underwear. “You seem a little off balance. I'll help you finish.”
Jared's head nearly cleared Jensen's own as the man looked down the front of Jensen's body. He guided Jensen's hands with his own and Jensen went with it bonelessly. He was turned on enough now that a wet patch was slowly growing around the crown of his dick where it pressed up against black stretched cotton. Double stacked fingers stroked up, then slipped back down, two sets of thumbs hooking under the waistband and pulling fabric outward to reveal his cock, swollen and dripping. Jared chuckled darkly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest. “My, my, my. I'm gonna have fun playing with this pretty thing. Now to finish unwrapping it, hmm?”
Jared bent him over as he guided both their hands down, leaving Jensen's ass thrust high and vulnerable against the hard line of Jared's cock.
“Feet up. Step out. Good boy. No – stay there.” Jared straightened off his back, stroked up his flanks and grabbed on to the bones of his hips, holding them steady. Cool air rushed in to replace the warmth of his body on Jensen's back, making him shiver yet again. God, he felt so exposed, hands on the floor and ass tilted up to the sky, like a lewd contortionist act.
He couldn't see anything but his feet and Jared's black boots, but it was easy to picture Jared behind him, staring down at Jensen's crack, tracing the curve of rounded cheeks, noticing the gradual reddening of soft skin along the transition from hole to ballsack to flushed hanging cock. He whined and jerked forward when Jared pried his cheeks apart, rudely exposing his hole even further.
Smack! “Hold still. I didn't say you could move.”
Oh God. The sting from his ass cheek flowed down to join the blood rushing to his head in a swirl of dizzying euphoria. Despite Jared's order, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold this position before he fell over. He almost jerked again when Jared's rough fingers rubbed down the sides of his hole, towards his almost painfully aroused groin. But those fingers bypassed Jensen's balls, just barely grazing past them, wrapping and smoothing along the insides of his thighs. It was gentle, almost soothing.
Then he twisted with his thumbs, so that the nails ground down into flesh, a bright point of near-pain. Jensen's thready inhale broke into a startled moan as Jared joined thumbnail to fingernail and the discomfort flared into a vicious pinching of delicate skin. His cock actually jumped, snapping against his belly wetly.
“Mmm. Nice.” Jared's dark voice registered hazily through the dizzying mix of pain and arousal. “I think you're warmed up enough for the real fun to begin.”
“Huh?” Jensen mumbled.
Smack! “Up!” Now his voice was whip-sharp, enough to cut through the fog. Jensen shot up and immediately swayed as blood drained back down. Jared spun him around to face him, exacerbating the disorientation. “Dizzy?”
“Yeah.” Everything was spinning. The only solid point was where Jared's arms held onto him, grounded him.
“Well then, let's just sit you down for a minute.” Jared pushed him down a little roughly. He vaguely registered his ass slapping down on a cold vinyl cushion, and Jared moving his feet up to brace against hard plastic. As the dizziness receded, his eyes refocused on his feet, and he realized they weren't just braced; they were actually strapped down.
“I – what are you – ”
“Shhh.” Jared pressed a finger softly to his lips. “Hush now. I'm running the show, remember?”
“But I – ”
The other man's eyes turned flat and mocking. “I knew you couldn't hack it.”
Jensen pressed his lips together and ignored the little voice in the back of his head telling him that letting an antagonistic underling strap him down was a really stupid idea. His pride and his sex life were at stake. He slapped his arms down on the chair sides. “What's taking you so long?” he sneered.
“That mouth of yours keeps getting in the way,” Jared snapped back. “But don't worry – I'm gonna fix that problem real soon.” Jensen managed to keep from replying, reminding himself that awesome subs probably didn't try to verbally castigate their tops. They probably didn't glare venomously at them either, but Jared was just so damn...something.
