Username: anniespinkhouse
Your final title: Have Hatred And Gravity Won
Story rating: NC-17
Pairing: J2, Jared/OCs
Summary for artists:
The plan was for Jensen to infiltrate the ranch as the President's slave, get security data out and his team of
ruthless mercenaries in. It wasn't supposed to involve the President's bratty teenage son. Nowhere had he read
the line about becoming Jared's personal slave. It wasn't supposed to get messy and personal, but then it did
and Jensen's revenge put them both on the run.
Out of options, and with his trust destroyed, Jared lost himself in a grim new life. Between the bright shores of
Morocco and the rest of the world Jensen was determined to find himself. Somehow, however much they hated
each other, whoever they became, and wherever they went, there was an undeniable attraction that pulled them
back together.
Warnings: less than nice Jensen and Jared, dub-con, slavery, age gap (17/29) there is a lot of implied
underage (U16) but it is non specific/non-explicit, daddy kink, prostitution, age-play, gang bang, drug
use (hash), graphic violence and blood, minor character deaths
Prologue
Misha’s eyes were crystal blue in the bright halo of the makeshift dental lamp. He dried one last coat of enamel
on the back tooth of his patient and adjusted the light to scrutinize his work. “Bitchin’ craftsmanship,” he
proclaimed, reaching for a mirror to set in front of his friend’s face.
“Hurts like a bitch.” Ross swung his leg over the side of the couch and sat up to look. He cupped his chin in his
hand and flexed his mouth with a crack of his jaw, “You’re good,” he complimented, peering at his reflection.
“It’s why you love me.” Misha kissed his friend’s cheek.
In a dark corner of the room JD rustled some papers and dropped his booted feet from the dusty table they’d
been resting on. His eyes were rimmed black with lack of sleep and lines pulled taut in his pale face. His once
shiny brown hair was salt and pepper and he sported a beard to cover the scars on his face. He gave Misha a
tired smile. Do you want to run through it, or shall I?” he asked. His fingers unconsciously stroked the handgun
by his side. None of them were comfortable hiding out in this rathole, in a country torn apart by civil strife.
Despite Monkota being wedged between Canada and America, there were few similarities to their neighbors,
and none of its warring factions welcomed strangers.
“I got it,” Misha assured their leader.
Ross disconnected the battery, and the bright light faded to black. The sudden gloom was lit only with oil lamps.
Ross sat opposite JD and grabbed a beer from the cooler on the floor.
JD grabbed it out of Ross’s hand. “Oh no, that tooth has to set for two hours.”
Ross scowled.
Misha was uncharacteristically serious. “The veneer is solid, so there’s no chance of the usual tests picking it up.
Avoid x-rays under any circumstances. It will be tough to crack. It will hurt like the real thing and bleed. Once
you’ve cracked the tooth open, this baby will transmit for an hour and every single minute of it increases your risk
of detection.. You have to be in position and real sure.
JD took over, “There are rumors of underground hide-outs and tunnels, so we need to be in and out, quick and
clinical. Once we're gone, we were never there. Our client, Quintas, wants President Padalecki alive, with as
many of his government as we can manage, but he'll settle for just Padalecki. Everyone else is collateral, and
we're not being paid for a head to head siege. Hell, I only have one gunship and two pilots.”
“I thought Quintas had his own army,” Misha looked confused.
“He does, and they'll be on our heels, we're simply smoothing the way.”
Ross gave a wry laugh, “Let me guess. He doesn't trust them, and he needs to be sure President Padalecki is
publicly discredited, before putting his head on a stick.”
JD shrugged, “Quintas is a politician.”
“He's an egotistical mobster,” retorted Ross.
JD leaned forward to study the green eyed man who still cradled his jaw. “If you want out of this mission you can
say so, and we'll get a replacement, with no questions asked, and no repercussions. We've all got our secrets.
Don't ever think I don't know yours. This doesn’t get personal, do you understand me? Personal is what gets us
killed.”
Ross grimaced. Of course JD checked him out. His fluency in the language of a close-bordered and drug funded
nation was a huge red flag, and his hinkey papers would be obvious to an old pro. “Quintas is a crooked bastard.
More even than most politicians. He's still our client.” Ross was uncharacteristically vehement, “Padalecki is a
monster, and the Revolutionaries indiscriminately destroy anything that hints at wealth. Monkota is a mess. It's
not like it can get worse.”
If their mission happened to coincide with some of his personal goals, then Ross thought it was no business of
JD's. He could keep it professional.
"Wow!” Misha gasped, “I don't think I've ever heard you speak so many words. Is there anything you want to get
off your chest?”
“Bite me!” Ross looked back at JD. “So, location? North East corner of the ranch – what's there?”
“Best information we have, it’s living quarters. Your cover puts you in the perfect place, and keeps you in close
contact with the target.”
Misha swigged his beer. He looked concerned. “Ross is an indiscriminate man-whore, and we've all been asked
to take one for the team, but I can't say I'm comfortable with this.”
Wide green eyes glared at him over a freckled nose, but there was a hint of a smile, “What did you just call me,
Nerd?”
“Hey, not complaining, we've all benefited. I think you're the only reason Danni doesn't ask for a pay raise.”
Misha put his hands up in surrender. Jensen laughed, a sincere whole body laugh. Misha was the unit clown, but
there was some truth in it.
JD lit a smoke, took a long drag and then spoke in his low, gritty drawl, “The President doesn't fuck his slaves.”
He huffed a smoke ring and then continued, “According to our sources, he generally keeps to the ethics of the
slave-charter. You'd hope so, he made it law. Ross will get his beauty sleep, and he won't starve. Padalecki likes
his man to be impressive, loyal and quiet. His slave sees every secret of his. In theory, he's the President's last
defense. Course, the last two years, Padalecki has become hellish unpredictable, and it is a recent vacancy. Still,
I have no doubt Ross will cope.”
Misha narrowed his eyes at JD, “The President had to replace every single slave after he fled his official
residence. It doesn't show much care for them.”
Ross interrupted,“He doesn't care. He simply keeps to his own guidelines. The guidelines are for everyday. They
don't include the many ways of disposing of inconvenient possessions.” There was undeniable bitterness in
Ross's statement. Misha and JD simultaneously quirked an eyebrow at him.
JD growled a question, “Is there something you'd like to add to the file, son?”
Ross shook his head, “No, Sir.”
Ash flicked to the floor from JD's cigarette. He watched the smoke curl lazily into the air and dance in the
flickering light before inhaling another long drag. “Hm. Studies show that ninety percent of self-sold slaves think
they will cope with their new status. There's a temporary high at the start of training. It's a rush to see so much
money when there's been nothing. They're getting free meals, hot water, relative safety from the chaos outside,
everything they've been lacking, or scared of losing. Then, the collar goes on.” JD stubbed his cigarette out
against the scarred wood of the old table. “Ninety-five percent of all self-sold slaves get beaten at least twice in
the first four weeks, because they can't keep from back-talk. It's human nature, son. Losing your freedom ain't so
easy.”
There was a pause as Ross missed a beat to digest the information, “Back-chat. I can do that.”
“Or, you could choose to be one of the five percent. A tongue isn't just for talking.” Misha commented.
“It should look real.” Ross retorted.
JD shook his head. “As long as Padalecki thinks his secrets are safe, so is Ross's tongue.”
Ross bit his lip and licked his lips. Long lashes flicked over vivid green eyes as he slowly blinked and regained
his control. He squared his shoulders. “How do we know I’ll be chosen?”
JD leaned forward to speak, but Misha interrupted, “Who wouldn’t want that ass?”
Ross laughed, “Seriously, Misha?”
JD gave an exasperated growl, “It’s fixed. Your name is Jensen Ackles. You are self-sold with pro-President
sympathies. Your training was quick, willing and easy, and your sister is Padalecki's insurance. When you
negotiate your loyalty price you should aim for half your slave price. Any less, and the President gets jumpy. We
do want you to keep your tongue. Any more, and he'll pass you over as greedy. Your life is between these
covers, so learn it well.” He flicked a file to Ross, who nodded his acknowledgment, opened it and started to
read.
1/
Jared
Jared's cheeks were rosy warm and he was off-balance. The effects of too much wine were starting to manifest,
which was good, because he needed something to get him through the pompous tedium of the banquet. His
current view, of the pert ass of a man bending to pick a napkin from the floor, also helped.
Pa had himself a new slave and he was hot. He was over six foot of lean meat and muscle, with the face of an
angel, golden freckles on his nose, and the pouty pink lips of a cock sucking demon. The slave was
undecorated, perfect in grace and his eyes turned to the floor without any hint that he noticed the raucous
bawdiness of the President and his men. He wasn’t young, not even a teenager, maybe ten years older than
Jared. He was the epitome of what his father enjoyed, a beautiful specimen, and eager to please. Jared spared
himself a downwards glance when his father wasn’t looking, because damn, he hoped he wasn’t a eunuch. Just
because his father didn’t approve of sex with the crawling classes didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give it a try,
and he normally got his way. The slave's pants weren't tight enough to give anything away. Jared licked his lips.
He'd just have to find a way to remove them.
The slave retreated to the kitchen with dirty plates, and Jared idly pushed his dessert around his plate,
wondering how soon he could make excuses to leave. He had a big appetite, but the quantity of food served was
bigger, and only a few still ate. Government representatives fawned around his father at the main table of a
grandly decorated, and crimson-carpeted dining hall. His father ignored his youngest son as usual, guzzling a
bellyful of wine for every plentiful mouthful of dessert, while extolling the virtues of vegetables, grown over the
graves of his political opponents. Jared drained the last of his wine in a bid to silence his frustration.
“Lord Jared?” Jared was startled by a low drawl. The boy, no, hell, man-slave, was by his elbow offering port
from a crystal carafe.
“Not a Lord. Don’t call me that,” As his Pa's enemies and paranoia multiplied, the President increasingly justified
muting his personal slaves. He obviously hadn’t found a reason to silence this one yet, and Jared didn't like to be
compared to the creeps who coveted meaningless titles, awarded by him. Still, Jared considered all the things
the tongue in that pretty head could do, and decided he’d like to keep it there.
The new slave risked a sly glance at Jared’s father. “The Lord President Padalecki thought you might take more
wine.” He lowered his voice, so Jared could only just hear, “I don't think you should. Nobody likes a hangover,
and drunk doesn't improve anybody's behavior.” Green-gold eyes rolled their derision in the direction of his Pa.
The slave withdrew the carafe without waiting for Jared's answer and started to walk around his chair.
Jared took a moment to process the implied insult, before his hand shot out, to grasp the slave’s forearm. “You
need to watch that tongue, or you will lose it,” he threatened, as he yanked him back with a force that reddened
his skin and twisted his arm. Vintage port splashed onto Jared’s Ralph Lauren shirt, and his father’s attention
focused on the scene with a narrow-eyed glare. Fuck.
“My useless son is wasting my liquor, and there is a slave who cannot serve. What shall we do?” Lord Padalecki
was loud in his scorn. His cronies laughed heartily and hooted for whip, strap or blade.
Jared’s cheeks flushed and he lowered his gaze. He slammed his napkin to the table, and his chair caught in the
carpet and toppled as he stood up. He didn’t lose grip of the slave who looked between him and his father with
startled and unusually bold green eyes. “You don’t get to look at us!” Jared yelled at the slave, before turning to
shout at his father, “Look what your bitch did! Fucking idiot needs a lesson.”
The President’s eyes smoldered dangerously. He spoke to the entire room while fixing Jared in his stare, “Are
you too pathetic to take a stand for yourself? Is that why you can’t take a uniform and fight? We know you would
fuck him, but not fuck him up, because you’ll never be a man, Jared.”
There was a sudden silence, broken only by the click of guns being readied by his father’s bodyguards. The
tension between father and son hung heavily in the air and the discomfort of it spread. Their dinner companions
buried their noses in wine glasses, or pretended to look at their plates. They let the scene play out with a morbid
fascination. It wasn’t the first time that Jared and his father had clashed, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It
always made for drama and gossip.
“Get me the cat.” Jared’s jaw jutted in determination.
His father hooted with laughter and doubled over.
“I said, get me the cat.”
“Jensen isn’t your property to punish, you little faggott. Maybe I will cut off his balls with a rusty knife, and I can,
because he belongs to me. Everything here does. There was a hint of pride in his father’s slurred statement. He
guarded his new toys, such as this new slave, with pride.
“He harmed me, it is my prerogative,” spat Jared. He was shaking and he was unsure if it was anger, fear or
excitement that fueled him. The slave, Jensen, was pale in his grip, his bravado gone in the face of his
impending punishment. He had to know there was no running from it, or pleading out of it.
His father sneered at Jared but he had his favorite girl collect his fiercest cat-o-nine-tails. “Show me you’re a
man, Jared. I don’t believe you are.” His cruel hazel eyes fixed on his son and his teeth bared in a crooked
smile.
Jared seethed with resentment, he was seventeen, no boy and not weak. This shouldn’t have happened. He was
humiliated, yet again, in front of his father, his father’s cronies, and his late mother’s detractors. It was entirely
the slave’s fault, and in that moment, rage burned and he hated him.
Sometimes, Jared was convinced that his Pa deliberately tempted him with handsome slaves then damaged
them, to punish him for his sexuality and his choices. This time he wouldn’t. It was Jared’s turn to take the
slave’s perfection while his father still coveted it.
He twisted a hand into Jensen’s collar. With the other, he swiped crockery and crystal from the table, shattering it
with a noise that echoed against the wood-paneled walls. He bent the man over, slammed his face onto the
table, and then took his dagger from its sheath. Jensen’s eyes widened in horror, and he bucked against Jared’s
hold. Jared twisted his collar until his breath was cut off, and then kicked his legs from under him. Jensen
wheezed, and Jared only let go when he slumped, defeated and gasping on the table. His cheek dotted snowwhite linen with bright flecks of blood drawn by broken glass and porcelain. Jared admired the bright color
contrast, as he snarled in the slave’s ear, “There is armed security at every exit. Stay there, and take your
punishment, if you want to live.”
His knife was wicked sharp. He let it reflect the bright light from the chandeliers before he sliced through the
fabric of Jensen’s pants, and up his shirt, ripping his uniform apart. The clothes peeled neatly from his skin and
Jared took a moment to admire the slave’s perfection. Jensen froze in place with only the heave of his breath
from the moment the knife nosed into his pants. His terror was tangible, and it amused Jared. He didn’t intend to
inflict permanent damage to an ass as fine as this, but the slave didn’t have to know it.
The cat-o-nine-tails felt heavy in Jared’s hand. He knew how to use it, and thanks to his father, he knew the pain
of knotted leather against flesh. He remembered how it felt when it drew blood to the surface, and lit every nerve
with agony. Jared raised his arm, stared defiantly into his father’s face. He brought the flogger down against the
skin of Jensen’s shoulders, and it landed with a thud and cry of pain from the slave. He hesitated before the next
stroke, and his father jeered an insult, “Knew you were a pussy, Jared.”
Jared tipped his head and considered his father. He wouldn’t back down. Not this time. He smoothed the leather
handle in his hand, considered the golden-dotted and pale canvas of Jensen’s back. He leaned over him, trailed
his hand lightly over the angry marks that the first lash had left, and slid his fingertips lower, to stroke the round
cheeks of the trembling ass. Breathing hot in Jensen’s ear, he whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” He grabbed his
used napkin, balled it up and forced it into the slave’s mouth.
The second strike left hot pink stripes over the swell of Jensen’s ass and the third struck his thighs. With each
one, Jared breathed deep and Jensen flinched and grunted. By the tenth strike Jared reached a steady rhythm
and tears of defeat rolled down the slave’s face. Guests murmured in disbelief. His father’s expression didn’t
lose its drunken arrogance. Jared didn’t stop at twenty, and Jensen’s back was a bloody mess by twenty-five. He
barely noticed the slave’s legs give way, and the roll of his eyes back into his head as he fell unconscious. Jared
was sweaty and satisfied. His father’s furious face was worth every stroke. He threw the cat to the floor, next to
the slave, and drew his knife once more. He crouched to carve a neat ‘JP’ over the chiseled perfection of the
slave’s cheekbone, and then stalked from the dining hall. His father waved an impatient signal to his bodyguards
who lowered their weapons to let Jared pass. Jared had the final words, “I believe the slave has my mark now,
Pa.”
Jared let adrenalin carry him out of his father’s sight. He hadn’t thought past his defiant display, and now had to
wonder if he would be disowned and thrown from the safety of the compound. Pa was an unpredictable drunk,
and he made no secret of his disappointment in Jared. He leaned against the kitchen doorway, to catch his
breath and look for a particular slave in a kitchen that bustled with the aftermath of a nine course banquet.
“Fin!” Jared beckoned a slight blond slave who stood by a sink of soapy water, scrubbing a pot. There was an
extra loud clang as the boy slammed it onto the stand in obvious temper. Everything else hushed, and Jared was
abruptly aware of being stared at by every servant and slave in the kitchen.
“You said it was my choice, I never have to,” Fin’s voice wavered. It was a childish plea, a far cry from his usual
ebullient manner.
“I need you,” stated Jared, firmly.
“Cook needs me, Master Jared.” Fin turned away from him. Cook raised her hands in a fluster, “It is a
complicated banquet, Master Jared.”
“We have finished eating.” Jared’s voice was laced with menace. There was no reason for any of the staff to
respect him, but he was used to their co-operation.
The young scullery maid, Madison, bit her lip and pushed Fin forwards, “You should go,” she said.
Jared smiled at her. Madison was one of his favorites. She lowered her eyes and her lip quivered. She stepped
behind Fin and hid. Fin reached a hand to touch her and it looked protective. Jared swept his gaze around the
kitchen once more. He sensed fear and disapproval in hastily down-turned faces, and the fumbling pretense of
work. Someone had seen him flog the new slave, and whispers had already spread. He addressed them as a
group, with an icy glare. “Get on with your work, or I will report you all for slacking.” It was an empty threat but
he knew they wouldn’t take the chance of it. Sideways glances were exchanged with Fin, and tasks were
resumed.
“It’s okay,” Fin reassured Cook, as he stepped to Jared’s side.
Jared banged his bedroom door behind him. He didn’t need small talk and he didn’t want to think. He had Fin
slammed against the wall in no time. His hands looped into the belt of Fin’s pants, and he pulled them down,
exposing the twink’s perfect round ass and his neat, cut cock, that hung flaccid between his thighs. Jared buried
his face into Fin’s shoulder, licked the line of his neck, and dragged his teeth along his collarbone, stopping to
suck a purple bruise into his skin. His hands fumbled to get his own pants down around his eager erection. “Are
you ready for me, Fin? I bet you’re all greased up for me, you kinky little shit. I bet you’re just waiting for me to
split your ass.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Jared’s huge hands gripped Fin’s hips and lifted him easily. The boy’s arms circled his neck and his legs hitched
up to squeeze around Jared’s trim waist. Jared braced them both with Fin’s back to the wall, and he didn’t waste
any time in breaching the tight young ass. He let gravity and a single powerful thrust do the work as his thick
cock drove into the tight and fluttering hole. Fin’s head dropped onto Jared's shoulder to bury his face into the
flexing flesh with a groan. The boy seemed as enthusiastic as ever. He rocked his hips into Jared’s thrusts and
slid up his dick to slam back down, impaled and stuffed with cock. There were whimpers and groans, and
encouragements of ‘do it’ and ‘fuck me’ dropping from his lips.
Jared snapped his hips and threw his head back, no thought for anything except the push and slide, breath, and
hot flesh, chest to chest and balls deep in this delicious boy. He lost himself in need and lust until his world was
white with bliss and a final harsh plunge had him tipped over the edge and coming hard. He groaned and his
hands slid over the smooth painted wall, where a series of bloody finger-prints stained the magnolia surface.
Jared blinked at the marks, then at his hands. He hadn’t washed after flogging the slave, and he remembered
the horror of the man’s back when he’d finished with him. He eased his soft cock from Fin before placing him in a
curled bundle on the floor. He wiped himself with tissues, tucked himself back in and scraped his fingers through
his thick, mussed hair. “Shit!”
There was no response. Fin was panting hard, his face turned into the rug. Jared toed at his arm. “I said, Shit!”
“What?” inquired Fin, obediently.
“I got blood on the decor; Pa’s gonna go ape.”
“I’ll clean it for you.” Fin offered. The boy wiped himself with a cotton handkerchief and started to dress. His cock
was still limp and he didn’t plead for his own relief. Jared may have questioned it another day, but right now he
couldn’t muster any concern for the kid’s enjoyment.
“Leave it. You should go.” He reached to a fruit bowl that stood on a decorative table and scooped out several
apples, an orange and a lime, “Thanks Fin, share them with Madison.”
Fin gathered the fruit into his arms and hugged it into his chest with a huge grin. “All of it?” he asked, with
hungry, wide eyes.
“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t get it from me. Don’t get caught.”
Fin lifted his shirt and tucked the fruit under it. He dared a look at Jared through his floppy blond fringe, “Can I
give one to Jensen?”
“Pa’s new slave? Why should I care?”
“He seemed like a nice guy.”
“He’s an obnoxious prick.”
There was the sound of boots and heavy scraping in the corridor. Jared frowned, wondering what it was, and Fin
reached for the door handle, to leave in a hurry. The door banged open, and Jared’s Pa barged in pushing Fin
out of the way. Fruit bumped and bruised on the floor. The young slave fell to his knees in front the President.
Goosebumps covered his arms and Jared could see him trembling with fear.
“Jared, this boy has been stealing. There could be no good reason for such a generous reward.” Lord Padalecki
booted a foot into the soft flesh of Fin’s belly. The boy doubled over and coughed.
Jared’s mouth opened and closed. He couldn’t find his voice.
“Because no son of mine would be stupid enough fuck this slave, this boy.” Jared’s Pa loomed over him, sporting
an evil smirk, “You wouldn’t court a scandal to blacken my name, would you? Because I would cut you off
without a penny and feed you to the seething crowd. You wouldn’t be so silly, would you?”
Jared managed a strangled, “No, Sir.”
Fin looked like he might shatter. Nobody dared beg the President for mercy, but his eyes pleaded with Jared to
tell the truth. A huge hand gripped the boy’s collar and lifted him from the ground. Jared’s Pa was massive, six
foot six plus change, of raw muscle and anger, and he held the boy casually in one hand as he choked. Fin’s
toes scrabbled through air trying to reach the safety of the floor.
“So, he was stealing from me? A worthless thief?” The President raised his eyebrows at his son, and Fin
continued to struggle, his eyes bugging from his head.
Jared was rooted to the spot. Whatever words he chose, this wouldn’t end well. He gave the slightest of nods.
He heard his Pa’s handgun cock, and it took a minute to comprehend the warm splatter of droplets on his face,
but there was no mistaking the echo of gunshot and the crimson pool of blood and brain that flecked the walls
and pooled on the floor.
“Well, then. Witnessed, tried and sentenced.”
It was only when Jared vomited his entire evening’s banquet, into the gory mess on the rug, he noticed what his
father had dragged into the room. Shit! His Pa’s slave, Jensen, was collapsed on his floor. He hadn’t escaped
the wrath of the President, even after his flogging. His right eye was bruised and swollen and his chin was
similarly marked.
His Pa was leaving the room, without his slave.
“Sir …?” Jared needed to know what it meant.
“You humiliated me. You wanted Jensen, you marked him. I am a generous man, so he is yours, but you will not
have another slave to serve you. You can remain in my safety. You will have bed and board, but no other slave is
permitted to help you. Jensen is all you have. Care for him properly. Your tutor has been dismissed. I don't want
to see or hear you. Your presence tires me.” His bloody hand reached for the door handle, “Get rid of this mess.
Do it before anything starts to rot.” The door slammed behind him.
He stood beside the slave on the floor. Jensen’s left eye opened to look up at him, deep green and sullen. His
spirit didn't seem as defeated as his body. Jared wondered about that.
Jensen closed his eye again, and he seemed to smirk, though it was difficult to tell.
Jared considered his slave for a moment, “Don’t be too smug. You’re stuck with me too.” He turned his back on
the whole mess, left his slave in his room, and trailed blood all the way to the library.
2/
Jared
Jared couldn’t concentrate on the words in his books and he couldn’t answer the questions he’d been set. Even
if he could complete his homework, he no longer had a tutor. He closed his pages and took the short trip back to
his living quarters. He took a deep breath to steady himself for the bloody, revolting mess he had left behind.
The slave, Jensen, was on his hands and knees scrubbing at a wide red stain. He remained unclothed, and
Jared could see his muscles rippling as he worked. Angry welts on his back seemed to rearrange themselves as
he flexed. He dipped a scrubbing brush into a pail of soapy water and brought it back to the floor to brush
vigorously at the bloodstain. His every movement was awkwardly painful and the strain showed in the crease of
his forehead and pinch of his mouth. He was absorbed in his self-appointed task, methodical and silent. Jared’s
rug was gone and so was Fin.
Jared was baffled, and a little in awe of the man’s strength to continue, given the particulars of his evening.
“What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to do anything.”
Jensen rocked back on his heels to kneel upright. Okay, so he was definitely still whole where it mattered, but it
gave him no thrill to stare. Jared forced his gaze up. Jensen's hand smeared pink soapy water over his face, as
he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I am cleaning, Master.”
If the man was being sarcastic then Jared couldn’t tell. “Where’s Fin?”
“The boy? I took his body to rest in one of the cool outhouses. He’ll be cleaned and I can bury him tomorrow, if
that pleases, Master.” Jensen spoke in a soft low drawl. There wasn’t a hint of reproach in his manner, but Jared
could sense the disapproval. He guessed that rebellion still lurked under the surface.
“There’s a furnace." Jared suggested. Pa usually insisted on it.
“It is shut-down for repairs until next week. It would be unhygienic to leave the body for so long.”
“Huh! Are you telling me my business?” Jared itched to beat the smugness out of him, but there was a measure
of admiration too. He had withstood a harsh beating and kept some spirit.
"No, Master. It is what I overheard in the kitchen today, but you may want to check with your father, or with the
household staff."
“Do whatever you want with the body as long as it is dealt with.” Jared yawned and waved him away. “I’m going
to bed. You can leave everything until morning. Get somebody to wash and dress those wounds, eat, and then
go to bed. Bring my breakfast at nine. I like my bacon crisp, and my egg poached, soft in the middle. Oh, and
find some clothes.”
Jensen continued to kneel.
“Well go on then.”
Jensen still knelt, “Master, if I understand protocol correctly, your father does not want me returned to his
ownership. I cannot use his staff quarters, clothes or even his slaves to clean my wounds.”
The slave was infuriatingly correct. Generally, Jared used slaves and sent them back to the housekeeper. He
didn't have facilities for Jensen, or experience in keeping slaves. He scowled. “What am I supposed to do with
you?”
Jensen looked up at him through, thick, long lashes, “Whatever you will, Master.”
