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The first time that Jared officially meets Jensen it is as Jensen crashes Jared’s face into the floor. There’s a gun in the base of Jared’s spine a second later and he’s panting and out of breath already as the man on his back growls out a very simple, “Don’t. Move.”
Jared doesn’t move. He has rules after all, and this is one of them. The biggest one really. He knows that voice. After all, they come out of the same regional office. That’s Jensen Ackles, new Special Agent in Charge, although he doesn’t really have anything to do with Jared’s department. Jensen Ackles who is a big white knight, a known hero, a man who has been in the field since he graduated early from the academy. A shining example. Jared has never even considered being such a thing, but he’s always admired the man for his purity. It's kind of Jared’s thing really.
Then he is immediately faced with his other thing when Jensen claps the cuffs on. Jared’s shoulders pull back tight and he feels the cramp and burn of his muscles. The way his forearms go taught as he reflexively curls his hands into fists. The hard weight of Jensen has him face down and the carpet rubs unpleasantly against his cheek before Jensen stands and pulls Jared up with an arm hooked under his armpit. Jensen marches him down the hall back to Jared’s kitchen where Jared is pushed down into a chair and then Jensen hooks the one across in a maneuver so smooth and clean that Jared is instantly jealous. He’s also entranced.
“You know who I am?” Jensen holds perfect, steady eye contact.
“Special Agent in Charge Jensen Ackles.” Jared says it the way teenage girls mention their K-Pop bias. The embarrassment is lost on him. It’s not a thing he’s ever managed to feel.
“I know who you are too. You’re Jared Padalecki, part of the Cyber Action Team. You’re actually the best agent there, or so your department head swears. Says that you’re the most reliable, the fastest, and generally just an all-around great guy. Except you’re not are you?” Jensen leans in, face engaging, kind, considerate. It is obvious that he is just a great guy. That he wants to talk to Jared. And Jared wants to talk to him.
“I think I’m reliable, fast, and generally an all-around great guy.” Jared smiles, big and bright, and for once it’s not entirely a fake thing that he has adapted to using in public. He finds this man fascinating, from his sparkling teeth to his scuffed boots. That tie that’s so perfectly knotted despite the scuffle and the hands that are calloused while the nails are perfectly clean.
“You murder people.” Jensen’s voice is so dry that Jared thinks he should quench that thirst for the man.
“Sir, what would make you think that?” It’s cheeky, not a thing he’s used to doing either, but there’s something about this guy that hits the three buttons Jared has all at once.
Jensen growls in response. “Ok, look, I am not playing around. I am not making a joke. I am, very specifically, here to drag you in. I’m not going to play around and do little mind games with you. I have you. Dead to rights.”
“You don’t. If you did I would know about it. There’s nothing being put together on me in the system.” Jared leans forward as much as he can. “Has anyone ever told you that you would make the greatest dom in the fucking world?”
His boss looks legitimately scandalized. “Are you serious? I’m arresting you and you’re hitting on me?”
“What makes you think I want a dom?” Jared licks his lips, holding that eye contact, never letting it waver. “And I am always serious. I don’t have a huge sense of humor.”
“Padalecki. I am telling you that I’m arresting you.”
“I’m telling you that you’re not. You’ve come here on a lark, maybe with a mountain of evidence sitting in your house that you didn’t think would be enough to show to our colleagues, and so you’re here pushing to see if I’ll admit to something. But you overplayed your hand, because part of my division’s job is to watch to make sure that nothing sketchy is going on internally. And I’m on you duty cause I’m the best in the department.” Jared smiles again, big and bright, and then pushes himself up so he can get right in Jensen’s beautiful face. “But maybe you could beat a confession out of me, officer.”
Jensen grabs the front of his shirt. “I don’t fuck murderers.” And Jared can tell from the twitch in Jensen’s jaw that he didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s obvious that he did and he can’t take it back.
“Well, it’s good then, because I’m not a murderer.” Jared can’t believe what he’s doing. He’s never been out of control before. Right now though he feels like he’s never been in control either and that makes him hard as a fucking rock. He kisses Jensen. A brief gasp, a pull back from Jensen, Jared practically dislocating his shoulders to move with Jensen, and then Jensen wrapping his fingers in Jared’s hair and holding him in a painful kiss.
They keep at that for a long time, long enough that Jared loses all feeling in his fingertips, and then Jensen lets go and Jared crashes, off balance, into the table and then into the floor. He’s smiling the whole way as Jensen’s face lights up in horror and he tries to lunge forward and catch Jared. They just miss each other and then Jared’s head hits the floor so hard that he sees stars.
Several dizzy moments later Jensen has Jared leaning against the counter and his hands are uncuffed while Jensen checks his pupils and asks questions. Jared tries his best. He really does. Eventually though he just can’t help himself. He holds both hands up and gently whispers to Jensen, “You should put the cuffs back on.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you right now?” Jensen looks like he really wants to know.