His ire faded as he sank deeper into the physical reality of being bound. Every small snick of another restraint latching closed ratcheted his pulse higher, until his heart was pounding against his ribcage like it was as trapped as his limbs. He couldn't say whether it was fear or excitement winning out. Then Jared, who had walked away after strapping down the final restraints, came back holding what was clearly a gag, and it felt like the simmering tension in his groin radiated outward to fill up his entire body. Excitement then, he thought in amazement.
Jared held the gag up inches from his face. “I'm going to stop up your smart mouth. What do you think of that?”
What do I think of it? Jensen cocked his head slowly, dreamily, staring at the gag like it was a hypnotic device. He wouldn't be able to speak, wouldn't be able to argue or demand or refuse. After struggling to fight his way back nonstop since his life had been upturned, defending himself at every corner, he'd finally be defenseless. Vulnerable.
Jensen silently opened his mouth wide and waited.
Maybe he simply imagined it, but Jared seemed taken aback for a moment, before he lowered Jensen's jaw a little further and gently pushed in the hard ball of black plastic, snapping the straps together behind his neck.
It was...awkward. The inside ball pressed down, filled his mouth and depressed his tongue, making it impossible to ignore even without trying to speak. He was also starting to drool, a little. He swallowed to get rid of it, but it was difficult with the ball filling his mouth, and spit started pooling back almost immediately.
“Damn baby, you look gorgeous like this, all bound and helpless.” Jensen shuddered and wondered if he might come from Jared's voice alone. Jared smiled and cupped his cheek. “Yeah, you love it, don't you? I can do anything to you right now.” He trailed down Jensen's throat, fingers whispering on to his chest, began toying with the straps of leather crossing over his sternum in a diagonal X pattern. “I could bring you to the edge and leave you there, for hours and hours, until you were praying for me to let you come. I could walk out of here and leave you for someone to find, a perfect stranger, the cleaning staff, anyone – just waltzing in here and seeing you all trussed up and on display. I could torture every sweet inch of your skin, clamp your nipples and smack your stiff little cock until you were sobbing and screaming into your gag.”
Jensen moaned and writhed deliriously behind his bonds. Yes. Helpless, so fucking helpless, and so turned on he could barely see straight. He might have been strapped down, but it almost felt like he was floating. Jared's laugh skipped across his fevered senses like stones bouncing across a pond.
“Jesus, you were made for this. Subby little slut.” He palmed Jensen's cheek and jawline softly, comfortingly, and Jensen leaned into his touch, drinking in the implied guidance and affection with a feeling of desperate relief that welled up out of nowhere, so intense that it took his breath away.
Jared's thumb rubbed up and down his face, then jerked away like it had been burned. Jensen blinked, startled, feeling chilled by the abrupt lack of contact. It felt like something integral had shifted, although he couldn't pin down what it might be. He almost asked Jared if anything was wrong, before remembering the gag in his mouth.
He was out of sight again, and Jensen waited nervously, having somehow lost that magical space he'd floated in earlier. Silence assaulted him from all sides, crept under his skin and bled through his veins, steadily leeching away his arousal. Without Jared's voice and actions guiding him, the fantasy was breaking down, leaving him trapped here and questioning. Had he done something wrong? Was Jared about to call him on it and humiliate him?
His increasingly frantic questioning was cut short by a disquieting snick and Jared's heavy footsteps approaching. He was coming up from behind, hidden from Jensen's view – and then he was there an inch from Jensen's face, along with -
Oh my God. Oh no no NO.
It was a switchblade, gleaming menacingly in the fluorescent lighting. Jared's eyes looked even colder than the sharp silver of the knife. He'd only seen eyes that cold once before.
Jensen swallowed back the bile threatening to crawl its way up his throat. It was Morgan all over again. He'd been foolish, trusted too easily, and now it was all going to come crashing down. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.
At least this time, he was the only one that would pay for his mistakes.