Jared raked his eyes over the neck, neatly circled with a black collar, lingered over Jensen’s firm chest and abs,
then leered at the heavy, limp cock that nestled in neatly trimmed hair between muscular thighs.
"Mm. I can think of some things."
Jensen's single eye seemed to narrow, he was undoubtedly assured of his rights under The Slave Charter. "I
don't think so. Unless you want me to top, Master?" There was a sarcastic undertone to the question.
Jared almost choked when his initial gulp of breath combined with a need to laugh. The put-down was
unexpected, and peculiarly hot. There was every reason to consider it unacceptable, but it was hilarious to him.
Perhaps it was hysteria, or maybe he had been too long without the company of anybody who still voiced their
own mind. He laughed until tears ran down his face. “Fuck! You really think you have a choice, don’t you? Don’t
flatter yourself, you're nothing special.” It was beyond a lie, the slave was gorgeous, but he wasn't Jared's type.
He wasn’t looking for a challenge.
Jensen
Jensen waited for Jared's temper. It was obvious he was used to sexual favors from the household slaves. Sex
was nothing special to Jensen, and there was little he hadn't sold himself for once, but he wasn't a catcher, and
he didn't give up his control, not ever again.
Jared laughed too long, and too loud. There was a definite note of hysteria in it. Jensen remembered how young
he was, and supposed that alcohol and shock might do that to a kid.
When Jared calmed he pointed to his bathroom. "Use my shower. Don’t get blood on the towels. Clean up after
yourself.”
Jensen hissed in pain as warm water sprayed onto his back. Jensen. He let the name echo in his head, because
he had screwed up. He had seen the way President Padalecki treated his son, and noted Jared’s distaste for his
own father. Jared’s seemingly meek manner had driven Jensen's split-second decision to direct his talk-back at
him, as a way to test the kid’s loyalty. He had been flying blind, with no intel on the boy. He should have known
better than that. Ross did know better than that. Now, he was in the wrong place, by the wrong person, and
twenty five lashes was at least twice as many as he could have expected from the boy's Pa. The red hot agony
of his welts was a cruel lesson.
Water ran red down the drain. Jensen wondered how he would get dry without getting blood on the towels but
that was probably the least of his problems. He turned the shower off and considered his next move, but his
thoughts were interrupted.
“I need to piss. Don’t mind me.” Jared rushed past to use the toilet. When done he looked back over his shoulder
at Jensen in the shower stall. “You’re still bleeding,” he commented, as he did up his fly.
Duh, genius. Jensen lowered his eyes and bit his swollen lip to bite back his retort. He stood naked and dripping
while Jared washed his hands. He couldn't work out a strategy for the, no-blood-on-the-towels thing, other than
not using one.
“Here.” Jared held a gigantic and fluffy blue towel in front of him, “It doesn’t count if I get blood on it.” He draped
it over Jensen’s shoulders and patted gently. “Wrap up in this, until I find something for you to wear.”
He shivered. He tried to convince himself it was just cold air. It had nothing to do with the chilling thought that
this kid whipped him until he bled, then watched a boy being killed in cold blood, yet now offered comfort with
soft eyes and a softer touch. Jared was cruel anger and sexual predator in one moment, yet soft words and
puppy eyes in the next. Jensen was a pro who could kill the kid with a single wrench of his stupidly elegant neck,
so he wasn't sure why it freaked him out a little. He buried his doubts and remembered his place. "Thank you,
Master,” he said meekly.
“Cut the crap with me, Jensen. My name is Jared. Whatever your trader claimed to have achieved with you, I
think it’s fucking obvious you’re not broken.” Jared shrugged his shoulders, and he looked all sorts of innocent. “I
like it when you talk normally. It’s refreshing, assuming you don’t try to kill me, or anything silly like that.”
brownJensen's mind whirred into overdrive trying to understand him, and it must have shown in his expression.
"It wasn't about you. You ruined my shirt. I had to."
It was lucky that the swelling of Jensen's face slowed his speech, because it stopped him from asking how a
splash of wine on a shirt merited twenty five lashes. He bit back the question, because he already knew the
answer. He'd seen the interactions between Jared and his father, and just like Fin, Jensen's punishment had
nothing to do with the crime, and everything to do with the relationship between father and son. Padalecki Senior
was on a narcissistic power trip, but at least he was a known quantity. There was next to nothing known about
his son. Jensen tried to remember what he was like at Jared's age, but he never had the opportunity to act-out
until he joined the army, and then it was neatly channeled into controlled violence and killing. It wasn't a
reassuring comparison.
Jared was as tall as Jensen, and he was good looking. His style was casual, with well fitted denims. Shiny brown
hair made a soft halo around a face with fine features and strong jaw line. Exotic tip-tilted eyes sparkled hazel or
maybe green or brown, with flecks of other colors which made them hard to categorize. He could be any college
student, but he wasn’t. It could be easy to look at him, see his dimpled smile and forget who he was. Jensen
wouldn't. Sophie was beautiful once, Jensen, no Ross, thought. He remembered her flawless skin and bright
eyes, the way she was before she met Jared. He remembered the media coverage of her decimated corpse, and
the frozen terror on the faces of slaves who were slaughtered when the President and his family fled their
country home. He had wondered how stalwart, sensible, Sophie had fallen for him, but now he thought he
understood.
Inside, anger bubbled, and he wanted to beat Jared to a pulp, or tie him up and make him suffer, but personal
would only get him dead before he could achieve his goals. If revenge is a dish best served cold, then Jensen’s
would be liquid nitrogen.
“Um. Okay. So there’s a pillow and a blanket, and you can lie on the towel,” Jared threw bedding from his own
huge bed at the oversized sofa in his room. He triumphantly pulled something from a set of drawers, “and there’s
jogging bottoms and a tee.” Clothes flew across the space to land in a heap by Jensen’s feet, “They might not fit
very well, but anything is better than nothing, yeah. Not sure what we’re going to do about food, but you probably
didn’t eat when we did.” An energy bar hit Jensen's shoulder and fell to the floor. “There’s drinking water on the
stand. I prefer soda.”
Nothing in Jensen’s crappy day had prepared him for being treated like a school friend stopping over. He was
certain he wasn’t allowed on the sofa, and he was going to bleed all over the tee-shirt. He put a finger to the
heated pain of the cut on his face. The thought of Jared’s stark claim to ownership made him nauseous. Jensen
swayed. He felt dizzy, the world was starting to spin, and his legs weren’t co-operating. Blood loss, low sugar
level and shock, he supposed. He startled when he felt a hand on his arm and Jared was there, next to him, all
warm breath and warm hands, firm muscle and concern, helping him into the clothes. “C’mon, everythin’ is pretty
much trashed in here, you can’t make it worse.”
Jensen accepted the pants but pushed the tee-shirt back at him. “I’ll lie on my front.” He collapsed on the sofa,
and Jared covered him with a blanket before peeling the wrapper off the energy bar for him.
“We could play X-Box if we weren’t so beat. Do you play X-Box?” Jared was still talking.
He'd been told to talk normally, so he didn't hold back. “Is this some sort of trick, Jared?” Jensen couldn’t figure
him out.
Jared shrugged his shoulders and bit his lip. “No. I just, y’know. You’re in my room, and it’s kind of awkward, and
when it’s awkward I talk, a lot.”
Jensen shuffled onto his side to look at Jared, “What’s awkward about it? I’m your slave.” He sighed, “Are you
going to punish me in the morning, for sleeping here, Jared, just so I know?”
“No. No!” Jared swung his arms aimlessly and pointed to his bed, “I’m, um, going to read.” He retreated to sit
with his comforter pulled around him and a lamp pooling light by his side. He flipped the switch to dim the main
lights.
Jensen closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. His welts throbbed and his entire body thrummed on high alert.
He was unrestrained, just five paces away from the person who was responsible for Sophie's death, and there
was nothing except his professionalism stopping him taking revenge right there and then.
There was the sound of a page turning and then silence. He sensed Jared’s stare and this time it was Jensen
who felt the need to break the silence. “You didn’t cuff me. I could kill you while you sleep.”
Jared huffed in amusement and looked over to lock eyes with him, “If you had any bite you wouldn’t be here. My
father likes his slaves to look the part, but you are no hero, because he isn’t a fool. I’ll be first against the wall
when the revolution comes. If you want to start early, feel free to try. Regardless of my condition, the guards will
tear you to pieces closely resembling confetti. My advice is to wait for the revolution. Maybe you’ll get what you
want while continuing to breathe.”
“Huh,” Jensen was sideswiped by the reply. He was sure he would, but right now he was overstepping
boundaries, and he still couldn’t get a read on the kid. It didn’t bode well for his mission. He buried his head into
his cushion and closed his eyes. He needed to rest.
“Jensen. Why do you test me, when you know I will take a whip to you? You’ve seen how quickly a mouth can be
permanently silenced.” Jared sounded curious rather than angry.
Jensen decided not to lie, “You told me to speak normally. I'm not a naturally sweet person. I’m the only slave
you have, and I am certain you are too spoiled to clean your mess or make your own meals.”
“Don’t count on it, Jensen.” The threat in Jared’s response was undisguised. He clicked the lamp off and the
room became dark, “G’night, Jensen,” he said, and there was suddenly something childish, almost needy in it.
Oh, for god’s’ sake. “G’night, Jared,” Jensen buried his head into the pillow and let himself imagine all the painful
things he could do to Jared Padalecki.
***
Jared snuffled and turned in his sleep. Jensen stilled and waited. He closed the door quietly and tiptoed back
toward the couch. His reccon was a bust. If he wanted to get anywhere undetected, he would have to disable the
cameras and pass through armed patrols. He paused to stare down at Jared, in his bed. He slept like an
innocent child, with his covers strewn aside and his hair trailing on the pillow. Jensen's hand hovered by Jared’s
face; two fingers and a thumb was all it would take, but he curled his fingers into his palm and drew back. Jared
was his ticket through the security system and that meant building trust. His eyes flicked over Jared’s young
body and back to the wide kissable mouth. He pondered on Jared’s erratic behavior with him, and his obvious
need for a father’s approval. He wondered if the kid had ever been fucked, and a plan started to form. Yeah,
Jared was going to be so fucked.
***
Jared
Jared woke with a start. He opened hazy eyes to a deep green eye, freckles, and full pink lips that smiled at him.
It was seconds before he registered the other puffed eye, and the angry red scar that marred the beautiful face.
He remembered the events of the evening before. I’m a dick, he decided. He shut his eyes again. “You’re still
here,” he groaned.
“Of course I am. I am yours.” Jensen’s voice was low and soothing.
The scent of coffee and bacon wafted under Jared’s nostrils and he groaned again. “Oh my god that smells
wonderful. What time is it?”
“Nine, of course. Apparently, I can use the kitchen, as long as I request an escort and don’t get in the way.”
Jensen puffed a pillow, and Jared yawned and sat up. He leaned forward for Jensen to put a pillow behind his
back. Fingers trailed softly over his shoulder as Jensen withdrew his hand, and Jared shivered. The touch felt
good, but Jensen showed no sign that he noticed their contact.
Jensen knelt submissively by the bed while Jared ate. “I thought about what you said last night. You were right, I
was out of order. I was trained better than that, and I am sorry, Master. It won’t happen again.”
Jared chewed a piece of bacon and swallowed. He looked thoughtful. “Good, just don’t go limp-noodle on me.
Nobody has any spark around here.”
“I’ll try to find the right balance.” Jensen replied placidly.
He studied his slave. His face was bruised purple and red, one eye was reduced to the barest slit and his
tempting, plump lips were swollen. The stripes on his back were oozing and shiny. Jensen was in obvious pain
every time he moved. “You look like crap,” Jared commented.
No shit, Sherlock. Jensen remembered not to roll his eyes. He didn’t reply.
“I could find some pain meds for you.” Jared palmed at his crotch and leered at his slave, “A favor for a favor. I
only need your mouth.”
Jensen hesitated. “It doesn’t hurt,” he lied, “Shall I prepare the wash room for your cold shower?”
“What makes you think I’m giving you a choice?”
“I’m not a whore, Jared.”
“No, a whore has their freedom. You are less.”
“And you are a gentleman, Jared.” Jensen delivered the line without a hint of sarcasm.
His slave was quick-witted. A wry smile crossed Jared’s face, Jensen's sharp replies reminded him of someone
else. He missed Sophie's smart-mouth. “See there’s your spark. I won't silence you today, because it amuses
me.”
“Thank you, Jared.” His gratitude sounded genuine.
Jared left an egg and a piece of toast on his tray and offered it back to Jensen. “Eat this. It’s good. Clear the
dishes, then you can finish cleaning my room. I’ll get a patrol to accompany you outside the building, so you can
dig a grave for Fin if you must.”
“That would be useful. How do I contact you for further instructions? Where will you be?”
“I’ll be back before you finish. It’s not like I have anywhere interesting to go,” Jared ground his teeth; his gilded
cage frustrated him more every day. “I’ll be in the gym, a shower after that, and then the library.”
Jensen
Jared's room overlooked a patch of lawn on the exterior of the ranch. Everything looked misty through thick,
bullet-proof glass, and the small window didn't open. The room was large and comfortable but it wasn't luxurious.
A huge bed topped with tasteful plain blue bedding dominated the space. The floor was an expanse of polished
wood, broken up with thick rugs. Jensen had rolled Fin's body in a rug which was irretrievably bloodied, and he
had removed it with the body, but there were more that would cover the space. There was modest wardrobe
space, filled with an assortment of mostly casual clothes. A chest of drawers, desk and occasional table were
topped with clutter which included face wash and leather bracelets, batteries, combs, and all the paraphernalia
of youth. A blue floor-length curtain hid an alcove with a neatly arranged miniature fridge, a water cooler, and a
shelf with coffeemaker and mugs. A state of the art surround-sound movie and gaming system was the only
obvious extravagance.
Jensen let routine housekeeping steady him. It reminded him of basic training in Padalecki’s army. Some days
there had only been a toothbrush and the toe of his sergeant-major’s boot to enable his task. He had emerged
tough and resourceful from that regime and used his skills to escape it entirely. There had been another
initiation, after he tracked down JD and demanded a place as the youngest member of his team. He had cleaned
toilets with toothbrushes, squeezed into rancid spaces, and run with a full backpack in equatorial rain and desert
sun until his blisters had blisters. Even Misha had taken his part in beating him down. He’d come through it
unscathed, and in the missions which followed, JD’s team had become family to him. He didn’t need the work
any longer. He had a new life in a free country, any one of a number of identities, and the money in his off-shore
accounts stacked to an obscene sum that he couldn't hope to spend in his lifetime. It wasn't about money any
more. If it was, he wouldn’t be on his knees, in this tiny, mixed-up province, for anyone, regardless of the price.
Jared strode in, bringing the musky scent of sweat and exercise with him. “Looking good,” he remarked
cheerfully, and flung a small packet at Jensen who caught it reflexively, in one hand. Jared’s eyebrows shot up,
“Nice catch!” He dropped a sports bag to the floor by Jensen, and made for the bathroom, “Water pressure is
pathetic in the gym. I came back for my own shower. My kit needs to be washed, dried and folded back into the
tote for tomorrow.”
Jensen turned the packet of Tylenol in his hand and looked to Jared for clarification.
“I’m an ass, and you’re a liar when you claim you don’t hurt. They’re for you. No strings attached. There’s not
enough to kill you, so don’t think about taking them all at once.”
It was Jensen’s turn to be surprised. “Thanks.”
Jared’s suggestive tone returned, “I got ointment as well, but you can’t put it on your own back. There will be
touching involved. I promise not to compromise your virginal reputation, unless you want me to.”
***
He laid Jensen out shirtless on his bed, with his chest nestled into the silky coverlet, and a pillow under his head
before pulling his pants down to expose the lashes on his ass and thighs. Jared’s touch was unexpectedly
gentle. Huge palms smoothed cool balm to on red hot and stinging flesh. Jared leaned into the massage, his
face a breath away from Jensen’s neck, making hairs stand on end and nerves tingle.
Jensen upped his game and shifted into Jared’s space, so his Master’s lips brushed lightly against the soft skin
below his collar. He heard a hitch in Jared’s breath and it accompanied his own. His twisted tease was more
erotic than any of the faceless and anonymous sex he indulged in. However sick Jensen was for enjoying it,
Jared had a fit body and a thrilling touch that was inappropriate to his youth. Jensen resorted to the image of his
first sergeant major to prevent an erection.
Jared wriggled the pants back up. Jensen wondered whose modesty he was trying to preserve. “Sit up.” He took
Jensen’s hand to steady him and then sat beside him on the bed. He cupped Jensen’s chin in his hand and
turned his face toward him. A finger scooped ointment from the pot and spread a light layer over the letters
carved on Jensen’s cheek. “There, almost done,” he said, swiping the remainder from his finger to the edges of
Jensen’s mouth. From the corner of his eye Jensen could see the obvious bulge of Jared’s erection under the
cloth of his tight jeans. He schooled his face to neutral and let his hand relax. His forearm brushed against
Jared’s thigh, as if by happy accident.
“Are you sure you don’t want something more?” Jared growled into Jensen’s ear.
Jensen sighed and fidgeted next to him, his ointment-slick skin slipped over Jared’s bare arm. He could sense
the heat in Jared and hear his speeding breath. He let his voice drop to a husky whisper, “Only if you will let me
fuck you.”
Jared barked a laugh, stood, and tugged Jensen to his feet. “Dream on. I’ll even let you jack off to that dream, as
long as I can watch.” He smacked Jensen’s ass with a flat palm and the squelch of ointment.
“It’s not me who’s hard for it,” retorted Jensen.
Jared snapped the lid on the ointment. “I’m taking my shower. Don’t spy on me jerking off. You didn’t earn it.”
“I have a body to bury.” Jensen reminded him, and just like that, the playful mood was broken.
Jared bit his lip and looked down at the floor. He looked small in the moment. “Put my old tee-shirt on and go do
that. Ask Corporal Hodge to escort you.”
***
He dug with a rhythmic clunk and thud of soil being displaced, and the corporal watched him. The earth was soft
and peaty, easily cut with the large spade he was using. He side-eyed the compound fence and counted out the
times between patrols, committing every detail to memory.
“You’ve a helluva set of muscles for an accountant,” the corporal remarked when Jensen finally threw his tool to
the side and jumped to sit on the edge of the hole.
Jensen swung his head to look up at Corporal Hodge, he needed to be careful, “I’m not anything,” he said dully.
“I used to be someone, and I ran a lot and worked out, but I guess everyone got the file on me, huh?” He wiped
sweat from his brow and swigged water from a plastic bottle.
“We’re told what we need to know, to keep the President safe.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I know you’re here on your family’s honor, and I know your weak spot is your little sister. If you check
out of the deal early, then she gets to pay her own debt, and I bet she’s as pretty as you are.”
Jensen played his part, nodded sadly, “Have you got family?”
Corporal Hodge shuffled his feet, “Yeah, man.”
“Then you get it?”
“I know you won’t give us any proper trouble, and I think you might be good for the kid, if you can hold your
tongue. He needs a friend,” he paused and added, “Or even a father-figure.” The corporal stopped talking
abruptly, and frowned, “Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t repeat it.”
Corporal Hodge had no idea how wrong he was about him. Jensen was trouble with a capital C for coup, and it
didn’t harm to have leverage within the President’s security detail. “Holding my tongue!” quipped Jensen. He
flashed his brightest smile at the soldier.
Jensen said a short prayer over Fin as he filled the first cold soil over the boy. He felt no emotion, only a soldier’s
obligation to show respect for somebody’s son, brother or friend. He briefly wondered when it had become so
easy to detach the part of him that cared, and how long he had been that way.
***
Jared
Jared twirled his pen in his hand and sighed. The numbers on the page made no sense. There wasn't anyone
else his age at the ranch, and the staff weren't permitted to help him. It crossed his mind to seek his father's
advice, but he rapidly dismissed it. It would only anger him.
He stood up and paced the quiet depths of the empty library, reading titles, and running his fingertips over the
spines of books. He couldn’t concentrate, and it wasn’t because of equations he couldn’t solve. The slave,
Jensen, unsettled him. Jared was seventeen, he understood enough to know that his dick ruled his mind a lot
more than was good for him. Jensen wasn’t his type. Jared liked his conquests, small, submissive, and pliable,
and this slave was none of those things, but he had wanted him from the moment he saw him. It was more than
that though, he enjoyed his wit. Jared wanted more than sex, and he wasn’t sure he should explore the
revelation. He stacked his books on the shiny oak desk before shutting his laptop down. He disconnected the
network cable and stashed it carefully in its carrier. He didn’t want to lose his last link to sanity and the outside
world.
Jensen was butt-naked and busy folding laundry when Jared returned to his room. Jared’s eyes roamed to the
firm moons of his ass, where muscle rippled with every slight shift of his body. He barely avoided dropping the
plate of sandwiches he was carrying, swallowed hard and raised his eyes quickly. “Y-you, don’t have any clothes
on,” he stammered.
“They got muddy, so I rinsed them with your sports kit. I hope that’s alright.” Jensen turned to face Jared, full
frontal and apparently without any self consciousness.
Jared forced his gaze away from Jensen’s groin to focus on his face. He blushed crimson and had no idea
where he suddenly acquired a stammer and an inability to maintain control around his naked slave, but his
words weren’t coming out right, “Closet. Clothes. You should, you can take more, clothes. Now. Sweat pants and
tee shirt. Whatever fits.”
There was the faintest upturn to Jensen’s lips, as if he were trying not to laugh. Jared deposited his plate on the
coffee table, turned and fled into the bathroom. The tap gushed and he splashed cold water on his face.
There was a rap on the door, “Jared, are you sick?”
“No, no,” Jared breathed deep and calmed himself, he was acting like a sixth grader, “I’m fine. Why don’t you
find those clothes and I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, he emerged flushed and breathless, and Jensen was waiting for him, casual in a black v-neck
tee which was tight over his chest, and sweat pants that rested on his hips. Jared’s room was spotless. Rugs
had been rearranged to cover the space where Fin had fallen and the air conditioning was set at a perfect
temperature. There was a glass of iced soda by his sandwiches, and cushions were plumped ready for him to sit
on the sofa. Jared was starting to see the merits in having in his own slave, except that now there was nothing to
do. He plopped himself down, scattering the neatly arranged cushions.
Jensen knelt at Jared’s side. “Do you need anything?” His drawl was low and calming.
Jared’s fingers scraped through Jensen’s hair. It was soft, despite its short, spiked style. “I’m bored,” he said as
he reached to stroke the top of his collar.
“What do you usually do?”
“I do my own tidying, course work, work-out, read, play with Fin.” He was bored and restless, still angry with his
father and frustrated with Jensen, for no obvious reason except his refusal to be intimate. He didn't know what
he wanted to do.
“Sounds dull.”
“Not all of it.” Jared could feel Jensen lean into him with an involuntary shudder as his fingertip circled the
sensitive nub at the top of his spine.
“You can play,” Jensen offered.
Jared drew breath.
“There’s a stack of X-Box games. Which should I put in for you?”
Jared breathed out with the hint of a laugh, “You bitch! Do you play CoD?”
Jensen looked up at him with creased brow.
Jared shook his head and his mop of hair moved with it, “Man. It is much more interesting with two. You did have
a life, right? Before you got into the shit that put you in that collar.”
“Yeah, sort of boring, I wasn’t much into blowing people away.” Jensen picked up Forza, “Now, fast cars, I get.
Used to have …” Jensen trailed off, “Doesn’t matter.”
“You miss it? Your old life?” Jared was curious.
Jensen glared up at him, “No shit, Sherlock.”
Jared twisted a hand into his collar and jerked it in warning, tight enough to constrict Jensen's breath for a
moment. Jensen lowered his eyes and Jared released it without a word.
Jared didn’t believe slavery was a nice choice to make, but it wasn’t like it was non-consensual in their country.
People got into trouble, they had debts they couldn’t pay, or were convicted for minor crimes and didn't want to
serve their time in the cut throat atmosphere of a Monkota prison. The regime got flak for their stance on slavery,
but it was introduced years before his father came to power. “Some people don’t miss it. The crap that’s out
there, some never have homes or a bed. Their family gets money for food, or whatever. They get a place and
regular meals. Statistically, it’s safer than prison. Having a purpose can restore confidence. A lot are content.”
“What are you, the slavery spin-doctor? Because, being less than a whore is such a confidence boost, and then
we get our brains shot out.” Jensen sounded bitter.
Jared's hand yanked viciously at Jensen's collar once more, and he was tempted to hit him, but he sighed
instead. He knew he'd told Jensen to speak out, but right now he couldn't handle his hate. “That shouldn’t have
happened, but there was just as much chance of Fin being killed on the street if he was homeless.” He could feel
Jensen’s stare and he didn’t want to clash with him again, “Didn’t your trainer tell you that talk-back and politics
are banned for a slave? Put the damn racing game in, sit on the sofa, and grab a controller. I get first pick of car.
One of those sandwiches is for you, so eat it.”
They sat close to see the screen. Their knees touched and Jensen was a substantial, warm presence by Jared's
side, smelling earthy and cinnamon and male. They both leaned with the movement of their on-screen cars and
it took them into each others' space in an easy way. Jared trash-talked Jensen and he got a thrill when Jensen
trash talked back. The game was evenly matched and when it was down to the wire with just one race remaining
Jared upped the ante. “If I win I get to kiss you,” he suggested.
Jensen scowled, “Are you always this horny?”
“I’m seventeen. It’s not like I can go to a bar or nightclub. We’re both stuck here.”
Jensen put his controller down and turned to face Jared, “Jared, I don’t know what you’re looking for but I’m not
Fin. I am far too old for you. You should be smoking weed, getting happy, and getting laid by someone your own
age. You’re a brat. I feel like a pervert just considering it.”
Jared ignored the insult. He almost bounced with excitement, “But I can’t go anywhere else, nor can you, and
you are considering it?”
“Jared …” Jensen palmed his face and shook his head, “Okay, how about, if you win, you get to kiss me and if I
win, I get to kiss you, and that’s it. It’s just a kiss.”
The concept confused Jared, he replayed the words in his head, “That’s the same thing. I still get to kiss you,” he
finally remarked.
“Oh, no baby boy, it's not the same thing at all.” Jensen growled, and it sent a tingle down Jared’s spine that
curled his toes.
“You’re on!”
Jensen skidded past the checkered flag seconds before Jared. He put his controller down and looked at Jared.
His open eye seemed to sparkle a little greener, and long eyelashes fluttered. “It was a silly bet and you own me.
You don’t have to.”
“I’m not a pussy, Jensen. It’s just a kiss.”
Jensen’s grin was pure filth and promise. “You do have a very kissable mouth. Are you going to let me show you
how the grown ups play?”
Jesus. Jared’s thinking brain deserted him because that was unexpectedly hot, and since when had he wanted
to be anybody’s little bitch? He nodded soundlessly.
Jensen licked his lips and they shone, plump and enticing, “Lock the door, Jared.”