“I’m sorry, you’re just so good looking, and I just really like being bound.”
Jensen flexes that jaw, that perfect jaw, and then he clips one handcuff back on. “You want me to bind you, but you think that I’m here incorrectly?”
“I don’t know what you’re not getting here, sir.” He rolls the r on his tongue and then licks his upper lip. “But I don’t just want it, I’d love it if you did.”
Jensen opens his mouth, closes it, and then cuffs Jared’s hands in front of him. “Fine. Which one’s your bedroom?”
The lottery has rolled right into Jared’s house and given him a winning ticket. Jared lets himself be pulled up again and he leads Jensen down the hallway and to his bedroom. Jensen pulls him to the bed, tosses him face down on it, and then transfers the cuffs so Jared’s arms are stretched out and he’s pinned to the bed’s legs and held face down on the comforter. Jared is practically purring, right up until Jensen leaves the room.
It’s been a long time, long enough that Jared is starting to wonder if Jensen is even coming back. He doesn’t like the feeling. Doubt? Is it doubt that he’s feeling right now? Jared has always lived a life in a world of black and white. He’s always known what is the right way and what is the wrong way for him to move forward. He chose to be a killer, he chose to do this, and he chose to put himself in the FBI to do it easier. Now he’s reaping the consequences of those actions, and that’s fine he always thought he would, but he didn’t think that it would be this blue-balling.
Finally Jensen is back. He has this look in his eyes, a look that Jared can’t read, but he also has Jared’s mural. Jared’s work of art. The pieces of it are so small, but the size of the canvas is so large. There was a lot of work to do still to finish it. But it’s ok that this is how it ends, because Jensen is figuring this out and it’s even sexier than when he first hand-cuffed Jared. The man is gorgeous, strong, and fucking smart. Where the hell did he come from?
“Are you human? I don’t think you’re human.”
Jensen sits down on the floor, making himself eye level with Jared. They hold that eye contact until Jensen finally breaks the heavy silence. “Is that why you kill them? Because they’re not human?” He puts the mural up so that Jared can see it. And as smart and sly as Jared is he can’t help but move his eyes over to the canvas briefly before back to Jensen. After all, Jared is mentally ill. He has a psychosis and this is his obsession.
“No. They are definitely human.” Jared watches as Jensen uncuffs Jared’s closest hand and then pulls his weapon and puts it on the covers next to Jared. He sits back and becomes perfectly still. An animal hunting prey.
“Then kill me.”
Surprised. He’s surprised. “Are you suicidal?”
“No. I’m giving you a chance.” Jensen folds his hands on top of each other, further limiting his reaction ability. “You should take it.”
Jared gently lifts the gun, leans as far as he can pulling on shoulder muscles that are now straight agony, and then puts the gun on the floor before pulling back to stretch and rotate his free arm. “I won’t. You’re not my type. For that, anyway.”
“What is your type?” Jensen’s eyes are hooded, now he is a snake coming for a mouse. Jared has never felt this small. His cock is rock hard and leaking again.
“I kill pieces of shit. Didn’t you figure that out by now? I kill pieces of shit that you can’t catch. I’m like your personal janitor.” Jared smiles wryly, not able to fully ape the look most people have. There’s a bitterness in his heart because nothing is going the way he wants it to right now. Because he is not confident, and that is not his normal mode.
“That’s right. You do.” Jensen reaches over, never looking away, and manages to put his finger right onto an image in the bottom left-hand corner. It’s a series of hands, layered on top of each other, made of different hues and mediums. He keeps his finger there for a long time before he speaks again. “Do you know who this was?”
Jared does. He knows every one of those images. He was compelled to make them after all. “Mabel Taffington. She ran a foster home, but she had a pretty high number of runaways. She was active taking their hands for fifteen years before someone escaped and she was caught and taken to jail. But the jury didn’t believe that a sweet old lady would kill kids for kicks so she walked and they couldn’t try her again. So I took her hands and left her to bleed to death in her own basement.” It occurs to him far too late to ask. “Why is that the one you’re pointing at?”
“What did you learn about the victims?” Jared’s eyebrows lift up high. Jensen goes further. “When you were hunting her, did you look into the kids or did you take the kids as fact and hunt her from there?”
“I took the kids at their word. I read the interview transcripts with the victim that got away. I didn’t need anything else to start hunting into her data and getting secrets her lawyers were holding back.” Jared watches as Jensen leans forward, snags the dangling cuff, and pulls Jared’s arm back as he moves from the floor. He gets up on the mattress, knees on either side of Jared’s body, and then uncuffs his other wrist and pulls them back together behind Jared’s back.