Jared watched Jensen hesitate scornfully. Maybe he wouldn't get to make a point after all, if Jensen was thinking better of his bald faced lying. Jared couldn't resist rubbing it in, mocking Jensen about 'competency' in exactly the same way the jerk had lectured him that afternoon. To his surprise, it worked like a verbal cattle prod, Jensen flinging his belt off furiously. So you can dish it out but you can't take it, hmm?
As hot as Jensen looked ripping off his clothes while spitting mad, now that Jared had him obeying it was time to take that obedience a step further. “Stop,” he barked out.
The results were gratifying, even though Jared knew he had a commanding presence when he wanted one. Jensen froze completely, staring at him like he'd never seen Jared until that moment. And in a way, he hadn't. You're gonna learn now, Mr. Ackles.
He stepped closer, pushing into Jensen's personal space, using his size and presence to dominate without words. One thing about his new boss had become clear to Jared after a week of nonstop interaction. Mr. Ackles was vicious with his mouth, but he didn't have any real mastery of nonverbal dominance. All his movements carried that hint of defensiveness that spoke of someone insecure in their authority.
That insecurity was blatant now; Jensen actually shivered when Jared ordered him to start again more slowly. Gorgeous. It was even more beautiful when Jensen actually looked up at him with beseeching wide eyes. He reassured him that his movements were perfect, and God, they really were. Halting, tremulous, like a hesitant virgin maiden in her bridal bed. Jesus, Jay, getting a little flowery, are we? He sternly reminded himself that it was his harpy of a boss that he was spouting mental sonnets about. Time to up the ante again.
“Wait.” He stopped Jensen from removing his briefs. Jared circled the man slowly, admiring his admittedly fantastic body: smooth, sleek musculature under pale skin, dusted with freckles and goosebumps. Not short by any means, but more compact than Jared. And well – Jared stopped short as he got a good look at the exquisitely rounded swell of Jensen's buttocks. Huh. The ass has a great ass. And damned if Jared wasn't going to look his fill, touch it too.
He pressed himself against Jensen, folded his arms around him. God, he loved being a big guy; it gave him that extra edge of dominance over his partners. He wondered if Jensen even realized he was relaxing back into Jared. Either way, Jared found it intoxicating, how naturally the guy handed over power. And damned if Jared wasn't going to take it all, and demand more.
“You seem off-balance,” he breathed into the shell of Jensen's right ear. “I'll help you finish.” Jensen followed his lead beautifully, and he got his first good look at the man's exposed cock.
It looked delicious, flushed dark and curving up so the tip winked at Jared enticingly. As he watched, another bead of precome welled up until it got large enough to break free and join the glistening trail already running down the skin of Jensen's shaft. It was a pretty picture, but even better was the way Jensen whined under his breath when Jared praised him lewdly.
Now to get a look at that ass pressing wantonly against him. He “helped” Jensen push his briefs down to his feet, then forced the man to stay there, bent almost double. Jared loved putting subs in this position. It had the double advantage of putting their assets on offer and causing disorientation because of the head position.
He let the anticipation build for a time, Jensen held in place and displayed for Jared's pleasure. But finally he couldn't hold himself back any longer. With a swift motion he spread those pert globes wide, revealing the puckered entrance between them. As expected, the sudden manhandling startled Jensen enough that he jerked, and Jared let go of one fleshy cheek to smack it sharply in punishment.
Normally he'd set out his rules beforehand, telling the sub what he expected from them and clearly listing behaviors that would earn punishment. He smothered the flare of guilt that rose up from denying Jensen any of that, drowning it out easily with the exhilaration of having just spanked the dick that had put him through a week of hell. So it's petty and irresponsible. Sue me.