Jared’s senses returned. “I can’t, what if…”
“Do you want anyone to see us kissing?” Jensen’s voice was, honey-sweet and soothing, “I was an accountant,
that’s all. Not about to hurt anyone. Not even you.”
Jared crossed the room in three strides to key in the combination, and was back, standing by Jensen, arms
hugged around himself like a shy schoolboy.
“Sit down, Jared.”
Jared sat awkwardly next to Jensen.
Fingers tangled in his hair and traced over his jaw. Jensen leaned in, hot breath on Jared’s neck, to whisper in
his ear. “Relax. You’re my Master. You can stop me any time.”
Jared nodded his understanding, but he was already breathing fast, hyper aware of Jensen’s lips which brushed
the skin of his neck in a series of feather light kisses and then developed into firm suction against the roughness
of his chin. Jensen wrapped his large palm around Jared’s jaw and his thumb teased the side of Jared's mouth
as he tilted his face up for better access. Jared took the hint and suckled wetly at the tip of Jensen’s thumb.
Jensen murmured encouragement, “Oh, who would have known? Such a baby boy for me.”
Jared thought he should feel some shame, but it was too good. When Jensen shoved him by his shoulders, into
the back of the sofa, and hooked his leg over Jared’s lap he let it happen with a moan of approval, and his lips
parted in invitation. Jensen’s mouth crashed down on his with a force he had never known. His lips were slick
and demanding, and his tongue forced immediate access to explore every part of his mouth and wrap Jared’s
tongue with suction, and the slightest nip of teeth.
This wasn’t amateur fumbling, or the tentative need to please by a slave for his master. It wasn’t anything he’d
had before. Jared arched his back and pressed back. The sensation was overwhelming, like being devoured,
and he couldn’t get his breath. Jensen didn’t stop, and Jared didn’t want him to. Rough skin with a hint of stubble
rubbed sore against his face. He was sure his lips must be red and puffed. When Jensen finally pulled away with
the soft smack of suction releasing, Jared was dizzy and gasping for breath, but his mouth chased for more.
Jensen smoothed his thumb over his lips, collected the saliva that drooled there, pushed it between Jared’s lips,
and let him suck it clean.
“Hmm. I don’t think you know yourself, Jared.” Jensen’s smug comment pulled Jared from his haze. He was
suddenly cold. All contact with Jensen was lost as the man stood and adjusted his clothes, before reaching to
slide the game disc from the consul, buffing it and replacing it in its cover.
“Huh,” Jared was lost for words. He was ridiculously turned on, thoroughly confused, and he wanted more, but it
wasn’t the deal, and he wouldn’t push it. Most days he wasn’t a total douche-bag. “You should clear away the
plate and organize Supper. I have to go and see Pa,” he flailed, looking for an excuse, “He gets antsy if he
doesn’t have an opportunity to shout at me every day. You should stay here, away from him.”
“He said he didn’t want to see you,” Jensen remarked.
“He was drunk. He says that every time we argue. He’ll still be pissed if I don’t.” Jared knew it was true, even as
he said it, and his arousal faded rapidly.
“Does that mean he will want me back?” Jensen looked anxious.
Jared didn’t glance at Jensen as he left the room. “God, no! If he hasn’t come for you, then he’s already replaced
you.”
***
Jensen
Jensen dabbed a finger to his mouth. The taste of Jared lingered on him. It was as if youth had it's own flavor;
minty, sweet and delicious. He thought it could be addictive. Did he taste that way once? Memories clamored to
be heard, but he wouldn't listen. He pushed them into the darkest recess of his mind.
He waited two minutes before he locked the door using the code Jared had inadvertently shown him. He
grabbed the laptop bag to examine the contents. Sure enough, between the computer, the charger, and a pad of
paper covered with math, he found a network cable. Jensen grinned and replaced it all before conducting a
hands and knees search of the wall near to Jared’s television and games consul. He hit gold. There was a
connection. The President’s advisers wouldn’t risk wi-fi for the main system, but there was a possibility their
network could be hacked using Jared’s log-in. The more Jensen got to know Jared, the more he believed his
plan would work. The kid was spoiled, and unpredictable, with a poor sense of morality, but Corporal Hodge was
right, Jared was lonely and needy for approval. Jensen could work with that.
Jensen double checked that everything was back in place. He unlocked the door and set off to the kitchen to
collect Supper.
3/
Jensen
Jared tugged on the chain leash as he unlocked it, and Jensen stretched and yawned on his thin floor mattress.
Being chained to the wall like a dog, for hours at a time, was not a possibility Jensen considered when he took
this assignment. President Padalecki’s son didn’t actually require much service. Jensen wasn’t permitted to mix
with other slaves, and Jared’s Pa had demanded that he be locked down every night, and whenever he was
alone. He had to hand it to the old bastard; he had a sense of self preservation. It made Jensen’s task more
difficult, but not impossible. As for Jared, he didn’t bother to pretend that it didn’t turn him on to have Jensen
kneeling pretty on a leash for him. Considering the kid got a hard-on if Jensen as much as growled at him, he
seemed to be experiencing some confusion.
Jensen was five days into his mission. The optimum date for JD's attack had been set at fourteen days, with a
window of two days either side. His back was healing well, and his bruises were gone. He had a set of basic
clothes with some soft old cotton shirts and worn jeans which fitted him properly. Jared's mood remained erratic,
but he hadn't disciplined Jensen with more than a collar-choke since the night of the banquet. Generally he
seemed to enjoy Jensen's company, and there was an easy affection developing. It was time for Jensen to step
his game up a notch.
Jared ticked tasks off on the fingers of his right hand, “Cleaning, laundry, restock my fridge and coffee-maker,
restock toiletries, clean the a/c filter. Don’t disturb me.” Jared threw himself flat on his bed with his math books
strewn around him, stared at his page, and chewed on his pen. Every now and then Jensen heard the rustle of
paper being rolled into a ball, and the ‘phut’ of it hitting the side of the bin. The kid was a good shot; Jensen
rarely had to pick the debris of his failed homework off the floor.
“I can’t believe Pa makes me stay here while you work. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
Jensen sprayed the shower cubicle with cleaning foam. He rolled his eyes, because he could. Jared had been in
a sulk since breakfast, when he discovered his bacon was sweet-cured rather than smoked. Jensen thought
Jared should get a lesson on how many people in Monkota couldn't afford breakfast at all, but it was in his
interest to be sympathetic. He attempted to make him smile. “I’d be more fun if you let me work naked,” he
offered. He didn’t have to see Jared to know it would make him blush. “Or, I could kiss you for every math
question you get correct,” he called out.
“How about I kiss you, if you shut up and let me concentrate?”
“Ha!” Jensen laughed, and rinsed the foam away. It was strange how easily they seemed to fit together. Jared
had none of the cold formality of his father. If Jensen ignored the collar around his neck, his simmering
resentment, and the mission in his head he could almost pretend they were friends.
They worked in companionable silence until Jensen leaned over Jared to dust the picture above his headboard.
“You know scribbling over it won’t solve the problem, right?”
Jared looked up and frowned, “It doesn’t matter how many times I calculate, the sum is always wrong.”
“Maybe your Pa can help you?”
“It only makes him angry when I study. He thinks I should be in the army.”
Jensen sat next to Jared, on the bed. “You could go on-line with the problem.”
“Already tried that,” Jared huffed.
“I could help. Former accountant, n’all.” Jensen didn't regard himself as particularly good at math, but he knew
enough to deal with explosives, armaments, speeds, and trajectories. He had watched Jared struggle with the
topic for a few days and knew he could solve the questions.
“Really? You’d do that for me?” Jared’s face shone with hope, and his smile formed dimples in his cheeks.
Jensen felt his heart thaw to him, just a fraction.
“Of course. Shuffle over.”
They lay side by side on the bed, with their bellies to the covers and their elbows propping them up. Their heads
bent together and body heat was shared, but their attention was on the numbers. Jensen worked through the
first problem, and explained every step, before handing the pen to Jared and letting him calculate the next, with
his guidance.
“What will you do with your education?” Jensen asked, after the third problem was answered.
Jared turned to lie on his side, facing Jensen, “I don’t know. I was going to study engineering. I had this stupid
ambition that I would design something useful. I fancied myself as some sort of Roebling or Brunel.”
Jensen mirrored Jared’s position on the bed and they lay comfortably, a few inches from each other. It wasn’t
sexual, just platonic and relaxed. “Why do you think it's stupid? You're too young to give up your dreams, Jared."
Jared smiled sadly. “How do you think this is going to end?” He gestured around him, indicating the compound in
general.
“I don’t know. Why are you even here, Jared? Your mother took you away when you were nine, and you were
safe living in the U.S. You can build rail track and bridges anywhere. Why would you come back?”
Jared looked wistful. “We were poor, and I didn’t get on with our stepfather.”
Jensen's gut twisted. He remembered the details of his own stepfather's face, his filthy breath, and the way his
calloused fingers felt on his skin. No, please, stop. Ma, Ma, please... He closed his eyes but the images that
haunted him were in his head. He had to ask, "Your stepfather...did he...hurt you?" A part of him wanted Jared to
have felt the pain of abuse.
"No, god, no, he didn't hit me or anything, but he made it plain he didn't want me."
Jensen let his tension go with a shudder. "It still doesn't explain why you're here."
“When I was little, Pa was a factory worker, a shop steward with political aspirations. He spent a lot of time with
me. He would help with my homework. Sometimes, on days off, he would take me fishing or camping. When he
was around, it felt safe, and most of the time it was fun. When Ma died, he visited without any fuss or entourage,
and he cried. You shouldn’t believe all the crap the media spout. Marriages fail, and they were in the spotlight."
Jensen nodded.
Jared continued, “Pa offered to fund school. He asked if I wanted to go home with him. I’m a teenager. Who
wouldn’t right? He’s the freakin’ President. There was a swimming pool, and parties, girls, alcohol and slaves.”
He paused, "...and I missed him," he admitted reluctantly.
“Your brother and sister, Megan and Jeff didn’t come.” Jensen worded it softly.
“Yeah, I didn’t listen.” Jared shut his eyes, and when they opened again, they were wet, “He’s changed. I mean,
he was always driven, and that’s good isn’t it? He wants the best for everyone. It’s stressful for him. The people
around him, they manipulate him. He didn’t used to be intolerant. Politics does that to a person, suppresses what
they are, in favor of what they need to be. What you’ve seen, that’s us at our worst. There are better days.”
Jensen laid his hand over Jared’s and Jared curled his fingers back into it, “He’d let you go back though?” he
asked
Jared scowled at him, “It's not safe to travel. I’m not a hostage!” The retort was heated and fast.
“Of course,” Jensen soothed. He rubbed calming circles into the back of Jared’s hand with his thumb.
“He’s still my father. He still loves me. He’s not a monster, and he isn’t evil.”
Jensen had a whole list of rebuttals for Jared's arguments. He had to wonder how Jared could deny his own
treatment at his father’s hands, but it wouldn’t get him where he wanted. He stayed calm, and let the kid grip his
hand and keep talking. He listened avidly, taking care to memorize every detail, from the names of Jared’s
childhood pets, to his engineering ambitions of dams and bridges. Over time he let the gap between them close,
until he could feel the warmth of Jared’s body, and sense goose-bumps on his skin.
Eventually Jensen felt the heat of Jared's stare. He looked up into serious hazel eyes. “You’re a good listener.
Do you have children?”
“No. I had a nephew, but he’s just a baby. I don’t want him to know about me. Slaves don’t have their own family.
You’re my family now, Jared.”
Fingertips reached to trace Jared’s mark on Jensen’s cheek. It itched and burned. “No, you’re mine,” reminded
Jared, “I should hate what I did to you, and what happened to Fin, but I don’t. I like having you.”
If Jensen was developing any sympathy for Jared, then that admission swept it away on a landslide of selfish.
None of it was about feelings though, Jensen was sure he kept those locked away safely, where even he could
no longer find them. Jensen brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed Jared’s fingers. “You’re a good
son. You deserve more.”
Jared’s cheeks tinged just a little more pink and he wriggled close to whisper in Jensen’s ear. “I got three math
questions right.” He took a deep breath as Jensen licked a stripe up his neck and playfully delved a wet tongue
in his ear. He continued with a slight shake in his voice, “I keep thinking about the way you kissed me before,
and being your baby boy.”
Jensen silently congratulated himself on his tactics. “Does my baby boy want a reward?”
Jared nodded eagerly.
“Lock the door, take off your shirt, and come back to me, Jared.”
“Really?” Jared looked surprised, and made no move.
“There’s limit to the amount of teasing a man can take from a Lolita like you.” Jensen dragged his fingers down
Jared’s neck, and circled his nipples under the fabric of his tee shirt, “You have been shaking that ass at me from
the moment you claimed me.”
Jared’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, “If we did …if I liked it…you wouldn’t tell anyone, would
you? How it is with us?”
Jensen unhooked their hands and smoothed a palm over Jared’s shoulder, “Jared, you should have worked out,
by now, that I wouldn’t do this just because I can, because you own me, or because you can punish me. Yes,
you’re young and sexy, but I care about you. I wouldn’t hurt you that way. You do get that, don’t you?” Jensen
widened his eyes, and tilted his head to appear innocent and loyal.
“Okay, um,” Jared pushed himself up and crossed the room to lock the door. He slipped his tee over his head,
and posed awkwardly.
Jensen sat on the edge of the bed. He chewed his lip. This part of the job was going to be a reward of its own.
He was in control, and he wasn’t on the clock, or answerable to any Madam. He was going to enjoy every single
moment, including the one at the very end, when Jared finally experienced what it was like to be deceived,
discarded and left to die, in horror and pain. He pulled on all of his experience and crooked a finger to beckon
the kid forward. Jared stood awkwardly in front of him, with his hands folded over his chest.
“No, don’t hide from me.” Jensen grasped Jared’s hands, and brought them down by his side, “Leave them there
until I tell you.”
Jared curled his fingers into his palms, his pupils dilated with arousal, and it was matched by the growing bulge
in his pants.
The buckle of Jared’s belt rattled as Jensen unfastened it and flipped his pants button open. He looked up into
Jared’s face as he yanked the zipper down tooth by tooth, revealing a long, thick, cut cock, straining to be free.
Jensen had been around, he knew quality when he saw it. He could appreciate this. “Oh, baby boy, it looks like
you're jonesing for more than a kiss.” He pulled Jared’s pants down, over his pert, rounded ass, all the way to his
knees, before dipping in to kiss the smooth head of his dick. “I bet you’ve been blown six ways to Sunday by
willing slaves. Did you ever repay the favor?”
There was an embarrassed shuffle. Jared shook his head.
“Take them off.” Jensen gestured to the pants around his knees and Jared fumbled to obey, hopped and pulled
at them, almost toppling in his haste. “Hey, no hurry!” He steadied Jared with a firm grip around the indent of his
hips. “How many times have you been told that you’re beautiful?” Jensen pressed light kisses to his navel,
reveling in the involuntary shiver he caused. There was another small shake of Jared’s head and for a second
Jensen thought it was a pity, but beauty is more than a body. “You are stunning, Jared,” he affirmed. He patted
the bed by his side. “I think you’ve earned those kisses. Now, sit!”
***
Jared
They made out on the bed. Jensen’s clothes were rough against Jared’s bare skin. His slave’s strong hand
cupped the back of his neck and tugged at his hair. His mouth crushed Jared's lips and sucked his tongue with
heated demand. This was nothing like he’d ever done before. Jared was vulnerable and excited, with everything
bared, and everything to lose. The ones he fucked before were mere appetizers, because this felt like his first
time. There was an illicit thrill in believing in this man, this mere property. He craved him, and it made him crazy,
and it made him hard. It was only days since he whipped Jensen, yet he fell into his arms and trusted him to
break the plummet. Jared gasped for breath between kisses, one hand reached for his needy dick and Jensen
slapped it away, “Not yet,” he murmured into Jared’s mouth.
Jared reached to Jensen’s neck to slip his fingers around the circle of his slave’s collar and yanked his head
back with force, to end their kiss.
Jensen stilled, his slick lips shone where they parted, “You seriously want to play that card, Jared? Because I will
stop, and this will be over. Do you want to stop? Or will you trust me?”
“Stop and I will punish you,” he threatened.
“Oh, baby boy, your tantrum would cost you every bit of intimacy we have built. Fucking me would be the same
as every other slave you've screwed; cold and empty.”
Jared whimpered. He knew he was being impatient, but he was horny and desperate and unused to the tease of
waiting. He couldn’t lose Jensen’s attention now. He pressed back to Jensen to plead with him, “I need it, god
you have to touch me, but I’ll wait, I’ll trust you. Need you, please don’t stop.”
“You have to be sure. I won’t do this without consent.”
Jared curled into him and kissed his neck above and below his collar, “I consent. Now, please, please ...,” he
whined.
Jensen’s hands smoothed over his shoulders and continued down his back, tracing a delicious tingle down his
spine. Fingers kneaded his ass cheeks and then scraped a nail-sharp path up his thigh. Jensen cupped Jareds
balls in his hand, squeezed them to just one side of painful. “Beautiful,” he growled, before dipping in to ravish
Jared’s mouth again. He took Jared’s hands and put them on his zipper. Jared fumbled to release Jensen’s cock
from his briefs but Jared was enthusiastically stroking it in a matter of minutes. The skin was velvet soft and
warm. It was a satisfying size and weight in his hand and he jacked it from the slit beading with pre-come, over
an impressive length to Jensens round and heavy sacs. Suddenly, Jensen's lips were gone and his fingers were
in Jareds mouth, tasting of salt and skin. "Get my hand nice and wet, gonna make you feel good."
Jared panicked and jerked his head back, leaving his mouth empty, "I've got lube."
Wet fingers stroked his cheek, "Hey. No. Not going to fuck you today. We're going to take it slow, until you trust
me. I promise, I'll make you feel good."
Jareds body wasn't thrilled with the revelation. It was sure he was ready, but he knew Jensen was right, there
had been a little fear. He wondered if it hadn't turned him on almost as much as his touch, but it was every bit as
erotic, knowing that Jensen was going to take care of him. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to
enthusiastically lick and suck Jensen's hand.
"Sshh, baby." Jensen nipped Jared’s lip when he started to cry out and grind his cock into Jensen’s willing, wet,
hand. Jensen's touch was holy fuck incredible. It was like Jensen had a map to every nerve ending. It was slow
and steady, yet firm and fast. Jensen dipped into the hole at the head and yet explored the base by his taint.
Jensen jacked to the throb of the veins that filled it so hard, and twisted his fingers under the head of his cock
until Jared thought he could see stars. Whenever it got too intense and orgasm threatened, Jensen slowed or
stopped, squeezed the base of his cock and refused to let him climax (or orgasim or ‘fall over that cliff’). Jensen's
other hand roamed with electric touch, over his chest and neck, into his hair, and pressed into every sensitive
spot until he shivered. Jensen kissed him like he was trying to steal breath. Jared was on edge, and begging for
release but he didn't want it to end, and Jensen wouldn't let him rush.
Fucking finally, when Jared was a writhing mess, and he thought his balls might explode with pressure, Jensen
whispered a husky command in his ear, "Come for me." He felt like he had been waiting so long, he had been
thinking about sex with Jensen since their first kiss. The anticipation had built to this, and now his senses were
overloaded. He was an over eager teenager, about to blow his load. There was no thought for Jensen (or Jesens
pleasure?), he couldn’t wait. His orgasm consumed him with dizzying white ecstasy. He shuddered as come
roped over Jensen’s hand, and onto his stomach. “Holy shit!” were the only words that made it past his lips.
Jared was still panting and delirious when Jensen sat up on the edge of the bed with his legs splayed wide, and
maneuvered Jared until he was on his knees in the vee of Jensens legs. Jensen grasped his hair and pulled his
head forward until his mouth was level with Jensens erect cock. Jensen thumbed his lips apart to feed the tip
into Jared's mouth. Jared tried to pull back but fingers tightened in his hair and he was urged forward, "You know
you want something to suck on."
The taste was strange but not unpleasant. He swirled a tongue around the girth and sucked experimentally. It
could have been the effect of his orgasm-high but he thought he liked the weight on his tongue and the soft skin
that slid over his lip into the hot cavity of his mouth. He sucked in his cheeks and hummed, as others had done
for him. Jensen threw back his head and swore, “Christ! You’re better than I imagined.” Jared wondered how it
looked, the little bitch, on his knees for his slave.
When Jensen started to thrust into his mouth he choked, then misjudged and cock battered the inside of his
cheek. Jensen guided Jared’s hand to his shaft, showed Jared how to keep control over his increasing intensity.
It didn’t take long before Jensen was coming, filling his mouth with seed, tilting his chin to keep it in, and
encouraging him to swallow. It was salty, warm and slightly bitter and Jared gaged. He swallowed once and the
rest dribbled from the side of his mouth. He hardly noticed Jensen’s open mouthed pleasure or the way Jensen
cleaned himself with a tissue and tucked himself back in. Jared remained naked in the company of his fully
clothed slave.
Strong arms lifted him onto the bed and cuddled him under the covers. Jared couldn't believe he was fucked out,
like never before, after a hand job. It felt so good. His struggled to keep his eyes open, but he felt the soft wipe of
a face cloth cleaning him, and the tender kisses Jensen placed on his eyelids. He was secure and tucked into
the old cotton of Jensen’s shirt, being rocked to the rhythmic lullaby of Jensens? heartbeat.
“Sshh. So good, baby boy. Rest now.”
Jared closed his eyes and let sleep surround him.
***
Jensen
Jared loved his dogs and his siblings, Jensen loved that about him, because guessing his passwords was a
cinch. Jared also loved gaming, and Jensen loved that particular detail even more, because apparently, Jared
had already hacked a tiny door through presidential security, in the name of World of Warcraft. God bless boys
and their need for toys. He only had to hope that his team’s resident geek, Danneel, was feeling the need to kick
dragon ass and investigate messages from Winchester, the green eyed mage.
Jensen worked with his tongue between his teeth, on the floor of Jared’s bedroom by the TV and games consul.
A clutter of dvds and game ephemera surrounded him. He finished with a click of the last internet tab, and
deleted his browser history.
The sound of fabric rustling, and a cough, was sudden, unexpected, and terrifying. “Jensen?”
Shit! Jared was supposed to sleep for longer than that. Jensen’s heart sped. He closed his eyes and offered a
short prayer, but he couldn’t afford to freeze. Being caught wasn’t an option, because he wanted to keep his
toenails and his liver intact. He ensured that his body blocked Jared’s view of the open laptop, and he flicked a
large duster in his hand, using the movement as a distraction. With the other hand, he picked up a can of polish
and sprayed it liberally around the television.
“Whatcha doin’?” Jared’s voice was slurred and sleepy.
“I didn’t finish my chores. The dust in this corner is appalling.” He lifted a pile of boxed games from the shelf and
made a show of wiping them, before making a stack on the floor, to further hide his activity.
“S’the static,” yawned Jared. “Mm. You’re very good at what you do, Jensen.” Jared laughed, and added a
wickedly voiced and more wakeful, “Everything that you do.”
Jensen used two fingers behind the polish to disconnect the network cable and push it under the TV stand. He
was feeling sick with every additional moment that passed with him exposed. The laptop screen clicked down,
but the noise was covered by his sudden activation of the television, which blared with the gunfire and music of
an old western.
“Holy hell! Turn the volume down before the sentries think that’s real.”
“Sorry, caught the button.” Jensen held the duster up in his defense, and leaned to turn the TV off. He palmed
the remote control in a smooth move, and within moments it was in position for him to retrieve it at the same time
as the network cable. He might not be a real-life mage, but he knew a thing or two about misdirection and
illusion.
“Finish up there and make me some coffee. I’m wiped.” Jared’s head flopped back onto his pillow, and he closed
his eyes. “Wake me up when it’s ready,” he added.
Jensen exhaled and let his breath steady. Games were replaced on shelves, and Jared’s laptop was back in
exactly the same position as Jared always left it.
***
Jared
Two tablespoons of freshly ground Arabica, a teaspoon of sugar, a shot of caramel, and frothed milk, with a
sprinkle of chocolate, smelled like heaven, and tasted even better. Jared sipped at it, and hummed his
appreciation. “You should try it. It’s awesome,” he encouraged Jensen.
Jensen mimicked sticking his fingers down his throat. “It’s an explosion of sugar and froth, and a travesty to all
coffee-kind,” he asserted.
Jared twirled his finger and pointed at his slave, “I bet you like yours dark and bitter.”
“Yup,” grinned Jensen.
Jared watched the carved initials, JP, shift on the man’s cheek as he smiled. It was healing, but the scar would
remain. It didn’t detract from Jensen’s beauty, only added to the thrill of knowing this strong, sexy man was his.
Jared wondered if this is what a crush felt like. He hoped it never went away. “You can have coffee. Make
yourself one whenever you want,” he offered.
Jensen poured a mug of thick black brew, and inhaled deep before tipping it back and savoring it. His lips circled
the side of the mug, his neck elongated, and his throat pulsed obscenely as he gulped. He closed his eyes, as if
in prayer and his eyelashes fluttered onto freckled cheeks.
Jared watched him. “Jesus! That’s positively pornographic, Jensen.”
“I’ve been missing coffee,” Jensen admitted.
“I guess that’s the fuel which accountants run on, eh?”
“Huh?” Jensen seemed out-of-it and confused for a moment, but he recovered. “Oh, yeah, definitely! I might
have been addicted.”
Jared thought about the simple things Jensen must have taken for granted once. The collar around his slave’s
neck suddenly seemed crueler than he had ever considered. “You can always have coffee, as long as I get to
watch the show.” He patted Jensen on the shoulder, “If there’s anything else, any little thing that you miss, you
can always ask. As long as it’s reasonable.” Jared waited for the expected retort about freedom. It was a relief
when Jensen didn’t rise to the opportunity.
“How about what you miss?” Jensen’s green eyed gaze seemed to bore into him. “Don’t you ever want sunshine
on your skin, or to feel the wind in your hair? This place has to feel like a prison for you.”
Jared shrugged. The compound drove him crazy, but it did include miles of woodland and lake, carefully
monitored by cameras and microphones. It was large enough to be lonely, and intrusive enough to feel like
confinement. He wasn’t stupid though, outside the gates was civil unrest and danger, and he was a prime target.
Some days were better than others, but there hadn’t been any good days in a while. He considered the options.
“I used to ride, but the horses have been taken somewhere quieter. There’s a fishing lodge by the lake. It nice
there, but it’s no fun on my own.”
“So, take me. It’s what I’m for isn’t it? To serve and amuse you?” Jensen’s head was tipped in question and he
looked earnestly at Jared. “I could pack a picnic, and coffee in a flask, and you can pretend to be deep in yeti
country, just for the day. It would be good for you.”
“Do you even fish?”
“You can teach me. It’ll be fun. You’re seventeen Jared. You do remember fun, don’t you?”
“Do you want to go fishing, Jensen?” Jared asked with a chuckle.
“Hell, yeah! I want to see you in daylight. I need proof that you aren’t a vampire.”