“You’re going to do two things. You’re going to keep your face on the bed and your mouth shut. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you. You make one noise and I’ll delay your orgasm three times. Every noise after that is another three. If you understand squeeze my hand.” Jared squeezes, gritting his teeth and preparing himself for what comes next.
Jensen disappears for a moment, then comes back and rips Jared’s pants down his body and off. His underwear isn’t pulled off it is ripped in two baring Jared’s ass to the air and pulling roughly at his hard dick. There’s the first noise he works not to make.
From there Jensen lifts Jared’s hips up so that his ass is in the air and then spreads Jared’s knees by slapping each thigh one after the other. Then Jensen disappears again before appearing in front of Jared’s head. He has shed his pants and shoes at some point, the fucking wizard, and he sits down and pulls his cock out from his underwear. He turns Jared’s head, tilts it back so far with Jared’s cheek against the comforter, and then opens Jared’s mouth. “Be good, don’t move.”
It takes every inch of muscle that Jared has honed to be a hunter to hold himself back from doing anything when Jensen’s thick cock slides into his mouth. Jensen is big, makes the skin gently scrape against Jared’s teeth because he hasn’t moved, and Jared is not ashamed that he is a size queen. Again, not a feeling he’s ever managed.
Jensen’s fingers wrap into Jared’s hair and he slides Jared’s face along the comforter pulling him closer and then dragging him away, working his big cock down Jared’s throat until Jared is choking as silent as he possibly can. Tears run down, and then Jensen is deep in his throat and he pinches Jared’s nose shut. Jared waits, waits longer, and then starts to actively fight the reflex to buck and get air again. He looks desperately up at Jensen and then Jensen releases his nose and pulls his cock out of Jared’s mouth.
Jensen disappears again, shows back up swirling fingers into Jared’s asshole, little gentleness on display as he stretches Jared just enough to take a regular sized man. But Jensen ain’t regular sized. The big dick head presses against Jared’s asshole, and then Jensen says, “You need it, you tap out.” And then he slams his dick into Jared and Jared opens his mouth on a silent scream.
He hasn’t been refused the right to come, which is great, but Jared isn’t ready so he pulls himself back at the last second. He is gasping, hard, sure that it doesn’t count as a noise since Jensen doesn’t say anything and just keeps fucking him. His beat is hard and steady, filling Jared up over and over again, until he grabs Jared’s wrists and pulls back on his screaming shoulders to sink Jared down further on his dick, and Jared lets out a cry of joy.
“That’s three.” Jensen twists his hips and reaches down to stroke Jared’s cock. He feels it, building, building based off of Jensen’s pure will, and then just as it’s about to crest Jensen pulls out of his ass and lets go of his cock and Jared is left gasping air from two holes and stuck right at the edge of the cliff. Jensen waits, waits, until Jared is breathing calmer, and then he grabs Jared’s hips and sinks right back into him. It’s too fucking much and Jared is worried he’ll get right there again but Jensen moves so slow now that Jared can’t get anywhere.
His boss runs a hand down Jared’s back, long and slow, before grabbing his wrists and using them to pull Jared back and against him so that Jared’s own weight sinks him all the way down on Jensen’s thick cock. Jared’s broken the rules, his face isn’t on the bed, he waits to see what will happen, breathless and needy, and then Jensen laughs and lifts Jared up before slamming him down again. It’s gotta hurt Jensen too, but honestly that does not work against Jared’s particular kinks.
Jensen pulls Jared’s head back so the back of his skull is on Jensen’s shoulder and his body is curled outward and then Jensen puts a steadying hand on chest and grits out, “Head there. Stay.” Jared learns something about himself when his orgasm rushes in at the sound of the word stay, and then Jensen jerks his balls and Jared crashes again, on the edge of tears, certain that he’s going to get a new flavor to his personal insanity parfait.
The rocking and fucking starts back up again in earnest. Jared is lifted, lowered, twisted, his head fighting to stay perfectly still on Jensen’s bouncing, shifting, muscular shoulder. Jensen jerks suddenly, once, burying himself deep in Jared and filling him up. The man is so controlled that Jared only sees the orgasm in his eyes. Jensen is looking at something that Jared can’t see. He can’t turn his head to look because he’s supposed to stay. What the fuck could Jensen be looking at while he’s doing this?
Jensen lowers Jared back down, the two of them moving so that Jared is on his face again on the bed. Jensen puts his hand on Jared’s head again, doesn’t say anything this time as the command is implicit, and then disappears. Next thing Jared knows there’s a tongue pressing against his stretched out rim. The tongue moves slow, gentle, building pace and pressure, and once again Jared sees what’s coming and feels dread. Is this what the feeling is like? Is this kind of what his victims feel? No. Couldn’t be. What’s the word for this?