It was also hot as hell. Especially when Jensen didn't make so much as a peep of protest, just shivered and took it, cock still hard and leaking. Oh yeah, he could work with that. Jared exposed Jensen's hole again, just to admire that tight pucker one more time. He would have loved to rudely shove his thumb inside, to expose Jensen even further to his scrutiny, but he refrained from crossing over that line into actually touching the man's genitals. He contented himself with grazing down those strong, smooth thighs, stopping to viciously pinch the sensitive skin that lay above the femoral arteries. Jensen's responding moan of pleasure almost had Jared moaning too; fierce arousal raced through his body, and he barely stopped himself from humping against Jensen's sweet ass.
Fuck, he had to end this before it got any more out of hand. He slapped Jensen's ass again and barked “Up!” angrily. Whether at himself or the other man, he couldn't even tell. He didn't give Jensen time to adjust, spun and shoved him into the restraint chair. Full bondage, all limbs strapped down and completely at his despised employee's mercy? That ought to be enough to scare the shit out of any BDSM virgin; if not, he'd break out the ball gag. Jensen had been surprisingly compliant, but there was no way in hell a man who used his words as sword and shield would be comfortable with blocking them.
It took a minute, but just as he'd hoped, Jensen balked once he'd realized Jared was strapping him down, letting out a stuttered “what are you doing?” And then, inexplicably, Jared ignored the opening Jensen's hesitation had just given him. He should have asked Jensen if he was uncomfortable, should have launched into a quick lecture on safe play and gotten the hell out of there before he dug himself any deeper.
But the other part of Jared's brain won out, the horny and vengeful dom that wanted this infuriating, enchanting sub strapped down and at his mercy. He antagonized Jensen, stung his pride in the way he had quickly learned the other man was incapable of not reacting to like a poked badger. Even suspecting Jensen's probable reaction didn't keep him from being a little astounded when it worked yet again. The guy must have a real pride issue...or he just wanted to be a submissive that much. Jared licked his lips unconsciously at the possibility.
Then he noticed that Jensen actually was sinking into the bondage scenario, clearly embracing it. Fuck. All right, guess it'll have to be the gag after all. That'll have to scare him. Right?
He strapped down the final restraint, a set of diagonal straps cross over Jensen's chest. The sub's eyes were fluttering open and shut, mouth open and slightly panting. He reached out to touch that nearly euphoric expression, before pivoting away sharply to fetch the gag. He grabbed it, paused, looking over the other equipment lining the back wall. Would Jensen enjoy more pain, the stinging pleasure of clamps and clips? Or would a blindfold work better at preserving that beatific pose, limbs relaxed and sunk down into the heavy leather straps, breast heaving with excitement?
He tore his eyes away and stalked back. Get a grip, you moron. Jared held the gag up inches from his face. “I'm going to stop up your smart mouth. What do you think of that?”
Far from shrinking away in fear, Jensen tilted his head dreamily, staring at the gag like it was the answer to every inscrutable question that plagued the world. And then he dropped his jaw in clear invitation.
Jared almost came right there. Such pure, unadorned submission – it was exquisite. I am in so much trouble.
Jared couldn't believe Jensen had just submitted like that to being gagged and bound, even with Jared's goading. It was a gorgeous dichotomy, seeing a man normally so combative and controlling just hand over the reins completely. The one fly in the ointment was that Jared was pretty sure it was the bonds and the excitement associated with the act that was making Jensen submit so sweetly; Jared momentarily wished fiercely that Jensen was submitting to him, responding to Jared alone, simply because he wanted to belong to Jared.
He almost snorted. What a ridiculous idea. Even if the guy wasn't a total dick, his boss had clearly hated Jared's guts from the moment he'd walked through the office door last Monday. Keep your head in the game, Jay.
Still, he couldn't resist telling Jensen how perfect he looked, lying there bound up, vulnerable to anything Jared wanted to do to him. Jensen soaked up his words like sunshine. Every dirty scenario Jared spun out seemed to drive him higher, until he was rubbing and writhing against his bonds in ways that made Jared seriously question whether his dick had ever been this hard before in his life.