“I’d have to activate the shock capability on your collar.”
“I’m not intending to scale any fences, or swim. I think I can handle it.” Jensen frowned and corrected himself,
“Assuming the thing doesn’t malfunction. The shock won’t go off on its own will it?”
“It will only activate if I want it to.”
Jensen looked nervous.
“Relax, I won’t.”
Jensen bounced on his heels. “Good. What day will I make arrangements for?”
His enthusiasm gave Jared a warm glow, and he didn’t have to think about it. He felt light and happy, with
something to look forward to. “We’ll go next Thursday,” he answered, “There is always a big military meeting on
Thursdays, so there'll be nobody at the lake, and no-one to snitch on us." He paused, and added, "And we’ll take
beer.”
4/
Jensen
Five days later, it was Thursday, and rain lashed down from a gray sky.
“Seriously?” Jensen’s backpack was heavy, and the ill-fitted straps bit into his shoulder. He let his footing slip on
the root-bumpy and sodden ground of the forest, and his cheap sneakers squished unpleasantly in cloying mud.
Jared dropped his leash and reached a hand to steady him.
Jared, of course, carried none of the supplies for their fishing trip. That is what a slave is for. A trained soldier
could easily take it in his stride, but Jensen struggled in the downpour. Rain gathered in his hair. It dripped in
rivulets down the back of his neck, and over his face. Drops weighed on his eyelashes, and he blinked them
away. “You really want to go for a picnic in this?” he protested.
Jared’s substantial boots gave him traction on the slippery surface, his waterproofs gleamed, and a trail of water
drained from the brim of his Tilley hat. He chuckled, “Don’t be a baby, Jensen. It doesn’t frighten the fish away. In
fact they’re more active. This was your idea, so suck it up.”
Jensen shifted his pack and continued. Jared rolled up his leash and tucked it into the pocket of the soaked
jacket Jensen wore. “Should you do that?” Jensen asked.
Jared scrutinized his slave, then turned his back, to resume hiking. “Even you’re not stupid enough to think you’d
get far in these conditions.”
Jensen rushed, with small, cautious steps, to keep up with him. His first impression of the lake was that it was
man-made specifically for a rich man’s hobby. At about a mile wide, it was beautiful in an orderly, and
landscaped way. Gravel paths surrounded it, interconnecting with both open and sheltered fishing spots. There
were picnic tables, barbecues and trash cans. A huge lodge stood by the tapered end of the lake where a dock,
with ready-fitted rod supports, jutted into deep water. Jensen’s eyes narrowed at Jared, “There’s a direct, dry
path, to get here, isn’t there? We didn’t even come far, did we?”
Jared’s lips quirked up even as he tried to look contrite, “Well, we might have done a complete 360 to get here.
You wanted an adventure!” he pointed out. “At least there are towels and shelter at the end of this one.”
Jensen didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll.
“C’mon, get inside. You can unpack and dry off, and I can find umbrellas and seats, rods, and jig lures.” Jared
unlocked the door and held it open for him. Jensen dropped his pack clumsily by the door while he looked for
signs of surveillance. A sophisticated system of powered cameras and microphones were obvious in the wooded
area of the lake, and a lens focused on the main door of the lodge. Jensen picked his pack up again to deposit it
on the pine luggage rack that stood near the door. He looked around the lodge and whistled.
“This is some fishing cabin,” he commented. There were antique rods and reels mounted on the walls with
stuffed fish in glass cases and autographed photographs of politicians from all over the world, posing proudly
with fish on hooks and in their arms. More relevant to Jensen, at that moment, was the apparent lack of internal
surveillance and a door that opened into a huge pine-clad sauna and shower room.
Jared ambled out of it with a giant fluffy towel and proceeded to tug the wet jacket from Jensen, “Here, get that
off. There are waterproofs, in the boot lobby.” He proceeded to wrap the towel around Jensen and rub his hair
and face dry. Jensen stood meekly and let him.
“There’s a portable heater kicking around here somewhere. See if you can find it. Unpack the sandwiches and
beer, I’m starving.”
Jensen looked around the compact kitchenette with its two burner range, an assortment of dishes and a coffee
maker. “You let me pack a flask of coffee when there’s electricity?” Jensen sounded exasperated, but he had
already noticed that the surveillance ran off some sort of wired power grid.
Jared poked his head out from the cupboard he was rummaging in. “I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” His
cheeky grin made him look young and adorable. It wasn’t hard to find Jared attractive. Considering the thick
deerskin rug by the open fire-place and the well-appointed bedroom, it was probably a good thing. There was no
way that Jared didn’t have something more than fishing planned for them.
***
Jared chose to fish from the jetty. He erected a gigantic camouflage canopy that sheltered both of them from the
rain, and then he set about demonstrating the Shimano rod with its reel and strong nylon line. Jensen made the
appropriate noises for an amateur and chose a frog popper, to fish for Black Bass at the surface. He had a
suspicion that the bass would more likely be at depth or idling under the jetty at this time of year, but who didn’t
want to try and hop a little green frog lure over the water, on their first time out? Jared scoffed and called him
cute, then chose a rainbow-bright plastic grub for his own hook.
Learning to cast saw Jensen tangling the line around a jetty post with Jared in tears of laughter. When Jared
gathered his calm, he stood flush to Jensen’s back and guided his arms to flick and lightly drag. Warm breath
tickled Jensen's neck, and when he got the technique just right, Jared placed a soft-lipped kiss under his ear
before moving away to let his protégé practice on his own. The first time Jensen’s line ducked under and his line
reeled wildly, Jared stood with him to alternately tease and coach him. Jensen fought with the monster of a fish
before finally landing it, with a wet slap, on the wooden boards while falling backwards onto his ass, on the same
decking.
“Wow, how do you manage to catch trout when we’re fishing for Bass? Must be at least a pound,” smiled Jared,
and Jensen could see his body convulsing with laughter.
“Hey, trout’s good eating I’ll have you know,” Jensen sulked.
Holding on to the wriggling, slick fish was much harder then he imagined. It made an enormous last effort as the
hook was removed from its mouth and leaped over the side of the jetty, back into the water with a splash.
“That will be why you kill the fish before you take it off the hook,” Jared advised smugly and too late.
Time passed peacefully. Jensen appreciated the relative freedom of being outdoors, enjoying a free man's
pastime. He thought Jared had started to see him as a friend and confidante. Yeah, it was clear that Jared had a
big ass crush on Jensen, but it was cute rather than creepy. The times Jensen spent on a goddamn leash, in
Jared’s ownership were the product of parental pressure rather than selfishness. Jensen, the accountant, would
want this; he might even fall for Jared’s charm. Ross the soldier, was hidden deep in him. He would be appalled
by Jensen's lack of survival skills.
Gradually, the patter of rain on the nylon canopy lessened, and gray clouds thinned to reveal patches of blue.
There was a fresh scent in the air, and on the other side of the lake a goose honked. Jared watched the water
and scanned the sky. Jensen watched Jared. The kid's worry lines smoothed out and the hazel of his eyes
became softer and green. He was mellow in a way Jensen had never seen. He wondered this was the way
Jared would have been, if he had stayed in America.
They both turned their heads to the South to listen to the steady chop-chop of a helicopter in the no-fly zone,
turning in toward the compound. Jared tensed, “Ours,” he said with a slight trace of doubt.
“How can you tell?” asked Jensen.
“I dunno. The ones Quintas uses sound heavier. The Revolutionaries don’t have anything in the air as far as I
know,” he paused, then added, “…yet.”
Jensen’s senses were heightened. He tracked the noise of the helicopter as it veered direction. Crazy Ivan
maneuver, but why was nobody firing? Jared was right about Quintas. The gunships he used were heavy in
armory and artillery, and this was a lighter sound. It didn’t make it right, the thing was too low and too erratic and
it had,, an engine stutter. A faint ‘pop’ blew in on a wind current from the direction of the ranch. It preceded the
staccato fire of artillery at the edge of the compound, by moments. Jensen grabbed Jared’s arm and shoved him
low under the shelter of the canopy.
“Wha ..?”
“Sshh! Stay still!” Jensen's reactions were automatic. He punched the fishing rods out of their holders and aimed
a sweeping kick at the picnic supplies and beer bottles. They slid under the surface of the lake, making shadowy
ripples in gray water. He crawled under the camouflage at the very moment the helicopter crested the trees to
arc over the lake. This wasn’t his team. It sure as hell wasn’t Quintas, because he wasn’t going to attack the
President while he was paying millions of dollars for JD’s team to do it for him. The markings identified it as one
of the President’s diplomatic fleet, but it was beaten up and over-crewed. A churning instinct in his stomach told
him it wasn’t the President’s own men. That left the wild card of unpredictable and factional revolutionaries. In
layman’s terms, if this was an attack on the compound, it screwed his mission, and was every bit as bad news
for Jensen as it was for Jared Padalecki.
Jared shivered next to him. Jensen took his hand and held it in his own. “Is there a shelter in the Lodge?” The
kid looked up at him wide-eyed and open mouthed but no words came out. “Jared, there has to be a panic room
or cellar…”
The chop-chop of the helicopter cut out somewhere close, and there was brief, grim, silence. Jensen pulled
Jared up by his hand, with sheer force.
“RUN. Jared. WITH ME.”
Jared was alabaster-pale and motionless. Jensen tugged at him again, and his legs stepped after him as the first
ripple of explosion shook the ground and lit the sky. Gunfire boomed and resounded. Jared got with the program
and sprinted.
They reached the Lodge in a tangle of arms and legs. Jensen wasn’t paying attention to the way they got there,
just that they did. There was a high pitched electrical hum that seemed to travel inward to them. He flicked his
eyes up to the progression of surveillance cameras on the electrical loop, he watched the display as one after
another they fizzed and sparked into disorder like it was fourth of July. There was no delay in his retrieval of the
kitchen fire extinguisher. Any possible fire from the door camera was extinguished before it started. Jared
secured the Lodge door with fumbling hands.
Jared gulped and finally spoke with a tremble, “There’s a panic room in the cellar. It’s always stocked. The
comms and lock should be on a separate loop.”
“Okay. We grab everything that might give us away. Empty the kettle, dry the sink, put towels and rugs straight,
and we get down there. You with me?”
“Yeah.” Jared’s hair stuck out at every angle as he nodded his understanding.
“Hurry.”
They made it to the panic room in four and half minutes. Jensen was secretly impressed.
***
Jensen checked the lock again and sat on a bunk in the guard's room. He kicked off his sneakers and massaged
his toes. “Ultramarine,” he said, continuing the game he had started. Jared knew he was trying to keep him
calm.
“Violet,” Jared’s reply was instantaneous.
“You’ve played this before. Xanthic.”
“Yellow. Bitch! So have you.” Jared would have laughed, but he wasn’t sure anything was funny. He wondered
how Jensen could be so relaxed, when all they could do was wait, and there was no way to tell what would be
outside the door when they finally emerged. The alphabet game wasn’t enough to distract him from the terror of
his imagination.“How did you know what to do? Why did you save me?”
“This place is huge. We could play baseball. I bet there’s a ball.” Jensen was deliberately avoiding the question.
His eyes flickered around the alcove they were in and took in the sight of the comms desk Jared was stood
beside. A spaghetti-muddle of unfinished repairs was a graphic reminder of the predicament they were in.
“Jensen! I asked a question. You know you have to answer me.” If Jared was being short tempered, it
because the whole situation was stressful.
was only
Jared saw Jensen’s jaw stiffen and there was a brief flash of resentment. He remembered that he was alone with
this older, strong and capable man, who had been used and punished by him. So far, Jensen had been gentle,
efficient and funny. He didn’t think of him as a slave any more, not really. He was sure he was little in love with
him, and thought there might be a reciprocal spark from Jensen, but realistically, there was no reason to believe
in his unconditional loyalty. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, to curl his fingers around the reassuring shape of
the remote controller for Jensen’s shock collar.
Jensen didn't miss the action. He tutted. “For fuck’s sake! I could have left you out there, pissing your pants, and
you’re thinking of using that thing on me? You sure inherited your daddy's manners.”
Jared could feel his cheeks heating up, “Sorry,” he mumbled with lowered gaze.
Jensen ran his hands through his hair, his shoulders dropped and his tone softened, “It's okay. I know you're
freaked, and it makes me nervous. One thing training taught me was that I don't like being shocked. Rolling
around on the ground without bladder control is humiliating. I don't suppose you'd consider putting it out of
reach?”
Jared took the control out of his pocket. He turned it in his hand, reluctant to let of the small symbol of safety.
“Why did you save me, Jensen?” he needed to know.
Jensen stood up. He continued to run his hands through his hair and rub the back of his neck. “I need a coffee.
We'll investigate the stores.”
“What if someone tries to get in, and we're not ready?”
“Then it will be your father, or it won't, and if it's not, then whatever we do, it won't be enough. If they are strong
enough to take the compound and its garrison, then we are no match. In that event, I am going to put my hands
high and surrender, and suggest you do the same. You have to hope that your dual nationality means something
to the U.S. If you're very lucky you might be a bargaining chip.”
Jared felt suddenly faint as he thought about his status. He had never let himself dwell on it before, but here he
was, with a good possibility that this was the end of the line for his Pa, and therefore for him. He sat up, “Do you
think …?” he started, but the words stuck in his throat. Then, Jensen was in front of him, crouching to look him in
the eye, taking his hand in his own.
“You can't afford to think like that, Jared. You're not your Pa. You're not involved in the politics of this place.
You're not even in the army. The compound is well defended and the army will give everything its got. If it doesn't
work out, then we'll make a run for it, and we will make it. Do you understand me?” Jensen nodded slowly, as if
willing him to copy the action, and Jared did. Jared let Jensen take the shock control from his hand and place it
on the defunct comms unit. A large friendly hand led him deep into the bunker.
The kitchenette was similar to the one in the main lodge but there were vast cold-stores with cans, jars and
packets of every sort. Jensen grabbed stove gas, a pot, a catering pack of filter coffee and another of creamer,
and groaned, “There is finally a reason to appreciate your Pa, Jared.
Jared lifted two items from the shelves with disbelief, and held them up for Jensen to see, “Apparently, we're
stocked for every eventuality.”
Jensen's eyebrows rose high, and he shook his head at the can of caviar and box of condoms, “Because a panic
room,” he corrected himself, “No, panic bunker, is the obvious place for a romantic dinner a deux,” he said
sarcastically.
“Nobody wants to die a virgin.” Jared looked at Jensen as he spoke, then blushed and looked away.
Jensen sniffed at the water before he filled the pot. "You are no virgin!"
"Not in the strictest sense, but in some ways...," Jared fluttered his eyelashes as he spoke.
Jensen's hand was rough with speckles of ground arabica, and it smelled of fish, coffee and rain. He grabbed
Jared's chin and tilted it to look in his face, "Nobody's going to die, do you hear me? We are not going to die
here." His hand dropped away and Jared felt the loss of its reassurance. Jensen opened drawers and cabinets
and he gave Jared one of his trademark grins, "If they have forgotten the can-opener, then I swear I will get out
of here alive, just to kill every one of them." He continued with a soft smile, even as his hand curled around a
basic can-opener and lifted it triumphantly. "Okay, they get to live another day!" he announced.
Jared hmphed with a watery smile. He wondered if they really would. He knew all of his father's security team.
Most of them were like Corporal Hodge, ordinary, decent men and women, with a sense of duty and families to
support. There was no doubt they were fighting right now, possibly dying or dead already; sacrificing themselves
for the President and his government cronies, some of whom were entitled, irresponsible, assholes. Oh God! A
voice in his head supplied a fragmented memory, "You get to live another day, Jay." Jared stumbled into the
washroom, to puke into the self-composting toilet. The memory of dark eyes and dark hair, a soft pink mouth and
softer curves assaulted him and he wanted touch her, Sophie, but she wasn't there and never would be again.
"Jared?" Jensen appeared behind him with coffee and a back rub. "Rinse your mouth out with coffee, we
shouldn't drink any of the water unless it's boiled."
Jared sloshed some around his mouth and spat it out. "Sorry."
"What for? A normal reaction to stress. Not like I haven't seen you do it before."
Jared closed his eyes. Of course he had. Jensen had seen what happened to Fin, and Jensen had cleaned up
his mess. Was that really only ten days ago? Jared didn't deserve sympathy and he had to wonder why Jensen
still comforted him.
"C'mon, there's a couch. You should sit."
Jared allowed himself to be manipulated over to the deep leather sofa. Jensen grabbed at the cushions and
throws, to make a nest for Jared. He knelt at his feet to remove his boots and massage his feet. Wide green
eyes looked up at him from between his knees. On any other day his thoughts would be obscene. Instead, all he
felt was bone deep exhaustion and gratitude. He voiced his question once more, "Why? Why are you being nice
to me?"
Jensen sat back on his heels. He seemed to think about the question. "I'm still your slave. There is every
possibility that when that door opens, my circumstances will be the same. I have nothing to gain by being
troublesome, and everything to lose."
Jared pulled the throw up to his chin and curled his feet onto the sofa, away from Jensen's touch. He couldn't
pretend he wasn't disappointed with his answer. "You could have left me there," he pointed out.
"After you took me on a picnic and showed me how to fish? That would have been horribly impolite. Besides, I
like you all in one piece. So many more things I can do to you," Jensen joked lightly, and placed a flat palm on
Jared's knee. "Like it or not, I'm stuck with you. I have no aspiration to be one of Quintas's whores, and I'm dead
meat to the maniacs who claim to have the interests of ordinary people at heart."
Jared didn't understand his reasoning, "I don't deserve your help. You could join them." he insisted.
"What do you think your slaves did, when you fled your mansion? Do you even understand the process a slave
goes through to be in Presidential service, Jared?"
He had never given it much thought. In the weeks before the first uprising, he had raged and wheedled at
Sophie to leave, but she had refused. After the evacuation, rumors had been wild, the truth impossible to
ascertain from the distance the President put behind them. If Jared was honest, he hadn't wanted to think about
any of it. He had thrown himself into his studies, and played a pointless power game with his father. "I don't
know. No," he answered honestly, because Jensen deserved that at least.
"Seriously?" His slave looked horrified.
Shame crawled under his skin. He looked away, unable to bear the way Jensen looked at him.
There was a shift in the sofa as Jensen sat next to him, lifted his feet and rested them on his thighs, to continue
massaging Jared's toes. "We sign a contract," Jensen explained, "It gives away our rights to freedom, our body,
our thoughts and our control. For that, convicted criminals get a consideration, that is, they are considered for
slavery, if anybody will purchase them and take the responsibility of keeping them in captivity until their sentence
is complete. Their purchase price is standardized and taken by the government. It cannot benefit them or their
family."
"It still doesn't explain why you would stay."
Jensen shushed him with a finger on his lips, "The President does not allow convicts in his entourage. When a
free person chooses to sell themselves, they can screen their bidders and set the minimum asking price. It is a
simple case of supply and demand, and the money is paid to debtors or family. If a trader considers a slave to be
sufficiently honest, with references, then another negotiation may take place. If your father likes what he sees,
he pays a further half of the asking price on top of the original, for slaves who sign their life and lifetime loyalty to
his family and his government. I needed that money, and I will take the consequences. I swore to protect you,
and I keep my word, Jared. If I don't, then my default will fall to Mackenzie"
“You were married?” Jared hadn't considered the possibility, yet Jensen was certainly at an age where most
would be.
“No. I never did find the right person. Mackenzie, my sister, did though. Stars in her eyes, head over heels, all
that clichéd nonsense.”
“How does an accountant get into the sort of debt that merits selling himself into slavery? I mean, you earned a
lot, you said you had a car.”
“Mac wanted a baby. She tried, time and time again. Their marriage got strained. It took over their lives. When
they were offered IVF she took the chance. It cost thousands, and when it didn't work, they sold nearly
everything they had. Then, one day she came to me with a little blue mark on the stick, and she was so fucking
excited. That kid was everything to them, and she grew round with a healthy kid and I was thrilled. I'm an Uncle.
Why wouldn't I be happy? Just before the birth, I found her at home, beaten to hell. Her husband was gone, He'd
high-tailed it out of there. The baby hung on to be born, but she told me what she'd done to conceive, made me
promise to look after the child when she was gone.”
“She got in over her head with debt?” Jared supplied the theory. He gulped a mouthful of his coffee.
“Owed it to just another crime-lord, in this screwed up country. The interest was stacked high enough to
challenge the Eiffel Tower. I sold my car, my house, and all my investments to pay it, and it still wasn't enough,
the interest was still ticking. I didn't know what to do. Then, Mac went into labor, and I was her birthing partner.
When Milly was born, I was the first to hold her. She was tiny, and blue-eyed, and perfect.” Jared could see tears
glistening in Jensen's eyes, “I knew what I had to do. Milly has her mother, a home, and food, and they have no
debts. I don't regret it. I'd do it again if I had to.”
Jared picked at the threads on the wool throw, and drained the rest of his drink. “I don't know what to say.”
“You don't have to say anything, just understand that I won't break my contract.”
“Oh,” Jared was dismayed. “I thought maybe you liked me.”
“I like you too much. I'm almost old enough to be your father, and you are confused and lost right now. I'm not
going to take advantage.”
Jared perked up, “Not even if I ask you? You did before.”
Jensen patted his knee. “That was different. You were completely in control of yourself.”
Jared was feeling light-headed and giggly. It made no sense. “You're nice. Wish you were my Pa. Sexy daddy.”
The bunker was spinning around him, and a hand reached to take his mug. “I feel odd.” He squinted at Jensen.
“Okay, Romeo. I found the meds supply. I added a sedative to take the edge off your panic. Not a lot to do 'cept
sleep anyway.”
“I think I love you, sexy daddy.” Jared closed his eyes and grinned.
Jensen's palm cupped his cheek and fingers carded through his hair. “I think I misjudged the dose, you
lightweight.”
Jared liked it here with Jensen.
5/
Jensen
Jensen shuffled as far as he dared on elbows and knees. The sounds and smells of battle drifted to him on a
smoky and cordite-tinged breeze, and the debris of the gunship breached the outer enclosure. It smoldered in
scattered pieces at the edge of the ranch. The security detail had fallen back to the ranch itself and was
defending the building with vigor.
It was an enthusiastic, but disorganized force, that overran the area between the gate and the ranch. Civilians
grew bold and joined the attack with makeshift weapons and hunting rifles. It was close to being a mob, and that
was never going to be pretty. Jensen touched his collar self-consciously. He didn't anticipate the rag-tag
revolutionaries getting through the President's defenses, but it certainly put a new spin on his mission. When the
riot was through, there would be temporary weaknesses and heightened awareness.
Once, the President would have come to the people himself, addressed the crowd and soothed them. Once,
Jensen, no, Ross, had been proud to serve him.
Padalecki had been a man of the unions, and the figurehead for the ordinary citizens. He had risen to power
rapidly, in a void created by scandals in the ruling classes and banking sectors. When established politicians fled
the country, from charges of conspiracy and fraud, the people elected his grassroots party to govern them.
It hadn't taken long for Padalecki''s popularity to fade. It soon became apparent that the task of rebuilding the
country was too complex for a simple man. The stifling tendrils of organized crime poisoned all sectors of
society, and his aides were leeches, who circled him for opportunities of power and wealth. Paranoia, and his
fear that the country would go to the polls, only to return to weighted feudalism, fueled a downward spiral in the
man, and elections were canceled. Jensen saw a sad and dangerous dictator, who trusted nobody, and
wallowed in the very traits he abhorred when he started his political quest.
He wondered when it had all changed for Jared, or if he even acknowledged his father's demise. He thought he
probably didn't see it because he didn't want to. Jared flip-flopped between disgust with his father, and memories
of a better time. He was a seriously messed-up kid, the perfect poster-child for his Pa's nation. There was no
hope for anyone in this place. Jensen might as well take his revenge, make his own buck, and high-tail it out of
there.
Jensen watched intently, like a big-cat waiting for a straggler to become detached from the herd. With a crowd
like this, curiosity for what lay through the trees was inevitable. There would always be aspiring looters, unwilling
to share their booty. It made them easy to pick off. In the end, it was a middle-aged man, who smelled of
cigarettes and alcohol and greed. Jensen ended him easily, with one hand, before he could even beg for his
pathetic life. He picked through the man's belongings, looking for his prize, and when his fingers clutched a cell
phone, he grinned. Local reception was good, and it had a full battery.
Danni screeched unprofessionally when he gave his password. “What the fuck, Ross? You were supposed to
find me a door into their IT from the main network, not some mouse hole to one side. Lucky for you, I'm a genius.
Now, you're starting the party without us? Misha wants to smack you upside your head, and I'm not repeating the
names JD has been using.
“Danni. I'm improvising the best I can. Let me speak to the boss.”
JD seemed unruffled, “What the hell sort of unsecure cell is this?”
“The only one I could get my hands on.”
“Where have you been? Not seen you with the target.”
Jensen winced, he knew he'd screwed up that part of his job, “What can I say? I'm not his favorite.”
“Not even gonna ask the obvious. You're alive. Tell me if it's on.”
“Give it a twenty four hour window after everything settles. I'm in place. The signal stands.”
“If you're sure.”
“I am.” Jensen hovered a finger over the power button.
“Misha says take care,” JD spoke gruffly.
Jensen smiled, he knew that was JD's way of showing concern,“Later.”
When he returned, Jared was still sleeping. There was a slight flush on his cheeks, his feet poked out from the
throw, and his hair trailed soft and shiny over the cushioned roll of the end of the sofa. 'Sexy daddy'. Jensen's
skin crawled with the uncomfortable memory of Jared's giggly use of the affectation. He closed his eyes, but past
voices and faces wouldn't be shaken off so easily. He breathed deep, and pushed the memories back into the
black corners of his mind. This was a different situation. He was different from them. If there was a fleeting
moment in which he thought that maybe his intentions were worse, then he didn't acknowledge it.
He took some time to investigate the bunker. It was the size of a large apartment. The guard room, by the door
held comms, desk space, and two bunks. Jared slept on the sofa in a large, central, rest area, with armchairs,
full bookshelves and small tables. From that, the kitchenette, two bathrooms and three bedrooms could be
accessed. Two large and basic bunk-filled rooms were presumably meant to house government officials and
family. The third room was smaller, but lavishly furnished, with a huge comfortable bed, a leather topped desk
and a tiny cupboard-like space, housing a toilet and basin.
He noted that, even in the reduced circumstances, there were steel rings for slaves to be leashed. What there
wasn't – was an alternative exit. The walls and ceiling were solid steel, probably lead lined, and the bunker was
almost certainly under the lake. When it came time to leave, there was only one way out. He hoped he hadn't
misjudged the strength of the President's defenses.
***
Jared
Jared's mouth was dry and woolly, and his head ached. He opened stinging eyes to the interior of the bunker
and groaned. He was hoping it was all a bad dream.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Take it easy. Here.” Jensen passed him a glass of water. “Boiled it earlier,” he explained.