A hard flick to the head of his cock brings Jared right back to it and then Jensen makes an obscene sound into Jared’s hole setting off vibrations and Jared feels it coming again, right there, and then Jensen squeezes the base of Jared’s cock hard and starts eating him out sloppily and roughly. Jared has been denied his third orgasm, Jared is certain that Jensen will let go of his straining cock any second now, but instead Jensen disappears again and Jared fights not to ask. Not to protest. Not to gain three more.
Time passes. Enough time that Jared thinks that his erection should have wilted and he might have been drugged without knowing it, and then suddenly out of nowhere Jensen’s mouth presses to Jared’s ear and Jensen whispers, “Fuck the bed until you come.”
And Jared does. He’s never really cared about dignity either so there’s no sting to him rutting against the comforter desperately until he finally bursts all over it without a single hand on him just the panting breath Jensen is sending into his ear. The cuffs click off and Jensen starts working the muscles that are screaming and aching.
They stay like that, silent, until Jared realizes that self-preservation isn’t a stronger motivation than the need to put his head on Jensen’s chest and listen to his heartbeat slow and calm along with Jared’s blood. Then he falls asleep like that.
Jared has a dream. It’s not often that he does, in fact every time he’s had one of these dreams it’s always been a time when his memory failed him consciously but then came back while he was asleep to remind him. He always dreams in third person view, an observer of himself, standing behind his own shoulder and looking over. Perhaps he is his own devil. Dream Jared is reading a document, eyes narrowed and left hand flipping the pages as he bites into the apple in his right. Jared leans in a little closer and his brain brings the words into focus.
There they are. The testimony from the victim that escaped the Taffington basement. Jared’s eyes scan it carefully, slowly, unsure what he’s looking for. He’d never bothered to try to break the seal that hid the identity of the underage victim. It had seemed, honestly, a step too far. A thing too heinous, to move Jared into the boy’s life. Except, now that Jared is reading it, he realizes that the kid wouldn’t have been a child anymore by the time Jared was reading this.
Mabel Taffington was back at the beginning of his career, when he was still a tall and willowy young man with dimples and a disarming smile. The file has the age of the child, and Jared wills his dream self to move the pages until they are back to the introduction of the victim. Fourteen. He was fourteen in 1992 so that would make him older than Jared. Jared goes back to the testimony but there’s nothing there that makes current him, the real him, react in any particular way. It was his belief in this boy that started the hunt.
The prosecutor didn’t need to bring the boy out. Jared had made sure of that. The prosecutor had so much evidence, so many horrifying images and videos all collected together, that he could have traumatized every one of those jurors into a guilty verdict in less than ten minutes. But they had, and Jared understood why. He’d heard the recording, that young voice rolling out detail after detail of the places he was cut, bit, burned. Of the fear and the pain. That voice that told it all in a blankness Jared knew all too well. He’d wondered idly once if the boy would grow up like him, but the end of the testimony to his adult ear now contains too much of a tremble, too many stops and starts to avoid tackling the really difficult parts without first locking himself down.
It would take such an extraordinary amount of self-control and willpower to do that. To share all of that without becoming emotional. To share it in a way that would send the jury into an absolute fever of disgust and horror. They would hear that voice and think that the boy was broken, but Jared knew better, didn’t he? And then he jerks awake, looking up in the dim late afternoon light leaking into the bedroom, and sees that Jensen is awake and looking at the mural still. It’s in the direction he was looking when they were fucking. Jared’s trophy collection, for a more conventional serial killer flavor than some of his other behaviors.
Jared looks down, along the length of Jensen, and sees it there. Not faint, and if Jared looked closely he could probably find the others that actually were, but bold against Jensen’s skin. A scar, hooking from the line of his last rib and then down to his hip before stopping less than an inch from where Jensen’s flaccid cock lies. And then it all makes sense.
“What do you want to know about how she went?” Jared doesn’t look away from that scar. He’s never had the urge to mutilate, only to punish. Would it be easier to feed that hunger?
“Nothing.” Jensen sighs deeply and shifts his head to press against Jared’s, ending his connection to the hands Jared had clipped, captured by camera, or drawn himself. “It’s enough to know she’s gone and that it wasn’t the way she wanted to go. But it threw me. That one. Why did you help the prosecutor on it? You usually just go straight for them.”
Jared’s never been asked such a question. It honestly makes him feel a little warm and fuzzy that Jensen cares. “She was my second. I hadn’t really set a pattern yet.” Jared pauses, evaluating. “Or maybe I had, but I wanted to see her be publicly embarrassed. She reminded me of my uncle. All that she cared about after her tastes was her reputation and I thought maybe it would be more satisfying if I saw her die that way first. It wasn’t. It was just a waste of time and resources.”
Jensen’s arm tightens around Jared. “No. It wasn’t.”