This time, he couldn't keep himself from molding his palm over part of Jensen's blissed out face, make a physical connection to his mental ecstasy.
In response, Jensen nuzzled into his hand like he was sanctuary and salvation. The bliss had been one thing; now the other man's face was naked with a kind of abject relief so heartbreaking it was like a slap in the face.
For a stretched out measure that felt like eternity, he couldn't help but cling to Jensen's painfully needy features, pour out every last ounce of comfort he was capable of transmitting. Then the reality of who he was comforting crashed back through, and Jared couldn't snatch his hand away fast enough.
God, this was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. He didn't know if Jensen had a personality split or just that good at manipulating him, but there was no way this was the same utter asshole that had done everything short of actual beatings to make Jared's first week a miserable fucking experience. The heartless shark of a boss; the trembling, pleading supplicant. One of them was a lie. And by God, he was gonna fucking find out which, once and for all. He felt a little crazy and out of control as he searched the room's contents, hunting for something that would force an answer to the question burning through him, consuming him. Maybe Jensen had managed to drive him crazy in less than seven days. It had to be some sort of record. He scrubbed clammy hands across his pants, and the left one snagged on the rectangular bulk of his pocket knife.
His hand almost seemed to move of its own accord, pulling out the chunk of refined steel, casually flipping out the blade that was almost too large to be legal. Almost.
He had to know. He had to. Know.
It was like he blinked and he had moved somehow, a lost chunk of time. Now he was in front of Jensen again, that beautiful face, that engrossing lie. Then he actually looked at Jensen's eyes, and froze.
Betrayal, and fear. But more than anything else, overwhelming resignation, a fathomless well of knowing despair that made him want to slit his own damn throat for dredging up a look of such bleak suffering. Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, moisture brimming up at their edges.
He finished the last of the chair restraints and moved to unsnap the ball gag, but Jensen suddenly jerked to life, smacking his hands away violently. He ripped off the gag himself and stumbled out of the chair, hugging himself. “What the fuck?!” he choked out. “'Can't fucking do this?' What kind of bullshit is going on here? God, this was all a fucking set up, wasn't it?” His voice got progressively louder as he paced rapidly left and right. “Get the boss in a compromising position, use the evidence in a smear campaign? Well, you just try it – you'll find out I don't let anyone tear me down!”
Jared gaped at him. “What? No! Wha – I've been in this city for a grand total of two weeks, how the hell would I have magically guessed that you'd decide tonight was the night you were gonna explore new sexual horizons? Jesus, you're not just a dick, you're a paranoid dick too.”
“Fuck you!” Jensen exploded venomously, eyes wide with hurt. “You're the one who just pulled this whole bullshit 'I'm a bigtime dom' schtick.”
“I am a fucking dom!” Jared shot back.
“You didn't know that fucking bartender from Adam!”
“Of course I didn't, I've only been in the city two weeks! But I've been doing BDSM since I was nineteen! You – you just waltzed in here, clearly no fucking idea what you were doing, and then you were stupid enough to let a guy you hardly know strap you down without so much as a fucking safeword – ”
“Oh that's rich, considering you were the one doing the strapping!”
“I was trying to make a fucking point! Except I should never, never have scared a sub like that, even when it's my dick of a boss who gets his kicks pissing on his underlings – ”
“I do not – you think I'm hard on you for fun? For shits and giggles? I did the nice boss shit once upon a time.” Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't seem to even notice it, or the fact that he was still completely naked. “I was the understanding colleague, the 'let me help you' guy, and you know what happened?! I got screwed over!”
And Jared couldn't help it; he felt like strangling the man again. It was getting to be a disturbingly regular feeling. “You've got to be fucking kidding me! You piss on everyone around you because you got passed over for promotion or something?!”
“What?! You son of a – no, I didn't get passed over for a promotion; my partner was blackmailing clients, and when the FBI starting nosing in on him, he tried to frame me for it!”