Jared flexed and stretched. Jensen sat on the sofa with him, and his feet still rested on the slave's firm thighs. It
was as if Jensen hadn't moved while Jared was asleep, but the water he offered proved otherwise. He yawned,
“How long was I out?”
“About four hours, sorry, you were freaking out. I thought it was for the best. It wasn't actually supposed to knock
you out entirely.”
Jared sipped the water and sat up cautiously, “What now?”
“We appear to be all out of instructions on what to do when the compound is under attack and we're alone in a
bunker. There is a very nice recipe booklet for chocolate cake, and a fishing almanac.” Jensen's snide comment
was both funny and frightening, “Tell me you had drills for this kind of thing, Jared? Or, that your father at least
talked to you about it?”
Jared massaged a crick from his neck, “He didn't talk to me about anything. You seemed to know what to do,
though.” He realized that Jensen still hadn't told him why that was.
Jensen's reply was laced with sadness and frustration, “What do you think happens to the good folk every time
there is a spat between the warlords and criminals, the government and the revolutionaries? Do you think that
they are safe from the madness while it rages around them? The only thing ordinary people can do is hide until it
is over, and hope that nobody makes them a witness or scapegoat. If their home, business and family remain
when they emerge, then they count it as a victory. The ordinary folk are good at running and hiding. I was good
at it.”
“I never got to see much, since I came back.”
“I guessed,” Jensen's hand was on his knee again. It was solid and warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk
about it?”
“Do you think he has even missed me? Nobody has come for me. I thought he would send somebody.” Jared let
his doubts tumble out. He longed for his mother to hold him tight and reassure him. Sometimes, he didn't feel
very grown up. Jensen seemed to understand him. Jensen didn't tell him to grow up, or get a pair. Jensen
listened, and he explained things without derision. Jared wanted to fall into his safety.
“I think this was all very sudden. Maybe they can't get to you, or maybe it is safer not to draw attention to your
presence. I think that Corporal Hodge would come, if he could. He seems fond of you.”
“You mean, Pa doesn't seem fond of me?”
Jensen grimaced, “I didn't say that.”
“You're not allowed to say that.” Jared pulled the throw over himself like a shield, “But I wish you would be
honest. The first time we met, you said what you thought.” Even Jared could tell he sounded like a spoiled kid.
“And look where that got me! Besides, I don't think it's me who you need to be honest. I think you're sick of lying
to yourself.”
Jared opened and closed his mouth in shock. Jensen's shot had been straight and true. Jared knew he'd made
bad choices, and his regrets festered like an open wound.
“I'm sorry.” It came out as a broken whisper.
Jensen leaned over him with a bright eyed and curious gaze. “What for?”
He traced the letters on Jensen's cheek, “What I did to you. It was childish. I wanted Pa to notice me, and
acknowledge that I would stand up for him. I wanted him to see that I wasn't a child any more, and all I proved
was the opposite. I took the anger that I had with him, out on you.” Jared curled himself small, “When I came
here, I thought it would be fun having money, hot girls and boys who wanted to date the President's son, slaves
to pick up after me, an assured college place. I'm a teenager. Who doesn't want all that?” He couldn't help the
self pitying whine that came with his speech, “I didn't think about why Ma left Pa and this whole country behind. I
didn't think the awful things the news shows said about Pa could be true.”
“And now?” Jensen encouraged him gently.
“I don't want to die. I don't want him to die, and I don't want you to die. He's not the bad person everyone thinks
he is, even if he isn't like you.” Jared tried to hold back the tears that filled his eyes, but a single one rolled down
his cheek. “But, you're better than him, and I shouldn't think that way, and I don't know what to do.”
“Slaves are still people, you do know that, right?” Jensen didn't sound pissed, but there was no sympathy in his
reaction.
“I do know. I used to be angry about it. When I was young, Pa ranted about slavery, how he was going to end it.
It made me mad when he didn't. Then I grew up and hit reality. Reality is about economics and choice. This
country is struggling to feed itself, and the rare legal exports are from factories and businesses which compete in
the world market by using slaves. At least slaves have food and shelter. Slavery is a choice in this country. You
chose it, and if you hadn't, then the outcome could have been worse. A baby could have lost it's mother, because
the alternative would have been to let the loan sharks and crime-lords collect in their own way. Without the
option for a legal, fair system to sell yourself into slavery then there is just the illegal slide into pseudo-slavery,
working as a mule or whore for the likes of Quintas and ending up dead in the gutter.”
“Wow. But you and your father, and his friends never went short. You ate nine courses and drank the wine
without a thought of sharing it. You do know how many of your father's slaves and soldiers end up dead in the
gutter, don't you? How about Fin, Jared? How much choice did he get? What choices did you give him?”
Jared swallowed hard and he ground his teeth, his first reaction was anger, but he was no longer sure who he
was angry with.
“I shouldn't get into this with you. ”Jensen stood up, “I'm going for a walk.”
Jared tilted his head in confusion.
“To the kitchen,” clarified Jensen, “If you value your pretty face, don't follow me.”
Jared reached into his pocket and then recalled that the shock controller wasn't there.
Jensen nodded knowingly. “You said you wanted the truth, you got it. The shock control is in the guard room. I
was hoping you would demonstrate common decency and maturity.”
I'm a dick. Jared decided. He watched Jensen disappear around the corner and fell back into the firm leather of
the couch. His head was aching with a pounding rhythm that matched his heart. It took a moment to remember
why he felt like he did. Jensen drugged him. He thought that maybe Jensen was kind of a dick too. It was
disturbing that his mind supplied the idea that it made Jensen just a little more perfect for him.
Jensen
Jensen clapped between each push up, worked through multiple ab crunches and then grabbed some heavy
cans for arm curls. He needed to keep sharp. Sometime between arm curls and leg stretches, he heard Jared
get up and move around, and a little after that he sensed his presence, watching him exercise. He pulled his tee
shirt off over his head with teasing slowness and continued to work his muscles. He didn't acknowledge Jared.
Instead, he bent to touch his toes, flexed his ass perfectly and licked his lips as he bounced in the position.
“Christ!” Jared gave his presence away. He leaned on the wall and didn't try to pretend he wasn't staring. “You
should work out with me.”
Jensen's face looked upside down, through his legs at Jared. He gave a dirty grin, “Are you propositioning me,
Jared?”
“Um, yeah, totally, but really, if we get out of here, you should come with me to the gym.”
Jensen snapped upright and flexed to each side with a hand on his waist, “You wanna learn some new moves,
baby boy?”
Jared blushed wine-red and shifted uncomfortably. He let his sleep-mussed hair tumble over his eyes to hide his
embarrassment. Jensen thought he looked innocent and gorgeous, but he would look better debauched and
covered in come.
“I, uh, didn't get the collar controller.” Jared's tip-tilted eyes peered through strands of hair at Jensen as he
spoke, “You're not going to hit me are you?”
Jensen slowed and set about his cooling-down exercises, “No. I'm not going to hit you, Jared. Not that you don't
deserve a smacked ass, but that should have been done years ago.”
“How long do you think we'll be here?” Jared chewed at a fingernail and Jensen couldn't help being drawn to the
movement of his lips and mouth.
“I don't know. We should stay here for at least a day.”
“I had a look around.”
“Uh-huh?”
“There's bunks, and there's a small room with a big-ass comfortable bed.” Jared fluttered his eyelashes while he
arched his back against the wall, accentuating the tilt of his hips.
“Yeah?” Jensen said, noncommittally. He circled his neck and breathed out slow.
Other than that we have puzzle books, Monopoly, chess, Scrabble, cards and two Pokemon decks.”
“Pokemon? How do you even do that?”
Jared shook his head and his laugh was bittersweet, “I don't remember. It was a phase when I was young. I can't
believe Pa thought of us when he he stocked this place. Megan and I fought cat and dog over Charmander one
Christmas.”
Jensen filled a mug with water from a pan and sipped at it. “People remember the weirdest things.”
“I remember you called me pretty,” Jared bit his lip and lowered his gaze, “Nobody has ever said that to me
before.”
“I can't believe that.” Jensen dropped his voice low.
“It's true, and it's also true that I'm no longer drugged, so if we decided to do something else, to pass the time, it
wouldn't be you taking advantage.”
Jensen stretched his back before straightening in front of Jared. His sweaty palm reached to stroke Jared's hair
from his face and loop it over his ear. There was no point in delaying the seduction any longer. He knew how to
charm, and it was easy to be sincere about Jared's beauty, no, his appearance.
His long fingers just barely touched Jared's forehead. “Here, your skin is smooth, and when you think, it furrows
and you can see the intelligence in there,” He traced his fingertips down to lightly touch at his eyes, “Your eyes
have the most exotic shape I have ever seen, and your lashes would make any girl jealous. When you look at
me I'm never sure what color your eyes are. I just know that they are green and gold and blue and they shine
with mystery and youth.”
He let both hands cup Jared's chin, and his thumbs met on the bridge of his nose. “Your nose is perfect and it
turns up just a little, like it was made for the fae.” His thumbs smoothed Jared's cheeks and over the roughness
at his jaw.” You have defined cheekbones, and symmetry a model would be proud of. Your jaw is the square of
the proud man you'll be one day. Your moles are strangely attractive. They give you character.”
His flat palm stroked back over Jared's neck, and stroked over one ear, “You have the cutest small ears and the
softest hair.” He trailed his hand back to lick at his index finger and place it on Jared's mouth, where he circled it
on the slick of his saliva, around Jared's lips, slowly, oh so slowly and deliberately. “You have dimples when you
smile, your lips are perfectly red and shine when you lick them.” He pushed a thumb inside and Jared sucked on
it with a moan. Jensen crowded him against the wall, the bare skin of his chest feeling the scrape of Jared's shirt
and the heat of his reaction. He snapped his hips to grind against the obvious erection in Jared's pants as he
leaned in to within a whisper of his face, “You have white teeth and your tongue sticks out, pink and teasing,
when you're concentrating.” Jensen stuck his own tongue out to lick a stripe up Jared's neck, over his chin and
around his lips, “And I think your mouth will fit perfectly around my cock.”
Jensen felt Jared's whole body shiver, heard the hitch in his breath and sensed the increased beat of his heart.
The kid's dick tented his pants admirably. The perspiration from his chest soaked into Jared's shirt. His words
were quiet, deliberate and sultry. “I bet no-one's ever said 'no' to you, baby boy. I'm certain nobody has ever
made you beg like I can. Do you want to me to make you beg, Jared?”
Jared's mouth dropped open and his hand reached to touch himself. Jensen's reflexes were lightning fast and
Jared's wrists were in his grip and pinned to Jared's sides before Jared could register what was happening.
“No, baby. Not yet.”
Jared's eyes widened and he struggled ineffectually in Jensen's hold. “You can't ….”
“I think I just did, Jared. You can have me. I'm right here, but if I do this, I drive.” He looked directly into Jared's
eyes, “You can tell me to stop and I will, but I don't think you will. I'm going to let you go now. Touch or don't
touch, you know the consequence, it's your choice” His muscles relaxed and he dropped his grip on Jared's
wrists to start unbuttoning Jared's shirt. He took each button slow and deliberate, and dipped in for the barest
kiss to a different piece of Jared's exposed skin after each one. Jared whined and squirmed against him.
Jensen's cock twitched and started to take notice of the youth and vitality that pressed close to him, panting and
eager, and oh so needy, for him to take care of, control and protect. He slid the shirt from Jared's shoulder and
pulled his tee shirt off over his head, so they were flesh to flesh. Jared's nipples were erect, and Jensen could
see the tiny tremor that coursed through him.
“Please, please, touch me.” Jared whined.
Jensen placed his lips around one of the pleasing pink nubs and licked a circle before clamping down and
suckling on it. He squeezed the other and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. Jared gasped and arched his
back, Jensen could feel the moment he reached to touch himself again. He laughed around Jared's nipple,
blowing cold air on it. “If you have to touch something, then touch me. Did nobody teach you to share? Put those
hands on me.”
“Oh, god!” Jared put his hands tentatively at the base of Jensen's spine and smoothed his hands under the
waistband of his pants to stroke the firm flesh of his buttocks.
“Good boy, that's nice, a little slower, more relaxed. That's it. We've got time. Gonna take it easy.” Jensen nipped
sharp teeth into the very tip of Jared's nipple, felt the suck of his breath and twitch of his cock. “Hnng. You like a
little pain with your pleasure. Did you know that already?”
Jared shook his head, unable to voice his negative reply, visibly shocked at his own reaction. He didn't get the
chance, Jensen licked his way up to his mouth, covered it forcefully with his own, probed entrance with his
tongue and kissed the very breath from him. One hand roamed over his skin, lighting delicious sensation with
every touch, Jensen's other hand pressed firmly against his hip, preventing the roll and grind that Jared found so
hard to resist. Jared's cock was rigid with lust and he could feel spot of damp as a pearl of pre come met the
fabric of his boxers.
Jared
This was nothing he'd had before. There was the hint, days earlier, when Jensen had kissed him, used his
mouth and got him off. Jared hadn't known what to think of the emotions it stirred, but then Jensen had backed
off. He had been the perfect, impersonal slave, as if he sensed conflict in Jared. As if he cared enough to wait.
Now, Jared asked for it, and every movement confirmed how much he wanted it this way. The kiss ended and he
panted for breath even as Jensen's hands tangled in his hair, gripped his scalp and pushed him down to his
knees in front of his own collared slave. The ache of hair being tugged had his nose buried in the fabric of
Jensen's soft pants, against the bulge of his obvious erection. He used his hands to steady himself, remembered
not to let them stray to his own pleasure, and reached to tug at the pull cord of Jensen's pants. Jensen grabbed
at his fingers once more.
“No. Use your mouth. Put your hands on my hips.”
He nuzzled into the sweat-musky area, gripped carefully at fabric, with just his teeth and shook and pulled at it,
like a pup with a toy, but he couldn't make the pants budge.
There was a breathy laugh above him, and blunt nails scraped through his hair, “Okay, okay, you can use your
hands. I don't need anything precious bitten off.”
Jared scrabbled to pull at the jogging bottoms and was rewarded with the sight of Jensen's cock, thick long and
hard as nails, with a hint of fluid at the tip. It hadn't occurred to him, as he inexpertly chased his own orgasm in
some eager twink's mouth, just how hot the smell, the sight, the approval and the anticipation of it would be. He
wanted to taste it again, but he could learn, and Jensen hadn't told him to. His fingers brushed over the dent of
Jensen's hips, as he held on for the ride.
“Nobody else knows what a good boy you are, do they? They don't appreciate you. Such a good boy for me,
Jared. You can taste me, I want you to. I'm going to fuck that sweet mouth of yours, and you are going to make
me wet and sloppy, and ready to take your virgin ass.” Jared tipped his eyes up and up to meet Jensen's gaze.
Jensen laughed again, “You are so young, and so, so eager, baby boy.”
Jared reached out his tongue to lick around the base of Jensen's glans. The sweat from Jensen's work out
combined with Jensen's arousal to make the taste strong and slightly salty. Jensen smoothed his hair and he
found more courage, he licked across the head, over the damp slit.
“Mm, feels good. Bet you love it, Get it wet, suck it in.” Jensen's thumb pressed into the side of his mouth, to
open it a fraction, and a sudden tug on his hair had the purpling head of his dick touched to his lips, “Go on
then!”
There was a sudden flare of rebellion at his slave issuing commands, Jared paused, about to object, but Jensen
spoke first, “I'm gonna give you what you want. You will come on my cock, but you've suckled my thumb every
time it goes near your mouth, you suck your pen, chew your nails. You like to suckle, Jared, and it's not a bad
thing. It can be sexy or comforting.” Jensen stroked his face and growled the rest the next sentence, “You want
to be sexy for me, don't you?”
Christ! Jared almost came in his pants. He whined his discomfort but his mouth opened, he covered his teeth
and he took the tip of Jensen's cock into the heat of his mouth. Jensen was right, he liked the texture, the girth
and the weight on his tongue. His mouth watered. He altered his pose, knelt a little more upright and adjusted
his grip on Jensen, remembering not to bruise with his hold. He sucked his cheeks in, hummed, and used his
tongue to wet every part of the cock in his mouth. He relaxed and let Jensen take his face in his hands and tilt it
up as he started to push in, over the slick of his tongue. The slide was slow and shallow and it allowed him to
appreciate the thrill of the action, with his nose buried into coarse hair, and his head pulled into the firm, sweatshiny skin of Jensen's navel. His knees protested the hard floor under him, but his mind found a thrill with the
illicit nature of his submission. He didn't think he could hold out much longer and he wanted more, far more. His
wanton lust made him shudder. He was wrong to pursue this but somehow he couldn't stop the broken cries that
dropped from his mouth, muffled around the focus of his desire. He couldn't bear for Jensen to come like this
and stop. He wanted to know how it felt to have his ass filled and fucked. “Please, fuck me, please, don't want to
come like this. Jen-se ... please, please, need it.”
Jensen withdrew then pushed in again, suddenly deep, into his throat. It burned and scraped and made him gag.
He couldn't breathe and his throat muscles fluttered around the intrusion. He felt giddy and yet the force of it
triggered a gut-deep and blinding excitement that had his balls heavy, his cock throbbing with readiness. Jensen
withdrew as suddenly as he had deep-throated him, and it unbalanced Jared. His eyes teared up as he
coughed, and he would have fallen, without Jensen's quick catch, under his armpits. He was hauled up by his
slave, to stand, as easily a father lifts his toddler. Jensen hugged him close, arms circling him, hands rubbing his
back, as he kissed the tears from his eyes. “Such a good boy.”
Jared's cock ached, he could feel every beat of his heart throb to the very tip of it. He moaned once more, with a
needy, “Please, Jensen.”
“Are you begging me, Jared?”
“Yes, yes, god, please.”
“Give me something, some reason for me to know that you trust me enough for this. Tell me what you'll do for
me.”
“Anything, I'll kneel, you can deep throat me again,”
“I know you'll give me all that, you already did.” Jensen's hands released the zipper of Jared's pants, dipped in to
smooth over his ass and squeeze his round cheeks. He pushed the pants to his knees in one rough movement.
Fuck! Jared needed Jensen's hands or mouth on him right now. He circled his hips up so his dick rubbed against
Jensen's and the sparks skittered through to his every nerve ending.
“No!” Jensen growled at him.
Jared couldn't comprehend the speed and ease with which Jensen manhandled him. He was spun around and
bent face-forward over the small breakfast bar, with the heavy weight of Jensen's arm over his lower back,
locking him in place. His hands and head dangled helplessly over the other side of the slim serving surface and
his chest was flattened to it. Jared thought his heart may jack-rabbit through his ribs and the blood that ran
through his veins was molten lava.
“Please,” he begged as he humped at the edge of the surface.
“How do I know I'm not just your latest toy, Jared? I want to be your lover, I need you to trust me. Give me
something to work with, and I'll prove myself. I'll let you come and it will be the best you've ever had, boy.” There
was only a slight pant and tremor in Jensen's demand.
Fuck. Jared was all over the place, his emotions in shattered pieces. How the hell, could Jensen keep his control
like this. “Gonna disable your shock control,” he suggested desperately.
The comforting weight of Jensen's body draped over his back, “I can't hold off much longer, and you're young.
You must be aching for it. Spread your legs Jared.” There was the noise of a packet tearing and Jensen reached
his hand in front of his face to show him the lube. “Not going to damage you.”
“Oh,” Jared couldn't form words, he widened his stance and bent his forehead to lean against the smooth
surface. He was going to get his ass reamed, and he thought it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to
him. Fingers parted his ass cheeks and circled his puckered hole on a smudge of cool, slippery lube.
“Beautiful. So tight. You really are a virgin here, Jared.”
“Uh-huh,” Jared confirmed with a nod. “Oh, ah,” Jared tensed as a finger pressed in past both sets of muscle
and stroked at the wall of his most private channel. It was an odd feeling, not quite pleasure or pain, but a
promise of both. Hell! He needed some relief soon.
“You okay? You sure?” asked Jensen between heavy breaths, even as he humped his dick over the curve of
Jared's globes.
“Hurry up.” Jared's frustrated tears were real, “Or I will finish it myself
“Gotta take it easy. I'm almost old enough to be your daddy, remember? Gonna make you safe, show you how to
take control, look after you, like a real daddy would.”
Okay, so that should sound all kinds of wrong to Jared, but it didn't. He wanted Jensen all around him, in him
and over him, taking care of him in all the right ways. He whimpered and then pushed back to impale himself on
the second finger that Jensen offered. He felt the squelch of lube and chased the sensation of the digits that
scissored him, it gave him a physical connection to Jensen that he wanted to keep hold of. When a third finger
was deep, it flicked over the nub of his prostate and Jared almost leaped out of his skin with the intensity of
incredible that coursed through him. A drip of pre come dotted the surface below him and he snapped his hips
back, but the fingers were gone, removed too fast. He moaned at the loss, pleading deliriously.
“You want me to do this, yet you have so little trust, you will continue to chain me like a dog every night,” Jensen
ground the words out.
Jared couldn't stop, but he felt a pang of guilt at the truth of it. He was too far lost in his sex-haze to answer but
he knew what he should do when they were sated.
There was the nudge of firm velvet flesh at his hole and Jared drew breath. Jensen took a single stroke to impale
him on his cock and it stretched and burned and filled him perfectly. “Oh, god yes!” Jared was on his tiptoes,
flexing his leg muscles, pushing to meet him.
Jensen leaned over and nipped a purple bruise into his shoulder as he deepened and bottomed out, so his balls
slapped against Jared's flesh. He stayed there, intimate and deep, making him uncomfortably but wonderfully
full. Jared wondered why he had never thought to bottom before. He had seen his lovers lose their minds with
the pleasure, but he had believed it was an inferior way to be. With Jensen it wasn't like that at all. He felt
treasured, like it was all for him. He hmmed and smiled.
Jensen
Jensen sucked and lapped at Jared's skin in an erotic claim. When Jared gave a dreamy smile it flooded him
with an unexpected warmth. He didn't think either of them would hold out for much longer, yet it felt timeless and
unhurried. He pushed down the unexpected thought that it could be making love. He gave up the idea of that
long ago; it was a concept that generally made him want to puke. He reminded himself it was simple biology, the
kid was good looking, and anyone Jareds age would lust after what he was getting from Jensen. He tensed his
legs and started to thrust, banging Jared into the unforgiving surface below him. It was bound to bruise, but
Jared met each stroke with enthusiasm and their pace quickened. Jensen finally let his control go, he pumped
in, breathing raggedly, kissing at the back of Jared's neck, tugging harshly at his hair. He knew the moment he
hit Jared's sweet spot from the delirious obscenities that were uttered. With two more drags over the same place
he reached his hand around to stroke and squeeze Jared's substantial dick. Jared's come spilled over his hand
and Jared's muscles clamped down on Jensen's cock, buried deep in his ass. Jensen thought he heard them
both scream and curse but his attention was on his own come filling the condom in Jared's channel, and the
screeching, blinding white orgasm that made him shake and laugh. It felt so fucking good. He collapsed
bonelessly over Jared's similarly exhausted form.
“I think I love you.” Jensen's haze cleared as Jared's wheezing, broken words reached him.
It should have sounded like victory, but the words horrified Jensen, they cut into him like cold steel. “Oh baby
boy. You're too young to know what love is.”
There was a gulp that sounded suspiciously like disappointment. Jensen let his softened cock slide from Jared
and he grabbed a tissues to wipe them both. He smoothed his hand over Jared's shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly,
“C'mere and kiss me. I care a lot about you. I want it to be more. I just don't want you getting in too deep and
being disappointed with me, when I am only your property.” He helped Jared up, let him lean into him on weary
legs. Jensen caressed Jareds arms, his face and all down his spine. Jared's head tucked into his shoulder like it
was made to fit. “It's not a crush,” protested Jared quietly, then yawned and staggered. Jensen caught him and
steadied him (or held him up?).
“I think you should make use of that enormous bed.”
“Mm, we should.” agreed Jared. He let Jensen lead him to the small presidential bedroom and lay him naked on
the sheets. Jensen tucked the covers over him and Jared's hand snaked out to grab him. “No, together,” Jared
insisted, “You're beat too.” Jared's eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to stay awake.
“I shouldn't,” Jensen shook himself free and crossed the room. He dipped a hand into his jacket pocket to
retrieve something. Jared squinted sleepily at the leash he brought back to him. His eyes flew open and he sat
up straight.
“No! Why do you think I'd do that right now? Did you think I was only using you, Jensen?” The hurt showed in
Jareds expression and his tone.
“Of course not, but there is a protocol,” Jensen soothed.
“In that case, it is an order. I want you by my side, to keep me warm.” Jared's words spoke of ownership but his
hand extended in a plea, and his eyes begged.
“You'd be asleep and I would be untied.”
“That's the point, Jensen. I want to sleep in your arms because you make me feel secure. You asked me to show
trust. This is it. No more chaining you up. You can sleep in my bed, and I will make sure that everyone knows it is
my will, because you saved my life. Even Pa cannot argue with that. Please come to bed. Jensen.”
It was so easy, like taking candy from a baby. Jensen slid under the sheets to be with him. Jared's skin was hot
like a furnace against him and just right. He lay on his back and extended his arm out to scoop Jared into him,
so his face tucked into his chest and his hair trailed over his shoulder. Jensen pecked a kiss to the top of his
head. Jared reciprocated with soft lips on his breast. Jensen relaxed. It was only minutes before they were both
sleeping, tangled up in each other, like established lovers.
Jared was still asleep when Jensen woke. He wondered how the kid managed it after his long drugged doze the
evening before, but hey, teenager. He looked again at the coltish body tangled in the sheets and draped over
him. He was young, vibrant and beautiful, and Jensen would take every piece of his remaining innocence without
him suspecting a thing. There was a dark thrill to the thought. He lifted the covers without disturbing him,
stretched and yawned, padded out of the room to exercise, and then warmed some water to wash with.
6/
Jared
Jared awoke to the aroma of coffee and the familiar comfort of a green eyed slave. “You didn't leave me.” He
remembered having Jensen unchained in his bed, and there was a measure of relief in the realization.
“There was breakfast to make. You can't get rid of me that easily, Master,” his slave answered softly.
He reached a hand out to touch Jensen's arm. “Don't. Don't call me that any more. I don't want to be that any
more. Not when we're alone.”
“Can't change history, Jared.” Jensen looked sad, “It won't change what I am, but I will try to remember only to
use Master in company of others.”
“Good.” Jared glanced at his watch and his gut twisted with anxiety, “Has nobody come to get us?”
Jensen sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed a tray to him. “No,” he replied simply. He stirred a bowl of
thick cereal, and opened a jar of maple syrup. “Obviously there isn't anything fresh, but the oatmeal seems good,
and there's orange juice.”
Jared wrapped his fingers around the individual carton and sipped at the juice, It was cold and refreshing but it
felt like acid in his stomach. He couldn't understand how Jensen remained so calm. He dabbed the spoon at the
oatmeal without eating it. “Where's yours?” he asked.