Jared deflated abruptly. “What?” he said in a shocked voice.
Jensen froze, mouth dropping open like he couldn't believe what he'd just let slip. “Oh God...you...don't you dare...you can't say anything,” he started babbling frantically. “Please, you can't, you just can't – ”
“Jensen!” Jared grabbed the other man as gently as he could, just enough to hold him still. He tried to inject every last ounce of sincerity he had into his voice. “I won't. I swear, okay? I swear to you. Not a word.” He held his breath as Jensen stared at him with darting, panicked eyes. Finally, when Jared was starting to feel a little light-headed, the other man seemed to accept his reassurance for truth. He drew himself up and nodded shortly.
“Of course you won't,” he declared coolly. It was pretty convincing except for the slight tremor that ran through Jensen's body, marring the illusion of togetherness. God, he hated that fucking mask. He tried not to show it to Jensen, though, tried not to show anything except compassion with his next words.
“Of course not,” he echoed. “But, would you like to tell me about it? It's okay if you don't,” he tacked on hastily as Jensen's eyes started taking on a panicked cast again. “I don't want to force you into anything; I've done enough damage already there,” he added bitterly. “But...if you ever want to – God that's stupid, why the hell would you wanna talk to the guy you can't stand, that just threatened you with a fucking knife, no less – ”
“Jared.” Soft fingers stopped his own self-recriminating. “I don't hate you,” Jensen said earnestly. “I just – I think I need to sit down.”
“Yeah! Yeah, sure. Here, do you – ” he hastily grabbed up the pile of Jensen's discarded clothing and proffered it.
“Right, thanks.” Jensen blushed deeply. He pulled on his pants and undershirt mechanically, leaving the rest in favor of sliding his back down the closest wall until he was sitting against it, wrapping arms around his knees with a sigh.
Jared slid down next to him – closer than he'd meant to, but Jensen didn't seem to mind, turning his body toward Jared a little. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Almost getting words out, then choking them back. Finally, he looked straight at Jared, beseeching with his eyes again. Jared had a feeling he'd be willing to scale mountains every time Jensen gave him that look. He offered his hand, laying it on the floor between them, and after a pause Jensen grabbed it tightly.
“So your partner was blackmailing clients?” he prompted softly.
Jensen's lips thinned. “Yeah, the senior partner I assisted. Jeffrey Morgan, former founder and head of Morgan and Sons. He – I'm pretty sure now that the only reason I made junior partner was so that he could make me into his fall guy. When the FBI investigation really got underway, there were planted phone calls, doctored timestamps for emails and keycard swipes...”
“Jesus,” Jared swore. Jensen just smiled sickly and continued.
“He arranged it so a shitload of circumstantial evidence matched up with my schedule. Combined that with paying off a couple of his victims to identify me as their blackmailer...well, the only reason I'm not rotting in jail is that I started taking a yoga class and didn't tell him about it. When the Feds found that discrepancy, the rest of it eventually got unraveled.” He laughed shortly. “Amazing, isn't it? Recreational hobbies saved me from a felony.”
Jared frowned. “I'd hope a fucking group of Federal investigators would have figured it out anyway.”
“Maybe.”
“How long ago was this anyway?”
“One year, ten months since the charges against me were dropped.”
“Huh,” was all the comment Jared made aloud, but inside he was thinking that he would have guessed a lot sooner, based on how much it clearly still affected Jensen. “So you decided to make a fresh start?”
“Didn't have a choice, really. The other senior partners cut me loose as fast as they could sign the forms.” He pushed his head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “They explained that since I was known by our clients as Mr. Morgan's assistant, my presence would be a liability in restoring client trust with the firm. Also that my 'evident lack of awareness' regarding Mr. Morgan's activities demonstrated a 'woeful lack of observational diligence,' and they couldn't help feeling that it reflected poorly on my ability to investigate cases with the standard of thoroughness required for a firm of their stature.”
Jared bit back his comment about embarrassed old farts looking for scapegoats, because he was more disturbed by Jensen's tone as he had recited some of those bullshit explanations. “Jensen, they were full of shit. You know that, right? You couldn't have known the guy you worked for was a scumbag.”
“Yes I should have!” Jensen hissed furiously. “I should have seen what was happening right under my damn nose!”
“Jensen– ”
“No Jared! Every client he hurt, every time he extorted someone else on my watch – it was my job to protect those people, to give them justice, and I failed them. I can't fail someone like that again; I just can't.”
Jared fell silent, trying to gather some sort of argument that might get through the pile of guilt that Jensen had so clearly been heaping upon himself for nearly two years. Yeah, that's not a tall order. Not at all.
“Jensen, you can't shoulder all the blame for crimes your partner chose to commit. You're a lawyer, not a god. I'll grant you, some of the guys in this business sure walk around like they're the Second Coming...”
Jensen ignored the feeble joke. “I'm not blaming myself for what he did; I'm saying I could have done better, been better. And anyway, pushing all the responsibility on the criminal is an argument that abdicates any personal responsibility – I always thought that was a shitty way to excuse yourself for being apathetic about helping others.”
Jared ground his teeth in frustration. This would be so much easier if Jensen didn't argue for a living. “You're talking about things like ignoring the homeless guy who sleeps on your doorstop, not an experienced con artist who had years of practice at both lying and covering his tracks.”
“But as a practitioner of criminal law who habitually researches cases and interviews witnesses involved in criminal activities I should have been familiar enough with the indicative signs to pick something up – ”
“When nobody else in the firm did either? Even people who knew him a lot longer than you did?”
Jensen plowed on stubbornly. “I was his assistant – ”
“And you trusted him,” Jared interjected softly. That was the real issue.
Jensen's face twisted in agony. “I shouldn't have. I should have – ”
“Should have what? Had no real friends? No one to lean on, to care about?”
“No, damn it! Of course that's not what I'm saying! It's just...just...” Jensen trailed off uncertainly. Maybe he was starting to break through, a first crack in the dam. He shifted his position so he was turned more toward Jensen.
“It's just that it ends up being the same thing. You have to trust in other people at some point, Jensen, even if it occasionally bites you in the ass. It's part of having faith in people, in humanity as a whole.”
Jensen scowled at him. “You really need to lay off the Doctor Phil reruns.”
Jared raised his eyebrows. “So you're saying you don't have trust issues?”
“Leading question.”
“We're not in the courtroom, and evasive non-answer.”
“I trusted you to strap me down in a neo-gothic examiner's chair, didn't I?”
“More like you were desperate enough to risk it. And at work you don't trust your workers enough to file a case in alphabetical order. That doesn't seem at all excessive to you?”
Jensen gaped at Jared, fumbling for words in a way that was appalling given his profession. “That's not...I've been trying to...that is...” He trailed off lamely, unable to ignore the images his stupid, contrary brain was now spitting back at him, of a million and one nitpicking, petty tasks and cutting remarks that had seemed logical and necessary at the time, but now played an awful lot like an extended session of college hazing.
“...well, fuck. Fuck,” he whispered, hiding his crumpling face in his hands. “I tried, I really tried, but I'm screwing this up too, aren't I?”
“Oh for crying out – com'ere.” Jared pulled him into the cradle of his arms, and he sagged into the other man's body, clutching at him desperately. “You're not a failure, okay? You're an incredible guy who suffered an awful betrayal and survived it. The way I see it, the only thing you're 'guilty' of, if you even want to call it that, is thinking that you had to deal with this alone. Wasn't there anyone you felt you could talk to?”
Jensen tensed up at that last question, cold thoughts of how alone he really was negating some of the warm comfort of being in Jared's embrace. Jared must have picked up on it, though, because there was barely a pause before he spoke again.