“I had army rations earlier.”
Jared sat up, Jensen placed pillows to aid him. ”What were they like?” He'd seen them in the stores but never
tried them.
His slave laughed, “Nutritious but not delicious. It's all good, we'll manage.”
He coated his breakfast in maple syrup, drizzling a criss-cross pattern on the top and then stabbed it with his
spoon once more. He took two mouthfuls, stirred the rest lazily, then pushed the dish aside. He wasn't hungry
and his stomach rebelled against every portion. Jensen looked disappointed. “It's not your cooking, It's nice. I
just can't,” explained Jared.
“It was a long day and energetic evening. You have to be hungry, Jared.”
Jared but his lip. He couldn't help the guilt. He had been fucking while others suffered. Awful images and
thoughts raced through his head. “Do you think they're all dead?”
“No, I think they're hiding, like us.”
“But, then it's just a matter of time, isn't it? We'll run out of food and water, or they'll come in and get us. Do you
think it will be quick? I don't. They'll want it to be public. There were rumors about what they did at the official
residence. It's gonna be worse for Pa and for me. I could ask them to go easy on you, but it might make it
worse.” His breath was quickening and a sweat broke on his brow. He felt the dip of the bed, the tray was lifted
away, and the warm bulk of Jensen was by his side, arms around his waist, pulling him into a solid embrace.
“Stop! We talked about this. They aren't going to know we're here. If it takes too long we will get out of here and
make a run for it together. Now, breathe in.” It was a command.
Jared breathed in.
“Hold it. Now out, slowly, calmly. Repeat.” Jensen breathed with him. Jared's heart gradually steadied and he
melted into the warmth and security of the older man. “That's it. Good boy.”
They stayed like that for a while, before Jensen reached to grab the tray again. “If we're gonna run, you have to
stay strong.” Jared didn't have a moment before the spoon was nudging at his lips, “Open up baby boy, want to
see you take all of this.” Jared's mouth opened obediently to take the offered food. For some reason it didn't feel
humiliating. It was a token of care, and Jared let Jensen feed him like a baby, and wipe the traces from the side
of his mouth with a tissue. “You need someone to look after you,” crooned Jensen.
Jared didn't object, he accepted his mug of coffee from him, warmed his hands around it, snuggled into Jensen's
side and drank it slowly.
Fingers carded through his hair. “I warmed some water for you to wash, but it's probably cold by now,” Jensen
mentioned.
“I'm not fragile!” protested Jared.
“No, but you're still stressing,” his slave retorted.
“Can we just…maybe stay here for now. We could play cards, or there's a book of crosswords. You can find my
iPod, it still has some charge, I can play some music. The silence is driving me insane. I can't believe there's no
TV.”
Jensen hmphed, “Kids! There's batteries, and solar power is being generated somewhere but it's barely
managing the lights. Luckily there are candles if it fails.”
“Oh, right.” It was humbling to have to think about every watt of power. There were towns and villages which
regularly blacked out with terrorist action, or simple lack of facilities, and yet, with the exception of his camping
trips, he had never been without TV and games. Even then he had music…“Hey!” he almost shouted, “There's a
wind-up camping radio in my back pack. I thought we could use it when we were fishing, then I forgot about it.
We can hook it into the aerial for the comms unit. We can find out the news.” His face fell, as he thought about it,
“I'm not sure if I'm ready to know.”
Jensen was staring at him with something like open-mouthed amazement, “I didn't pack a radio.”
“No, I found it when I was poking around the lodge earlier. It's one of those gadgets that seemed like a great idea
but we never got around to using.”
Jensen placed a smacking kiss on his cheek. “You're brilliant,”he grinned.
It was a genuine compliment, For the first time that day, some of Jared's tension melted away.
Jensen caved in to his request to wait before using the radio. They curled close in the bed and shouted answers
to a crossword puzzle Jared had chosen. Everything about being with Jensen felt right. It felt like love.
“Sexy star of Mr and Mrs Smith,” Jared chewed his pencil.
“Angelina Jolie,”
“Brad Pitt!” they shouted together.
Jensen dissolved into laughter, “Angelina Jolie. Are you serious?”
“It's what they're looking for,” pouted Jared, showing him the blank spaces.
“Judging by the way you took my cock, she's not what you're looking for eh, baby boy?”
Jared shrugged. Jensen propped himself up on one elbow, to look at him, “You're bi? Have you even been with a
woman, Jared?”
“Yeah.” Jared defended himself, but he unconsciously tensed and his self-doubt swirled angrily in his mind. His
shoulders dropped with the tone of his voice, “I don't know, I thought I was, or I wanted to be. It would be easier.
I might be.”
“It's not unusual at your age. Lots of people spend their entire life, confused. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“When, I'm around you, I'm not confused.” It was the truth. Here and now, Jared understood he was gay, or
maybe Jensen-sexual. He pressed close to Jensen's side.
“What was the girl like? Was she pretty? Did daddy take you to a brothel to lose your virginity? Was she a slave
like me, or like Fin?”
Jared remembered every detail of her. His nails bit into his palms. “She was an employee, not a slave. She was
pretty, slim with dark hair, dark eyes, and an attitude.” Jared smiled fondly, “She could kick your ass.”
Jensen's eyes slammed shut and he let out a peculiar gasp. Jared was momentarily terrified that he had
offended Jensen, but the older man opened his eyes and smiled at him, “What else? Was she as good at sex as
me?”
Jared chuckled, “I was sixteen, she was nineteen, it wasn't Love Story. There is nothing to compare. She was
like a sister.” His cheeks colored, “Well, a sister with benefits. It was fun for a while. I think mostly it was an
experiment, or to show Pa that I wasn't gay. In the end I think it confirmed the opposite.”
Jensen's fingers curled into a fist. “What happened?”
“We broke up.” Jared couldn't help the abrupt answer. It hadn't been love, but the details opened a rancid,
painful sore.
Jensen's eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted, “Broke-up isn't code for what happened to Fin is it?”
“No! Why would you even …?” Jared was defensive, even if the truth wasn't far from it.
“Sorry. How does the youth of today break up? Did you have an angst-filled heart to heart, or what?” There was
something insistent about Jensen's questioning.
This time, Jared flamed with color. He couldn't meet Jensen's gaze. “Text, or lack of it” he murmured. Every word
Sophie had typed was burned like a brand on his memory.
J where r u?
Is this u dumping me?
J? pick up
J pls we need to talk
They're close – pls Jay – don't want to die angry with each other-talk 2 me
Pls – need a friendly voice
J? pls
Coward. Bastard. Grow some balls
DIE IN AGONY AND BURN IN HELL JARED PADALECKI
Jared shook himself from the past, blinked back a tear and put on his best couldn't-give -a-shit face.
“Wow. Text. That's cold.” There was something unsettling in Jensen's reaction and Jared thought he had no right
to judge him.
“Wasn't asking the opinion of a slave,” he sneered, before turning his back on him. He didn't know why he had to
do that, and silently cursed his adolescent temper.
Jensen stood and he heard him walk away, then pause, “I guess your relationship skills haven't improved.”
“There's no relationship here Jensen, it's just a fuck, not love, you said it yourself.” Jared's mouth was running
away with itself and it wouldn't stop.
“Keep kidding yourself, Jared. I'm going to hook up the radio. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away
from me.” Jensen was cool and tightly controlled. It made Jared furious.
“How dare you tell me what to do! I'll flog you!”
Jensen's reaction was unexpected, out of character for the man he'd got used to. He doubled back and had
Jared in some sort of wrestling grip in the blink of an eye. He was thrown, terrified and naked, over the bed, with
his arm bent painfully and a knee in the small of his back. He knew he was in trouble. Every threat he could
issue was redundant in the circumstances, and he didn't have the remote for Jensen's collar. “Please don't,”
Jared begged, without knowing what he was begging for. Pls, Pls.
He could hear Jensen's teeth grinding and a low growl from his throat, “You're a spoiled brat. You have no idea
how to act, no respect, and no control.”
Jared swallowed, he thought it was probably all true. It didn't make his fear and humiliation any less. He couldn't
form an answer.
“Mummy treated you like a Prince but she wasn't there to guide you. Daddy likes the idea of an heir but can't be
bothered with you. They never had time to praise your achievements, or discipline you, did they?”
The pressure reduced on his arm, Jensen hissed his words in Jared's ear. “You wanted acknowledgment,
respect and parental guidance so much you came back to this dump of a country looking for it, and now you
know your father isn't capable of any of it, I am the next best thing. It might not be love, but it sure as hell is
something. You're not going to punish me, because I can give you what you need, Jared. When you can admit it,
come and find me by the comms.”
The weight on his back disappeared and, as quickly as he had subdued Jared, Jensen was gone, leaving him
cold, naked and ashamed on the bed. The air rushed from Jared's lungs, taking his fear with it, leaving him
calmer and a little aroused. He replayed the scene, trying to understand how Jensen got into his head so easily.
None of it made any sense, which was pretty much the story of his life.
Jensen
***
The wiring was simple. Ross could fix the entire consul if he was inclined, but Jensen wouldn't know where to
start. Setting up the aerial for the radio was easy, even for an accountant, so he concentrated on that. His hands
were steady, but his fury burned deep. It disturbed him that his focus had shifted. He wanted to hate Jared with
the venom that had fueled him for so long, but it was getting harder all the time. Jared was stupid, selfish and
arrogant, yet there was a vulnerability, something that attracted him to the boy. There was a sense that he was
open to change, even waiting for it. Jensen snorted. It was nothing but his inner control freak getting off on a
young body ripe for molding. If he even liked him. Which he didn't, not at all. Collateral Damage, he reminded
himself. There was no way it ended well for Jared Padalecki, and it was fitting, after all Jared had taken his
family from him 11 months, two days and…he checked the time, about 3 hours…earlier.
“Ross?”
“Who is this?” he asked, but he already recognized the pitch and the accent. Christ, he'd missed her.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you might have ditched this number. Last time I used it was a year ago, at the
zoo.”
She passed the 'not under duress test' with an old password. They'd never been to the zoo. “Soph?”
“Yeah, surprise!” her voice was full of fake cheer and stress.
“You okay? You finally getting out?”
He could hear her choke up, “I guess, sort of. Just thought you'd want to hear my news.”
There was no way the call was a casual catch-up, he let her continue. He thought he could hear the sound of
gunfire in the background.
“I got the posting I wanted. Passed the psych, the physical, the lot. Youngest on the President's own security
team. You taught me to kick-ass with the best.” It was a proud statement, but there was a shake in her voice.
He was confused, “According to CNN, the President is under attack. Where are you? When did you get out?”
Her reply was barely there, “The family and government needed a diversion. I said I was getting out, I am.” there
was a pause, “The hard way.”
Ross sat bolt upright, “Sophie, I'll come, hold on.”
There was the slightest laugh, “My hero,” she crooned, “There's a full-on battle and it's too late. It's my job,
remember? I'm fine with it, really. I just needed to hear your voice.”
His heart splintered, Sophie wasn't the dramatic sort. She was the most capable soldier he knew, and if she said
there was no way out, he believed her. He could do this for her. He had to.
“How's your mother?”
“She eloped with a saleswoman, and I'm not even joking. They're very happy, living in a camper van and growing
their own weed.”
Jensen's laugh was genuine, “Your mother was always the best. Baby sitting you was the wisest decision I ever
made. I got a little sister and an awesome mother, all in one.”
“Promise me, somehow you'll look out for her?”
“Yeah, of course Sophie.”
There was rapid fire and a splintering sound. “Uh-oh, just gotta - hey, don't ring off Jen – stay with me.” She left
her cell on, and he heard it all as it happened. Familiar sounds of battle assaulted him, but this time he was left
frustrated and helpless, listening to her distress as she begged staff and slaves to hide behind the barricade and
then the shots as revolutionaries picked off helpless slaves who ignored her, looking for rescue. She was panting
when she came back to him, in a brief respite. He pictured her holed up, covered in blood, mud and debris, face
fixed in a stalwart frown.
“I fell in love, or lust, or maybe a crush, and I had sex. Hot, bed-breaking sex. I'm glad I did that.” Sophie didn't
waste breath on smalltalk.
“Is he with you?”
“I'm pregnant,” she continued over him, ”So. I got almost everything. I've done things, been places.”
“What the hell? Why are you there?”
“You're supposed to say 'congratulations',”
He heard the plea in her words, “Congratulations, Soph. I'm an Uncle, right? Do you know if it's a boy or girl.
Damn, you're going to need names…”
“I thought Samantha, for a girl, or Jared for a boy, after his daddy.”
It took a minute to process her statement and then he exploded, “Jared? The son? Sophie, why aren't you with
him?”
He heard her sniff, “My C.O. said we were chosen specially by the President, that our unit could take the heat for
the longest, to get the family out. It's an honor.”
He couldn't help shouting, “You are family, that baby is his family. Does he know?”
“He knows. Guess I'm not Presidential daughter-in-law material. Jared's young, he freaked out. I should have
been more careful.”
“Son-of-a-bitch! Sophie…”
“Ross, don't lecture, I can't…”
Ross's face was wet with tears but he kept talking, about all the fun he would have with them, day trips to the
beach, weekends at Disney World, movies, diapers and sleepless nights. He talked even after Sophie's last
gurgled scream, and after the call got disconnected. He was in a haze for days, returned briefly to Monkota, with
fake papers, to hook up with Sophie's ma. They shared countless joints, got high as kites and remembered the
good times, in their own private wake.
Jensen twisted wires together and sighed. Revenge was in his sight, but the view wasn't the same as he
expected. Before it, he had a job to do, and there was no place for personal baggage.
He heard Jared approach, but he didn't look up.
“You're right.” The kid sat heavily on the nearest bunk.
“I was out of order.”
“You called it like it is, and it hurt. I lost my temper.”
“You're entitled to do that. I'm not.” Jensen didn't look up from his task.
Jared was fiddling with the pen they had used for the crossword, “I think I needed to hear it. I want Pa to like me,
but sometimes I need him to be a father. It wasn't always like this. When we were little he would work hard but
he had time for us. He would check on my school work, help me with projects. If we misbehaved then it was his
job to spank or strap us, but he was fair. I wanted to think the best of him. Jeff, my brother used to tell me all
sorts of reasons why ma left him, but back then I never saw anything. I never believed it. Naive, I know,” he
shrugged, “I had rose-tinted ideas of how it would be when I came back. He can be a lot of fun, and he never
used to show his temper in public. He was always the nice guy, the reasonable man, but it was a front. I should
have left the very first time I experienced his rage, but I'm not right in the head. He flogged me and the only thing
I could think, through the pain, was, at least he was seeing me, that he cared enough to correct me. Maybe
that's why he never did it to me again. I kept rebelling, looking for attention, that he can't give me. He should
have punished me, not the people around me. I saw what he was doing and didn't learn. I kept pushing him for
it.” He scuffed his foot along the floor, “I still love him. I know it's stupid, but he's my pa. Can you look at me,
Jensen?”
Jensen huffed, and did as he was asked. Jared tipped his head at him, his stare was wide-eyed and genuine, “I
was running my mouth about flogging you, but I wouldn't have done it. You didn't do anything wrong. Then, what
you did after, when you held me down-you're right, sometimes I feel that I'm going to fly apart unless someone
stops me. You're the first person to have done that. Like glue, preventing me from shattering.” He was twirling
the pen so fast Jensen thought it might take flight, “It helped. I spent some time thinking.”
“Got dressed too,” Jensen spoke gruffly.
“Even brushed my hair. Didn't want to disappoint you.” He looked shyly through strands of it. Jensen took
another look, because damn, even fully clothed, Jared was a fine view.
Jensen moved to be with him, stroked fingers over his cheek, “Definitely not disappointed, and there's nothing
wrong with you. I can give you what you need, if you'll trust me.”
Jared stood and extended a hand to shake, “You can stop me when I'm being unreasonable, and there'll be no
more threats,” he promised.
It was easier taking his hand than Jensen expected. He shook it warmly.
“Shall we do this?”
Jared nodded hesitantly. Jensen wound the handle and turned the dial until they found a news program. It was
reporting on an international business conference and Jared gave a nervous laugh, “I guess the world's still
going on around us.”
Jensen adjusted the tuner, “I'll try to find something more local, but some will be blacked out.”
They dialed past the government channel spewing propaganda without mention of an uprising, and settled on a
weak signal purportedly broadcasting from a building less than five miles away. Words washed in like waves and
broke up, but they heard enough.
“...siege within the President's compound continues…gunfire…ceased …troops breaking through the cordon
formed
by
revolutionaries…are
outgunned
and
outnumbered,
unlikely
to
hold
out...”
They both held their breath until the reporter clarified that it was the government troops who were outgunning the
revolutionaries, then Jensen switched the radio off. Jared opened his mouth to argue, and he shushed him. “It's
hopeful. There's no more to learn for now. Listening to it, over and over, will only stress us out. We'll work-out,
play a game, and check in regularly.”
Jared reluctantly agreed. A game of poker with monopoly money quickly degenerated into friendly insults when
Jensen hoarded a full stash of fake cash and laughed at him. They bet 'all-in' on a single, childish game of snap
which Jared played with rambunctious enthusiasm and won. Jared scrambled to grab the money and Jensen
tackled him to the ground where they wrestled and rolled on a scratchy rug until Jensen triumphantly knelt,
straddling Jared's waist and pinning his arms to the floor. A confetti of colorful money was strewn around them
and they were both breathing hard. It wasn't all that was hard, noted Jensen. He leaned forward and Jared lifted
his head to meet his lingering, soft, kiss They made out lazily, right there on the floor, and Jared's mouth was the
perfect shape for Jensen's, his body fit just right to his body. The way he squirmed into Jensen's hold,
whimpered in his ear and begged for more, was everything he needed. Jensen let go and let himself feel it all.
Two hours later, rumpled and breathless, Jared leaned into Jensen, with his head on his shoulder, and they
cranked the radio back into life.
“…renewed battle...gunships heard…President has broadcast…short message…
government standing firm…control from safe space…refugees continuing to flood highways from... unconfirmed
reports of fresh graves being found...”
Jensen felt Jared flinch and looked around at him. All color had drained from his face as he bit his lip, hard
enough to raise a spot of blood.
“Oh, god!”
“Jared?”
He remained motionless. Jensen grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Jared, what are they talking
about?”
Jared shook his head slowly, as if returning from a trance. “Huh, no, nothing. I don't know. Fin maybe. You didn't
use the furnace.”
Jensen thought about it, “I guess, maybe. They said graves though, were there more?”
“I don't know, no. It's easy to exaggerate once one is found.”
“There's a war, Jared.” Jensen splayed his hands as if it was obvious.
“He was a registered, marked slave, and I was the last person anyone saw with him, after I lost my temper and
whipped you. What is anyone supposed to think?”
The kid had a point. Killing a slave was a lesser crime than murder, but if you couldn't prove gross disobedience,
it still carried some weight, especially in the international forum where it was a human rights transgression.
Jensen put his arm around Jared's waist and kissed the top of his head. His palm rested on the nape of his neck,
to massage the tense muscles, yet his mind couldn't help the little spark of glee at the leverage Fin's death
offered. “Stop worrying. There are always rumors like that. You didn't do it, it wasn't your gun, and we're going to
get out of here safely. I'm here for you. I saw what happened.”
“Okay, thanks.”Jared relaxed for a moment then tensed again, “But then…Pa…”
“Sshh. You come first. He taught you to tell the truth surely?”
“Yes, but…”
“No excuses, Jared. If it comes to an inquiry, you'll be honest, or so help me, I will put you over my lap and spank
you myself,” There was a hard edge to Jensen's threat. The fight left Jared and he nodded dumbly. “Good. Now,
you and I are going to find out what weapons are of any use and we are going to break some mirrors and fishing
rods to make something that lets us look around corners. It'll keep us busy.”
“Breaking a mirror is seven years bad luck.”
“Not having a mirror might be immediate bad luck, and that is fact rather than superstition. Don't be a pussy.”
Jared bristled at the insult and Jensen squeezed the back of his neck tightly, “Let it go! I mean it affectionately.”
Jared leaned into his hold, letting the tension out on a long exhalation of breath.
“Yeah, okay. What do I need to do?”
Jensen was secretly impressed, the boy might have some backbone after all.
7/
Jared
“They would have come for us. Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm not sure, I'm an accountant, Jared.”
“We could give it another day.” Jared didn't like to think what might be waiting for them on their run through the
trees to the ranch, or what he might find there. There had been three days of safety in the lodge bunker and, if
he had to be honest, there were other reasons he didn't want it to end. He liked Jensen a lot, and he didn't want
to compromise the relationship they had developed. He could admit that the sex was hot, but it was more than
that, he let Jensen lead and dominate. Beyond sex, Jared was happy when Jensen took control, and he couldn't
risk his father noticing.
“If there's going to be another move, you'll need to catch a ride.”
Jared's heart missed a beat, “But what about you?”
“I doubt there'll be room for me, but you'll be safe. It's what counts.”
Jared put a hand to the wall and stood his ground. He couldn't lose him that way. “No. I won't go without you.
There was talk, last time, about what happened. I'm not leaving you behind.”
Jensen prodded him in the ribs, “C'mon, don't be such a pessimist. According to the news, everything is quiet,
and getting back to normal.”
“Maybe they're saying that so we come out.”
Jensen glared at him.
“You could escape. I could say they took you, killed you, that I made it back here without you. There must be
some way we can get your collar off, throw it in the lake. You could run now, and in the chaos they might not find
you. You'd be free and safe, and so would your sister.” Jared chewed his lip, he wanted Jensen to stay with him,
but he wanted him to run and live too. Whatever his answer, he wasn't prepared for it.
Jensen looked shocked, “You'd do that for me?”
Jared grabbed his arm and pulled him close. He reached a hand to circle the leather of his collar. Jensen let
him.“You mean more to me than this, but if you go back with me, it will define you.”
He felt the grip of long fingers on his hips and he was face to face with Jensen in an instant. Green eyes
searched his face, as if looking for answers. “I'm coming with you. No arguments.” Jared huffed and closed his
eyes. He felt the gentle kiss of lips on the upturn of his nose before Jensen trailed his lips to mouth wetly at his
ear lobe, “If you quit stalling, I'll blow you when we get there.”
Jared gasped and Jensen used the opportunity to kiss him quick with sliding, full lips and a minty deep lick of his
tongue. He gave a sharp smack to Jared's ass as he ended it with a satisfied hmm.
“Ready?” Jensen's question didn't need an answer. Jared patted the hunting knife at his side and raised the gun
in his right hand.
Jensen lightly pushed the gun barrel downwards, “Guns make noise. Only use it in an absolute emergency. The
knife is better.”
Jared giggled nervously, “You make it sound like you're such a pro.”
“Us mathletes are super-competitive. You have no idea.” Jensen teased him.
The main lock sounded like a crack of lightening in the silence that surrounded them. Jared was sure he actually
jumped, and Jensen's mouth twitched. Jared watched Jensen as he drew breath. With flashlight in one hand and
knife in the other, he swung the door wide. The hidden basement corridor was empty, with no evidence of
discovery. They inched their way to the stone-camouflaged main door, every sound magnified by fear. For the
first time, Jared noticed the musty dampness, the length and direction of it, and realized that the bunker must be
under the lake. He shivered, he was glad he hadn't thought about it before, or claustrophobia might have
overtaken him.
Fingers to his lips, Jensen opened the next door. The white light of an 'exit sign' made them both blink. They
raised their weapons, but there was just an empty cellar and the eerie buzz of a low-energy lamp.
Jensen reached a palm to Jared's chest, a brief reassurance to slow Jared's racing heart. There was only a
stairway that remained between them and the lodge where they had been so carefree, preparing for their fishing
picnic, only days before. The old wooden steps creaked with every footfall and they winced each time. They
stopped to take a breath before they left this last safety. Jared reached for Jensen's hand around the torch. They
nodded together, and cracked the door a fraction for Jensen to use his mirror. With another nod they slunk
through the doorway.
The Lodge was devastated. Breeze stirred shards of glass, splinters of wood and ash. Looters had stripped
walls and display cases clean, then struck matches to char the furniture. Glass crackled underfoot as they made
their way out, back to back, alert for any sign of life, except the flap of a bird frightened from it's roost. Jared
span on his heel, tensed his hand around his gun and then relaxed when it flew past and out of the window. He
resumed his step, but not before his head crunched into a cabinet which jutted out, hanging by a single bracket,
from the wall. He swore and stumbled, there was a piercing pain in his head and his vision blacked momentarily.
The cabinet tumbled from its precarious fixing with a clatter that reverberated through the silence. Jensen's
capable hands seemed to be all around him, steadying him, and dragging him away, preventing it from falling on
his foot.
“So much for stealthy!” Jensen wheezed, trying not to laugh, but they clung to each other, and to their weapons,
waiting for something to happen.
A drip of blood trickled down Jared's cheek and he smeared it with the back of his hand. Jensen offered a tissue
to dab at it. “Not too bad, must have caught the corner. We should move out in case anyone heard that,” he
whispered.
Jared tested his balance gingerly, “I'm okay.”
Jensen removed his support gradually, then they were moving out, past the blackened security cameras and into
the trees, avoiding the main path. This time Jensen led, and there was no detour and no leash.
The continuing quiet was unsettling, leaves rustled and sticks broke underfoot but there was no birdsong, no
distant drone of traffic or faint snippets of guards whistling.
Jensen stepped over the body of a young man with gray skin and rigor-mortis, Jared skirted around it, averting
his eyes. The rumble of an armored car grew loud and then receded as it approached and passed on the other
side of the compound fence. They hid in a thicket and watched it. Jared noted its markings with relief, “Ours.”
“Looks like a patrol,” noted Jensen. “It means there's control. The trick now, will be to make sure they don't shoot
us first, and ask questions later. They might not recognize me, so that job falls to you.”
Jared's stomach turned flip-flops, the possibility of dying by friendly fire when they'd got this far, hadn't occurred
to him.
They reached the edge of the trees opposite the guard house and dropped weapons to the ground. With a
prayer, and trembling hands held above their heads, they approached the soldiers on duty. Excited shouting
preceded the shouldering of a gun and suddenly Jensen was barreling into him, flinging him to the ground. Jared
cowered on the sharp gravel with his hands over his head as sturdy boots circled them and issued a hefty kick to
his ribs. There was the scuffing sound of it being repeated on Jensen, and it made Jared furious. He opened his
mouth to shout, but Jensen was already speaking, calm, terse and commanding.
“One kick to the President's property might be excused, further assault on the President's son is guaranteed to
bring you pain. We demand to talk with your Commanding Officer, or any one of the President's own security
detail. If you value your life you will take the time to identify us and escort Jared to his quarters.”
The soldier snorted his disdain, “Nobody asked you to speak, slave.” There was another thud and a groan from
Jensen.
Jared slowly uncurled and raised his head, looking in terror down the barrel of a gun. “I gave him permission to
speak, you moron, nobody asked you to comment. You touch him again and I won't hesitate to demand your
flogging. I shall repeat his instruction in case you are hard of hearing, you will escort us back to our quarters and
inform my father I am safe.”
There was rapid consultation in the guard-room, a static-ridden message on a walkie talkie, and then the gun
was being lowered. A hand was offered to help him up and dust him down. Jared waved them away and bent to
help Jensen who swore under his breath and clutched at his ribs, “Son of a bitch.”
“He should be on a leash outside,” one of the soldiers commented. Jared was furious, his hand formed a fist
before he could help himself, and the soldier found himself sprawling on the dusty road.
“If he was on a leash he wouldn't have been able to stop you motherfuckers from killing me. He saved the life of
the President's son today, what did you do?”
“Get them inside, quickly. Are you stupid?” Corporal Hodge's voice boomed over a distance. It was the best thing
he'd ever heard. Jared turned to greet him, suddenly quaking and nauseous.
“I can't move so quick, but my nose works perfectly. Could smell ya coming.” Aldis grinned one eyed, with a
bandage over the other and hopped on one leg between crutches.
Jared hugged him loosely, afraid to hurt him. “I am so glad to see you, Aldis.”
“Reckon I saved your ass, boys. Hurry up, explanations later. Watch your step. The live ammo has been cleared
but there's still some wickedly sharp debris.”
“You got injured, sorry.”
“Ain't your fault, reckon I got off lucky. There's some didn't make it,”
“I wouldn't have eather, if it hadn't been for Jensen,” Jared patted Jensen's arm.
Jensen looked embarrassed. “I should join the clean-up, as soon as Jared is settled. There must be a lot to do.”
Aldis glanced at Jared to see his reaction to his slave making his own decisions, “There is, but I reckon it is
Jared's decision.”
“We'll both help,” confirmed Jared.
Aldis's eyebrows shot up with surprise but he didn't say a thing.
“Jared mustn't do anything until he's had the cut on his head examined and dressed. Is there a medic available?”
Jensen smoothly arranged for Jared's care.
By the time they reached Jared's room, Aldis had heard most of their story, neatly edited to cut out the
considerable hours they had spent exploring each others' bodies. They learned that control had indeed been
wrested back in all major cities, and that Jared's pa was unhurt but raging with anger and a thirst for revenge.
“Did he ask about me?” Jared wondered.
Aldis, looked at the floor, “He had a lot going on. There was chaos. Some of us checked the main ranch, but we
were given other orders.”
Jared blinked back a tear. “Right, well, it's good that I had Jensen.” He repeated himself, “I had Jensen.”
Jensen's warm hand splayed over the small of his back, to guide him to the sofa, “He took quite a bump to his
head. I'll take it from here,” he explained.
“I'll send a medic.” Aldis hobbled away and Jensen shut the door behind him.
“You owe me a blow-job,” hissed Jared with a dimpled grin, the moment the door was locked.
“You're injured,” commented Jensen primly.
“My cock is perfectly healthy, except it aches, and I think there's some swelling.”
Jensen's eyes sparkled and he was trying his hardest to keep his face straight. “The medic could be here any
time. Perhaps he should take a look.”
“You promised,” Jared whined.
Jensen stood over him, pushed him back into the sofa playfully, “Oh, baby boy. You disappoint me. You didn't
ask nicely.”
His bruised rib twinged but he wasn't going to let it get in the way of Jensen's promise. “Please, please, please,
please, sexy daddy, please suck my dick.”
“You've got a kinky, filthy mouth, baby boy.”
Jared couldn't help the jolt of lust that hit him at Jensen's words. “Please,” he begged.
Jensen dropped to his knees and spread Jared's legs to rest between them. “You were so good, so brave, you
did everything I told you, and you beg so beautifully. Good boys get their rewards,” he spoke low and husky.
Jensen looked up into Jared's face, even as his deft fingers unzipped Jared's fly to release his proud and erect
cock. His eyelashes fluttered and the golden sprinkle of freckles over his nose seemed to sparkle. “You can hold
my head, or my hair, I don't mind.”
He wasn't aware that he'd been waiting for permission until it was granted. Jared placed a hand on Jensen's
head to run his fingers through the short, dust-ridden hair. Despite the grit from their ordeal, the act still soothed
Jared. The O of Jensen's perfect mouth, swallowing him down, in one swift move, jolted him from his calm. He
jerked forward into the heat and wet and suction, because fuck, nothing should feel that good. Jensen choked
slightly and adjusted his angle. He sucked a wet trail all the way back to the tip of Jared's dick before swirling his
tongue all around it, and over the pulsing vein. Jared tipped his hips up as Jensen's fingers reached into his
pants to cup his sacs and stroke the sensitive skin behind them.
A gentle tug on Jensen's head had him sliding plush, tight lips down his shaft once more, with his tongue
exploring every inch.
“So fucking good, daddy. There, please, more.” He snapped his hips looking for more depth. Jensen stared up at
him briefly, then swallowed it all, his nose nestling in the wiry hairs of Jared's crotch and his throat fluttering
deliciously around his length. Jared didn't know how long he could hold out. His fingers clutched and pulled at
Jensen's hair as he drew back and fucked his face again. Jensen pushed down to meet his thrust, eager to take
it. Words gave way to speechless groans. He fucked enthusiastically, spurred on by Jensen's obvious
enjoyment. He came deep in Jensen's throat with a yell and the bright explosion of ecstatic sensation that tingled
through every pore and nerve. He slumped, exhausted and let Jensen clean him with gentle licks and finally a
damp cloth. He closed his eyes.
He felt Jensen's presence looming over him, and heard the steady slap of flesh on flesh as he drifted in his postorgasmic haze. “Not finished yet, baby, give me your hand.” Jared opened one eye to the close presence of
Jensen's hard-on. “Almost there, gonna mark you mine,” He wrapped his fingers over Jensen's hand as he
pumped his cock. “Open your eyes and your mouth, I want you to see me and taste me.”
He opened his eyes, looked up into Jensen's green gaze and the shame of his carved mark on the handsome
face. He let the come splash and dribble down his cheek and over his lashes, and he licked droplets from his
lips. He remembered to thank him. When he grabbed tissues to clean up, Jensen stayed his hand. “I want to
look at you like that.” Jared obediently put the tissue away and resisted wiping his sleeve over the mess. Jensen
sat next to him on the sofa with a happy sigh and pulled Jared down to rest his head on his shoulder. “Are you
going to tell me what's going on with all this 'daddy' stuff, Jared.?”
Jared shifted uncomfortably and turned his face into Jensen's shoulder, “You started it.”
“But you're really into it, aren't you?”
“It's hot, especially when you call me baby boy.”
“I'm not your pa.”
“I know. I don't call you pa. You're better. I'm sorry, does it disgust you?”
“No, no,” Jensen stroked his shoulder, “I didn't expect you to continue, and it's not about your age with me. I
can't be your pa and it would worry me if your pa had...y'know, what we have… but you could talk to me.”
“Oh, ew, no,” Jared gagged at the thought, “It's nothing like that. I like the way you take care of me. It turns me
on. Do you want me to stop?”
Jensen shook his head, “I'm not a prude. I've done some fairly wild things. I've been...,” he seemed to struggle to
find words, “…. I've never thought of myself as the daddy type, but it works. It's not wrong or perverted. It's a kink
I can do. Just make sure your real pa never finds out. I don't think he'd be as open-minded.”
“I know, thanks.” Jared snuggled contentedly into Jensen's side and closed his eyes again. A cool cloth wiped
over his face with gentle care, and soft lips kissed his forehead, “Got to clean my filthy baby boy. Rest.”
They snoozed until the medic arrived. While Jared's wounds were dressed, Jensen busied himself preparing the
washroom for Jared's shower, making coffee and cleaning dust from the surfaces. He knelt by Jared's side to
present his coffee, and called him Master, like a well trained slave should.
Jensen
Jared swept dust, while Jensen wielded a spade to collect debris. Their workplace, near the entrance of the
ranch gave Jensen unprecedented opportunity to observe the security systems and routines. The novelty of the
unsecured slave and his busy Master wore off after a few hours, and the security team left them alone, apart
from fleeting visits by Aldis to give them directions and moral support. When Jared started to tire, Jensen
snatched the broom from him and ordered him back to his room. Aldis waved Jensen away to collect their dinner
from the kitchen, on his own. Jensen hid a smirk. Fortune had provided him with the opportunities and trust he
needed.
He chatted to cook as he waited, asked after the President, for his son, and wondered if he was managing to eat
properly, and if he came out of his room. The kitchen staff laughed, grateful for normal conversation.
“President Padalecki hasn't changed his routine one bit. The only difference is that the government continue their
work while they dine. He's had a direct line installed at the table. He's an example to us all.” The cook's distaste
for the man was disguised but Jensen saw the tells in her face.
“I'll let Jared know. He won't wish to interrupt his father's work.”
She nodded sagely. “Prob'ly best. You take a plate for yourself. I heard you've been busy. We need everyone to
keep their strength.”
Jensen took both portions gratefully and turned to leave. Madison followed at a distance, watching him intently.
He walked a few paces, until they were alone, near the kitchen, then stopped, “Why are you following me?”
“Some says there was graves found. If you're Jared's, what happened to Fin?”
“He's not coming back. Nothing anyone can do.” He resumed walking. Madison fled back to the kitchen in tears.
***
Jensen ran errands until it got late. The President's staff were grateful for any extra help, and reassured by the
story of Jared's rescue. It granted him access to areas that were previously off-limits and he carefully committed
them all to memory. Security at the compound gate was bulked up with young soldiers, fresh through training,
and the numbers within the ranch were severely depleted. Internal cameras still followed his every move, but
Danni would deal with them.
Aldis cornered him on the way back to Jared's room, “Early warning, his pa is visiting him. He wants to see you.”
Jensen stiffened. He sure as hell had no desire to see President Padalecki. Getting killed would screw with his
pension fund.
“Relax. He's grateful to have Jared back. I'll take you in. Remember your place, yeah?”
“Why the concern for me?”
“Jared has been lost and angry since we got to the ranch''. You're good for him. Everyone has noticed it.”
“Teenagers are supposed to be confused and angry, it's their job.”
“Yeah, well. It's been less since he's had you.”
Jensen pushed away the curl of happiness the knowledge gave him. It wasn't appropriate to his mission. He
lowered his eyes as he entered the room, and knelt at Jared's feet for instructions. He was Jared's slave now,
and he wouldn't give the President the satisfaction of his direct submission. Jared's hand rested on his head as
he listened to his father's platitudes, but nobody spoke to Jensen. The President droned on about politics, allies
and theories. Jensen listened, but there was nothing new in it. He sensed Jared's boredom and leaned against
his leg and into his touch.
Before he left the room, the President gave Jared a tight hug, with real affection and a touch of possessiveness.
The “I love you, Son,” he uttered, mid-squeeze surprised Jensen as much as it appeared to surprise Jared.
Jared clung on to the moment until his father pulled away and crooked his finger for Jensen to stand. Jensen
watched the display, and in the moment, he hated them both with an unnatural intensity. It was something he
could never have with his father, and it was an effort to keep his expression neutral. He was a superb at burying
his emotions though, he had years of experience.
Dark hazel eyes assessed him and fingers touched his collar. “I hear you brought my Jared home safely. It's
good to know that you take your duties seriously.”
“Yessir,” Jensen answered smartly. He silently wished a slow and painful death on the man.
“There is a lot to be done. I'm sure my son will use you wisely. Make sure you don't disappoint us.”
“I hope to surprise you with my efforts, sir.” Jensen smiled brightly. He meant every word.
Jared collapsed onto the sofa as soon as his father left. “Ugh. You must be exhausted, There's hot water for a
shower. I already had mine.”
“Thanks.”
Jensen hadn't realized how dirty and tired he was. His bruised ribs ached and his eyes wanted to close, but he
could cope. He had taken worse. He stripped, taking care to remove the sedatives he had stolen from from the
bunker, and secrete them in a gap behind the plumbing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the soothing jets of hot
water and creamy lather. Jared followed him into the bathroom, to lean against the vanity unit and talk to him. “I
told him I won't tie you up like a dog, he didn't have much to say about it. He thought I had run, or was dead, he
was quite emotional at first.” The unspoken words “He didn't look for me,” hung in the air, but Jensen didn't
challenge him.
When Jensen was done, with his hair toweled dry, they tumbled naked into bed together. Jared wrapped his
arms and legs around him like an octopus, and Jensen curled his arm around Jared's shoulder. They kissed
lazily until sleep pulled them both under.
8/
Jensen
Morning light filtered through the ash-grimy window. Jensen opened his eyes. Heavy weight and heat told him
that Jared was still wrapped around him in slumber. He smelled of morning breath and sleepy sweat, and he was
acres of golden smooth and young flesh. He had a gorgeous body.
Jensen savored the sight, the last time he would have this. Ross pulled every ounce of hate and resentment to
the surface and wondered how Jared would look when his last breath was gone. Still breathtaking, he was willing
to bet.
Jared stirred and stretched. Jensen deflected his wayward hand from knocking against his face. Brilliant multihued eyes flickered open between thick lashes. “Hi,”Jared greeted him sleepily.
“Hey you,” Jensen brushed wayward strands of shiny brown hair from his boy's face. He would take and enjoy
what Jared offered so readily, one last time. He smoothed his other hand over Jared's shoulder and traced the
nubs of his spine until he reached the round swell of his ass. Jared moaned, “You make me so horny,” and rolled
chest-to-mattress, spreading his legs wide for Jensen's touch.
“Such a slut for daddy,”
“Jesus,” Jared swore under his breath. Jensen could see he was already hard.
Jensen kissed his way down Jared's back. He parted his firm globes, licked his finger and gently swirled it
around the puckered hole. “Lube?” he breathed. Jared stretched a hand to pull at the nightstand drawer. He
pulled too hard and the entire contents clattered out onto the floor. “Not much of a boy scout, clumsy boy,”
Jensen growled.
He idly considered how Jared would look with the red flush of a hand print on his skin and decided to find out.
He raised his arm to swat his hand sharply across one cheek. Jared jumped and yelped, Jensen leaned his
weight into him to keep him still, then rubbed the flesh where a pinkish hue was showing. He raised his hand
once more and waited to see what Jared would do or say. There was no protest, just a low pitched whine. He
brought it down with speed and force, next to the first mark. Jared squirmed and cried out, but he didn't ask
Jensen to stop. “I think you want this, or do you need it? Does it make you feel better or does it turn you on,
baby boy?” He cracked another swat into the smooth skin and watched as Jared snapped his hips to gain friction
for his cock against the bed. Jensen tutted and hauled him by his hips until he was on all fours, offering his ass
into the air. “You didn't answer me.” Jensen spanked three times in quick succession. The reddening hand-prints
were satisfying and Jared's quickened breath matched the pointless thrust of his cock, looking for friction in the
air.
“Yes, both,” Jared panted,“It feels good, wrong good, and it turns me on, okay, so please fuck me soon.”
“There's that dirty mouth, again.” The noise of four more, rapid smacks resonated. Jared whimpered, “Stings.”
Jensen kneaded the bruising flesh, enjoying the sensation and the little throaty noises that Jared made. His
hand grasped his own cock and stroked. His dick was hard as diamonds and he could see that Jared's was too.
He wriggled to one side and stretched a hand down to grab the lube that had rolled from the drawer. It squirted
cold onto his fingers, and he drizzled it straight onto Jared's hole, enjoying the hiss of surprise he produced.
“I'll be good,” promised Jared, and wiggled his hips sexily.
“Oh, I know you will, baby, Gonna be good and tight for daddy.”
The groan that elicited was pure porn. Jensen couldn't wait any longer. He coated his fingers with lube and
probed, stretching the tight muscle until it could take two. He pushed in, letting the tight channel grip him,
appreciating its warmth and scissoring slowly. Jared pushed back against him impatiently and he corrected him
with the two squelching slaps on his darkening ass cheeks. When three fingers slid easily into his channel,
Jensen withdrew his fingers, lubed his cock generously and lined up behind Jared. He heard the hitch of breath
with the first nudge of the head of his cock, and saw Jared's fingernails scrabble into the bedding as he
breached the tight muscles. He only stopped for a fraction of a second before he gripped Jared's hips, pulling
him back while he pushed forward, to impale him. He felt Jared's shiver and stopped, deep to the hilt. He put his
own hands over Jared's to hold him still and reassure him while he nuzzled and kissed the back of his neck and
sucked a small purple round below his ear.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
Jensen licked a stripe down his spine as he slid his cock all the way from Jared's hole.
“I said, I'm okay,” protested Jared.
“Turn around, I want to see your face,” stupid, stupid Jensen. Personal gets a man dead.
He lifted Jared's hips, bent his knees and spread him wide, then fucked him slow and deep, eyes open, watching
every twitch of his boy's mouth, the clasp of his fingers, the roll of his eyes and flutter of lashes. He bent to taste
his nipples, to suck and squeeze at them, and when Jared was close, they thrust against each other in ever
increasing time, while he mouthed at every available inch of skin and kissed the words away from those wide,
cussing, kinky lips. He reached down to stroke Jared's handsome cock, and he felt the clench of muscles around
his own as Jared spurted come into globs on his belly. Jensen came straight after, with a laugh and a jesus, fuck,
yes, fuck, cried out on panted breath. They fell into each others' arms in an unruly tangle and stayed there until
the come cooled sticky, and Jared woke himself with a snore.
Jensen didn't sleep. He unconsciously stroked Jared's skin. He stared up at the ceiling, examined every mark
and crack, and wondered just what the hell was happening to him.
Jared
Jared chose to work in his father's office, while Jensen joined a team carrying out minor repairs. He worked with
the slave who was Jensen's replacement, shredding a stack of documents that was piled high in the store room.
She was petite, yet curvy with dark eyes, shiny dark hair, a pretty smile and a sexy swing to her hips. Once, he
might have hit on her, but now they worked in silence. His emotions were a mess and he didn't know what to
think.
Fucking the slaves started as a petty game and distraction. It had turned into a nightmare when his father
reacted to his challenge. Fin was buried in the compound and the body of another slave had been taken to the
furnace, as proof of his pa's wrath, or maybe his jealousy. He should have learned his lesson the first time. Hell,
he should have learned to keep his dick in his pants after Sophie. Even better, he should have got the first flight
back to America when he still had access to his trust fund. He shouldn't be here, trapped and in love with a
slave, more than ten years his senior, who gave him chills he couldn't explain, blew hot and cold with him, and
changed the subject whenever it strayed to future plans. Everything about what they did together was wrong, but
Jared didn't think he could stop. It was hotter than he'd ever imagined sex could be. His head was a muddle
trying to work out if he was taking advantage of Jensen, or if Jensen was taking advantage of him. Whichever it
was, he had already been responsible for two deaths, and now put Jensen's life at risk too. He let the repetition
of his task numb his thoughts.
At lunchtime, Jared sat on a bench in one of the enclosed courtyards between tastefully arranged potted trees,
with Jensen sitting cross legged at his feet. The breeze blew around them and they warmed their hands around
mugs of coffee.
Jensen broke the awkward silence, “It's peaceful here. It reminds me of a coffee shop I used to go to, with my
little sister, they had cupcakes and an amazing roast bean blend…” he stopped abruptly.
“Sorry. I didn't bring you here to remind you.”
“No, it's all I've got now, memories. I want to keep them.”
“It's not alright. It's so fucked up! All of it!” Jared couldn't help his frustrated outburst.
“Been that way for a long time. Even before your pa. When you came back, why did you stay?”
“Lots of reasons.”
Jensen looked surprised at the reply.
Jared continued, “When we ran to America, pa was a small player in politics here, a factory foreman with a
golden tongue. Ma took nothing with her. We never belonged. We were just another immigrant family who spoke
with a strange accent and struggled to put food on the table. Even when my brother got a job with a wage that
matched my mother's, we never had much. So, this lifestyle, with exotic food on the table, expensive clothes, a
college education and a trust fund if I stayed, it seduced and blinkered me. Even without it, for all the screw-up
that this nation is, at least I belonged. This is my home, not necessarily this ranch, but this country. I had an
ambition, I wanted to rebuild the infrastructure. I wanted to design bridges and put the railroad back.”
He slurped his coffee, “There was somebody too. We shared the same sort of dreams. Stupid, young, idealists. A
soldier and a student. In our world, pa would lead the country to a bright new future, she would fight to unite the
country, and I was going to mend it.”
There was a bright, curious gleam in Jensen's eyes, “She was the one you broke up with by text?”
It still hurt. Jared could admit that he hadn't loved her romantically, but there had been love, an undeniable
connection and friendship. There had been a child. “Lack of text,” he clarified abruptly, “It was a bad time, the
first time I truly understood that it's not fixable. That it won't end well. We ran, in radio silence, I didn't even
question it. Then it was too late.” Jared wiped a tear from his eye.
“It's never too late.” Jensen spoke flatly, like he didn't believe his own words.
Jared snorted, “Oh, yeah, it is. She died.”
“I'm sorry,” Jensen said, only it didn't sound like he meant it.
“You didn't know her,” he snapped, “The thing is, I blamed my father. I thought he abandoned her, because he
wanted her out of my life. I felt so angry and trapped, and I used her as an excuse. I did things, unforgivable
things. I used people to spite him, even less suitable matches, slaves, and they got hurt. Now, I can't go back. I
can't look my brother or sister in the eyes or hope for understanding in other countries. I let myself do it again
with you. I put you in danger.” Admitting his guilt was painful.
“Hey, I've been in danger since the day I got here. I seem to remember preying on the ass-virgin, not the other
way around. It's not like I didn't have a vivid demonstration of the dangers. I wanted to fuck you. I love fucking
you. Besides, your pa likes me. I'm a staid and responsible accountant, and I rescued you. He even let me off
my leash, literally.” Jensen touched his collar and grinned at Jared.
“He still believes in this country. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of the man I remember, and he loves me, in his
own way, he does.” Jared wondered who he was trying to convince. “He's organized a new tutor and asked me
to have dinner with him tonight. I said I wanted to build bridges…” he chuckled wryly.
Jensen seemed to stiffen and draw breath before speaking, “Just you and him, in private?” he asked.
“No, I'm fairly sure he means I'm welcome at the main table once more, after the incident with you.”
“Don't go.” Jensen's words came out in a rush, and then he calmed, “I've seen how it can be. There will be drink
and too much war talk. You can invite him to dinner, one day next week. I'll set up a table in a private room, and
pace the flow of wine. You can talk properly. Give it a real chance.”
“He'll think I'm being rude.”
“You're tired and your head aches. I'll give your excuses.”
“Don't think we'll be fucking, when he comes to find me,” Jared warned.
Jensen rolled his eyes, “I won't be there. I'll make myself scarce.”
They both knew the chances of his father looking for Jared were slim.
Jared spoke between bites of his pastry, “I'll think about it. Come and find me studying in the library this
afternoon. Bring soda and chocolate. Student food!” Jared cheered up a little at the thought of something normal.
“You're a giant kid,” teased Jensen, brushing the crumbs of his own pastry from his clothes.
Jared leaned to whisper in his ear, “I'm your baby boy.”
Jensen
Jensen stepped off the ladder and took a second look at the penciled arrow mark on the ceiling.
“You should take a break, I think you've worked harder than anyone else on my team.” Lauren, the housekeeper,
smiled at him.
“I took a snack to Jared earlier. He's studying. I'll be breaking off to serve his dinner when everyone else is
working. I'll get these cracks marked up then come back and fill them when you're all off duty. It's not difficult,
and I like to be busy.”
Lauren squinted at the ragged hole in the ceiling plaster, “The old place sure took a pounding. I'll get you some
filler, a pot of paint and a hall pass, shall I?”
Jensen inwardly cheered, but his face remained blank, “Thanks. It'll get the place fixed up a whole lot faster.” He
wondered if she knew what an RPG could do to the ranch.
Jared was still in the library when he got back. Jensen frowned and checked that his coffee mug was empty.
Jared yawned. “I've almost finished my essay,” he boasted.
“You look beat. Are you going to dinner with your father?”
“No, you're right. I am tired, I don't want to wait, and it always drags on. I'm thinking that I can have a quick, early
meal, then come back and finish my essay. Are you going to be here? Lauren brought an all-house pass for you.
She said you volunteered to patch ceilings or something.”
“Do you mind?”
“No. Of course not. Everyone thinks you're brilliant, and I'm a hero for lending you out. It works for me.”
“You'll do better with that essay if you take a break. The library will still be here tomorrow.” The lie rolled easily off
Jensen's tongue.
“I guess so. You collect dinner while I pack up. Make sure you get a decent hot meal for yourself.”
Jensen set out the meal, twisted the cap off the sedative stolen from the lodge bunker and poured it into Jared's
soda, then waited. The drug was a courtesy to prevent Jared being in the direct fire zone of a wire-guided rocket
grenade. He convinced himself it was because he wanted to see Jared suffer before he died. There was no
other reasonable explanation.
Jared drank his soda in three gulps, as he always did. He frowned at the last mouthful. “Does this soda taste
funny to you?”
Jensen sipped his drink, “No.”
“Oh, right.” Jared took a mouthful of steak, and chewed enthusiastically. A spot of gravy pooled in the crease of
his mouth. Jensen leaned in to dab it away with a napkin,
“Messy boy,” he murmured.
“I thought daddy liked my mouth all messy,” quipped Jared, with a dirty grin.
“Gravy doesn't count, baby boy.” The banter came so easily between them, and it always made Jensen smile.
He was going to miss it.
“Shame.”
Jared ate about half of his dinner before he yawned and put down his cutlery. “I feel weird,” he giggled, “Did you
drug me...again?” He swayed where he sat.
“Yes. We should get you to bed.”
Jared squinted at him but his eyes were unfocussed, “Oh. Why?”
“To keep you safe, for now. Don't argue with me. Daddy knows what's best, doesn't he?”
“Mmhm.”
Jensen helped him to bed before he became a dead weight. He removed his boots and swung his legs onto the
mattress, placing him on his side to ensure he wouldn't choke. He left a glass of water for when he woke. Bleary
hazel eyes blinked up at him. “Jen-sen?”
His gaze lingered over the long, lithe body, stared at the golden expanse of neck and smiled at the moles he
could count on his face. He reached fingers to stroke the soft messy hair and caress his cheek. “No, baby boy.
Not Jensen at all.” He counted down until Jared's eyes closed properly, kissed him lightly on the forehead and
straightened up.
Misha had been right. Cracking his tooth hurt like a bitch. It took three attempts with a heavy screwdriver, bled
like a stuck pig and was left sharp, and cut his mouth, but the transmitter, well, that was perfect.
He grabbed his hall pass, collected his tools and made his way to the first of his arrowed markers, above the
door which the security team used to travel back and forth to the main gatehouse. With the scrape of a trowel
and a little filler the transmitter was buried in place. He timed his tasks carefully. When Madison paced down the
corridor with a tray of coffee for the guards at the front gate, his ladder blocked the way and paint was
precariously balanced. “Pass it over, I'll take it the rest of the way,” he offered.