“No – never mind that. It doesn't matter, because you can talk to me, okay? I know I haven't really shown it tonight, but...I would never hurt you Jensen.”
There it was again – that weightless feeling, floating while being held close. He couldn't articulate why he believed Jared, and didn't bother trying, because for the first time since the investigation had started and his life had gone cockeyed, he felt safe. Supported. He smiled into Jared's neck. “Except if I want you to, maybe?”
Jared pulled his head back so he could see Jensen's face. “You...” He swallowed and bit his lip uncertainly. It was a really cute look on him. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
Jensen gathered up his courage and nodded flirtatiously. “Why not? See, I'm kinda new to this whole whips and chains thing. Maybe you could show me the ropes...”
He nipped at Jared's jaw.
“And the cuffs...” Slid his hands up through messy brown hair. “And the collars – ”
“Jesus fuck,” Jared ground out fervently. He palmed Jensen's ass, kneading the muscles possessively. “So you want some training, do you?”
“If you think you can handle it,” Jensen couldn't resist throwing out.
Jared's eyes flared. He yanked Jensen up off the floor, trapping his arms behind his back. Jensen shivered in delight.
“I guess we'll just have to go find out.”
Jensen could hardly wait.
Six Months Later...Monday
“...and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. Welcome to the firm, Ms. Evans.”
“Mr. Padalecki!” A deep voice barked out across the office floor, making Melitta Evans jump in her ergonomic chair. Mr. Padalecki craned his neck towards a irritated looking man leaning on the doorframe of his office – wait, wasn't that Mr. Ackles, the lead attorney for their branch?
“Oops – gotta go, the esteemed boss is calling.” He smiled warmly at Melitta. “Good luck on your first day.”
“Now, Mr. Padalecki, not after you've finished whatever water cooler drivel you're distracting the new hire with. And lock the door behind you – we have some issues to discuss,” he finished ominously. With a hurried goodbye, Mr. Padalecki – wow, he really was tall – rushed over to the corner office. Poor guy.
Thirty-some minutes later, Melitta had a time-sensitive document that needed to be authorized by Mr. Ackles and the door was still closed. Geez, what in the world could Mr. Padalecki have done to warrant a half hour reaming? She leaned an ear up to the door, trying to gauge whether it was safe to interrupt.
“Please...please, sir, no more, I'm begging you!”
She jerked back from the door like it had bit her. Oh my God, was Mr. Ackles abusing an employee? She reached for the door handle, about to barge in and leap to Mr. Padalecki's defense, before it dawned on her. That hadn't been Mr. Padalecki's voice. What in the world was going on here? She gave a quick glance to make sure no one was looking at her, and put her ear to the door again.
“ – don't think you really deserve it Jensen, not after sassing me like that. And we haven't even finished your punishment. Remind me: how many hits are left?”
“t-twelve...”
“That's right...I'm going to give you a choice, Jenny-boy. You can come now, but if you do, you don't get to come tonight. Which do you want?”
“hngghh...oh God...tonight?”
“Mmm, good choice. Now, back to your punishment.”
Smack!
“Ms. Evans?”
Melitta let out a stifled shriek and almost dropped her file folder. Mr. Gerhart, a paralegal she'd been introduced to earlier, looked at her strangely. “Do you need something?”
“I – ah, I have a document for Mr. Ackles to sign. Time-sensitive, I mean, so I – that's why – yes.”
“Ah. I wouldn't recommend interrupting – he's mellowed a great deal in the past few months, but Mr. Ackles is still very strict about certain protocols, not being interrupted among them. Send him a red-flagged email about it, and he should respond promptly.”
“Right. Thank you,” she responded faintly, and walked over to her desk on somewhat unsteady knees. Mr. Ackles...and Mr. Padalecki...and right in the office? It was unethical. It was inappropriate. Her clit was throbbing. After she sent off this email, maybe she could sneak off for a 'bathroom break.'
END...for now