Madison looked at him doubtfully, “You don't know the code for the door.”
“I don't think you do either.”
“Of course I do,” she said, haughtily.
She didn't. He knew a bluff when he saw one. “They have their coffee at the same time into each shift. They'll
open the door, or go thirsty.”
She huffed. “Don't spill it, or you'll get me into trouble.”
“I won't.”
It was an easy sleight of hand, that dropped just enough sedative into each cup to slow the reflexes of a large
man, or make a smaller person drowsy.
The tray was passed through, the door banged to, but with a toe just in time and a wedge cut from a paintbrush,
not enough to lock. Jensen sent up a silent plea for Danni to be on-the-ball. He waited a minute, with bated
breath, and the lack of alarm was reassuring. One last walk-through confirmed his direction markers were in
place – giving a route to the dining hall, and cutting off bunker access. He was back on his stepladder, within
view of the door when he heard the sound of Aldis's crutches clicking against the floor.
“Oh, hey, wait a minute, man, and I'll have this out of your way.”
“It's okay. I'm not on duty.” Aldis indicated his injuries, “Everyone is short-handed, I'm just doin' a favor. The
control room is getting some strange interference on cameras. Have you seen anything odd, wires out of place,
any strangers?”
“Everyone's strange around here, but no, no strangers.”
“And you're here alone?” Aldis looked around, and up at the ceiling crack Jensen was filling.
Jensen produced his all-ranch hall pass, and Aldis scrutinized it. There was a moment when Aldis looked as if he
would turn around and leave him to his task, but Jensen could see a slight change in his expression, and the
unconscious pat for his gun, when he figured out that something wasn't quite right.
“All those markers are for damage to be filled?”
“Uh-huh, lot of work.” Jensen braced himself on the bottom rung, keeping a height advantage.
“See, most people would use some sort of system so they didn't miss any…”
“I was an accountant, not a decorator.”
Aldis's left crutch rocked as he reached for the button on his walkie-talkie, “Jensen…”
“Sorry.” His transformation was instant. Excitement and adrenalin flowed, senses became hyper alert, and a
simple kick to the left crutch, with a solid right hook to the corporal's chin was all it took. Duct tape rendered Aldis
immobile and soundless, in the nearby washroom. Jensen patted him down for weapons, and grabbed his
walkie-talkie, impressed with the way his luck was running. He kicked his decorating equipment to one side, and
waited for whatever patrols might come. He was fully committed, with no way out if JD didn't deliver his team
soon.
Misha was first through the door, in the uniform of the President's own security team. He hugged his comrade, “I
thought you'd screwed up for sure.”
“They don't call me the king of improvisation for nothing. Did you get the gate?”
“Danni grabbed the external comms, and main camera circuit. The gate went down easy. No kills needed. Your
doing, I presume? JD's covered it with some of Quintas's men. It looks authentic from a distance.”
Jensen eyed Misha's costume critically,“ The uniform isn't going to help. Everyone here is on first name terms.”
“But I look pretty, admit it.”
“You look pretty, Misha,” Jensen stuck his tongue out at him, “Pay attention solja boy; you're following the yellow
brick road.” He pointed up at the arrow on the ceiling. Misha's grin was huge and pearly toothed as he traced the
line of the ceiling and found the next one. “Holy Shit, Ross. You're good!”
The name caught him off-guard. Ross wasn't his real name, but since hooking up with JD it had fitted him. Now,
he didn't feel like Ross any more. Jensen had managed to get under his skin and he didn't know what to think of
it. He buried the doubt. Whatever his name, he was the same soldier he'd always been. He regained his mind
space, he was lethal, inventive, and invincible, and this was his gig.
JD crept in with ten of his best. The Dream Team. He threw a flak jacket and pack at Jensen. His grizzled face
broke into a grin as Jensen caught it all in steady hands. “Nice work.”
“You're welcome,” he replied with the toss of the walkie-talkie, tuned to the security team's frequency.
Danni thrust his favorite assault rifle at him and he grasped its familiar cold power. “Control Room!” she
demanded, without preamble, but the sparkle in her eyes indicated that she was happy to see him, even if she
seemed to flinch on her second glance at him.
There was the growl of a personnel truck passing through the gate, and they were in business.
***
Jensen propped the door of the Control Room open. He admired Danneel's flexibility, skill and strength. Her red
hair shone under the fluorescent lighting, and the blade of her knife reflected it. She dropped their last opponent,
without a shot fired. She gave him a one fingered salute. “Thanks for the help.”
“I got them to open the door. You had it covered,” he laughed, “I love watching you work. You're magnificent.”
“Admit it, asshole, you've been the President's little bitch so long, you've gone soft.”
“It's been caviar and champagne, sweetheart.”
“Incoming! Get the goddamn door shut.”
“Cover me.”
They answered the crack of gunfire with their own shots. “We've just been announced to the party, baby.”
Sparks flew as bullets rained on the reinforced door. Jensen shoved one last time and span the lock to seal them
in. He stood with his back to it and wiped his brow, “How much plastic d'ya reckon the door will take?”
“A few ounces, and that will take us out too.” Danni unpacked her hardware and stared at the screen of the main
computer array, “You want to hope I can get the lock codes changed. This is all over the place.”
“They changed them after the riot.”
“I can do it.” Danni's reassurance was aimed at herself. Jensen knew better than to disturb her concentration. He
placed himself for their best defense and waited.
9/
Jensen
“Three, two, one…going dark,” The lights went out, dim emergency lighting flickered on, and a double explosion
rocked the ranch.
“We're good. Can you get visual back?” JD's voice, cut through the headset.
Danni's relief was obvious. “Working on it, Boss.”
Jensen was still stuck on the noise and impact of two rockets. “Two,” he said, shocked.
“Pardon.”
“There were two rockets. I thought the diversion was one.”
“We had an opportunity. JD took it.”
“Where? What target?” Jensen couldn't keep the panic from his voice.
“South corner, the PR offices.”
Jensen let out the breath he'd been holding. Danni turned to look at him, “Problem?”
“Just, y'know, staff and slaves in the living quarters.”
“Soft! You get too close?”
“No! Just not into needless deaths.”
Danni returned to tapping at the keyboard and scrolling screens. “That collar is sorta freaking me out. There's
bolt cutters in the kit.”
“When you're done. I'm used to it.”
“And the scar?”
“Jensen, put a finger to his face. “Yeah, well. Not much to be done about it.”
Grey static cleared into focused pixels on a surveillance screen, “Lock-down achieved in target areas. Visual is
coming back up,” Danni announced, then twisted her mic away from her face and sighed, “I'm brilliant,” she
boasted. She picked out a set of bolt cutters, “C'mere!” She snipped with precision, taking care not to cut
Jensen. The collar slid off, and he threw it to the floor. Danneel stroked his neck, where it had been. “How are
you, honey? And don't give me the usual bullcrap.”
Jared
In Jared's dream there was noise and dust, recriminations and chaos. He looked over a devastated landscape,
through a smog of gun smoke and hell-fire. At the edge of his vision, Jensen turned his back and walked away
from him. Jared tried to follow, but he was frozen in place. Jensen turned to look at him, one last time, but the
face that looked back wasn't his, “Not Jensen at all,” his father's image mouthed at him, before dissolving into
gray ash that fluttered to the ground.
The cold splash of water that woke Jared was very real. It made him catch his breath and shiver. His eyes
blinked open, but closed again, with water dripping over them. He tried to reach a hand out, to make sense of it
all, but it wasn't there. He was sitting on a hard chair and his hands were fixed firmly behind his back, making his
arms ache and wrists hurt. When his eyes finally cleared, his vision was already graying at the edges, his breath
came in short gasps, and he passed out.
Deja-vu. A deluge of icy water woke him again. He spluttered and choked, and kept his eyes closed. He didn't
think his situation was something he wanted to acknowledge.
“Jared Tristan Padalecki. War Criminal. It has a ring to it, I think.”
Jared recognized the voice, his eyes flew open in shock. He searched his memory, for something, anything, that
could explain the circumstances, but the last thing he remembered was dinner with Jensen.
“Oh, there you are. You wouldn't want to sleep through the excitement. It would be a shame.”
An empty desk and the impersonal gray of a guard-room cell swam into vision. A hand reached to touch his face
and he jerked to one side. “Oh, and I was thinking you liked to touch. Or is it just slaves, huh?”
Jared lowered his face, letting his hair cover his eyes. A goon grabbed a handful of it and yanked his head up.
“Smile for the camera. It's world wide coverage.”
It sounded bad. “Where's Pa?”
“Oh, that's sweet. Did you know, he hasn't asked about you once?”
“Liar,” Jared spat the word with defiance. The punch that split his lip was delivered with enough force to knock
the chair, with Jared, onto the floor. He looked up at his captor, with narrowed eyes and bloody lip, “Show that to
your international audience.” The man might be a gangster as well as his father's political rival, but he liked to
appear respectable to his supporters, and the rest of the world.
A goon righted the chair, and he was upright once more.
“Editing. It's a modern miracle. You're going to give a live confession. My guess is, that you will be doing it very
soon.”
“It's not legal without representation.”
“Aw. Seriously. I could package you up and call you sugar. I've got lists of lawyers, pick one.”
Jared shook his head in disgust.
“Not going to take me up on my offer? We'll record that as a 'no', then.”
He stared straight ahead and refused to make eye contact. He wasn't going to say another word.
“You can give me the silent treatment, but you might want to record a little goodbye for your Pa. The people want
to see swift justice, and then maybe we will regain civil order.”
Quintas signaled the guards to open the door. He looked back at Jared with a smirk, “It's nothing personal
sweet-pea, I'm doing what is best for the people.”
Jensen
“I'm sorry. I'm not hearing right. You want me to do what?” Misha tried the door handle of the next room. A two
fingered flick saw them bursting in together, weapons ready. There wasn't much to search, just standard staff
quarters with a bed, a closet, and a nightstand full of family photographs.
“Clear.”
Misha changed tactics. “I'm guessing that Danni gave you the third degree.”
“You asked her to.”
“Man! She told you?”
“No. I just know you both too well.”
“See, there's our point, we don't know you at all...,”
Another door, a similar room, “Clear.”
Misha looked exasperated. “Tell me something truthful about you, anything at all.”
Jensen fixed him with a steady green-eyed gaze, “My name isn't Ross.”
Misha glared at him, “I love you man, but I have a gun and you're pissing me off. Do you think Danni hasn't
already turned over your stupidly thin file, Dean Winchester?”
“Yeah. No. Not Dean either.”
“Dude, do you even know who you are?”
The question threw him off balance. He didn't know if he could answer it. He frowned. “I'm a kick-ass mercenary.
You trust me, don't you?”
“Personal business, is vague. At least give us a motive?”
“Revenge.” He touched Jared's mark on his cheek.
“Oh, right, because that's real healthy.” Misha was sarcastic, “Besides, you don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Get involved. Not for something trivial. Now Danni, that would be different. Touch her face and world war three
would come screaming down on you, but you …. I've seen you bounce back from every deep cover you've
taken, without a mark on your soul.”
“This time is different.”
“Give me something I can work with here, Ross.”
Jensen swallowed, he hated this, hated hiding, yet hated having to reveal the tiniest sliver of himself.
“It's about family, okay. It's for family.” He continued searching the closet.
“According to my buddy, Ross, he doesn't have family…Oh!” Misha slammed the door of the room, and turned to
Jensen, “This is you, isn't it? This is really you, and it's why you were prepared to go to such an extreme for this
mission. This is your roots, and JD was right to be worried, because it was personal from the very start.”
Jensen couldn't give a proper answer. He was so screwed. “I'm not going after Quintas. Nothing changes.
Quintas has his man. Hell, he has his coup. We all get out. We all get our money. You and Danni get more.”
Misha sighed in despair. Jensen grinned. His friend was suckered and he knew it.
“I don't want your money. One day you're going to give us more of you, and it's going to be okay.” Misha's soft
tone surprised Jensen.
***
Jared
One hour. It was all his Pa's life was worth. An hour, in the main hall, under the blinding lights of a camera crew
(and who planned a raid to include that?). They heard everything from Quintas and nothing from his Pa. Guilty.
Quintas's rabble bayed for blood and they knew they were going to get it.
Jared was sweating and sick. He was sure there were knives twisting in his stomach. Goons hauled him up, in
his rope tied bounds, because his legs wouldn't hold him. He surveyed the mass of prisoners and 'witnesses',
desperate for a glimpse of Jensen, but he wasn't there. A small voice nagged at him, that he'd been drugged,
and only Jensen could have done it, but he batted it away. He hoped Jensen had run, and was already far away
and safe. The thought was his only comfort in the horror show that played out around him.
The room cleared quickly after the verdict. Suddenly, it was just Quintas, his goons, the camera crew, the
President, and Jared.
Quintas stood in front of Jared, formal in his designer uniform, “You should take a moment, to say goodbye,” He
made it sound generous, then shooed the sound man away, and added, “You'll be following soon enough. Too
many at once, makes it look like a mob. Your father never did understand the importance of appearances.” He
smoothed a hand over his jacket and smirked. “Live TV! Make it emotional. Audiences love that.”
His Pa's arms were no longer massive around him. Jared buried his face into his shoulder and remembered the
times when the man had been huge and capable, swinging a young Jared in his arms, scooping him up with his
teddy and giving a deep, happy laugh. Jared wasn't a child any longer, but he was just as helpless.
“I do love you, Jared. I'm sorry.” His father was crying, and it broke Jared. He couldn't help his sobs, and the
tears that streamed from his own eyes.
“I love you, Pa.”
Quintas's men dragged them apart. Jared watched his father march, with his head held high, through the exit.
Jared struggled and shouted until eventually, one of the goons used a taser to stun him.
Jensen
Danni swished her headset in her hand, as the live broadcast flickered beside her. “I'm thinking diamonds, Ross.
A big fat diamond bracelet.”
“Tiffanys,” Jensen agreed, and they shook hands on it.
“Shit!” Whatever you're going to do, I suggest you do it soon. Our client isn't wasting any time.” Misha was
watching the broadcast with fascination.
Jensen looked over his shoulder. “You're kidding?”
“No. Immediate execution.”
Jensen turned pale. He had no description for what he was feeling. It was loss but he couldn't define what he
was losing, his last chance to make Jared suffer, or something less familiar. “The kid?”
“Not this time.”
Danni interrupted, “Best to get in there now. Lots of distraction. Besides, if this is how it's going down, it's going
to get messy. JD will want to collect fast and get the hell out of Dodge.”
They watched as the first member of the ex-president's government was taken to a mark in one of the
courtyards. His list of crimes was read-out, excruciatingly slowly, before a volley of shots echoed, and for him it
was over.
“Quintas sure does like his dramatics. Do you think he's going to count down, like this, one by one, until
Padalecki?” Misha wondered.
Jensen checked his weapons and grabbed his pack, “Hopefully,” he said, as he pressed Misha's assault rifle
back into his hand, “C'mon.”
In his head, Jensen played through the words he wanted to say, before he left Jared to his inevitable execution.
He had pictured it, in detail, since the day he accepted this mission, and refined it in the two weeks he had been
Jared's slave.
Jared
Jared was tied to the damn chair again, with a wide desk in front of him. He had no doubt that the set-up was
designed to intimidate him, with the reminder of his impending interrogation. He could hear the live broadcast, on
a TV outside his cell, and hear Quintas's men cheer the first hail of gunfire. He didn't know if it was worse to
know without seeing, or to have the visual closure. He did know that he was a coward who feared his own death.
His throat was dry, his eyes were red, and his nose dripped. He needed to pee, and he couldn't stop shaking.
The chatter of the guards ceased suddenly, and Jared's eyes widened in fear as the cell door rattled open. Some
sort of soldier, with short black hair and piercing blue eyes looked in at him. “Here,” he said to somebody, and
the door opened wide.
“Give me five minutes,” somebody replied.
Jared's throat constricted. His heart hammered at an unnatural pace. The accent was American but the
voice…the voice was familiar. Surely there was no way it could be him? The door clanged shut, and Jared
couldn't process what he was seeing. “J-jensen?” he stammered. “Oh my god, I thought…”
He stopped talking. The man approaching him had the physical appearance of Jensen. He was the right height,
but he somehow seemed larger than Jensen had ever looked. His face was harsh, and his eyes glittered cruelly
acting in a way Jareds Jensen never would have. He walked with the swagger and threat of a soldier, and he
loomed over Jared dangerously. Jared looked up into the face and recognized his mark, JP, on his cheek. He
breathed out, and almost smiled, “Jensen!”
Flat palms rested on the table, and the man flexed his arms. Muscles bulged under a flak jacket. “No, Jared. Not
Jensen. Not Jensen at all.”
Jared blinked and shook his head, he couldn't understand. “You are Jensen,” he said.
The man continued to tower over him, with a mean smirk and shake of his head.
Drugged. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes as he finally made connections. Jared retched, but there was
nothing left to vomit. Words formed, but nothing came out right, “But you told me everything…your sister…”
The explanation, when it came, was coldly voiced. “Everything I told you about Jensen was true, except that he
died. His sister committed suicide rather than let her brother face her debtors. Her baby died with her. It was too
late, the bid was already won, and when he lost his enthusiasm, his trainer pushed too hard. All of this is sad but
routine in this nation, under your father's rule. We saw an opportunity.”
“I saw your face, when you told me. You cared.” Jared protested.
“Maybe I know what it feels like to lose family, to be an uncle at one moment, and to have it taken away in the
next.”
“Who are you?”
“I'm the one who used your laptop to find a way into the security system, I'm the one who fucked you. I'm the one
you let in, because you were so needy and insecure. Do you know who is responsible for your father's death?”
Jensen tilted Jared's chin, to see his reaction,“You are, Jared. How dumb could you be, to think that I wanted
you?”
Jared hadn't thought his world could crumble more, but there it was, tumbling into piles of ash, and he didn't
think he could take it. He jerked his face from Jensen's touch and fought to keep his voice from trembling, “You
were Quintas's man all along? You actually believe his shit?” This wasn't his Jensen. He wouldn't believe it. He
couldn't believe it.
Jensen sat casually on the corner of the desk. He took a slim dagger from a sheath on his thigh, and turned it in
his hand, letting the blade reflect the harsh light above them. His silence was unnerving. Finally, he sucked a
breath in and spoke, “I'm not Quintas's man. I don't believe anything he says, but the revolutionaries will destroy
everything in their wake, until the nation has no assets or industry, and your father is a dishonorable liar. Money,
on the other hand – money is straightforward.”
Hysteria bubbled in him and Jared laughed, “So, you fucked me for money, which makes you a whore.”
“A whore is more honest than a politician,” Jensen snapped with sudden ferocity, and the knife was right there,
inches from Jared's face, and not stopping. “I didn't have to fuck you. I can do my job without it. I fucked you
because I could. I fucked you because I wanted you to die rejected, alone and betrayed.”
Jared shut his eyes. He flinched away and struggled to escape his ties, but it was hopeless. His hands balled as
he felt cold steel meet the tender flesh at the side of his mouth. He wanted to shout or cry, but he didn't dare, for
fear of the consequences. There was movement, but he didn't feel the slice of skin. Every nerve ending tingled
and thrilled as Jensen trailed the knife slowly across his cheek and over the rough stubble of his jaw, shaving
hairs in its wake.
There was no wet trail of blood, and Jared forced himself to open his eyes, to try and find the Jensen he knew, in
this dangerous mercenary. “Why?” he grated through clenched teeth.
The sharp point of Jensen's dagger dug a tiny, stinging hole in the delicate skin behind Jared's ear as he
answered. “You had everything. A home, a family, and privileges, but it wasn't enough for you. You had to take
more. I had a sister. You used her, fucked her, made her pregnant, and she wasn't upset. She wanted that baby.
I would have been an uncle. She trusted you, and you betrayed them.”
“Oh, god! Sophie? You're Sophie's brother?”
Jensen moved closer. Jared could feel the exhalation of his breath, almost hear his heartbeat. The strong scent
of him enveloped Jared. It felt intimate, and sense memory had him catching his breath. He needed to remind
himself that this wasn't the real Jensen, and the peculiar jolt of lust he felt was not appropriate.
Fingers feathered over his neck, and the knife followed in their wake. Sharp, cold, slow and deliberate, it pressed
against his skin with the promise of pain, but there was no blood. The honed blade continued downward, slicing
buttons from his shirt, slashing the fabric of his t-shirt, raising goosebumps in its wake and making him shudder.
At any moment, Jensen could turn the blade and push in. He could choose torture or death, and Jared wouldn't
beg or complain, because Jensen was right, he deserved this. Fear and anticipation had his blood pumping and
his nerves on edge.
Jensen caught his lip between his teeth, in concentration. He seemed to be in a daze. Jared followed his gaze
down to where his cock strained against his pants, regardless of his brain insisting that this was not the time or
place. Jared blushed with humiliation, but his words were defiant. “You turn me on. You always did. Why should I
pretend?” I can still feel, and that was what Sophie was all about. She wanted to experience everything, while
she was alive. She wouldn't accept anything less from anyone around her, not me, not you, not anyone.”
The pressure of the blade increased. Jensen twisted the handle and it cut an inch into Jared's chest with a
bloom of pain and ooze of blood. Jared inhaled and blew out slow. He looked up into Jensen's face, to meet his
dispassionate stare. He wanted it to be over quickly, but the blade went no further. “You think I don't want this? I
deserve it. So do you, because you abandoned Sophie a long time before I did. You trashed her ideal big
brother, when you gave up all she believed in, and ran. This is when you come back? When it's too late?” He
taunted Jensen, but the dagger remained still.
Jensen's hand was steady. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Jared wanted to groan at the sight of it.
Jensen spoke as if in a dream, “I was with her, at the end. She couldn't contact you, but I picked up. I was there
when you ran.”
“And I blamed myself. I wanted to scream and cry. I went to the commemoration service and had to play the
'official mourner', and it half killed me. You weren't there.”
“I honored her.”
“Did you? All I see is revenge, and it makes me think you didn't know her at all.”
There was the warm trickle of blood on his breast as the blade withdrew. Jared braced himself and shut his eyes,
as Jensen raised his arm with rippling muscles. He heard the clatter of metal on floor just before his head jarred
back with the force of a well-aimed punch. The second hit crunched into his nose with an agonizing crack and
spray of blood, and the third opened the puffy split on his lip and loosened a tooth. His stomach clenched against
the fourth and he stopped counting.
Jensen
Jensen was panting when he finally felt his rage subside. His fingers and face were splashed with Jared's blood.
The kid was still conscious, but he was a mess. His face was a mass of fresh bruises and vivid blood. Hair stuck
to his face and dripped with sweat, tears, snot and more blood. He was still fucking beautiful.
Jared opened his eyes with difficulty. The multi-hued hazel orbs, were dim and watery. “I want you to finish it.”
There was no hope in the gasped plea, “Please…”
He stooped to pick up his blade, and Jared's blood stained lips curled into a lopsided smile. He lifted the knife,
watched Jared's neck stretch and elongate, as he tipped it back in submission, waiting for him, trusting him.
Jensen had never been a trustworthy guy. What's to trust when you won't share your history, not even your
name? Sophie had told him that once. He traced the knife up to Jared's battered cheekbone and sliced in. This
time Jared screamed, but Jensen didn't stop until the initials JA were carved in flesh and blood, on his face.
When he was done, he placed his knife on the desk with slow deliberation. He avoided looking at the pathetic,
sobbing kid, tied to the chair in front of him. None of it had made him feel better. He was numb inside, maybe he
always had been, perhaps he always would be. Except…there had been moments…with Jared, and he couldn't
think about them right now, or he might lose his mind.
He didn't notice Misha until hands shook heavily at his shoulders. “Jesus Christ! You have to snap out of this. I
heard the scream. What the fuck did you do, man?”
Jensen blinked. He looked at the scene objectively. It was bad, real bad.
Misha was panicking. “Oh, shit! Quintas can't use him like this. Our heads are gonna get jammed on a pole at
the palace gate.”
“This isn't a palace, Misha. We agreed to deliver the President. The kid wasn't part of the deal.”
“You think that makes it okay? He's not going to let us just slip away after fucking up his sweet little PR
campaign. Do you think JD is going to let this slide? Fuck, dude! What the hell happened? I mean, I know you're
cold, but this…this…I don't understand.”
A volley of shots rang out from the live broadcast. Another cheer was heard, and a somber voice started to read
out President Padalecki's crimes and sentence. Jensen cleaned his dagger and moved to put it back in his thigh
sheath. Misha snatched it from him, and within seconds was sawing at Jared's ties. “Give him your jacket”
Jensen was confused, “Why?”
“He can't be found like this. So, he escaped.”
“What?”
“Just do it, Ross, or so help me, I will have Jared kill you during his escape.”
It was like waking from a nightmare and everything was real again. Jensen fitted in smoothly with Misha, and
Jared was nothing more than a rag-doll. Jared tried to help, but he was uncoordinated and unable to stand. They
propped him between them to dress him. Jensen's jacket was already bloody, but Misha tore at it, to give the
appearance additional merit. Jensen considered Jared's distinctive floppy hair. He pushed the kid back into the
chair and rapidly hacked it short with his knife. Jared fought him, and Misha held him down.
They locked the cell door behind them, and carried Jared between them, like an injured comrade. A few of
Quintas's men patrolled, but they were distracted by commentary of the executions. Misha turned his headset
back on and altered the frequency. “Danni, how would you like a necklace to go with that diamond bracelet?”
“This sounds dangerous.”
“It's a cinch for you. Find us an exit, and if JD asks, it never happened.”
“What are you doing? No, don't tell me. Will JD kill me?”
“No, he'll kill us. You never did a thing.”
“Okay, when?”
“Now, Danni, now.”
“Give me a few seconds, where are you headed?”
“North East corridor, South turn, by room 112.”
“You want a diversion too?”
“How did you know?” Misha grinned.
“Stands to reason. You planning on coming back?”
“Only Ross is going. I'm not leaving our red headed goddess alone and vulnerable. How's it looking out there?”
Danni was all business. “Mostly quiet. Quintas has roadblocks forming a cordon a few miles out. There's a crowd
of 1K civilians creating a lot of noise, at the main gate,” she paused, “Take a right, keep going till the end. I'll
unlock that exit for you, but it's interior. Hang a left by the saddle storeage, hang another left opposite a door to
the stables, then one hundred yards straight ahead is a fire door. It will be unlocked for five minutes. You better
shake your asses.”
One goon challenged them. Misha showed his I.D. and made a distracting attempt to speak in the local
language, while Jensen broke the man's neck with a single twist. Misha pushed Jensen out of the door, with
Jared clinging to him. “Lose the kid somewhere he'll never be found.”
Just before the exit closed, and he was on his own, Misha flung a cell phone at him. “If it's safe, you'll get the
rendezvous details. If not…” he shrugged.
The door clunked shut and Jensen found himself alone with Jared, in hostile territory.